So I came upstairs from doing yoga yesterday and Mister said to me “I have a stalker. He wants to kill me.” And I was all “WHAT?…lucky.”
And then he told me the story of how he commented on some nice lady’s blog where she had written that her husband was pissed at her for writing about him and so forbid her from writing anything about him ever again, good or bad, and Mister said:
“If you can’t write about your husband, I’m gonna go out on a limb and say he’s got some insecurity issues he should be dealing with. Hell, I provide a good portion of my wife’s blog fodder. In return, she poses for pictures which end up as flickr fodder. We have a system.”
That was about a month ago, and Mister forgot all about it until he got an email yesterday morning that said this:
“If your gonna post to my wife about me watch what you say. I come from a fighter history and love to play with my fists. So fuck off and follow someone else. People don’t get that on the other end of a computer a person exist. If this was said in my presence it would get bad. Have you heard the song Walk from Pantera? Thats how i prepared for my cage fights and pre football games. If i hear from you again there will be a problem and i will take the next step bitch!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
The next step being what? Flying out here so he can play with his fists on Mister’s face? That makes sense. That’s what anybody would do in this situation. Absolutely.
The Internet is very serious business, you know.
And poor Mister was confused and he wasted like, five whole minutes backtracking to figure out what the guy was even talking about.
I’m so jealous!!
This whole thing makes me sad because of all the shit I say and how much I could potentially piss somebody off–Escalade Pajama Cunts, stupid people, circus clowns, republicans, assholes, Jesus freaks, Doocebags, people who suck, sweaty lesbian fitness gurus (I say that with all the love in my heart, Jillian), woodchucks, etc. NOBODY HAS EVER THREATENED TO KICK MY ASS BEFORE!
Sure. I’ve got hecklers, but all they ever do is come over here and they’re all “meh-meh-meh. youR abitchhh!!1!!!! meh-meh-meh. You’re blog isnt’ even worth trashing.” ( It has come to my attention that that might actually be true). I mean come! On! Internet! You can do better than that. I know you can!
Quite frankly, I’m hurt. All Mister has to do to get awesome death threats is make some random comment on some lady’s blog and all hell breaks loose (eventually…later on.). And what’s worse is this is the guy’s facebook picture (edit: it is no longer the actual facebook picture):
It’s FUCKING WOLVERINE!
All I can say is that if Wolverine decides to catch a plane and brave Holiday Travel Season to come and show Mister his Super Cool Villan Claws I have to warn him.
I don’t care a fig about “cage fighting” or “pre football” and Mister doesn’t only know that song, he can play it on the guitar.
With his dick.
I do TURBO JAM, BITCH.
You may have heard about it, but probably not. It’s too hard for “cage fighters.” See those gloves I’m wearing? They have weights in them for extra POWER.
And don’t forget MY GLADIATOR OUTFIT, SPORTS FAN.
You don’t want me to play with my giant padded stick thingy on you.
So, come on you guys. Don’t any of you want to kick my ass?
Maybe just a little bit?
- A rabbit in the cage is worth two in the bush. Hahahahaha! Crissy said “bush.”
- Ghost Riders(s) -OR- I’m like 99% sure David and my dead grandmother have been driving around smoking pot in my car.
- The Bunny Chronicles
- Riding in cars with boys -OR- Mister wants to put in a rear facing car seat just for me.