Smeagol is magic
can make bank accounts empty
all without trying
So I have a Smeagol story that I will post tomorrow or sometime soon, but for right now I need to respond to this. Last night my wife worked at the cafe. She is a waitress. Apparently, she gave this guy his ticket, and he scribbled a long diatribe about how the waitresses are all fat and need to lose some weight, as their apparent morbid obesity made it hard to swallow food. He also put down a website and phone number for a weight loss center, then had the fucking audacity to make one of the servers read it out loud. Sadly I wasn't there, or this post would be written from behind the local constabulary accoutrement's, but I would like to post an open letter to this....person:
To the Gentleman who Wrote the letter on his napkin after dining at the Radisson Hotel in Kansas City:
Dear No Talent Butt-fucking Goat-blowing Syphilis-spewing Anal-wart:
If I were you, I would thank the Almighty God that I wasn't up there, and that apparently no other real men were last night to beat the living shit out of you, and then grab the nearest, largest woman I could find and make the loudest, sloppiest, gooiest sexfest I could right in front of you, or on top of you.
My wife is a beautiful woman, and she said that since there were only 2 servers there last night and the other one (the one you got to read your gay little note out loud) was a size 3, that you were talking to her. I would like to point out a few things to you, Paco who eats Man-taco:
1. I do not know ANY man that wants some skinny ass little skank. There is a name for men who are attracted to models and think Britney or Jessica Simpson were fat, and that name is pedophile.
2. The saddest part of this whole thing is that some women, my wife included, listen to fucking skidmarks such as yourself, and think they are not good looking or that there is something wrong with them. This makes it harder for studmullets such as myself to get with them, because they are so insecure about their looks they cannot believe anyone would genuinely find them attractive. For this, I sincerely hope you get raped in the most excruciatingly painful, brutal way possible by a large, hairy, sweaty guy with genital warts. I hope that you are in jail, maybe in the drunk tank, sitting on the park bench with a smug little grin on your face after insulting a female officer possibly to tears in order to cover up the fact that you have a 2 inch dick, and some huge hairy guy takes interest in you. I hope you see him coming, undoing his pants, the smell of rancid BO and sweat permeating your tender nostrils, unaccustomed to such scents because of the pampered life you probably lead, and you involuntarily gag a little bit. I hope you fight back, with every ounce of strength your ivy league elitist holier-than-thou perfectly trimmed nail having ass has, struggling with all your might, calling out for help to anyone that will listen, and in the moment when your strength gives out, as Frank (for let's call him that, and why not) finally gets you into position, I hope you look up, with terror at what is about to happen to your unlubed, slightly puckered sphincter, see that the only person who can save you is a woman, slightly overweight, absolutely gorgeous, for all women are beautiful when you think about it, except crackheads, and she smiles at you and turns away.
I hope at that moment, as you feel Frank's enormous gut being rested on your back as he fucks you in the ass, gently at first, but then thrusting harder and harder as his own sweat and your blood and shit lubes his rock hard man-shaft and makes it a truly pleasurable experience, that you call out to a God that doesn't listen, that your screams, probably intermixed with self-deprecating moans of pleasure, for you in reality know you deserve this, and a small part of you doesn't want this to end, a small part of you wants to feel Frank shove said shit-crusted wiener into your mouth as he rests his stomach on your head so you can pleasure him to climax, and you hate yourself more than you ever had in your life.
3. I hope every woman you ever fall in love with ends up shagging some Ron Jeremy lookalike in your bed, with little to no remorse, breaking your heart over and over and over, you superficial bastard.
Seriously, I hope all 2 ladies that read this blog, if you take nothing else from this post, understand this: You are beautiful. "Even if I gain 50 pounds?" Yes. "Even if I grow a beard?" Yes. "Even if I grow a wiener and it's longer than yours?" I fucking hate you, but yes. Even then. Few things in life piss me off more than people who put others down to make themselves feel better about their own inadequacies. Unless we are putting down Smeagol. Then it's funny. Or Karawte Man. Or me. I actually enjoy insults aimed at me, as long as they are new...
Anyway, I leave you with a favorite quote from a great comic, Louis C. K.. If you ever have the absolute honor of going to one of his shows. Go. Even if you have to pawn off your own bodily fluids, and blood isn't one of them, go:
"...so I have a friend who is thinking about getting married, and he says 'I just don't know if I can have sex with one woman for the rest of my life'... and I say 'Don't worry about that shit! You're gonna be having sex with zero women for the rest of your life!' I would be proud to have sex with one woman the rest of my life... a big, fat, dead lady with a beard? Damn right, I'd fuck her every day! and be proud to have her!..."
On another note, I farted in the elevator lobby, and before I could wave the entire fart away, the elevator came. I tried to run in a little circle to dispel the smelly contrails of flatulent aroma before entering the elevator, but the smell followed much like a loyal puppy. It smelled so bad in that cramped elevator that I jumped off and took another one. Later, as I was going to another floor, the same elevator came by and I got on there, and there was my friend, Mr. Shitdust, gently swirling around like a soft summer breeze. This was all that much funnier because someone got off the elevator as I was getting on and they looked most distressed. Great times.