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sportophelia
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Name: M. Claudia
Country: United States
State: Florida
Interests: Midgets, Mulletts, Midgets with Mulletts, Black Midgets with Geri-curl Mulletts (because they are so rare), and training monkeys to give midgets mullett-style haircuts.
Expertise: I am a polyglot. I speak several variations of redneck and ebonics, a smattering of French and enough Korean to buy toilet paper. I also have the entire Dunkin' Donuts combo menu memorized.
Occupation: Spy
Industry: Secret Intelligence
Message: message me
Member Since:
2/6/2004
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| So true | | |
| State Farm FIRE & CasualtyI sat down at the desk. Stuck my forefinger out and pressed a blue button on a hard drive. Instantaneous sparks, flame and smoke. The entire department (hedgehoggers) popped their heads up enough to see me standing with my finger pointed in the air and my eyes looking very afraid. Everyone began to complain of the stinch. Sorry folks, but at least I didn't set you on fire, too. I tried to tell the tech people. They didn't believe me. They walked over and as soon as the stinch of a fried hard-drive hit their nostrils, they said, "Man, you really weren't joking! This has NEVER happened!" So, I'm glad to be the first person to set a fire at State Farm Insurance. Hope their insurance covers that computer. | | |
| Auto Mechanic ChicaneryHas anybody ever heard of or had the experience of taking your car to the mechanic and having to go back within a short time after your visit because something else is wrong? I suspect they sabotage our cars, but I'm not sure how to prove it. I need some feedback here people. Let me know. | | |
| Oncophiles: The latest trend in molestering pervertsI don't have an ass. I really don't. I used to have a
teeny-tiny one. If my former ass had been a set of boobs, they
may have warranted the use of a training bra. Currently, however,
my ass is simply non-existent. I use a hemorrhoid pillow to sit
on the toilet so I don't fall in. This is why I'm so amazed that
someone would still want to molest it.
I pull into the gas station and I get out of my pimpin ride to go pay
Raj my twenty. I open the door and see a physically challenged
person in a wheelchair attempting to exit. Because I am a kind
person and care about all my brothers and sisters in the human race, I
wait for him and his recently purchased 40 oz. and hold the door.
Upon his exit, however, he asks me, "You trying to be a skinhead or
something?". Why yes, I got cancer so I could align myself with a
narrow-minded group of hate mongers. I should have slammed the
door on him right then and there and bent his wheels and knocked his
Schlitz onto the sidewalk. Instead, I simply said, "No sir, this is
what cancer does to you." I could tell he was immediately
penitent because very sympathetically he told me that "things are
gonna get better" and as he GRABBED MY ASS encouraged me to "hang in
there". I was already headed into the station store so I chose to
ignore this transgression because: #1 I can't yell at him because
my voice is barely audible to begin with. I would have sounded
like the lollipop guild on
speed. #2 There's nothing more pitiful than a 100 lb cancer
patient in a fight with a drunk guy in a wheelchair. No one wants
to see that.
I went inside and paid for my gas and he rolled away...allegedly.
As I started to pump my gas I see the long shadow of rolling wheels
come up behind my car. Crap. I hear this cat call whistle
and then the statement, "Still looks good from the rear. Don't
worry girl, you'll get it all back soon." Crap. Gee,
thanks, drunk perverted guy in a wheelchair. Are you really
hitting on me? I mean, really? Could the gas pump any
slower? He went on to tell me how he had tried to grow out his
hair to give to kids with leukemia but, unfortunately, it was "too damn
kinky and wouldn't do nobody no good, especially the ways it gets all
tangled up like when I'm sleepin'." Aw, that's too bad. I'm
impressed with your philanthropic ways. You're a sensitive guy,
would you like to feel my ass again? Whew, gas is in, gotta
go. "Yeah, that's too bad. See you man."
Unfortunately, I did see him again. He's one of the current
mileau of interstate beggars that work the I-95 interchange near my
parents' house. Yep, there he was, him and his 40 oz. and there I
was, ignoring him and hoping he rolled in front of my car as the light
turned green. Nah, I wouldn't really run over him, why spill a
perfectly good 40 oz.
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