Txts to an Asshole 4

Another installment of "Txts to an Asshole," a reoccurring thread documenting my adventures of messing with fools who have the audacity to send a txt message to the wrong number, my number. If you've missed the first three, shame on you. Seriously, what the fuck were you thinking? You weren't thinking? You're damn right you weren't thinking. Catch up here before I kick your sweet little ass: Txts to an Asshole 1, 2, and 3.  

Them on 2/29/2012 @ 10:49pm: Hey

Me on 3/1/2012 @ 7:42am: What up? 

Them @ 1:39pm: Nm u

Me @ 5:46: Sorry

            Was in the middle of push up contest

Them @ 5:47: That's right lol jk

Me: You think that's funny? 

Them: Wtf lol 

Me: I'll have you know I train super hard for this shit

           Its my life 

Them @ 5:48: No random lol

            Ok lol

Me @ 5:50: Alright, how about we do this, we hold our own contest

             We'll start doing push ups and the winner gets the other person's soul

Them @ 5:51: Alright

Me: GO! 

One week passes during which I have done a total of .5 pushups. 

Me on 3/8/2012 @ 2:02pm: Alright, where ya at? 

Them @ 2:05: My dick is about to go 12 inches deep in your ass hole

WOAH! I was not expecting that one. I had to wait on that one for a bit. Plus, I was a bit busy checking the depth of my ass. 

Me on 3/9/2012 @ 9:02am: There is no way you could get something that large in my asshole. I tried a piece of celery last week and that didn't even go. 

             AND it broke off, which was less than cool. So yeah, your exaggerated dick isn't 

             gonna work for me.

Them @ 11:25: Okay ill be right there

Me: I don't think you will be. I think you're gonna stand me up like every other guy who has promised to shove his dick in my ass hole. 

             Why can't I just meet a nice guy who won't stand me up for once? 

Them @ 12:53: Oh I stand you up and you will feel a poke from behind

Me @ 1:19: "Oh I stand you up"? Do you mean you "will" stand me up? Grammar please! 

             You sound like a cave man when you txt like that. 

Them @ 1:20: Ill stand you up

Me @ 1:24: It's just so hard to find a well-educated guy who has the decency to actually show up when he says he's going to put his pogo in my pooper

Them @ 1:26: Haha that really made me laugh lol 

Me @ 1:37: Well, I'm glad my continual rejection, my psychological pain from lack of anal pain is humorous to you.

             Jerk.

Them @ 1:40: Lol what ever

One is all you need. 

# 2 (a word from our sponsor)

Them on 4/16/2012 @ 10:19am: You have just won a free $1000 Walmart Gift Card, enter "CARD" at http://promodaygiveaway.com/walmart

Me @ 10:22: Two words: fuck, yes.

Question though, do I have to wear pants when I decide to spend it? I mean, I feel as though, as a winner, I'm entitled to shop how I wanna shop: Pantsless.
I mean seriously, now I'm big shit. I just won $1K to Walmart. Do you know how many ottomans that'll buy me? I'll never have to walk on the floor of my house
again. And -AND! I'll feel really tall. Which is important to me, being fairly short most of my life.
So yeah, can I let my goods breathe that stale air in? I'm pretty pale, which may brighten the store up a bit. It's always so damn dark in those places.
I guess that's fitting for a place that exploits 3rd-world and 1st-world workers. But what about 2nd-world countries? It's like, "Walmart. Why ya gotta hate?"
You think 2nd-worlders don't like to be exploited?" Well, you're right. They don't like it. BUT! Walmart could be the store that changes that.
Butt, I digress. Me, naked from the waist down, perusing the "fine" jewelry or conservative-themed book section, think about it. Hard. Think average long and hard about it.

Hey, your words are hurtful. 

But can I come over when you get the ottomans set up? 

# 3

Them on 3/17/2012 @ 8:52pm: Hey is this kaitlyn ******?

Are you fucking kidding me? Of course it is. 

Me @ 8:53: Hey! 

          How are you? 

Them @ 8:54: What's up hah ya roll through! :)

          I'm good how're you lol are you coming over? 

Me @ 8:58: Ye bua got deap che

Them @ 8:59: What? 

Me @ 9:00: Lol! Haha I meant

          Ye bua got deap che

Them @ 9:01: What haha are u comin down to my place? 

Me @ 9:01: Yes

Them @ 9:02: Okay lol

Me @ 9:06: When? 

Them @ 9:08: Now lol

Me @ 9:08: hahahahhaa I'll be there in like 5 mins

Them @ 9:09: Word haha

           Make sure you have somethin to carry or hide it in lol

Me @ 9:09: My belly

           Ill look prego n sneak it in

Them @ 9:11: There's a cop

Me @ 9:19: I'm sorry? 

           What?

           Then we'll be at Applebees.

Them @ 9:23: Wheres that at lol

Me @ 9:25: So I got this txt earlier

           It said 'send me a pic of ur nipples'

           Fuk that

Them @ 9:55: Hey were going to my friends house that lives down here

Me @ 9:56: Imma crash @ Applebees

Them @ 9:57: Word ha

Me @ 9:57: Butt seriously, we should gett brekfast

Them @ 10:00: I'm good lol

Me @ 10:01: New it

           Send me a pic of ur nipples

Brad, please. 

(What popped up when I typed 

"Ye bua got deap che" into Google Images)

Concerning That Fresh Advert, Fake Craigslist Post #3

This is the third installment of Fake Craigslist Posts, a worthless endeavor of mine that is wrought with the pathetic and wreaks of amusement. As you may remember, my first installment starred a man attempting to break through gender stereotypes on a quest to become a sans-children-stay-at-home husband. A bike-themed part two paired an incredibly vague woman looking for an unspecific man and a careless driver asking for an apology from the hipster biker he almost ran over. 


For round three we're getting dirty, sloshing through the gutter of the Craiglist personals section: Casual Encounters. It's a nook of CL where anyone looking for a random hook-up can float themselves or a fantasy out into the great blew. Whenever a woman complains to me about how difficult it is to get laid, and yes this actually happens, I show her the Male For Female (m4f) section of Casual Encounters. When I wrote this, headings like "looking for a gang bang girl," "watch me fuck my own ass," and the ever so innocent, "Can I cum on you?" were begging for a click. 


And there are a lot of postings. I inserted mine at around 5pm and when I tried to get it up for my roommates at around 9pm it had been pushed to page four by almost 350 other postings. 


Like I did in the other entires, I'll serve you my ad and follow it up with all the responses I received. I don't reply to the "ladies" who decide to take a chance because they're not ladies. They are spammers trolling for emails, photographs, and other personal information they can sell or use to bait other victims with. Through my step by step breakdown, I'll reveal how you too can spot a fake! 


My first brain child breached the idea canal a couple of weeks ago as I recalled something a former friend had told me. He had just ended a relationship with a woman after he pressured her into having sex and, not surprisingly, she just didn't seem that into it. "Starfish" is the term he had used to describe her. Apparently there are men out there who just want to sleep with as many women as possible no matter the emotional damage they leave in their wake. Classy guys.

Even classier: 

Alright. I admit. Not my best work, but then I threw in this photo: 

Really ties the ad together, doesn't it? 

How to Spot a Fake Craigslist Response

By: Me, silly! 

1. They are clearly in the wrong section. 

Francisco was always known as a fast mover. 

By 4 weeks he was crawling. 

At age 2 he was reciting Shakespeare. 

And by 22 he was on Craigslist trying to give 

his phone number to men in the m4w section. 

Jimmie, leave off the "For fuck sake Saw" 

and try your mouth in m4m.

Maybe a good question for the discussion forums? 

2. They don't make sense (and they may be in the wrong section). 

Try Missed Connections? 

 3. They follow a pattern. 

                        a.

                        b.

                        c.

                       d. 

First off, I wasn't aware my "advert" was so "fresh". 

Secondly, keep your hairy hands off of Dharma and Greg. 

That show is sacred.

Let's take a moment to introduce another fake post. It was inspired by another douche bag, a musician by the name of John Mayer. A few years back he was interviewed by Playboy and asked, "Do black women throw themselves at you?" Instead of actually answering the question he said he doesn't think he's open to it and then compared his dick to a white supremacist. The producer took exception to the original lyrics of one of his first hits: "Your body is a wonderland... unless you're black." 

Here's (to) Johnny! 

I want to take this opportunity to point out a couple of things. One: I'm especially proud of my best typo to date: "passed". Thank you. Two: I showed this one to my roommate and he didn't laugh. I got scared for a second and thought maybe he was offended since he's Filipino. "I've actually seen this before." Oh, great! Now I appear racist and I'm unoriginal. "No, it was on Reddit." Apparently it was tagged under the meme "I Don't Want to Live on This Planet Anymore." Yea, I'm famous. Kind of. 

We now return to our regularly scheduled program, "How to Catch a Predat—er—Fake Craigslist Response". 

4. They use the word "movie" too much. 

How about trying a thesaurus?

5. They don't actually look at the ad. 

You like my pic, huh? Really? Here's the pic I used: 

6. Their signed name doesn't match the "From" portion of the message, which also doesn't match the email address. 

What an unfortunate name, Rachael Banyo. 

7. The photo has "her" face/head cropped off and she is way too hot for the Casual Encounters section of Craigslist.

 I surf Craigslist for the articles.  

     

  Thank you for clearing that up.

8. They employ international stereotypes. 

"Dude, it sounds legit. She could be really hot 

and you could make friendship with her." 

"hunting" males? You may want 

to steer clear of that wording, considering

 we're on land-o-murderers Craigslist.

9. They play hard to get... information. 

Ahh, yes.

Ahh, yes. 

Ahh, ye— Wait a tick. 

Wrong section, Ms. Tipps.

AND...

10. They almost have you convinced, but then you put 1-9 together and see through their trickery. 

Crabtree & Evelyn doesn't exist, 

but you have to admit, Hogsett is a 

way better last name than Duffy.

If you like-ita this, check out my 

first Fake Craigslist post and my second. 

Mother Huffing Hockey

My mother would always tell me, “Brad, one day, on that computer box, you’re gonna have what’s called a “blog”. I have no idea what that means but it came to me in a dream.” And then I’d say, “Mom, have you been huffing again?” And she’d say, “You shut your fucking mouth!” Then I would begin sobbing but she’d set me right as rain with a quick snort of paint thinner. “Anyway,” she’d continue. “You’re gonna write on that blog, and I just want you to promise me one thing: never, ever write angry.”

Well mom, you’re not the boss of me anymore. It’s my party so I can write angry if I want to.

Someone’s having a party?!

Shut up! Just shut up. So rude. But now since you’ve broken the question seal, hit me with the one I know is burning you up. Go on. Get it over with. I’m waiting.

Seriously? You’re not gonna inter—

Why so angry, Brad?

I FUCKING KNEW IT! You are so predictable!

And you are angry.

You’re right.

**sniffle**

I am angry.

You see, I fucking love hockey. I do. I was born in Minnesota, the State of Hockey, and though I don’t live ther—

How can it be the State of Hockey if you haven’t even won a Stanley Cup?

You shut your fucking mouth right now! Fucking, mouth. 

**sniffles**

**spraying paint in bag and big sniffle**

Hockey! That’s what I was talking about.

I love hockey. There is nothing more in this world that wrenches the profanity spout wide open like when I’m watching a game on the teletube. Nothing gets me loud and outta my chair like a goal. Imagine a blender with rusty gears losing its top at the peak of its cycle, spraying shrieks and flailing arms all over the room. Everyone gets dirty. Some get hurt. A few have even died. Not my problem. Don’t stand so close to the blender.

I love hockey and have a swell of pride in the fact that Minnesota truly is the State of Hockey.

Remember the last time the USA Men’s Hockey won a gold medal? Neither do I, and it’s not because I was stoned. It was because, being in 1980, I wasn’t born yet (but God—along with my siblings—knows my parents were trying). Well, it was historic, dubbed the “Miracle On Ice,” it was. In 1999 Sports Illustrated crowned it the greatest sports moment of the 20^th century. Ask anyone who was in the comprehension stage of their life in 1980 and they’ll tell you it was a massive deal. And guess where 8 of the 20 players on that team were from. Not Minnesota. But 12 of the 20 were, and that doesn’t include the head coach (also a Minnesota native).

I'm a softie. I cry every time I watch this movie. "Who do you play for?" 

"The United States of America!" Tears. Hell, I well up watching the trailer. 

How about one of the largest high school tournaments in the nation? The State Boys’ High School Hockey Tournament has been rocking since 1945 and Minnesota nearly shuts down for it. If your team is in it, chances are you’re getting out of school that week to go. If your team didn’t make the cut, you can soak your tears in root beers at home as you watch it because damn right the entire thing is televised.

Then there’s the fact that Minnesota produces more NHL players than any other state. Oh, and did I mention we have the U.S. Hockey Hall of Fame in Evelyth, MN. I’ve been there and it’s suuper neato.

Get to the point, buster.

Would you relax? Stop to smell the roses once in a while. 

That's a bag of air and spray paint. You have a problem. 

My problem is the fact that Minnesota can’t seem to put a fucking winning professional hockey team together. And we have the scar to prove it. 

How many ways can I say this? It's an abstract picture. See the animal? 
See the trees? See the river? The moon? The North Star? 

Huh, well lemme put in a call to see if they can make it simpler for you. 

Imagine the sports team that you enjoy watching more than any other. Maybe it’s a football team you latched onto before you even realized there was an entire league of football teams. Maybe it’s a baseball team you’d watch with your dad and mom and brothers and sisters at the ballpark, back when the crunch of peanut shells under your feet was both frightening and exhilarating. Or maybe it’s a basketball team that glues you to the tube, one where a big shot shoots you out of your seat and compels you to meet a high-five quota. Now imagine if that team, the team that casts family conflicts aside, one that conjures conversation between perfect strangers, a team that bridges political, religious, and other ideological differences, and one that plays a sport that has a history in your state dating back to 1905, moves. Poof. That team is now gone, off to another state. No more Boston Celtics. No more St. Louis Cardinals. No more Green Bay Packers. That’s what happened with professional hockey in Minnesota. The Minnesota North Stars dropped the “North” when they migrated to Dallas. The owner, Norm Green, wasn’t seeing enough green in his bank account after a few losing seasons so he moved my team to a place that can’t even make ice on its own. And it broke a lot of hearts, including mine.

Go puck yourself, Norm Green! Puck yourself right in 

your pucking puck hole you mother pucker! PUCK!

It feels ridiculous to piss and moan about a sports team when suffering shows everyday on the faces of those holding cardboard signs at city intersections. But as idiotic as it sounds, sports can help alleviate suffering. They have the ability to unite a city, state, or country, to spring hope from a well thought to be dry, and to distract fans from the day to day that has the tendency to bog people down.

But they also have the ability to infuriate people. A study of NFL games from 1995 to 2006 revealed that the number of 911 calls regarding domestic violence increased by 10% within an hour of the home team losing.

Who’s fucking blahg is this?

Yours, but the study goes on: If the game was against a division rival, the number of calls shot up by 20%.

Yeah, so there are people out there who clearly don’t know how to decompress after a loss. What? Why are you looking at me like that? Hey, I punch pillows not women.

That’s what they all say.

Actually, I’ve watched a lot of Law and Order, and I’ve never heard an abuser say that.

Came up when I searched "Law and Order" images. 

Really? Your defense is a scripted shitty cop drama?

You’re right. That was dumb. 

Way better. 

Wouldn't you agree, Detective Benson? 

Believe me, I already know it’s silly to give control of my emotions over to something I have absolutely no control over. But I have a pride in my home state and a passion for one of its main claims to fame: hockey. 

It just plain pisses me off when we, the State of Hockey, can’t even make it to the playoffs, let alone put together a Stanley-Cup-winning team.

You get your tiny, cabbage-smelling 

hands off the cup, VERNE. 

“Tampa has a cup,” said a friend from Florida a few nights ago, as I was bitching on and on. He was referencing the Tampa Bay “Lightening”, a team that won the Stanley Cup in 2004. “And I’m pretty sure nobody in Florida really cared.”

See? Do you see my frustration?

The Minnesota Wild suck. They’ve never made it to the Stanley Cup in their 11 years of existence. The North Stars, rest their soul, never won a Cup either, until they changed their name and moved to Dallas, TEXAS! And this all makes me angry and sad.

At least there's one southern team that will never win a cup. 

Another thing that makes me sad is when I'm at a game in a different arena and I look up to see Stanley Cup Champion banners hanging from the rafters and then I look around to see many of the fans cheering that their opponents just got called for offsides. It's offsides! It's not a goal, you clowns. It's not a penalty or an icing or anything else that actually matters. You're an embarrassment to the game. 

I’m writing this while watching the final Wild game of their embarrassing 2011-2012 season, a season that started with a flurry of wins, a season where the Wild found itself atop the entire league halfway through December only to see a plague of injuries and an erosion of confidence choke them out of game after game. At present moment, they sit six-and-a-half games out of a playoff spot. They’re losing by a score of 4-1 to the Phoenix Coyotes, who sit in 3^rd place in the Western Conference and will begin their playoff series this week.

Phoenix, ARIZONA!!!!!

**spraaaaaaay**

**snifffffffff**

**snore**

Did you enjoy this blahg entry? Then one-time it to all your friends so they can get a giggle or two.