Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
I had this friend on stumble upon who always wanted dug or stumbled for this and that, never hesitating to email a request for just that. I dug, I stumbled until one day, I asked for a stumble back. I checked his favorites and no stumble--my reader showed no dig. He is no longer a stumble buddy. Dig to be dug. Sounds like a song. I had to be strong ;-)
I checked out bebo once again since Flock had it on there and I once used AIM. It's like a dead end world for me there. All links leading no where. I'm not sure what the idea of the site is as you can't find any real content on there. Someone must use it somewhere, but of my 200 old aim friends, zero are active on there. The old party has really broken up during my offline time--or just came to bloggerville. Perhaps they are all on facebook or myspace--not sure. As generic and full of ads bebo seems to be--I'm wondering if it's just my isp or something. Maybe it's the merging of aim-bebo and it would look different if under bebo itself (the sign in). But for me it's the most secluded dead end of the internet. Totally cut off--rather depressing.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Dear Stupid-Assed Water Department,
I received your letter today asking for me to complete your survey out of the goodness of my overcharged heart. I also received your letter last week informing me that my rates are going up on my already high priced water bill. It appears that conserving water is useless as the rate will go up to make up for lack of consumption.
I almost actually filled out your survey. But wait, was there a RETURN POSTAGE PAID ENVELOPE? Oh hell no. You expect me to not only TRACK DOWN an envelope and address it, but PAY for postage too. So then , I figured I’d go ahead and visit your online form. Oh wait, there is no ONLINE FORM. You wanted me to scan (assuming I had a scanner), open up my webmail or email client, and send you an email after typing in, BY HAND no less, your unclear email address that would be by no means in my address book. After paying your high, GREEDY bill, most people can’t even afford internet access, much less would they be willing to donate their time and precious energy to your NOSEY survey. Of course, there was the third option besides PAYING to send your survey snail mail, or finding a SCANNER and internet ACCESS to email your dumb survey, and that was to FAX it to you. Ok, so I get in my car after paying for GAS, to search for a place that FAXES crap and PAY them to fax you your shit. Gee let me think about this………RIP! Your insulting survey is in the trash–which by the way–you haven’t been picking up properly.
You know what Zip code you sent this crap to and you know exactly what we can afford here. My neighbor’s aren’t going to assist your rich asses either by the way—I’ve seen to that too.
Be glad we didn’t hand deliver your survey!
Dear Mr I’meversodisappointedthatyouareayetanotherpervert,
I liked you so much more before you became a pervert. It was at the point where you decided to cross that line that I abandoned any liking towards you. Why would you think to become gross would be an impressive feat? Why to sport your nonexistent neck or your woolly Neanderthal stomach ? My computer is acting funny for it may have viewed the entire download of your body whereas I closed the browser immediately. You are what? 100 years old, married and ugly. You haven’t seen your feet in 20 years. Yet you choose to believe I may consider what? I know my fonts may have led you on, especially the ones that stated "Hi how are you today?". I thought only as light hearted flirt. But to you it was much more. Much much more to the point of delusion. You were, in the beginning, a smart educated witty man–perhaps you still are to those who have not fell victim to your delusion. Now you are to be considered a deviate. A big hairy no neck cheating old weird deviate with no sense of reality. I am beating around the bush, but you sir are probably beating in the bush. Hopefully not a bush on any school grounds. Good luck to you in the future. I’m hoping you will find a partner (a willing partner) for your ideas. Your wife might be a good one for you. I’m also hoping that whatever you find doesn’t subject anyone else to your acts. Maybe you can find a perfect match for you. One who is also fat old hairy with no neck married cheating who is delusional and a pervert as well. What is sad and unfair, is you probably wouldn’t like her much. Maybe her husband will like you much instead. Consider Equal Opportunity Encounters. Or how about Lowered Expectations? Is there a Mutual Peeping of Toms? Obsessed Stalkers Meet Halfway Club?
I thought maybe I could just limit our chats but now I see I must omit our chats. Of course our chats consist of two lines from me, a good night, and 20 offline messages from you. In real life, do you ever even check to see if the chick is still breathing? Even scarier, is she even breathing when you begin? In your dreams, is she of vital flesh or sort of gray and purple? Any feedback from her at all? (muffled screams for help do not count).
The buddy who doesn’t reply anymore.
you related to Officer Powatripace in some way? You sir, are an idiot.
You, of all people, should recognize a doughnut when you see one. And
just who the hell do you think you are to insert your stubby finger in
my sterile ass creme jar anyhow? And the gloves you thought were meth
lab related–did it occur to you why they were next to my jar of zinc,
my badge, and my peri-wash? I’m so glad I didn’t leave my thermometer in
the car too. You would probably stick it up your ass to see if it
channeled in some FCC forbidden channel. You actually referred to glaze
from a doughnut as "crystal type residue"? I wished you had wasted the
departments time and money on that testing. That would have made
headlines. What’s unfortunate, is you will make headlines one day.
Please tell me you have not already multiplied. Please. To think there
may be more of you running around saying "yes sir boyz we um got em
selves sum of dem der meth lab ’suspiacts!"
You are an embarrassment
to every little boy who ever joined the department with pure
intentions. Were you one of those out of control hallway moniters as a
kid? Or just some fat stupid outcast who got high and ate too many
twinkies then vowed to get all those kids parents and teachers back for
daring to object to your girl’s locker room viewing thru the little
hole? Don’t get me wrong–we are glad you didn’t do the columbine thing
that you had originally intended, but did you have to use a badge to
hide behind? You are still the same dork you were when you were a kid.
No one likes you–but there is no need to be bitter. Ok –I almost feel
sorry for you , what with your mama not even liking you ( and laughing
with the others at pta meetings), but for god’s sakes –quit picking on
innocent people. I know you’re frightened of those big mean bullies,
but it’s not too late to start a new profession. I hear the circus is
coming to town. You- under the big top, Think about it. They may even
give you a little authority here and there. Put you in charge of
popcorn clean up or something. Who knows? And you know I have your
finger prints and although you were careful not to let anyone know what
you did and when and where–I could probably identify you.
Meth mobile owner aka subject of your paranoia and dellusion
Dear Mr single military man,
That was such a nice letter you sent. First thing I did was check out your profile. I wasn’t sure what your screen name meant or if it was just a personal meaning. It looked decent enough and your pic was handsome. I sent a "wink" back as rare as that is for me. It said you were christian and didn’t like "dominant women". Seemed fair enough although I wondered if that mean you yourself were a control freak. I didn’t want to look too far into things. I noticed a woman way in the back ground in one of your pics. Seems, surely, there was enough open space to get your pic taken without so much background. But, hey, you’re cute.
So cute I decided to try to add you to one of my messenger lists. Couldn’t find that same screen name–hmmm. Did a search on answers.com=nothing. Broke the screen name up. I then caught on to the two meanings =still kind of neat. Everything means something. So I tried the sn one last time under yahoo search………It kept coming up under adult sex and swingers site–but yet I didn’t find you under your own, or someone elses profile. I hit cache……..more results. Ok, there you are……..You and your WIFE. Seems you are both looking to do the humpety hump with whomever. Fun loving Swingers? Maybe that explained that little submissive image way in the back of your pic? Or is she the reason you don’t like dominant women(you already have one)? You probably should have changed your screen name over the years or at least between sites.
It makes me wonder what would have happened if we had met. Would I have had to develop some form of relationship with you before I got hit with her? Or would I show up somewheres to be greeted by you both? Maybe you could always say, "hey she was sort of in the pic." That would justify your deceit. Maybe you were actually cheating on her while she did her dog like stuff with other people. I wonder how that works? I know it’s a wonderfull start for AIDS.
Look, all I’m saying is, go ahead, it’s ok to be a perv, but save it for other pervs. Don’t be a lying perv. Leave normal folks out of your strange lifestyles. Try Honesty. Why did you even waste your time writing to an actual single person? If I was into that animalistic ass sniffing stuff you and your wife are into, I would be on that other site along with you. I know, you weren’t counting on someone actually using a search engine to find out what all you were into, but the internet works for all of us. Not just for you screwanyoldthingasssniffingmuttfuckinghivspreadinglyingpervs. Good luck finding the conkybine of your dreams and Thanx for wasting my time. It was fun.
An honest single woman
Not too much is pissing me off at the moment, however, I thought I'd create a blog for just those type of events in hopes of giving these less than nice thoughts a home all of their own.
Let freedom ring.