Thanks Asshole

Thank you so much for jacking my fucking car. It was a relative piece of shit, you fucking turd. As if this state doesn't suck enough ass, now I have no car. Also, thanks for stealing my tools that were in it. The only thing in my tool bag you're qualified to use was the fucking screwdriver. But even that probably confuses you since it's 10-in-1. You suck so much of my ass. But guess what? Come and try that shit again. Go ahead. I won't even lock the fucker. You know why? 'Cuz you're on candid camera, monkey balls. That's right. A fucking $700 dollar camera and vcr can fucking show every god damn pimple on your stupid faggot-face. Better hope I don't catch you driving my shit down the interstate. I pack heat, shit-stain.


Anyways, now that I have that out of my system, I think I have a problem. I ordered cable with all the possible channels. But every damn night, there's a Steven Segal movie on. AND I CAN'T STOP WATCHING THEM. Why am I so obsessed with a soft-hand slap-happy pot-belly that runs like a fucking girl? This shit has got to stop.

Tomorrow I get to meet the CPA for a bunch of NBA atheletes, and wire his guest house. Which is roughly the size of Rhode Island. What a way to start a fucking job. If I fuck up once, he'll cancel any pending jobs with whiny rich atheletes. Woo-fucking-hoo.

I decided not to continue the Bachelor Party story, since it's probably only funny to parties involved. But FF did end up M.I.A. by the end of the night. Who knows where he is now.

Enjoy.