My God, what the fuck happened to this thread? The hate was so focused before.

killttboy: accusing me of being Smelly Monkey is so June 2004. Fact is that I happen to know Monkey's real identity, it's no big secret. Actually, he's told you all before but you weren't listening.

Bornyo, no disrespect intended. You rock on this board, but quite honestly I made up the categories with the sole intention of creating a post where I could point out how much the dude posting as "Slut Wife" creeps me out. We already went through the magically disappearing (and reappearing) tattoo on her ass, it's somewhere in the archives. Then I was pretty sure I saw one of those pics on an amateur chick's site. Dunno. Maybe it'll be fun in 2005.

I'd create a new thread for this, but I'm too drunk and I fear my motor skills are going too render me incapable of taking my shoes off in about 7 minutes, so I won't chance it. Anyway, I was at a faux dive called the Underground Wonder Bar tonight, it's freezing fucking balls in Chicago and it's a decent place to go with an out-of-towner without getting third degree frostbite in the four minutes it takes to get to the place. One of those "character" places where they spray on the filth from an aerosol can.

Anyway, it was pretty dead, so between sets I'd look up at the TV, which was playing Howard Stern. They had some "Pornstar Olympics," and it's sad but I knew two out of the three girls in it. One was ADT's own Selena Silver.

If everyone is a goddamned snowflake and we all get one wish on Christmas and if we hold our breath and wait for the shrooms to start coming on so we believe all of these lies are true, that all of life isn't a lie and a cruel game set up to toy with us, just like the balding sherriff from Hal Hartley's Simple Men once said--if I had that wish for 2005, I would wish for Selena to get the fuck away from Clark Kent or Kent Clark or whatever that scuzzy looking suitcase pimp she's always with calls himself. They turned up the sound and though I couldn't really follow it, she didn't want to be in some kind of gross Sternesque pornstar competition (I think it was drinking until they pee or something). Selena refused and said that her "company" wouldn't let her. Someone came in and said, "Well, your company is in the Green Room and they said it's all right."

The cameras follow her into the Green Room and who is her "company"? That's right, that fat piece of shit dressed like a cut-rate accountant, just like in that picture from the convention where he was sweating so much that his button-up shirt was pasted on to him like sportsbra on a bulldyke at Sturgis. Her pimp mumbled something, then she went back and everything was okay. How fucking wonderful!

The funny thing is that she actually doesn't sound like a complete retard (which the other two girls did), even if she doesn't write a letter of those 10,000 word manifestos posted on ADT in her name. I won't ruminate on the tortured "whys" and "how-comes," because we all know why and how-come. It's just sad that she thinks so little of herself that she lets this bloated bobblehead and future MLM salesman-in-waiting ride her g-string, and no doubt sweep up the dollar bills after she humps a pole (or, like the ever-classy Evan Seinfeld, hire some underling to sweep up the dollar bills.)

And... I lost what the fuck I was talking about. Anyway, yeah. That.