(no subject)
I feel as though my death is now imminent. I know I always thought it would be soon, but not this soon. On Saturday night, my psycho Aunt Laura tried to kill me, and I'll be seeing her tomorrow night. We will be in "The Pope Room" of Buca di Beppo, just like out of The Sopranos or The Godfather.
If my family suddenly disappears, it is up to you, dear readers, to get the truth out there and make sure that my Aunt Laura and her family is properly questioned and investigated, as they would be the ones behind this.
In the event that I should die on the Independence Day massacre, I have decided to leave a living will. To Nikki and Emily, I leave my collection of fun-reading books for the two of you to divee up between yourselves. To Alex, I bequeath all of my history books. To Elyse, I bequeath my collection of music. To Amy, I bequeath my collection of DVDs, as well as any single dollar bills found in my possessions for many more trips to the dollar theatre. And to KT, I leave all of my com studies books and my story for you to tell to the world...I expect it to be all over the news and I want Diane Sawyer to do an episode of Primetime about it.
So, why am I going to die, you ask? How did she try to kill me on Saturday night? It's simple: she picked up a knife to cut the birthday cake (that she was so pissed about cutting because it was "upside-down" even though the only way it could have been upside down if the icing was face down on the table, but, like I said, she's a little bit meschugunna) and when she picked it up, she brought it dangerously close to my face. Since then, I haven't been able to sleep...I keep having recurring nightmares about Jefferson Davis chasing me with my grandmother's Cutco knives.
Should she go into hiding, she will be easily identified by a southern drawl, a fat ass, an unnatural attraction to dogs more than people and a penchant for telling stories about the great things she does for the retarded students she works with, her kids, and dogs she's known in her life that no one else gives two shits about. She also has the social aptitude of an infant and the sense of humor of a 13-year-old boy. My instincts give me reason to believe that she is the inspiration for the urban legend about the woman who lives with her dog and when she comes home one day, her family and friends are hiding in her basement to throw her a surprise party and when they turn on the lights they find her lying on the couch naked with the dog licking peanut butter from between her legs.
ok, I'm going to go do work now.
If my family suddenly disappears, it is up to you, dear readers, to get the truth out there and make sure that my Aunt Laura and her family is properly questioned and investigated, as they would be the ones behind this.
In the event that I should die on the Independence Day massacre, I have decided to leave a living will. To Nikki and Emily, I leave my collection of fun-reading books for the two of you to divee up between yourselves. To Alex, I bequeath all of my history books. To Elyse, I bequeath my collection of music. To Amy, I bequeath my collection of DVDs, as well as any single dollar bills found in my possessions for many more trips to the dollar theatre. And to KT, I leave all of my com studies books and my story for you to tell to the world...I expect it to be all over the news and I want Diane Sawyer to do an episode of Primetime about it.
So, why am I going to die, you ask? How did she try to kill me on Saturday night? It's simple: she picked up a knife to cut the birthday cake (that she was so pissed about cutting because it was "upside-down" even though the only way it could have been upside down if the icing was face down on the table, but, like I said, she's a little bit meschugunna) and when she picked it up, she brought it dangerously close to my face. Since then, I haven't been able to sleep...I keep having recurring nightmares about Jefferson Davis chasing me with my grandmother's Cutco knives.
Should she go into hiding, she will be easily identified by a southern drawl, a fat ass, an unnatural attraction to dogs more than people and a penchant for telling stories about the great things she does for the retarded students she works with, her kids, and dogs she's known in her life that no one else gives two shits about. She also has the social aptitude of an infant and the sense of humor of a 13-year-old boy. My instincts give me reason to believe that she is the inspiration for the urban legend about the woman who lives with her dog and when she comes home one day, her family and friends are hiding in her basement to throw her a surprise party and when they turn on the lights they find her lying on the couch naked with the dog licking peanut butter from between her legs.
ok, I'm going to go do work now.