Rebuttal
I feel overjoyed.
My head is in the clouds.
It is cold as hell outside.
Good-bye Norton. Good-bye Crash.
Heellooo, coffin.
La-dee-di.
I actually feel good today. I came right home after work and slept until 7. Then I woke up and ate some pork. Drank a 7-Up and took a shit. And that’s how I cap off a great day. I actually got the chance to leave early today. The computers all went down and there was nothing the computer geeks in the basement could do about it. And I celebrated by getting a nice big ass Wendy’s double cheeseburger with bacon. Umm, tasty. Looking back at it, I probably shouldn’t have had that burger. Too much fat in the arteries for one day. If I make it through the night, thank Baby Jesus. He truly is looking after me. Ha!
But still a great way, the past two days, to start off what may end up being a truly good week. Unless it all goes to crap by Friday. Something similar happened to me last week. Last week wasn’t a great week. But it went by quickly. And I was happy when I left work last Friday. I made it home and I felt safe. Like I had escaped a landmine or something. Then I got a call on the phone. And it’s my mother, and she wants to stay the weekend at my place. She called it a break from my grandmother. Instead, she spent the entire weekend trying to clean up my place. Because, well, I live like a pig. And to me, that’s cool. Cause it’s comfortable. And peaceful. And cool. Not in a “that’s cool” way. More in a cool breeze way. Even in the cold winter days I keep the fans going. Trust me, it’s like a sauna in here. And there’s nothing I can do about it. Either it’s ice cold or hot as hell.
But getting back to my mother. She spent the entire weekend trying to clean up my place. Apparently my crib smells like ass. Cause that’s exactly what my mother told me it smelled like when she walked in the door. I told her I didn’t smell anything. But she swore on her dead father’s grave that it was shit she smelled. So, I went to the bathroom and cleaned everthing up. In the process I got bleach on the back of my best blue-purple chinos. And afterwards she said it still smelled like ass. So, I washed all the dirty dishes in the sink. And I mopped the floor. But apparently, afterwards, it still smelled like ass. So, I gave up. So, if you’re ever in my vicinity and hoping to visit, remember, my place smells like ass.
Sunday morning, she left. And I celebrated by stripping naked and pissing in the toilet without my hands. I also ate a lot of Chinese stir-fry, and drank a lot of apple juice. This, of course, led to me pissing out of my ass until midnight. But, hell, for a lot of people my weekend was like a shitty smelling version of Disney World. A lot of people love Disney World. Even a shitty smelling one.
Side Note:
I read my weblog review and I honestly didn’t know how to take it. I originally submitted my site because like most people I wanted to know how the site was being received. And then I read the review and I got nothing from it. Nothing to grab onto, outside of the fact that I had “super-villain” misspelled for the past 8 months. I actually caught the error a couple of months ago. But for some reason which I can’t recall, I never got around to fixing it. But it’s still unforgivable to go 8 months with your title all fucked up.
Essentially Wendy, my reviewer, came to the conclusion that the site was an average looking site with no personality. At first I was a little pissed. I was like “damn,” she gave me a “2.” A fuckin’ 2 out of five. My shit rating was one level up from flunking. I mean I think I deserve more than a 2. Maybe a 3. From the way she ended the review, it was like she came to the conclusion that the site was average looking with content that was of no interest to her for her to make a return visit. And I can live with that. Different strokes for different folks. I mean I like writing about wrestling (but not in an abundance). And naked chicks. And I like giving my peeps the info on new shit. And I purposely don’t explain shit. That’s the flow.
But she also said it wasn’t a bad blog. Not a good one. But not bad. Average Right? 3 Right? But that 2 makes me think something else was going on. Something I should’ve caught from reading in between the lines. Something I’m not prepared to do because I’m TOO FUCKIN’ LAZY.
I actually think my blog was like a bad blind date. Not a really bad blind date that either leaves you scarred for life, or laughing about it 10 years in the future. Just one that wasn’t anything overwhelming. She was like I gotta go review this shit, let’s get it over with. And she got to the site, and it wasn’t bad looking. It didn’t wow her. But it was okay. And then she started going through the posts and was like wrestling, playmates, links, oh good like I ain’t seen that shit before. Then she was like nfo, what the fucks a nfo. Why won’t he explain what that shit is. Oh shit more playmate bullshit, more porn talk, diarrhea, masturbation, good subjects, ass wipe. And she fuckin’ glazed over like a retard. Then she went to the pad, the writing pad that is. And started writing about the date she had with that average looking blog with no personality. Which should be the new name of my weblog.
“Super-Villain Style: One Level Up From Flunking.”
“Super-Villain Style: Average Blog With No Personality.”
“Super-Villain Style: More Fun Than Sex With Your Neighbors Dead GrandMa”
“Words From The Retarded Hermit”
“Words From The Dead Monkey Fucker”
“Words From The Blog That Deserved At Least a ‘3,’ You Fuckin’ Bastard”
But like I said, I was pissed. But I ain’t no more.
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