I took a ride in the smallest camper on earth. My feet were sticking out the back and my face was smashed up against the front window. My friend was riding with me and his bony elbow was stabbing the crap out of me. That's the last time I'm gonna agree to that kind of bullcrud. I'm riding up front from now on.
When we got to the flea market I realized that once again my fucking shoes were gone. I'm thinking about seeing a therapist about this. For all I know I have some kind of unknown mental disorder that causes me to abandon my shoes without realizing it.
Anyway, luckily we were at the flea market and there were plenty of shoes around although none of them were totally RAD like I like.
I bargained with a fat old woman about a huge furry yellow rug. She claimed it was on layaway and that I had to be a member of a certain family lineage to qualify to buy it so I played some Jedi mind tricks on her and bought it for half price.
I hated Star Wars by the way and I regret using that "jedi" reference above but I'm not gonna go back and change it now that I have spent 20 seconds typing the current sentence. Yeah, 20 seconds, you heard me. I never learned how to type, two fingers fuckers -- deal.
Later on at the read-through for the new movie I'm in, the director/writer seemed like he really wasn't digging the way I was delivering my lines. Rather than communicating to me what he was after, he just passively aggressively shifted in his seat and twisted his fingers. I took a second and looked at him up and down and determined that he was a closeted homo so even though nothing about the script suggested that my character was gay I decided to give it a 100% Paul Lynde meets Charles Nelson Riley spin and lo and behold a gigantic smile flopped off his head. Then I chased him around with doing my best gay run, you know, way over doing it like a show off.
"Come-ere YOU QUEEN, why didn't you tell me you wawnted me to be a hoe-moe, I'm gowna pich yo butt." I yelled.
I just realized I sounded like whatzername from The Carrol Burnett Show who spun off and did Mammas Family, umm I think Mamma was her name.
Or maybe it was Gomer Pile, anyway, it was OLD SCHOOL homo for sure.
Anyway my fag impersonation was a big hit and from then on I was the hero of the set. I admit that I maybe let it go to my head a little because I started bossing everyone around telling them how to do their jobs including the special effects dudes who couldn't make a convincing flying smoke ball to save their dicks. It's not like I was just arguing to argue, I'm just extremely annoyed with incompetence. My two best friends from high school were there and being the suckups they are, refused to back me up, hoping somehow their yes-man-ness would somehow magically advance their acting careers. Of course suckups never get where they wanna go unless where they wanna go is Douchebag Film Directors Lower Bowels Land.
Which ain't a bad vacation spot in all truthfulness, well that's what gay penises tell me anyway.
I know you're sitting there thinking that I was probably being unreasonable on the movie set but that's because you don't know that one of my biggest complaints was with the wardrobe department that expected me to wear a wet costume complete with a clearly visible 9 inch long poop stain on the ass flap. SEE? Don't jump the gun with your judgments. You don't know me.
I'm still in character a little bit. That's dedication.
PRINCIPLES PEOPLE --- HAVE THEM.
That's all for now.
Don't get caught giving the closet gay director a slow wedgy to prove you ain't bothered by his homocity.
Your Gay Run Champion
Ronald RayGun
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