As usual, I've been snapping reputations like twigs on a Christmas tree on my hater sites, so I decided to lug my bulk over here and post introspectively.
What, you didn't think I knew that word, or that I could spell it? You thought that if I hadn't spent so much of my life doing evil, I would've had time to learn how to spell? Well, you're a bunch of dum dums.
I hate you, bloggers. All you ever whine about is:
"Read me!" "Read me!"
And I'm no different. I'm like a trained pooch trying to get attention from the humans.
At least some bloggers get paid to write.
Or if I hadn't blown it with Scarlett last year, we could be having phone sex right now -- and that would be one person reading my blog.
"But no," she said. "You're a big fat liar!"
I would quit blogging right now, but I have too much hatred in my heart to not ruin everyone's holidays. Plus, I'm a Libra. Very wishy washy. That's why I'm going to let Fate decide. Whoever writes the SECOND comment -- I want you to tell me whether to continue blogging or to quit after Hannukah or Christmas. Whichever comes last.
YOUR DECISION will be final, fans. You will decide the future of Tarquin Churchwell...
7 comments:
I don't care if you blog your ass to death...and you will, Thomas, you will.
I just have one question. When are you moving?
Sorry,wrong chimney.
Hahahahahaha
I wish you'd stop your blabby blogs, silly games and asinine posts but it's the only thing that keeps you from becoming a serial killer. A lot of people are alive cause blogging keeps those tiny, tattooed fingers of to yours out of the knife drawer. Gotta go Tarquin. I have a real job to go to, not a play one like you.
Word of advice: get your fat belly stuck in a chimney where no one can find you.
Up yours, midget.
Up me? You love that cause you're always begging me to open up my Hersey Highway so you can slip in your teeny tiny candy cane. From now on, go find a sewer.
Go find somebody to step on you. Your a bug midget.
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