I'm in a mood today. Here we go!
1) If one more person looks at me with pity and disdain because I don't want to have children, I may vomit all over their already baby-formula stained shirt. "Children are our future" "You are denying yourself a wonderful gift" and "What if your husband wants to have kids?". Most people who have children shouldn't, rendering our future fucked up enough without my help. Secondly, if I wanted a wonderful gift I'd sink the $100,000 it takes to raise one of the little shits into a nice wardrobe of Gucci, Fendi, Prada, and Versace. Thirdly, if I DO ever get married and said husband wants a child, he can give birth to it himself. If you want kids, that's your own problem. But fuck you for trying to push masses of small screaming, drooling people with weird heads and no teeth on to me. (And before I get emails, you try to think of one child who doesn't have a weird shaped head).
2) To all the girly girls out there, if I hear you bitching about pumping your own fucking gas, I may have you killed. Fuck you. What the fuck makes you so special that you think you deserve to have someone doing it for you. You own the car. You drive the car. You cart your 203019 children to soccer practice in that car. Learn to pump your own fucking gas.
3) People who purposely misspell or misuse words should be shot. I don't care if U had 2 go 2 the store 4 sum cigs. I had 2 go 2 the store 4 mo ammo 2 shoot U. R U paying attention? R U? Not kwite as fun when sum1 else has 2 read this shit. I'm starting 2 piss myself off. This rule doesn't apply if U have a broken keyboard.
4)Fuck those TV ads that tell me if I'm buying drugs I'm supporting terrorism. Fuck you straight to hell. My drugs come from a short little man in Colombia named Juan who is trying to support Jesus, Victor, And Paco. And if we all stop, that poor little man and his poor little children will have nothing to exist on except for the small cocaine plantation in their back yard. Or if my drugs are grown in someone's basement in Oregon, or Montana. Fuck you. Go find Osama and leave me alone.
5) This person should be killed. You know what pisses ME off? Small adolescent boys who have yet to find the fucking spell check. Emplies? Is that even a word?
6) If I get another chain letter in my email, I may go insane. Do you really think that by me forwarding some obnoxious picture of a cat that twelve kids in Ziberbomway are finally going to get replacements for the prosthetic legs they lost in a wild boar accident that wasn't their fault because the large nipples on their foreheads obstruct their vision? Fuck you. I don't need any more luck in my love, work, or school life. What I do need is a beer and a cigarette. If a chain letter will supply me with that, I'm game. If not, the Ziberbomwayisans are on their fucking own.