Shit

Jesus Christ on a stick. I was really hoping that I would never have to write this post. Unbelievable. Unlike some people, I am somewhat fond of both of my parents. You could go so far as to say that I like them and that they have grown on me. For this reason I was slightly more than horrified when I received a phone call this past weekend and my mother informed me that she had "read my website" and that she had "never seen so many F-words in all [her] life."

Oh. Fuck.

Obviously I make up lots and lots of stuff that I write about here. But how do you explain to the woman that bore and raised you that you were just kidding around when you write about chaining a fat hooker to a pole or say that you would rather watch a kitten being raped than go to work?

Shit. Shit. Shit. Goddamn. Shit.

There was a reason that I made sure they didn't read this site. Mostly because it's depraved and disgusting. Now they know what I have written. Not that I'm going to stop or anything because I still think this shit is funny. But goddamn.

Here is the rundown of the phone call I received:
*Phone rings*
Me: "Hello"
Mother: "Hello, Michael, are you an angry man?"
Me: "No, not really."
Mother: "Oh, because I read your website and it seems like you are."
Me: *Raising a gun to my temple*
Me: Silence
Mother: "Are you still there?"
Me: "Oh shit..."

This is worse than getting caught rubbing one out to a snuff film. I could club a harp seal and not feel nearly as bad as I do now. I don't think I'm ever going to be invited to Thanksgiving dinner again. Son of a bitch.

*Still raising the gun to my temple*

Fuck me.