It’s been a while, dear readers. I’ve been busy with my movie collection, and keeping the Slut happy. Need more clues as to who this is? If so… then you really just don’t know me at all. Sad face. It’s Blockbuster, yet again. I’m taking a break from my slasher-film marathon because I feel there’s something that needs to be said. It can’t wait.
Ok, bitches… I’m going to launch a preemptive strike here. That’s right… I’m going to Pearl Harbor you all right now (Too soon? I can never tell…). As we all know, there’s a certain event happening this Saturday night. Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Halloween… All Hallows Eve… The Festival of Samhain… or as it’s become known in the last decade or two, The Night In Which Drunken Hookers Put On The Skankiest Thing They Can Find In A Halloween Store And Act Trashy And Blame It On The Costume. Don’t get me wrong… I have the utmost respect for Police Officers, Nurses, Flight Attendants, French Maids, and Pirates… but these “costumes” are really just a pathetic excuse to unleash your inner ho… am I correct?
Now… if you DO feel the need to buy yourself a “costume” where the biggest piece of material on it is the “Washing Instructions” tag… and pictures are taken… please, please, please… for the love of Ray J… Don’t Put That On Facebook! It’s really not cute. Guess what… If I want to see silly scantily-clad women acting whorish, I’ll just turn on Skin-omax after 12:15am to watch “The Lord of the G-Strings: The Femaleship of the String” or “Cleavagefield” or “The DaVinci Coed” (I am NOT making these titles up).
My point is, Skank-Hos… don’t try to distract me from the sole-reason I frequent the lovely Book of Faces with your “scandalous ‘OMG! I can’t believe how trashy I look! Look at how trashy I look!’” photos. I am here for the same reason 92.6% of us are here. To anonymously stalk people I haven’t seen or spoken to in 8 years. Your tramp-stamped ass-crack hanging precariously out of your candy striper “uniform” will not deter or distract me. It’ll just make me sad for you. It’ll also make your father cry tears of blood, because he’s your friend and he logs on to see how you’re doing and instead sees you dressed as a dominatrix with your teeth on some random guy’s nipple. It’s the costume’s fault… right?
Just don’t do it. You’re not cool… you’re just a hooker.
I’m out like a blind kid in Tee-Ball!
~Blockbuster
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