I auditioned for the main bad guy role in an upcoming Christmas special. The director really wanted me to have a smokers voice because smokers voices are good for bad people but I don't smoke so I just did a bunch of angry ragey arm wavy stuff and made a W out of my eyebrows. The director complimented me on my aggression and noted that I didn't belong in such a pansy assed town like SF and that I should consider moving to New York. I of course called him a pussy and told him that if he thought SF was so fucking pansy then why the fuck was he wearing a bike helmet and knee pads? He had no response so I flicked an imaginary cigarette butt at his head.
Out in the lobby I gave a little freckled kid a very inspirational and motivational speech about how to turn all the pain and anger caused by his freckles into a giant fuck off to the globe. He seemed to get it. Basically, for all you non freckled people out there I just have this to say: Keep it up FUCKFAGS, your day of reckoning is... --- yeah, you know.
Just after my speech a crocodile and cheetah both got loose. I found an escape route and forgot to tell anyone about it. I felt a little guilty. Nobody got eaten so that was a relief, sorta. The monkey squirrel thought he'd escape as well but he was easily captured because his pants were too big. DOUCHE.
I assumed the monkey squirrel was a he. I don't have a reason but all you monkey feminists should really just let it go.
Some wrangley lady tried to give me a glass of brown water when I was thirsty so I rewarded her with a ten minute lecture about how awesome SF water is. People love talking about regional tap water but watch out, the conversation heats up. Your tap water sucks, mine rules. See? You're all hot in the balls now.
That's all for now.
Don't get caught tryin to join the NAAFP with your ten stupid moles, you ain't freckled, got it?
Your Least Favorite Freckled Role Model Hotness Wise,
Wendy
January 11, 2008
January 04, 2008
Scraping Dried Jizz Off The Walls, Spectacular Stunt Man Behavior in The Connecting Room & My Interrupted Naked Stroll To The Paint Store
I just got home from a quick little family vacation. We haven't done anything like that since Boy George. As usual we checked in to the shittiest motel we could find next to the military base. I quickly found my spot on the floor where i put my eyeball right next to the shag carpet so I could assess the bug situation. There were lots, but they didn't look bitey. Before you go and judge my family as white trash, I will have you know that we splurged and got the connecting room too. Not only that, but the CORNER room, well, we kinda got it, we had to wait for whoever was in there to get done with his hooker and then it was all ours. My family took off to do some sight seeing, I stayed behind to herd the bugs into the hole in the linoleum and scrape the jizz off the walls. I thought I heard the dude in the adjoining room finish up and leave. I placed my ear on the door and didn't hear anything so I opened the door and went in. way down t the end of the unusually long hallway, for a "connecting room" hall I could see that the former occupants left a bunch of crap, an old suitcase, some cassette tapes, a sandwich, you know, so as I walked down it I kept my ears unplugged and scanning for left over hooker noises just in case they were still there.
Just as I was about to unzip the suitcase I heard someone snoring in the other room. It startled the fuck out of me so I bailed as fast and as quietly as I could, literally running on a thin sheet of air as to not make a sound. When I got back into my room I did a flying floating leap into the air and glid, glided or glode into the armchair as if nothing ever happened.
I should be a stunt man.
No, seriously, I should be a stunt man.
Anyway, they didn't hear me or try to karate chop me or throw chinese throwing stars at me so I turned my attention to snooping through my families luggage. Most of it was boring except my dad had a pile of checks all made out to him for exactly $900 each. For a minute I thought he stole them from me. I have no idea why I thought that.
I fell asleep before they all returned.
I agree, that WAS a terrific story about my vacation. I thank me too.
Later back at home I decided to walk nude to Kelly Moore Paints down on the corner, you know, because sometimes a man just has to walk to the paint store nude. Don't act like you don't do the same thing.
All was going well until I saw one of my best friend's younger brothers pull into the paint store parking lot in his beat up japanese car from the early 90s. He looked like he was with a wife and kids. I didn't even know he was married. One thing was for sure, I didn't wanna stand around acting all polite and have to meet them all, not because I was nude, I just always try to avoid him if I see him first. And shit, who likes meeting people? Not ME.
So once again I did my silent air run outta there, 'cept this time my wang was slapping against my leg making a sound so I had to hold it. So just in case any of you saw it, I was holding it to make it quiet, not because I was ashamed.
I don't think my friend's brother saw me, but I think his kid did.
Lucky little fuck.
That's all for now.
Don't get caught with your dick on the paint shaker.
Your Least Favorite Cast Member From All in The Family,
Gloria
Just as I was about to unzip the suitcase I heard someone snoring in the other room. It startled the fuck out of me so I bailed as fast and as quietly as I could, literally running on a thin sheet of air as to not make a sound. When I got back into my room I did a flying floating leap into the air and glid, glided or glode into the armchair as if nothing ever happened.
I should be a stunt man.
No, seriously, I should be a stunt man.
Anyway, they didn't hear me or try to karate chop me or throw chinese throwing stars at me so I turned my attention to snooping through my families luggage. Most of it was boring except my dad had a pile of checks all made out to him for exactly $900 each. For a minute I thought he stole them from me. I have no idea why I thought that.
I fell asleep before they all returned.
I agree, that WAS a terrific story about my vacation. I thank me too.
Later back at home I decided to walk nude to Kelly Moore Paints down on the corner, you know, because sometimes a man just has to walk to the paint store nude. Don't act like you don't do the same thing.
All was going well until I saw one of my best friend's younger brothers pull into the paint store parking lot in his beat up japanese car from the early 90s. He looked like he was with a wife and kids. I didn't even know he was married. One thing was for sure, I didn't wanna stand around acting all polite and have to meet them all, not because I was nude, I just always try to avoid him if I see him first. And shit, who likes meeting people? Not ME.
So once again I did my silent air run outta there, 'cept this time my wang was slapping against my leg making a sound so I had to hold it. So just in case any of you saw it, I was holding it to make it quiet, not because I was ashamed.
I don't think my friend's brother saw me, but I think his kid did.
Lucky little fuck.
That's all for now.
Don't get caught with your dick on the paint shaker.
Your Least Favorite Cast Member From All in The Family,
Gloria
January 02, 2008
VW Camp Out in Shitsville USA, Frat Dudes Totally Wrecked a Perfectly Good Ghetto & Fuckin' Insecure Writers Made Me Wreck My Gammas Recipe Book
I drove to a crappy neighborhood to camp out in my old VW bug. I have the kind of bug where the whole front end tilts up like a hatchback so it's great for getting a lot of stinky crap neighborhood air. I very soon discovered that it's really hard to enjoy a nice camp out in the ghetto because there are just too many ghetto people around. I thought bringing the dogs along would be good for keeping some people away but no, the dogs just made the whole thing that much more aggravating because I kept worrying that they were gonna run off with some crackface.
Right as I was falling asleep I felt the car wiggle a little and I looked into the rear view mirror only to discover some mangy looking meth dickhead rifling through my engine compartment. I calmly made my way back there and stood next to him waiting to see how long it would take for him to notice that he had been busted.
"What ya doin there pal?" I asked.
"Oh just gettin me some parts off this old bug."
"Yeah? Don't you think the owner is gonna be pissed?"
"He shouldn't park here."
"What if he FUCKING WANTS TO CAMP HERE YOU FUCK!?"
"Whoa -- you're MERKLEY???!! What's up dude, I'm a HUGE FAN." He said, totally fucking up my rage.
"And this is my FUCKING CAR FUCKHEAD!"
"Whoa dude, sorry. So how many of them chicks you take pictures of do you bang n'shit?"
"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FACE ASSHOLE!"
Suddenly the whole street was swarming with douchebag frat guys all wanting to talk to me about my "awesome beard" and asking me "how many of them chicks do you bang".
Frat dudes wrecked my ghetto camp out.
So I wandered over to a circus tent filled with rhinos to watch some lame idiot commit suicide. Nobody gave a fuck so that was good. Burning man is lame. For the billionth time.
When I got to the hotel where all the writers were staying I felt all competitive and smartassy. Some big newspaper interviewer guy maybe from Rolling Stone asked me what the secret was to writing a good story and I said:
"Tell the truth so good it sounds like a lie."
I really hadn't thought it through but by the looks of all the other writers they were pissed that I got interviewed and they didn't and even more pissed that a half decent non-cryptic sound bite flopped out of my mouth. Luckily I was dressed in hunting gear and had a bunch of my screw shaped bullets to keep them all at bay. I think I would have actually shot one of them, mostly to watch the bullet do it's slow motion screw action. Also to watch a writer die.
Anyway, I was acting all douchey, taking notes and overdoing it, mocking writers basically, but the joke was on me because my pen was leaking through about ten sheets of paper and it was my grandmother's old notebook with all her thoughts and recipes. I don't like wrecking my grammas shit. She can't make any more stuff on account of bein dead.
That's all for now.
Don't get caught trying to trade 6 frat dudes for one 50 year old hooker with missing teeth.
Your Crappiest Day To Have a Birthday,
New Years, No, Christmas, No, It's a Tie.
Right as I was falling asleep I felt the car wiggle a little and I looked into the rear view mirror only to discover some mangy looking meth dickhead rifling through my engine compartment. I calmly made my way back there and stood next to him waiting to see how long it would take for him to notice that he had been busted.
"What ya doin there pal?" I asked.
"Oh just gettin me some parts off this old bug."
"Yeah? Don't you think the owner is gonna be pissed?"
"He shouldn't park here."
"What if he FUCKING WANTS TO CAMP HERE YOU FUCK!?"
"Whoa -- you're MERKLEY???!! What's up dude, I'm a HUGE FAN." He said, totally fucking up my rage.
"And this is my FUCKING CAR FUCKHEAD!"
"Whoa dude, sorry. So how many of them chicks you take pictures of do you bang n'shit?"
"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FACE ASSHOLE!"
Suddenly the whole street was swarming with douchebag frat guys all wanting to talk to me about my "awesome beard" and asking me "how many of them chicks do you bang".
Frat dudes wrecked my ghetto camp out.
So I wandered over to a circus tent filled with rhinos to watch some lame idiot commit suicide. Nobody gave a fuck so that was good. Burning man is lame. For the billionth time.
When I got to the hotel where all the writers were staying I felt all competitive and smartassy. Some big newspaper interviewer guy maybe from Rolling Stone asked me what the secret was to writing a good story and I said:
"Tell the truth so good it sounds like a lie."
I really hadn't thought it through but by the looks of all the other writers they were pissed that I got interviewed and they didn't and even more pissed that a half decent non-cryptic sound bite flopped out of my mouth. Luckily I was dressed in hunting gear and had a bunch of my screw shaped bullets to keep them all at bay. I think I would have actually shot one of them, mostly to watch the bullet do it's slow motion screw action. Also to watch a writer die.
Anyway, I was acting all douchey, taking notes and overdoing it, mocking writers basically, but the joke was on me because my pen was leaking through about ten sheets of paper and it was my grandmother's old notebook with all her thoughts and recipes. I don't like wrecking my grammas shit. She can't make any more stuff on account of bein dead.
That's all for now.
Don't get caught trying to trade 6 frat dudes for one 50 year old hooker with missing teeth.
Your Crappiest Day To Have a Birthday,
New Years, No, Christmas, No, It's a Tie.
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