I've been blogging for a couple of years now, and it's been an exercise in disappointment. Lo these many months I have waited for you guys to be of some use to me--in even the most remote way--and yet you have steadfastly remained as useless as penis on an impotent man.
I've tried to squeeze something out of you, God knows. For instance, I've tried time and again to get one of you to raise my son for me, with no luck. I've solicited your help and advice in times of need, to no avail. My grandma used to say everyone has a talent, and I thought she was wise so I foolishly believed her--but you guys have taught me that the old bat was utterly full of crap. Turns out most of you are good for nothing, and I was starting to have a pretty bleak picture of the world...til yesterday.
When I looked out my window yesterday afternoon and saw the UPS truck pull up in my driveway, I was confused at first. I thought, "That's weird...I just ordered my Real Doll two days ago; there's no way it can be arriving so soon." But what did arrive was something that managed to restore my faith in humanity. It was booze.
Not just any booze--a bottle of wine sent to me by one of my blog readers--someone I've never met in person. This, people, is why I got into blogging. Oh, bloggers will tell you they blog because they want a creative outlet or because they need to vent their feelings--that's all total bullshit. We all do it for one reason and one reason only: We hope someone will send us free booze. Til yesterday, all the hours I've spent slaving away at these inspiring, Pulitzer-worthy blog posts has netted me exactly zilch, unless you count the occasional unwanted, sweaty, mentally challenged house guest. Now, finally, thanks to Ben, it's all been worthwhile. So I encourage you to follow Ben's excellent example. I know you've been told your whole life, by your parents and your teachers, that you're worthless and good for nothing--and for the most part, that's been dead-on. But it may not be too late to change. Make it your mission to justify your existence on this earth in some small way. Get thee to the nearest liquor store as quickly as humanly possible, and fill your shopping carts with as many of those beautiful bottles as you can push to cash register without permanently damaging your back. Ask a stock boy for help, if you must. Then speed to the nearest post office and pack those bottles of sweet nectar as carefully as you can--spare no expense! And ship them to me, overnight, if possible. You may not be able to make it into heaven, but you might at least secure yourself a spot in one of the lesser circles of hell.