Monday, April 12, 2010
I've been there
So, Joe Biden emailed me last night.
I must have given Obama money at some point, and now they have my email address. Great.
The subject of the email was, "I've been there."
Oh, really, Joe?
You've been WHERE?
Are you trying to connect with me? Show me how YOU are a simple American, just like me, and you've shared my pain. My suffering?
You've been there?
Do you even know me, Joe Biden?
No. You know shit.
You know what, Joe? Do this.
Why don't you try planning a dance party in Hudson, New York.
I dare you. I fucking dare you.
Get a DJ. Make up some fliers, post them around town (try not to let the police see you), send out a thousand facebook invites and then put on a pair of pantyhose, and a dress and a wig and some lipstick.
Wear some heels and spend all night making polite conversation with strangers.
And then, at 3am, when a twink with a hot hot hot ass is hitting on you, and you think...
"Hey, maybe I'll get lucky and get a piece of hot twink ass tonight....even in a dress..."
When you think that maybe the universe is going to give you back something for all the work you've done, all of a sudden the twink starts a fight with your best gal pal and is being escorted out of the bar.
And you're like, "Fuck you, universe! Can't you give me one fucking lousy hot twink! Would it really kill you? Do I really ask for much, I mean, c'mon, universe!"
The twink is being pushed down the stairs, and your wig is crooked, and you think, "All this work, and not even one messy, drunken blow job, huh?"
You go home, drunk, and your dog looks at you like, "What the hell happened to you?"
And you say your dog, "Don't judge me."
You take the pantyhose off, wash them out in the sink and hang them in the bathroom, and try to wipe off the lipstick and have some self-respect because you know you're going to do it all again in a month or two.
Oh yeah, have you been THERE, Joe Biden?
When you do that, then you can ask me for money for some stupid-ass campaign.
Talk to me then, Joe.