I’ll try not to cry

Well played 50 Cent. Well played. I’m not a fan of your style of music, but I like the way you feud. They call it petty. I call it funny. If I had the wealth, my pranks would be Geraldo Rivera/Al Capone’s vault circa 1986, epic. Did I make an ass of my opponent in front of millions? Yes? Success!!! 

Anyway

Someone stuck an American flag sticker on my window. Really guys? A sticker? Ghetto. Still, I guess this makes me a racist now, right? Can’t be patriotic. Goodness no. How dare New England’s football team call themselves the Patriots. Time to change their name to the New England Supporters of Our Troops but Not the War. 

I know. I know. I’ve said that before but when you write a blog for 6 years I’m going to repeat myself. Not quite as often as grunge rock, or feminists on antidepressants, but repeat myself nonetheless.

Um. So. Like. Is now a bad time to remind you guys that my windows are specially treated so I can look out but no one can look in, not even in broad daylight with my blinds open. Yeah. That. And I’m on the second floor. The only person that sees that sticker is me. Geniuses. 

I never understood “I support the troops but not the war”. What do they think military troops do exactly?

Ok. Deep breath. In. And out.

I’m going to write this one back. He says he’s 46 years old (internet years) which is like 52 in real life years. So that works out. His message was nice. All the five letter words or less were properly spelled. He didn’t brag about the size of his junk or send me dick pics. He seems to dress ok. He lists himself in Henderson, so chances are good he’s local, but not too local. He’s 16 miles away from Fremont. That’s good. I once dated someone who lived across the street from me. Never do that again. 

Ok. Here we go.

Here we go.

No. I’m really going to write this one back.

Here we go.

Here we go. 

Fuck

Here we go.