Monday, May 19, 2008

*sigh*.... a Confession

Weird Al Yankovic
molestache, geri curl
songs that can inspire


So I get home on Friday night, intent on enjoying a quiet weekend at home, daydreaming about the rib tips (tits?) I bought that are going on the grill and that pint or 6 of Guinness in the fridge. I just paid off the last thing that showed up on my credit report, I want to get a decent house loan as I am planning on trying to move and with all the people losing their houses now is the time to do that (how awesome it would be to buy a house and then point and laugh as the people who had to foreclose move their things out, maybe running up and tasting their hot tears of shame, mmmmm that goes down good) and there were a few things on there that had been there awhile because of my stubbornness and natural hatred of paying people for stupidity...

Anyway my credit is the topic of another post, this one is pure Smea-fuckin-gol, son!

So I am sitting on the couch, wondering if I can watch NBA Basketball on one picture and some hardcore Indian porn on the Picture in Picture, when the phone rings. I do not recognize the number, but I assume it is JJ as it is a Missouri number and looks like it is coming from the ghetto,like "Ashton Court" or "Elm Street Townhouses" or whatever...

Anyway I pick up and am instantly sorry I did it because before I even got the phone to my ear I could smell that wily raptor's breath, a mix of kim chi, old twat, failure and raw fish (which was strangely distinctive from the old twat scent, I can elaborate if need be...) emanating from the phone, and could hear him cawing with raptor happiness because finally someone took his call, apparently the rest of my family was smart enough to know that was him and ignored his calls.

My fucking weekend was ruined, but I didn't know how much yet.

"Heeeyyyyyy niiiigggie!" He chortled, and I could tell he was scratching dingleberries caked into his thong like a farmer harvesting stinky grapes. "Lissen, you CAN'T SAY NO, OK? you can't say noooo!" he moaned, and I could hear Mystery doing her little tsk tsk in the background and imagined that the cat had finally broken free and was attempting to commit suicide like so many had before...

Anyway I can go through the different motivations and factors in another post.

"Listen niggie, I need a huge favor from you , I need you to come pick me up between 8 and 10 tomorrow (Saturday) morning and take me down by Auto Trend, you know the car lot on Truman road by Mom's house?' - alright, at this point I have to cut in. This asshat lives in Liberty, 8 miles East of me. My mother lives on the line between Kansas City and Independence, 23 miles southeast of me. I KNOW for a fact that there are closer automobile dealerships... I will tell you why he chose that one though: Smeagol has such shitty credit with the majority of the used auto dealers in the Kansas City area, there are only like 6 or 7 that will even let his smelly thong into the dealership anymore, with his vast amount of repos and other failure related acts of douchebagginess like getting his car impounded and then calling the dealership and telling them "You need to go get your car niggie, I'm not paying for it anymore since the stupid cops took my car from me, and on your way to get your car I raptored up can you bail me outta jail and take me home? I'm so tired..." I kid about the last part, but hell I wouldn't put it past him...

anyway, back to the story.

"I need to get a car and I need your help. Not with money, I just need you to cosign on the loan, get the car in your name, and then get insurance and tags and stuff for it and then give it to me to make the payments. Can you pick me up tomorrow to go do that?"

I am completely fucking shocked.

This asshat, this fucking.....raptor, has the biggest (albeit saggiest) balls in the world, and that's saying something because I always assumed I had a pretty decent set of nads m'self. I mean the implications are staggering. I was so shocked, dear reader, that all I could think of to say was "uh....ok" after which he hung up on me in order to not give me a chance to think about it...

This can only end in one of 4 ways.

1) I go and pick him up, take him down to get this car (which is a Pontiac Bonneville with a supercharger on it, how fucking dumb can he be (that was rhetorical)), sign all the paperwork, and in 1 month when he has not even bothered to get it legal or paid his first car payment, have yet another car that I don't want and make payments on it while he comes by and asks to borrow it until out of annoyance I give him the car and make the car note on it.

2) I go and pick him up, but inform him I am only going to give him a ride, I am not signing anything as I am not blatantly retarded and know for a fact that he does not intend to make timely payments and I do not want any blemishes on my credit. I could at this point make the argument that of the 11 cars he has purchased over the last 5 years he has paid off 0 and now currently owes 1 individual dealership almost 15000 dollars in trade-in rollovers and back payments. This will lead to him making me look like an asshole to the rest of the family, which I know most of you would say "and?..." but I care about my family and how they think of me... I admit it is a weakness.

3) I completely blow Smeagol off and ignore him, which is what I did, and it backfired on me, because now he called JJ and told him I was a jerk because "he thinks he is so much better than me that he doesn't have to help me" which I think I am, I would never ask someone to do what he is asking... and he called while I was outside grilling to inform my wife that "since he didn't come pick me up this Saturday, he can come pick me up next Saturday and we can do it then" in a snotty tone like he is doing me a favor...

4) and by FAR the worst of the series here: I could offer to let him drive the Escort. I know when Tylester reads this a whoop of pain and emotion might escape, but I thought about it. The Hot Rod is running kind of rough right now, since it essentially sat for 4 or 5 months without moving whatsoever... but the thought of a friggin raptor, and Mystery with her squishy ass and moldy leggings fouling up it's scent of awesome was too much to bear. I also had a little problem with the car being in my name and Smeagol screwing that up as well...though it would be tough to speed in the Escort.

I just like the fact that he had the absolute gall to ask something like this. We all know his track record, and if you are not sure you can ask me, JJ, or Haggard, as with the numerous times both Smeagol and I had to call in to work at Burger King because Smeagol was in jail again on traffic related fines he is an expert in Smeagology at the University of Raptor in Duluth, Minnesota.

I mean, fuck dude! How can you be that much of a piece of shit? To rely on your family, nay, your little brother, for support? I know he is going to blame me when he loses his job and his house because I did not sign my credit over to be his hostage. I know in his mind it is my obligation as one of the 5.9 billion other people on the planet who are doing better than him to offer assistance and any refusal to do so is because I am a jerk. Nevermind that I have 3 boys to feed, 3 cars of my own to keep running and a gasoline bill that is fastly approaching 200 bux a month. It's my job to run him all over creation for the 3 dollars gas money he is going to paw out of his thong to give to me, and make sure he has a nice car to get arrested in and impounded so in 6 months he can ask me to bail him out and get all indignant when I ask where the car is, and then hear him say "It's impounded, and I don't know what to tell you about getting it out, anyway, come bail me out on your way to get the car out niggie, I'll pay you back later", and I will yet again never get paid back.

It's funny, I brought this all down upon myself. I should never have initiated verbal contact with Smeagol, we were just fine not knowing where he lived. Curse me and my conscience!

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