I know I wrote this morning already, so don't fuckin get in my shit. The phone line's workin again, and I said "Hey, what the fuck"
Ever try writing on one of these keyboards with a pair of paws? I doubt it, fuck, I may be the only rabbit on this thing. Let me just tell ya, it ain't fucking easy, my stubby fuckin digits trying to press these little keys and shit...damn.
Anywho, that damn potatoe man is late again. Yes, I said potato man. We have a boat load of potatoes delivered fresh from scotland every month. The soil here is shit, so we can't grow our own. I don't know what it is about potatoes, but us mo-foes love em. And that fuck is late again.
Don't think I'm an unsympathetic bastard or anything, I realize that this island ain't the easiest to get to, or for that matter land on-but if that bastard doesn't show up with our potatoes soon, Georgie and I are goin' to have to give him a real beatin'. He's late constantly, which at this point I expect, but the son of a bitch has the odacity to be sarcastic and lippy with us in damn weird way.
He was supposed to be here two fucking days ago, and all we got to eat, besides fuckin' carrots, is cheese from the 'kind' folk of Wisconsin, who manage to deliver their fuckin' shit on time.
The Wisconsin people are smart though, they don't take no fuckin boat or shit, they drop it off via plane. To this day, I have no idea what the cheese man looks like. Nor do I care, so long as I get my fucking shit on time.
We have this deal, with The Potatoe and Cheese people, they pay us so much a month, and we don't ruin or rampage through their shit. You ever have a rabbit destroy your crop? Don't piss us off. Next time you see teeth marks on one of your vegetables, remember-we ain't fuckin' around, right?
I'm outta here bitches, one of my favorite reruns of G.I Joe is on, why can't Cobra ever when or shit?