The Unpleasantness

It's not often that I post e-mails I receive to The Unpleasantness. In fact, I've never posted an e-mail I've received to The Unpleasantness. Once I was going to post one I received about how I could be "more of a man," but there was no freakin' way I was letting that secret out. So, instead, I'm going to post the e-mail I just received from my friend Captain 40oz Hands:

Don't jinx the Brewers thing, ahole. Anywho, [name removed to protect the
innocent], FROLF today in the sunshine. Right when you get off of work on 62nd
and Keef (rhyms with queef, the front grunt or the action that was related to my
friend [name removed to protect the guilty] in confidence and then
that confidence was broken and my course of life was altered, I could have been
married to [name removed to protect everyone] and my house would have
been clean but I would have cats instead of dogs so lets call it even). FROLF
won't take you an hour and it is most enjoyable.

So, here is my lastest master plan. Evidently, my fiancee thinks I am
disgusting when I get drunk. Evidently, it was always that way and she never
told me. It has just now become more and more noticeable. She says things like,
"Gees, I didn't know you like Jagermeister that much!" and "You smell like
booze." She has even broken down my latest defense tactic, the stress of work.
When she says that I drink to much (which has now been regulated to pretty much
just Fridays), I say that I work with cancer kids. Now she says that I always
use that as an excuse. That's an effin tough stance. She doesn't even care about
the cancer kids. Heartless.

So my new tactic is honesty. It is time to stand up for my testicles. I
am unashamed and unabashed in my hedonism and manhood. I work and I do the
dishes and I go to school and the bills are paid. I can get effin drunk when and
where I want. If I want a drink I am going to have it, dammit. And then I am
going to have five. Get outamy face woman and watch out 'cause I'm horney. Hug
that pillow. It's midnight and I started at 3 in the afternoon and I am going to
light this cigarette and open another beer because of these nutz I got palmed
right here. I would make you feel beter if you got down on your pretty little
knees and just smooched them right effin now. And then go to the store and get
me another pack of Camel lights. And effin hard pack this time, comprende? I'll
pay you back tomorrow, toots. Thanks.

I think this'll work out for me.

Yep.

Posted by The Unpleasantness on Friday, April 20, 2007 at 9:57 AM | Permalink