Sunday, February 11, 2007

See you never believe me. I am going to keep posting like this. I just sit at the typewriter and this is what comes out.

I'd thought I'd write an uplifting post today. Because you seem down. And I hate it when you cry. When you cry I just sit there. I think all kinds of nice things in my head that could make you stop crying, but all the emotion in the room keeps me from saying them. And then you just keep crying.

After about an hour it starts to get on my nerves and I start thinking things that would give you a good reason to cry, if I stated them aloud. But I never do. So you just keep crying and I keep patting you on the head. And eventually you stop crying. Then I excuse myself to go to the bathroom. I've needed to go since before you came over to the house. But why let that worry you?

You've got problems and I am the only one who pretends to care. I just wished you wouldn't drool so much on me. When people drool on me I begin to think that it might be time to pay child support or it's time to visit Chuck E. Cheese for some little retards birthday. I hate birthdays that aren't mine even more than the Mongoloid little children you birthed for me.

No matter what you say I am can never be completely satisfied that any of these kids are mine. Because I only have 46 chromosomes. And none of your kids have less than 49.

I liked this picture of Anna, because she looks pretty and happy in it. I thought it would cheer you up. Even people this happy and pretty are going to die. And you are still alive.


Jezebelsriot said...

Oh man, the chromosomes. Yes, still laughing.

I didn't really care about Anna dying, but now I am looking back at how crazy fucked up she was and how unashamed to be in public practically shitting herself, and I'm sad I missed out on a chance to party with such exquisite white trash that got a shitload of money dropped in her lap. We probably could have been best girlfriends, and she could have shown me how to dance on the pole. Damn life.

Romius T. said...

Best friends and we could all hang out and stuff. And I could get addicted to whatever she killed herself with.

Dr. Stephanie said...

I'm not sure if your post made me feel better, or made me want to choke on my own vomit, too.

Romius T. said...

The only two rational responses to this post are vomit and happiness!