I Might Be Taking This Badly

It has now been three days since my Lord and Savior Brett Favre announced his retirement.

This blows.

Fuck. I need to talk to someone...


Me: Oh shit. Hello Map Of The Upper Midwest With A Red Dot Indicating The Location Of Green Bay, WI.

Map: Yeah, what the fuck? Why are you bitching about Brett Favre? You see how Tennessee kinda looks like my cock? Yeah? It is. And Brett Favre can fucking eat it.

Me: Holy fuck. I had no idea that a jpg. image of a fucking map could talk. How come you're such a dick? Brett Favre has influenced my life more than Jesus. If I saw him in public and his shoe was untied, I would gladly volunteer to bend down and tie it, lest he injure himself and miss his first game ever. Now I have nothing!

(Quiet sobbing)

Map: Eat my Western Illinois asshole! Shut the fuck up. Brett Favre is more synonymous with Green Bay than the actual fucking city is with itself. If you search Green Bay on GIS I'm the first return followed by 9 million photos of Brett fucking Favre. That guy was everywhere. I can't take him anymore.

Me: I'm going to light you on fucking fire.

Map: How do you plan on doing that you sheep humping dumbshit? I'm a fucking picture. On your fucking computer. Does any of this register with you?

(Looking up through red, tear filled eyes)

Me: I don't know. I just...




Me: Don't fuck with me. I won't stand for anyone speaking ill of Brett Favre.

Me: Damn. That was cool.

Me: How did I just do that?




Please come back Brett.

Please.

Dear Christ No!

Dear God No!!! Please, please, please come back for one more season! Fucking Christ come back! I know I have always joked about how I would fellate you on command but I'm not fucking around this time! I will do it! I'll slob little Brett for one more season!

(Muffled sobs)

Oh Fuck! I can't live without you, Brett!

(More sobbing)

Please reconsider....

And if you do...leave your fucking wife back in Mississippi. I don't want to see another shot of her in the luxury box at Lambeau.

Please come back Brett. One more year.

Please.

Holy Shit People May Actually Be Reading This Thing

Every once in a while when I come on this little thing I like to call a "weblog" I glance down at the site counter thing. I don't really pay much attention to it, but when I looked at it a few seconds ago something struck me - there are easily 150+ more "hits" (fuck I hate internet jargon) than there were the last time I looked at the counter, and as far as I remember that was only a week ago. Obviously, people are looking at my "weblog" which is pretty fucking sweet. I don't even know what to make of it. Is it a good thing that my warped sense of humor is now being disseminated to a larger audience? Probably not if you care about the future of America. Is it cool for me? Fuck and yes it is. So here's the deal...if you read this, please, leave some feedback. If you think I suck, tell me. That's cool, I'm definitely not above writing a childish and immature response to any hateful or derogatory comments I get. In fact, that would make my job easier as I would not have to think of new things to write. If you like what I write here....then let me know.

Or you can just say "fuck it" and not respond. In any case, I'm mildly excited that people may possibly be reading this inane drivel. I have a feeling it may be due, in part, to K-Fingerett's nifty little link thingy to my site that she dropped in one of her posts. My guess is that since she does not write about subjects that may cause the downfall of humanity, but instead about relevant things that are pertinent to her world she has more readers, which is, at the very least, a positive indication of the direction in which the human race is moving. I, however, write about crackheads, hookers, and booze. I can only imagine the reaction that may have been elicited when one of her readers accidentally clicked on the link to my page and was lucky enough to read my comparison of Blowjobs and Scorpions.

So, please, if you visit, let me know. Obviosuly, I can't and am not trying to make money from this, and I really only write here because I think it is funny for me and my friends who read this. Most importantly, though, I am an attention whore and I need everyone to tell me how awesome I am. I already know how much ass I kick, but I want to you all to tell me.

Get on it.

Finally, I'll end with this little note.

Dear Winter,

Fucking die already. It is fucking March. Your time is over. No more snow. No more cold. No more -10 wind chill. Eat a dick, Winter.
Asshole.

Love,
Michael

Fucking Winter