Posts Tagged ‘Jeep’

Getting older… again.

February 19, 2011

Alright guys. As you may or may not know by now, every year on the 25th of February I gain a year of wisdom, awesomeness, fame, and the inevitable – age. Yes, that’s right, my birthday is next week. And as per tradition, I shall now compile my list of desired presents. Please decide amongst yourselves who’s going to get me what, but I’d appreciate it if this time around, IĀ get everything on my list, not just a few select items.

  1. A Play Station 3. For realsies. You don’t even have to get me the games if you’re too lazy or poor. Just get me the console so I can sit around for hours on end, killing millions of brain cells. I have too many anyway. Wink!
  2. A husband for Agatha. She’s my tortoise. And she’s lonely. Please buy her a husband. I will call him Leopold.
  3. I need someone to go through my iTunes library, clean it up (i.e. remove duplicates, edit spelling and capitalisation, etc.), and update it. I’ll give you a list. I’m just too lazy to do it myself.
  4. A job. Hire me! I enjoy sleeping, eating, watching TV, and sleeping. So if you can pay me to do any of those activities, consider me. I’ll send you my CV.
  5. A Jeep Wrangler Sport. I’ll leave the colour choice up to you, but if it’s pink, I’ll run you over. No jokes.
  6. An iPhone 4. I still never got one as my Christmas present, so I’m giving you people a second chance.
  7. I’m looking for a female my height and build who is willing to go clothes shopping for me. I’ll give you the money, you go and try shit on, and come back with a lot of new clothes. (I’m lookin’ at you, Ten.)
  8. I’m over my crystal meth lab. I now want a cocaine factory. If you set it up for me and make it happen, you get a 30% discount for life.
  9. More animals. I really want a snake, a rabbit, some ducks, and a dog.
  10. My very own Nespresso machine, which I will train to not backfire and burn the skin off my bones. Yeah, it’s a long story. You either know it or you don’t. But I want a Nespresso machine.
  11. A water bed. Queen-sized or King-sized will do.
  12. How many times do I need to ask for an electric violin? Come on people, get with the program! Chop-chop.
  13. Two free tickets to go either sky-diving or skiing.
  14. A comfortable three-seater couch for Adam’s house. Because sitting on the one he has now makes me homicidal. A futon will also do.
  15. A sushi chef who will be at my service whenever I’m in the mood for raw seafood (which is surprisingly often).
  16. A photo printer. With several extra ink cartridges. And photo paper in various sizes. I like them medium-glossy.
  17. A highly-priced gift voucher for Ace Hardware. I’m in the building mood. I’m thinking of constructing a cabin in my garden, fully equipped with AC and electricity and everything. I’m not even kidding.
  18. A manicure and pedicure. Adam always says I have monkey-feet and Peter always says I have man-hands. Neither of them should be taken seriously because they’re just being mean, but a mani/pedi wouldn’t hurt…
  19. Baking utensils. I’ve decided to become a baker of bread. Nothing sweet. No cookies or cakes or muffins, just bread. And I need my kitchen to be equipped for such an undertaking. I’m talking rolling pin, cool apron and chef hat, all those weird-shaped thingies for the dough to go in to make the bread look cool, etc.
  20. Something that makes me invisible so when we have annoying guests, I don’t have to socialise with them.
  21. My own army.
  22. A big massage chair.
  23. Cash daula. Not sure which item on this list you wanna get me? Just give me a heaping pile of cash! The more you give me, the more I’ll “like” you as a “friend.”

UPDATE: Ma bought me not one, but two tortoises! They are cute and perfect. Leopold and Eleanor. Yes.

ANOTHER UPDATE: I also received a lot of new cute clothes and gift vouchers. Not for Ace though. But I’m going to Ace now anyway, so I thought I’d cross that one off. Also, Ten’s getting me baking supplies. Finally, regardless of how many people get me #23, I will never cross it off, but I’m giving a shout out to Said, who’s obvs a “really good friend” of mine.

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Decapitating Elmo

March 16, 2010

I was at a water park slash playboy mansion and didn’t really know anyone there. Somehow though, I made friends with this one guy, and over the course of the dream I came to trust him. He had a friendly face and a soothing voice and was just an average guy. Or so I thought.

At one point, he took me aside and explained to me that he was actually the lead killer of a cult that kills Sesame Street characters, and Elmo was the last on their list. I dunno, apparently Elmo was the baddest mofo of the bunch. Who’d’ve thought? Anyway, Elmo was at the party somewhere, and it was our mission to find and destroy him.

My nameless friend then persuaded me to nearly sever my head off my shoulders, as an initiation ritual to prove that I was true to the cult. I don’t know why I trusted this guy and fell for his evil ploy, but I did. So I actually sat there and allowed him to slice the back of my neck about two centimeters deep, from ear to ear. It wasn’t as pleasant as it sounds.

So I’m lying there, nearly decapitated, while he goes over the plan: I go look for Elmo, buy him a drink (which I will obviously poison with the date rape drug), and bring his unconscious body back to my friend. Together, we will tie him up, wait for him to wake up, and then torture him into giving us information and eventually decapitate him. Decapitation is the signature killing style of my new cult, in case you didn’t get that yet.

Off I went, in search of Elmo. On my way, I encountered many drunken naked people, and I went on a few water slides as well. But my time was running out, because with each step I took, I got weaker and weaker. I was losing so much blood from my neck that it filled the entire hood of my hoodie. Gross. But I had to continue.

After a ride that somewhat resembled Jumeirah Sceira, I rounded a corner and found Elmo, with a heroin needle still in his arm. He was on the verge of unconsciousness. But when he saw me and my neck, he flipped the fuck out. “What has he done to you? Don’t listen to anything he says, it’s all a trick! Get away from me! Run while you still can! Goooo!” Elmo’s voice already creeps me out, but when he’s tripping balls on heroin, it’s even creepier. So I ignored him, and gave him some laced water, which immediately made him pass out. I then schlepped his body all the way back to the base where my friend was waiting.

“Well done, I’m proud of you,” he said to me with an evil half-grin and a killer look in his eye, “Now help me carry him upstairs.” I could no longer stand on my own two feet though. So my friend ended up carrying me on one shoulder and Elmo on the other.

Just as we were about to enter the backdoor of the house, this old red Jeep Grand Cherokee pulls up in the driveway at the front of the house, and the driver does a double take and then immediately slams on the brakes and jumps out of the car, running in our direction. “Fuck, they found us!” my friend said, and quickened his pace up the patio stairs, through the door, and into a closet, which he then locked and bolted.

The dude from the Jeep caught up to us not long after, and started pounding on the door. “Open up, I know you’re in there!” No shit dude, who else would be in a locked closet? Anyway, I asked my friend why this random douschebag was after us, and he informed me that the guy was the dad of one of the little girls he killed a few weeks ago. Apparently, my friend sent a huge bag of poisoned German candy to a fourth grade class, killing everyone who ate a piece (which was, in fact, everyone). And now the dad is rightfully pissed.

“Ron Ron! Open up the door, it’s me, your beautiful princess Ten Ten!” my sister was saying from the other side of the door. “Come on, just unlock it and come out, you won’t get in trouble. Neither will Elmo. Only the bad guy who’s in there with you. Trust me!”

“Don’t trust her, you fool. That’s not really your sister!” my friend was telling me from inside the closet. “It’s a trap! Don’t open the door!” But I felt so bad, and I didn’t want Ten to think I didn’t trust her, so I opened the door. And it was a trap. My sister wasn’t there, it was the douschebag Jeep-driving dad of the dead girl, toting a huge ass rifle. “It’s payback, bitch.” he said in his normal tough-guy voice. And then he cocked the gun and I woke up.


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