Friday, December 05, 2008

What I Did On My Friend's Facebook

So I started a facebook page a long time ago so that I could view the invite to a charity golf outing that was only posted on facebook. Canadians. It's how they roll.

So I picked a great name and loaded up my info as if I really graduated from some catholic university in Juarez, and then immediately forgot I did it.

Sort of like when I made a fake myspace page about a certain douchebag poet. That particular site was really, really well done.

By me.

It was so well done that I caught the poetry bug myself. I came up with this gem...

Life is a gift
Wrap it tightly
Die, douchebag poet, die.

Anyhow, my skillz are not regulated to just brilliantly fuckingly astoundishly amazingly badass poetry. I also rock the run-on sentence like nobody on the face of this planet.

Basically, I'm the preeminent run-on sentence writer of our generation.

Tonight I was eating dinner, which consisted of a single ribeye, and I decided to give the full Bracelet Treatment to my friend Jaime.

On her wall I started writing and decided I'd type until it wouldn't let me anymore. I sort of hoped it'd let me type as much as I wanted. Unfortunately it didn't. It cut me off.

So I picked up where I left off until it cut me off again.

I did this four times.

Here it is in one continuous segment for your reading pleasure. The "AAAHHH's" are the beginnings of the next segment after I was cut off.

Congrats on your future trip to London and Ireland. That dude who invited you would be retarded not to take you. If he decides not to take you make sure he doesn't go full retard. You never go full retard. I'm actually interested in how much I can type before it cuts me off. Like, could I take up your full wall with a really long run-on sentence with no periods that is nothing more than a rant about, say, douchebags who double park their F-950's because they're scared someone might scratch their precious neckmobile which has towing and hauling capacity beyond what any normal human could ever need yet douchebag F-950 owner never actually puts anything in the bed of their truck or hauls anything for that matter because let's face it these people aren't brain surgeons as they slap stickers of a cartoon character pissing on a competitively retarded truck's manufacturer's symbol like some dude will be driving around one day, proud to be in his brand new Toyota twelve ton truck and upon AAAAAHHHHHHHH, I got my answer, and upon pulling up behind the Ford F-950 driver he notices and, subsequently, breaks down into tears because he has clearly been served by the loser in front of him and his sticker that clearly puts a Toyota owner in his place because, you see, Calvin was pissing directly on a Toyota symbol and how could the Toyota owner ever show his face again in the break area of the factory after that supreme dissing causing him to swear to turn his truck in as soon as it stops working, which, as we all know is like three years after the asshat driving the Ford realized his tranny dropped, tires blew out, and engine had to be refurbed three or four times in the first two years cause it's a Grade A Top Choice American Lemon like half of all US made vehicles and while we're on the subject of trannies, have you ever clicked on a link to a porn video and found yourself watching some chick get drilled by a dude who looks more like a chick than a dude and wondered to yourself AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH, wondered to yourself if maybe you'd rather not have Porn-Guy in your porno because if you really sit down and think about it like I have, making spreadsheets and shit, you'd realize that more often than not the dude thinks he's going for a fucking oscar during what should be a great porn scene but unfortunately turns into something far less impressive as the angles of the camera feature waaaaay too much dude and his ass while you attempt to focus on the attractive blond and it's hard as hell because Porn-Guy decided that it was his one shot (No pun intended) to impress the right people and he's moaning and grunting so ridiculously loud that you almost forget a chick is involved and that means you're just watching some naked dude getting his groove on and to make yourself feel better you head out in the neighborhood to punch a few people and shoot some hoops hoping in a lame attempt to feel like less of a fairy but the damage is done and then you remember the video of AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH, you remember the video of the tranny and think to yourself that you may have stumbled upon the greatest porn discovery since Jesus realized how soft lambskin can be and maybe if it's time to get into the porn industry if you can take advantage of how nobody wants to hear Porn-Guy grunting like a wild boar yet everyone still expects to see male junk mashing female junk and it's as if you've hit the jackpot because you find yourself some chicks and then some trannies that look like chicks and now you've got yourself what looks and sounds like normal sex except you've 86'd the hairy annoying loud grunting dude from the equation and certainly it's Level 12 thinking and not everyone will be on board right off the bat but you sell your house and make it happen anyways because our economy blows and if I have to see another douchebag in a Ford truck double park I think I'm going to go fucking postal. My work is done here, have a good weekend!

I'm Ronald Mexico.

I really don't use facebook, so contact me if you want but there are no guarantees that I'll respond. I'm a blogger, dammit. Not a Canadian facebooker!

4 comments:

StB said...

Another gem of a run-on sentence. Pure artistry.

Drizztdj said...

Join my facebook mob.

Douchebag.

Kid Dynamite said...

you are indeed the preeminent run on sentence writer of our generation. TL:DR

you know you can't get a Ron Mexico jersey from NFL.com right?

The Bracelet said...

Yeah, remember that they put a stop to that. Wonder if they're up on Plaxico's alias...