strangerreader1
August 4th, 2006, 01:48 AM
Hello friends.
I just thought, having read the glowing reviews of your orthographic prowess in this week's Suggests, that I might do you the favor of letting you know that you are going down on Monday. Think differently, do you? Well, you'll be disabused soon enough.
Everyone knows that the most fun of any really fun game comes from talking the trash. So I got good and liquored up to trash you, just like I'll get good and liquored up on Monday night to CLEAN HOUSE. You are dead in the water. You're a sitting duck for my logotropic mind. As the letters roll off my tongue like your mother rolls off me most nights of the week, so too shall your pathetic little spelling skills roll down the drain. You cannot beat me. You can do nothing. You are powerless against my awesome might. Look upon my works, ye mighty, and despair, for I am going to spell the ever-loving shit out of you in three days' time. You better book up, bitches, because I mean business.
We've all heard of Noah Webster. Webster ain't shit. I'm the real troublemaker in this town. Trouble is my business. Orthographic trouble. Ready to bring it? Because I'm ready to wipe the floor with the both of you.
OK, I didn't mean it about your mother and I'm mostly just fucking around. But I still am going to win on Monday and both of you had better know it in advance, so that your friends and allies can be there to assuage your wounded egos. Mine will be there too, but not because I might err. Rather, because they know I will whip your sorry little no-spelling asses to within a millimeter of the edge of time and space, and then I will kick you right the hell out of the known universe. And then I will be buying the drinks. My friends like to get drunk even more than I like to get drunk. I'll get you guys a round too, though. Wouldn't want to be ungentlemanly about it.
See you Monday, amigos.
I just thought, having read the glowing reviews of your orthographic prowess in this week's Suggests, that I might do you the favor of letting you know that you are going down on Monday. Think differently, do you? Well, you'll be disabused soon enough.
Everyone knows that the most fun of any really fun game comes from talking the trash. So I got good and liquored up to trash you, just like I'll get good and liquored up on Monday night to CLEAN HOUSE. You are dead in the water. You're a sitting duck for my logotropic mind. As the letters roll off my tongue like your mother rolls off me most nights of the week, so too shall your pathetic little spelling skills roll down the drain. You cannot beat me. You can do nothing. You are powerless against my awesome might. Look upon my works, ye mighty, and despair, for I am going to spell the ever-loving shit out of you in three days' time. You better book up, bitches, because I mean business.
We've all heard of Noah Webster. Webster ain't shit. I'm the real troublemaker in this town. Trouble is my business. Orthographic trouble. Ready to bring it? Because I'm ready to wipe the floor with the both of you.
OK, I didn't mean it about your mother and I'm mostly just fucking around. But I still am going to win on Monday and both of you had better know it in advance, so that your friends and allies can be there to assuage your wounded egos. Mine will be there too, but not because I might err. Rather, because they know I will whip your sorry little no-spelling asses to within a millimeter of the edge of time and space, and then I will kick you right the hell out of the known universe. And then I will be buying the drinks. My friends like to get drunk even more than I like to get drunk. I'll get you guys a round too, though. Wouldn't want to be ungentlemanly about it.
See you Monday, amigos.