Friday is always a bad day to publish a blog post. People are too busy destroying their bodies, minds, and spirits with…well, spirits. Not that I blame them. The right thing to do on a Friday night is to come home all pissed off from work, log onto Facebook, update your status to how drunk you’re about to get, grab a Coors Light, and step into the shower with said Coors Light while you shampoo your hair, blare rap songs about getting hammered, and then go get hammered yourself. What’s a Saturday morning without a pounding post-tequila headache, a missing cell phone, regret, and throw up on your shoes? Well that’s just not a Saturday at all.
I am ready to bludgeon multiple citizens of Jeannette and/or Latrobe, Pennsylvania to death. Can I get in trouble for saying this? I don’t think so. I think I am protected by several amendments. Well, maybe one amendment. Anyway, freedom of speech, blah blah blah. Seriously. People here need to be punished. They all share the same mentality that they deserve everything for nothing. They’re all victims. The world owes them something because they work so hard at being lazy, jobless, bottom-feeding parasites. I was red with rage today. Dealing with these people is going to drive me to drink myself to death, and turn grey in the process.
Helping people with insurance claims here in western PA is like trying to help an injured, famished animal. All I’m trying to do is wrap your bleeding wound and feed you some Apple Jacks, raccoon! WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO BITE ME?! DON’T YOU KNOW I’M ON YOUR SIDE?!?!?
People don’t get it.
I am 100% certain that I will be slapping one or more people across the face before I leave this state. I am also delivering some very brutally honest, mean, “you suck so bad” letters when I depart. There are so many people here that need to be told how miserable, ugly, incompetent, disagreeable, and ignorant they are. I am first in line to do so. I’ve already written one. It begins like this:
Dear Toucan Sam,
It’s a nose joke. This woman’s nose is the size of the Great Pyramid of Giza. You could build a gazebo on it. You could install an in-ground pool on her nose. They could move the Iowa State Fair campgrounds to her shnoz. It’s that big.
I can’t wait to deliver it. I am rubbing my palms together with anticipation, snickering all the while. I hope she cries and is too embarrassed to ever show her nose I mean face in public ever again. Perhaps she’ll cut it off. I’ll have to send a follow-up letter to find out what she decided to do.
I’ve really been sucking down the Dr. Pepper today. In the store, I noticed they sold 8-packs of these miniature cans of Dr. Pepper, so I bought them thinking that it would be a good way to satisfy my insatiable craving for DP without drinking a pony keg of it at a time. That didn’t work. Instead I just drink like 3 miniature cans instead of one regular one. It’s too delicious. I have no regrets.
If you need me, I’ll be in a soda-induced coma. Goodbye for now.
“At my grandfather’s funeral and I just sharted bad.”