Saturday, July 29, 2006

SOMEBODY CALL OPRAH

My imaginary publisher has given the green light to what could possibly be a book. I don't want to give anything away, including the title. Please ignore the accompanying cover proof so as not to spoil what will no doubt will be a book.

Alright, a few nuggets. Let's just say it will be in fact a book, possibly written by someone purporting to be me. Beyond that I have no idea. Seriously. In fact, if anyone has any good ideas I'd love to hear them. I'm desperate to hear them. Ever since my muse, Bambi, was repossessed by the bastards at realdoll.com I haven't been able to write a shopping list. I can't sign my damned name. I'd write an X, but I can hardly remember how that works.

If it wasn't for my Korean ESL student Hai Yoo and his exemplary dictation skills, I doubt this post, nay the entire blog, would be possible. God bless the quiet Asian students of this world. Study all the damned day, hardly eat a thing. Helps with the rent as well, and that's a good thing what with Mrs. Fleece leaving me high and dry all on account of those rat bastards at realdoll dot com.

When a business tells you "we ship anonymously", get it in writing. I can't emphasize that enough. And here's another tip. A seven foot tall, two hundred pound wooden crate containing a lifesize, lifelike sex doll is way too big to be delivered to a post office box at Kinko's. Because what happens is the moron clerk at Kinko's calls the a-hole at the post office who then calls the craphound at realdoll dot effing com who decides to call your wife and ask her where she wants the sex doll delivered. She never understood my muse Bambi. Never.

Anyways, I'm waiting on those story ideas, people. Let's show all the Kinko asshats and post office dweebs and realdoll dot effing com lowlifes what true talent is all about. And lay off the emails, you hungry hollywood weasels, you bottom feeding stinkbugs... it ain't even written yet.

WTF
(Warren T. Fleece)

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