Sunday, November 17, 2002
Sarrchasm
My God this site is GREAT!!!
I don't know why you always get so down on yourself. I mean, for Jim's sake, you're not that ugly. I'm sure there's some man... somewhere out there... who would marry you. You might have to look really hard, but he's out there. He may live in a bloody gutter, but he's out there. And just because his name is Serengeti and he has ravenous pet rats doesn't mean you can't be perfectly happy together.
Because, really babe; you're not that ugly. There are plenty of uglier girls out there. I'm not kidding—I've seen 'em. I mean, at least you don't sleep in the alley with your own festering placenta. And at least you don't have gnarled horsehair like the Penitent Magdalene. You don't rape squirrels, you can count to 10, and your breath doesn't reek like a llama's dripping fecal matter.
You're acne wasn't patented in 1856.
You don't juggle bowling balls with your massive pectorals.
There's no movie about you called "Old Hag Gets Dirty."
There's no sequel called "Naughty Britches: Old Hag Gets Dirty Again."
The yellow brick road doesn't resemble your teeth.
You weren't jailed for the last 50 years.
You haven't been impregnated by seven different sub-species of ape.
You can cook macaroni and cheese.
Vampires don't run from you in fear.
You don't have a sledgehammer imbedded in your head.
They don't bottle your perspiration as a pheromone for transsexual elephants.
I have to admit, you're much finer than that nasty Wicked Witch of the West or that Marilyn Manson chick. In my book, you'd beat out Roseanne any day. And I wouldn't even try to compare you to Julia Child.
And get this, I bet my next-door neighbor Andy would date you if you brushed your hair once. I'm not kidding—and he's a pretty smart guy. Yeah, he even has his own book. Uh, what's it called? Stalking and Killing: My Story... yeah, that's it.
♥Oh, so vintage... 7:57 PM
