Fucking holidays
It's some stupid holiday here. Fucking Preston Manning day or something Alberta-like. So there are idiots at my golf course and I can't get a tee time until 9:30. It's going to be slow and idiot old people are going to be ahead of me fishing their balls out of the fucking rough for twenty minutes and not letting me play through. And that's just K-Lowe. Fucking holidays.
Gator, when you get back in town, we're putting you in some kind of witness protection program. Seems your stalker has moved on to Mess, and we both know that means she'll have no use for a hack like you anymore. The question is, what will she do now that she has no use for you? Destroy the evidence? Watch your back.
Honestly, Gator. You have kids. Don't fuck around with people like that, it's dangerous.
Now, the rest of you gaymos, remember that course we made you take with the security guys and the lawyers and everything? If a girl contacts you and worships the ground you walk on, then she's obviously insane. If she then starts to tell you about all her problems, health-wise, money-wise, etc. just general angst and bitching, and wants you to pay attention to her, so on and so forth and whatnot heretofore... she's a stalker. Do not HELP the STALKERS.
We don't expect Gator to understand all this. He's... Gator. So someone a little quicker on the uptake has to look out for him. Which, with this bunch of guys, means he's as good as dead. So we're currently accepting applications for a new captain and resident cranky asshole. To apply, please forward your resumes to my personal secretary, Craig Simpson at his homepage: Big Flaming Gaymo Land Dot Com
Okay. I'm not being serious about this because I think this girl basically means well and I'm pretty sure Jason can handle himself in a dark alley with Carrie the prom queen there. However, you kids really do need to be more careful. Being polite and such is good PR up to a point. Then it's your head chopped up into tiny pieces and mailed out in a hundred pink envelopes to the next stalking victim.
Gator, when you get back in town, we're putting you in some kind of witness protection program. Seems your stalker has moved on to Mess, and we both know that means she'll have no use for a hack like you anymore. The question is, what will she do now that she has no use for you? Destroy the evidence? Watch your back.
Honestly, Gator. You have kids. Don't fuck around with people like that, it's dangerous.
Now, the rest of you gaymos, remember that course we made you take with the security guys and the lawyers and everything? If a girl contacts you and worships the ground you walk on, then she's obviously insane. If she then starts to tell you about all her problems, health-wise, money-wise, etc. just general angst and bitching, and wants you to pay attention to her, so on and so forth and whatnot heretofore... she's a stalker. Do not HELP the STALKERS.
We don't expect Gator to understand all this. He's... Gator. So someone a little quicker on the uptake has to look out for him. Which, with this bunch of guys, means he's as good as dead. So we're currently accepting applications for a new captain and resident cranky asshole. To apply, please forward your resumes to my personal secretary, Craig Simpson at his homepage: Big Flaming Gaymo Land Dot Com
Okay. I'm not being serious about this because I think this girl basically means well and I'm pretty sure Jason can handle himself in a dark alley with Carrie the prom queen there. However, you kids really do need to be more careful. Being polite and such is good PR up to a point. Then it's your head chopped up into tiny pieces and mailed out in a hundred pink envelopes to the next stalking victim.