Wednesday, February 2, 2011

one more minute wasted by a drunk and I am going to start passing out the breath mints

So she runs a contest. Sets a deadline: 24 hours and change. People rush to submit.

Day goes by.
Then another.
Then another.
No word. Other posts on her blob, but nothing, not a word about the contest.  There is something "funny," hysterical even, that is meant to measure your pulse. The submitters get that. The "throw 'em a bone. let them snivel. They'll wait," off the discard pile of excuses, kept in the ready and told with such delightful prose.

Google her twits: she was drunk.  Well, not drunk the whole time.  She was drunk then swam in the corn chowder of a well deserved hang over. Not sure what came first, the corn or the chowder.  I do know that charcoal and frontal lobes soaked in benzine create long, slow burns.

No damage though, just two days lost, blame to assign, and contests to ignore. NO HARM.  I'M FINE. REALLY.

"I didn't know they were doubles" is as old, and twice as lame as, "honey I don't sleep with that women half as often as I used to." someone will  believe you then you'll run your Escalade up side a tree.

So now for the mean time. "I didn't mean to this. I didn't mean to that."  All the time being mean, but not meaning to.  Mean people suck.  Mean drunken people suck then puke. Then do it again.