Everything That Sucks : Everything That Sucks

Everything That Sucks

February 2003

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Saturday, February 08, 2003

The Great TV Incident

Well, I called ANOTHER ad this time contacting an older couple rather than freaky scabies ridden drunks, and we got a NICE TV - they even tossed in a nice VCR (both like new.) Got home, picked up the TV and crawled down the driveway. I think the veins in my neck were popping out. I stepped on the chord, and it took a tumble. Glass down. I heard something inside clank around, even sounded like the glass broke. My heart just SANK.

Picked it up, it looked scratched, but in tact. I am thinking, I broke it, your wimpy ass just broke an almost brand new 27" TV. You retard. Hauled it into the house, hooked it up, and said a nice long prayer... even though God is fake, I thought what the hell. Lucky it works, and the few nicks and scratches you can't really notice when it is on. *sigh* What a weird day.

Time to start working out. *wimpy flex*

2:03:10 PM

You Never Know Who Might Be on the Other End of the Line

Due to the fact that my ex-husband took most of my earthly belongings that had some value (such as my 27" TV) I have been scanning the classified ads looking for replacement items. Today I saw and ad for a 27" TV for $55, so of course, I called. The conversation became interesting right off the bat. A man picks up the phone, low rough voice, slight southern accent, and he was obviously rather intoxicated or very high, but I could not tell which of the two. (And by the way, I am far from 300 pounds...)

A very gravely voice answered:

Him: Jean, she ain't home.

Me: What time do you think she will be home sir?

Him: Maybe 'round 10, maybe not. I ain't her keeper, she ain't my keeper. I can have her call ya back.

*please note at this point the speech was rather slurred.*

Me: I prefer not to give my number out sir, so how about I call back at 10 o'clock?

Him: M'K *groan grunt groan* ya know, she ain't really my old lady. She bitches too much.

Me: Oh really sir? I am sorry to hear that.

Him: All she wants is money. Everything been paid for the month. All she does is bitch bitch bitch, and gets pissed off that I spend my money in biker bars. It's my fuckin' life, my fucking business. And my boots are old, the left one rubbed my foot raw. You sound hot.

Me: Sir, are you drunk?

Him: No, I am stoned. I don't drink, no sir. Never ever never never drink. Sorry ma'am, hope I haven't upset you.

Me: No sir, you haven't upset me. You sound very high right now.

Him: You sound beautiful. Wanna hit the bar with me this afternoon?

Me: I thought you said you didn't drink? Is this a pot bar that you are referring to?

Him: Pot bar?

Me: Well, if you don't drink, they must serve weed.

Him: Naw, I drink. But with my money.

Me: Do you work sir?

Him: No. Now you sound like my old lady. But she isn't my old lady you know. No sir, she don't give up the pussy. You sound beautiful.

Me: Well sir, I am almost 300 pounds.

Him: Sounds good to me, more loving for yer new old man. Wanna hit the bar later? I can take you for a ride on my Harley if you'll fit.

*I couldn't help it, I laughed... "if I'll fit" - snicker*

Me: No sir, I am a devout Catholic, I don't drink, smoke, or get high. All I do is eat.

Him: I eat, too. *wicked laugh from the old biker dude*

Me: Well sir, I best be going, have a great morning sir.

Him: Hey wait, can I tell ya about me and Jean and why she ain't my old lady? You sound so beautiful.

Me: Sorry sir, I have to go, the kids need breakfast.

Him: How many kids ya got?

Me: Six, that's why I am so fat.

Him: Oh. At least I know you give up the pussy. I'll tell Jean you called. Or maybe I won't, depends on how bitchy she gets. Wanna hit the bar?

Me: No thank you sir, have a nice morning.

Him: You too, babydoll.

8:58:09 AM

February 2003
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