The Straw is Piling Up on the Camel
This evening, I was shopping with my girlfriend and her sister. On the way out, I noticed those stupid cheap toy dispensers, and put a quarter in two of them-a shoddy ring dispenser and a cross necklace one. I turned the ring one first, and out popped a piece of crap tin ring with purple dye. Then I turned the crank for the cross necklace. Do you know what I got? NOTHING. I got a fucking empty bubble container. And what was even worse was that was that the store’s FUCKING RENT-A-PIG came out of her little office right when that happened. They must have known that it was going to happen, and that I would have otherwise gladly exacted vengeance for the wrongs wrought upon me by the necklace dispenser. Fucking Bush. Hail to the THIEF, setting it up so people are powerless to prevent the loss of their quarters.
So then, my girlfriend and I went to see “House of Wax” at some shitty little St. Petersburg theater. “House of Wax”? More like “MOUSE OF CRACKS”, because the script appears to be written by a rodent who has a penchant for smoking crack-cocaine. At least the script was original: killing people with wax. Oh, and to the rasping woman and her vile little boy sitting directly behind me: thank you for talking the entire movie and saying the word “Paris” whenever she walked onscreen. I hope the woman is raped and killed and the kid suicides himself. Speaking of Paris Hilton, the movie features cinema’s finest moment: Paris Hilton being murdered. I’m so glad I got to see that fucking flighty BIMBO killed with a rusty pipe. That attention whore is stealing media time from truly talented actresses like Mandy Moore.
Well, I’m finally back home, for all the good that does me. My stupid parents don’t understand me; they tell me to “keep the music down”. Hello?! I’m practicing a BASS GUITAR, of course it’s going to be loud, morons. I have no patience for people who do not understand my ART. I snuck a beer from my dad tonight; the old fool is such an alcoholic that he’ll never notice one missing. I’m 3/4th of the way through it… I think I can feel it working.
Well, I’m going to bed. I hope you all had a better day than I did, although that shouldn’t be too hard to do. The only way you could have had a worse day is if you were a black slave who was killed in the Holocaust.
So then, my girlfriend and I went to see “House of Wax” at some shitty little St. Petersburg theater. “House of Wax”? More like “MOUSE OF CRACKS”, because the script appears to be written by a rodent who has a penchant for smoking crack-cocaine. At least the script was original: killing people with wax. Oh, and to the rasping woman and her vile little boy sitting directly behind me: thank you for talking the entire movie and saying the word “Paris” whenever she walked onscreen. I hope the woman is raped and killed and the kid suicides himself. Speaking of Paris Hilton, the movie features cinema’s finest moment: Paris Hilton being murdered. I’m so glad I got to see that fucking flighty BIMBO killed with a rusty pipe. That attention whore is stealing media time from truly talented actresses like Mandy Moore.
Well, I’m finally back home, for all the good that does me. My stupid parents don’t understand me; they tell me to “keep the music down”. Hello?! I’m practicing a BASS GUITAR, of course it’s going to be loud, morons. I have no patience for people who do not understand my ART. I snuck a beer from my dad tonight; the old fool is such an alcoholic that he’ll never notice one missing. I’m 3/4th of the way through it… I think I can feel it working.
Well, I’m going to bed. I hope you all had a better day than I did, although that shouldn’t be too hard to do. The only way you could have had a worse day is if you were a black slave who was killed in the Holocaust.