Oh, Mister Infatuation Boy....? Hello? September is here.... hey, how's your girl? You have to write about her, you know. We want details. Not sexual, just gushy shit.
Ah! You're killing me! I featured you a couple weeks ago and you haven't posted anything new for people who might hit the link. I'm still keeping the faith.
You guys, I'm taking bets that Irb has gone and married his lady friend and is living in a Katrina shelter with her. (Not because they have to, but because they want to)
Hey, Irb! I was just taking a pleasant stroll through your archives and decided to say hello. You're alive, right? You're not all decomposed and smelly, are you? But you know what? As bloggers go, I bet you could write better posts dead than most can alive. So, even if you're dead — and this suggestion counts only if you feel up to it — why not tap out a few lines?
I'm just going to have to assume that you're on some kind of quest for self-discovery. Not the kind in a locked bathroom with some lotion, but the kind where you hike through the mountains with a sherpa named Lapla.
I really wanted to flesh out that Zombie Rodney Dangerfield idea, as a Flash cartoon maybe, but it was supposed to take place in a voodoo shop in New Orleans, so after the Hurricaine, it seemed a little disrespectful. Well, even moreso.
I am a straight white male between the ages of 17 and 44. I’m an Aries and a recovering Baptist. By national standards, I’m moderate in my politics, but by Texas standards I’m somewhere to the left of Lenin. I have a certain boyish charm that makes me irresistible to children, pets, and old people. I’ve grown indifferent towards the night life, and I no longer care to boogie. Like slightly more than 100% of the English majors I know, I’m a writer wannabe who has yet to get published. I am not now, nor have I ever been, “emo.” I have a singing voice that resembles the wailing of damned souls. I am the walrus, kookoo katchoo. I shot the sheriff. But, and I’d like to make this perfectly clear, I did *not* shoot the deputy. I once divided by zero. I used to think I had no discernable Texas accent, but a recent visit to Canada made me realize that I actually sound like goddamn Jethro. I believe the children are the future. And my hobbies include writing slash furry Star Trek fan fiction and sitting on the toilet until my legs fall asleep.
14 comments:
That was pretty damn funny. I wonder why W was orange, instead of Devil Red?
I couldn't have written it better myself.
Just stopping by to let you know I changed my URL. Be a pal and update my link? http://tossedmysalad.blogspot.com
Loved it! I am going to link it on my blog, too!
Wow this was hysterical... in a truthful kind of way. I'm so borrowing it for my own blog!
Hysterical!
Oh, Mister Infatuation Boy....? Hello? September is here.... hey, how's your girl? You have to write about her, you know. We want details. Not sexual, just gushy shit.
Ah! You're killing me! I featured you a couple weeks ago and you haven't posted anything new for people who might hit the link.
I'm still keeping the faith.
Holy hell, it's almost October! Crawl out of your spider hole and write something funny already!
I think I have forwarded that on to anyone I know who has a sense of humor. Not a long list, but worth it. Thanks for that!
Helen
http://everydaystranger.net
You guys, I'm taking bets that Irb has gone and married his lady friend and is living in a Katrina shelter with her. (Not because they have to, but because they want to)
Maybe he clicked one too many times, and his mind is free and wandering over the Antarctic ...
Hey, Irb! I was just taking a pleasant stroll through your archives and decided to say hello. You're alive, right? You're not all decomposed and smelly, are you? But you know what? As bloggers go, I bet you could write better posts dead than most can alive. So, even if you're dead — and this suggestion counts only if you feel up to it — why not tap out a few lines?
I'm just going to have to assume that you're on some kind of quest for self-discovery. Not the kind in a locked bathroom with some lotion, but the kind where you hike through the mountains with a sherpa named Lapla.
I really wanted to flesh out that Zombie Rodney Dangerfield idea, as a Flash cartoon maybe, but it was supposed to take place in a voodoo shop in New Orleans, so after the Hurricaine, it seemed a little disrespectful. Well, even moreso.
Post a Comment