Thank you for

Thank You

Thank you for ignoring me and making me feel like a worthless piece of shit.

Thank you, for you’ve humbled me like none other, son of a bitch!

You make me want to  jump and take an everlasting fall

Or maybe settle for banging my head against a wall

Nah, screw that better yet, scrap both

It’s not these thoughts that I despise or loathe

I just have no excuse, no matter which one I choose

I know I’ll lose far more than I bemuse

I’m sorry for

I’m sorry for

Being a bore

I’m sorry that I’m

Running out of time

Your short memory span–

I’m not a fan

It hasn’t logged me in yet

Like chat roulette

You click next

No need to text

I pose no threat

No need to get  upset

Gosh I’m so cheesy

Like life, this isn’t easy

I’m going to go now

I don’t even know how

This shit started

But this is no place for the fainthearted

Who is This?

What the hell is up with texting someone you’ve clearly established a rapport with on their cellular phone only to find the dreaded “Who is this?” in a reply?

First off, WHO IN THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, ASSHOLE?!? Save my name to your phone dumbass!

For the umpteenth time how many times do I have to remind you? Are you that busy being a facebook whore making as many fake “friends” and posting unimportant crap to your wall that you can’t find the time to understand the point in saving a contact name of someone who wants to talk to you privately outside of a FAKEbook inbox?

It’s bad enough I’m texting, but sheesh thankfully I didn’t call. To have to leave a short message to someone who doesn’t even remember me has got to be one of the most embarassing things ever.  The only excuse for a “Who is This?” is a new number.

You know, when you get a new phone number of course you are going to be bombarded with texts and late night phone calls by those friends of the previous owner of the mobile number. It happens. One day it will all go away. If you have unlimited texting you could just send them a friendly reply that you are not who they think you are. If you don’t answer the phone they just might get the hint that either the phone number is changed or their “friend” is avoiding them.

No one wants the latter to be true. However, I can catch a hint when I get unreturned text message from someone who I know for sure has the same phone number as they did last year. The only problem is I don’t know why.  I’m afraid to ask why sometimes, but I do it anyway.   Do they have a short-term memory or what? All the more reason to save a contact name to their phone. And even when they finally do save a contact name in their phone and “forget” to respond it’s always some lame ass excuse like “sorry I totally forgot to reply, when I got your text I was at a WWE RAW match lol” about 2 weeks AFTER the fact! *sigh* I mean seriously? Seriously? James Russell Coulson and Adam Crabbe I fucking hate you. I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Life fucking sucks when you have fake ass friends. I don’t know why I even try anymore.

I HATE WIGGERS!!!

I hate wiggers. I don’t even like that word because it gives off the impression that there’s only one way for a person to act. I am not promoting that, I’m just saying I hate it.

Wigger- a white person, especially  from suburbia, who “acts black”  gangster, thuggish, as if to be “hood.”

Think Robin Williams– especially when trying to pull off his “homeboy” act for the umpteenth time.

My gosh! I hate it whenever I see status updates on facebook of WHITE  AND ASIAN “friends” posting some crap like “aiite”  (all right) “fo sho” (for sure) “this is bomb” “that’s pimp, man” WTF?!

I saw a status from the most Christian, country-bumpkin white guy you could possibly find stating something in the vein of Wiz Kalifa’s “black and yellow ” hit.

He writes: “found my keys. turn to start. Yeah. uh-huh. you know how it is”

And then some other white girl replies right underneath him, “errything I do, I do it big!”

He didn’t even get the lyrics right, plus did we really need to know the thoughts going on in his head once he found his keys?
Unsurprisingly, he “liked” her reply.

I’m not saying Caucasians and Asians shouldn’t be fans of Hip-Hop music. Feel free to be fans all you want. But how weak are you to really want to mimic everything you hear? I  mean I’m a fan of rock music, but you don’t hear me saying “gnarly” or “rad” although alternative rock music artists don’t make up words or skew them into a particular second-hand slang as much as Ebonics, but still. I don’t even like hearing broken English, period. Regardless of race, it really boils my blood when people are “faking it.” You know better. Quit it. It’s not funny. It’s just…LAME. (Wait…is that a “rock” word?)

It’s like D.L Hughly said, “Everybody wants to be black, until the police shows up!”

the very definition of a wigger.

they call us W-I double G E-R. we are. much more. but still we choose to ignore. the obvious.