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So one day, I'm walkin' down the street and this bum asks me for money, and I, being the broke ass mother I am, just solemnly shook my head and lamely said "Sorry, man, ain't got none." But I've got cigs (can't let that ever-expanding tumor in my lungs go without its poisonous feed, can I?), so I ask him if he wants one. He wants two. I hand them over, and as he's turning, he says thanks and calls me a saint.
Some people read Oscar Wilde when they feel like overdosing on irony.
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I like scotch - really, really good scotch - , and really, it's the only booze I'll drink. Everyone else seems to drink beer or cheap vodka or god forbid tequila, but not me. I like scotch...the $100 bottle scotch. Makes getting drunk, tapping the Varsity Rugby Captain on the shoulder and calling him a donkey-fucking inbred son of a bitch with a two inch crooked dick a prohibitively expensive endeavor.
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The other day I saw a man in a wheel chair with no arms, no legs and one eye sleeping on the street corner, in the chair, with a sign on his lap. You know what it said? "NEED CA$H 4 WEED."
Next to the sign was a coffee can with about sixteen bucks in it.
I looked from the sign to the can to the man to the can to the sign.
And I thought to myself "That's just not right. He should spend that on food or booze or razor blades or a length of rope."
So I stole the money; I Needed CA$H 4 WEED
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If you've read this far, I apologize, because that means you're my kinda person - you always finish what you start, no matter how unbearably wretched it is. What a go getter you are, real tough mofo, you've got CHARACTER! And that's just what I like in people...lots and lots of character, and a nice rack...well, really, just the nice rack, I couldn't give a rat's ass about your character, personality, intelligence, conversational skills, creativity, ability to run a four minute mile, your talent with chinese finger cuffs, your recipe for all-beef borscht, or anything else moderately interesting about you besides your tits.
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And God said let there be light.
And I said "You really don't want to see this, man, it's...it's not pretty."
And He said He could handle it because He was God.
And I said "Woah, okay man, whatever you say 'god'."
And there was light. And God looked upon what he had made...and then God vomited on Himself and over His creation, and that, boys and girls, is where French people come from. And Republicans.
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And that's basically all there is to say about me. Pretty simple, pretty boring. Continue at your own risk.

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