Archive for February, 2006

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How I like my women.

February 24, 2006

Since all the ladies out there have been crawling to my doorstep lately, begging to get crunk with the captain (that is, me, Captain Crunk), I figured I’d list some of the things I look for in a broad.

  • I like my women like my peanut butter…light brown and chunky.
  • I like my women like my chairs…with four legs and a comfortable frame to sit on.
  • I also like my women like my peanut butter in another way…in a jar in the pantry.
  • I like my women like my shoes…damp and smelly.
  • I like my women like my evelvators…able to effortlessly carry me from floor to floor.
  • I like my women like my restaurants…always ready and willing to serve me food.
  • I like my women like my Slinky’s…springy and fun to watch roll down the stairs.
  • I like my women like my groceries…packed together in a plastic bag.
  • I like my women like my computers…full of silicone and doing my work for me.
  • I like my women like my French fries…deep fried and cheesy.
  • I like my women like my pretzels…twisted and covered in chocolate.
  • I like my women like my leather…tough, black, and produced by a cow.
  • I like my women like my Jell-O…cold, green, and jiggly.
  • I like my women like my belts…wrapped around my waist holding my pants up.
  • I like my women like my ants…stepped on.
  • I like my women like my sunflower seeds…roasted and salty.
  • I like my women like my alcoholics…passed out on the couch.
  • I like my women like my apples…dangling from a tree.
  • I like my women like my Buddhists….oh wait, no one likes Buddhists.
  • I like my women like with pizza….with a six-pack.
  • I like my women like my ovens….hot and always in the kitchen.

So, any of you bitches think you fit the description? Let me know if you do because you’re probably just full of shit, like all other women.
Hey, I’m not picky.

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Note to self number three

February 15, 2006

Hi once again,

Macbeth and Shakespeare suck so I’m going to write myself another note. English sucks. So does everything else for that matter. You know why? Who cares why? It just does and that’s all that matters. Nothing matters. Nothing I do today will have any kind of impact on any aspect of the rest of my life- which hopefully won’t take too long because I’m filled with negative feelings and thoughts and, more importantly, I’m getting bored with it all. Oh well. At least I’m not from the Middle East. JIHAD!!!!
If I actually were from the Middle East though, I’d be a crunk-ass gangsta/terrorist and they’d call me “Profit the Prophet.”

I wish I was a turtle ‘cuz then I’d have a shell and I could hide in it and tell people to piss off and get off my shit. Or when it’s snowy outside I’ll hop into my shell and go sled riding. But then I’d probably get hit by a car and my shell would break. Cars are heavy and move fast. I hate cars. It’d probably be a woman that ran me over because women can never drive without killing something. Then I’d use my super powers to change into a nail and flatten that bitches tire. I would laugh so hard. In fact, if I were human and not a robot I’d probably cry tears of laughter because it’d be hella-funny.

The Chizz is right- I am a cerebral assassin. I’m able to get into peoples’ heads even when I’m not trying to. It’s a shame really. Sometimes I feel bad about being able to control people if I want to. It’s good to be able to see through people’s bullshit though. That’ll come in handy some day when some deceitful ho tries to use me for something. Dumb bitch. No wonder I’ll always be single- there aren’t any girls who can get past my bullshit-radar. Oh well. At least I’m not pregnant.

Being pregnant would suck. Nine months from now a fetus would come crawling out of my vagina. Ouchies. Oh man, I was in the butt-loving drive-thru last night at work and some ho came through. She ordered some crap but her damn kids were being loud-mouthed brats. So I told her I couldn’t hear her in such a tone that she turned around and shut her kids up. I was so proud. Little shits. I should have spit on them when they came by.

I’m getting more and more tired and thus I’m getting my second wave of energy.

I’m done.

Miserably yours,
-Derek

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I wrote myself another note today. Yay!

February 7, 2006

Hello again Derek,

I’m glad I don’t have arthritis or writing these stupid, pointless notes to myself would suck. I’m such a lazy-ass and work is going to suck tonight. I still feel shitty. Just like shit probably feels shitty. I’m having a hard time paying attention, even though I want to because I know I have to. Who cares? NO ONE just like always.

I can’t wait until college. I’m going to be on Girls Gone Wild showing off my ta-ta’s and yelling “wooooo!” while I’m on spring break in some remote Latin American party place. I’ll be going on blind dates on MTV in hopes of finding a one night stand. Or one that lasts ’til spring break is over. Then I’ll return home to a life of solitude because there’s no one for me because I’m no one’s kind. Then when I get out of college I’ll live on the side of a mountain in a log cabin with a dog or two. Then I’ll wake up every morning to see my failure and I’ll grow a big-ass beard, just out of spite. Then I’ll hide out in the woods until boy/girl scouts come to spend the night “roughing it” in their bastardly little tents. Once they’re all asleep I’ll use my ugliness and scare them all away so that I can eat their marshmallows and cookies all for myself. Unless the cookies have coconut in them, in which case I’ll promptly vomit and shout obscenities. Then eventually I’ll die and there will be no one left to feed my dogs so they’ll eat me and get sick from it. Then they’ll die too and I’ll cry in the afterlife. Wow, my future sounds pretty shitty. Good thing there are no such things as psychics huh? ROFLMAO!!!!

I hate when people claim to have knowledge of the future. Which brings me to astrology: fuck it. Making predictions is one thing; using your bullshit mystical propaganda to give people false ideas about their destiny is another. That’s what horoscopes and tarot cards and the like do. There is no future until you get there and the present is past.

Unicorns are fake too. But that’s okay ‘cuz only kids believe in unicorns and they don’t count.

“One for the thumb!” is the slogan I keep hearing about the Steelers’ fifth Super Bowl win. For those of you who are not sure, the slogan means that the Steelers now have a fifth Super Bowl ring and, thus, have one to put on their thumb. I think the slogan should apply differently. It should stand for the one Super Bowl ring to go on the thumbs of the referees- since they had their heads up their asses the entire game. Oh well, I’m still black.

I hate writing myself notes. It hurts my hand after a while, so I’m done.

Still sadly yours,
-Derek

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A letter to myself.

February 6, 2006

Dear Derek,

Yo, what’s ^ brotha? N2M here. Did u watch the Super Bowl? I did n I’m perty pissed. The Super Bowl was Super Bullshit. You know who should have gotten Super Bowl XL’s MVP award? The referees! I’ve never seen such piss-poor officiating in all my life. Fuck the Steelers and all who love them. OMG…

But other than that, how wuz ur weekend? Mine sucked LOL!!! I hate working in the drive-thru @ work cuz of all the ungrateful assholes that I have to put up with. If I’m going to be sick as a dog while taking their orders in a nice, friendly manner, they should at least have the decency to look at me while I’m giving them change and telling them to have a good day. They’re lucky I’m not allwed to be as nice to them as they are to me. I’d be kicking some ass.

We played football in the crappy weather on Saturday. And, like, LOL I’m soooooo sore! What’s worse yet iz dat we lost. I was soooooo sad –> 😦 Speaking of which, why am I writing you a note? And y am I saying dumb shit like “LOL” and “OMG” n stuff? This isn’t the internet. Maybe it’s just me b/c I like reading notes and I’m lonely and tired. Maybe not. Maybe it’s cuz Scientology really is the correct religion and Xenu the space alien is planting all of this into my mind. Maybe I’m projecting a conversation with some voice in my head because I have an unexplained, deep-rooted fear of being hollow. Nah, LOL!!! That’s sily. It’s prolly becuz da chicken did come before da egg. I can’t imagine life without opposable thumbs. Turning a doorknob would suck. LOL!!!
I have a song stuck in mah head rite now LOL!!! Itz called “Tearjerker” by Korn. Oh, and “Open Up” by Korn is stuck in mah head 2 HA-HA! I should be paying attention to calculus rite now instead uv writing mahself a note. I feel like shit.

I need to put gas in my car =(