Miscommunication – f-your blog

The Cell Phone Show Down

One night after having a few beers I decided to call up my Brother in Law who I hadn’t spoken with in some time. Now I had several phone numbers for my Brother in Law since he was a rather active guy shall we say.

Anyway I called the primary number that I had been able to reach him on only to discover it had been Recycled, and now it had be assigned to some unknown random woman. I hung up as soon as I heard the voicemail thinking that was rather strange. Had my Brother in Law ditched one number, but hadn’t given (to my knowledge) a new number to anyone?! My Brother in Law is also know for his extreme impulsiveness so I had to also wonder if there was a scheme afoot.

Well just a minute or two after I attempted to call my Brother in Law my phone’s text alert went off. I picked it up to check the new text it without looking to see who the fuck was actually texting me.

This is where the Shitnado of Absurdity started and would go on to span a couple of hours.

I checked my phone to find it was some fucking Guy texting who I had no fucking clue who the hell he was. I was pondering what the fuck was going on. Well it didn’t take long to find out.

This was in fact the Boyfriend of the nameless, faceless, unknown Woman who was now in possession of my Brother in Law’s old Cell Number. And just my fucking luck he’s one of those Overtly Paranoid Untrusting Jealous Controlling Assholes.

Now I’m going to take a minute to address this type of fucking Guy. I have no fucking clue whatsofuckingever why a Woman would date nor stay with this type of Guy.

This is the sneaky son of a bitch that checks his girl friends phone every chance he gets behind her back.

This is the kind of Shit that thinks every other guy at the Bar is eyeballing his girlfriend, and more often than not it leads to a drunken jealousy fueled fight. And more times than not its also where the asshole boyfriend gets his teeth kicked in.

This is the type of Scumbag that tries or succeededs in controlling his girlfriend’s make up, clothing, and friends through bullshit manipulation.

This is the kind of prick that thinks every one of his girlfriends coworkers is hitting on her daily, and spends his whole day keeping tabs on his girlfriend like a fucking Stalker.

Essentially these type of Guy’s are SO FUCKING INSECURE that it breeds this paranoia of losing said girlfriend causing the said boyfriend to rashly assume that anything with a penis wants to bang his girlfriend, AND/OR he’s afraid she actually doesn’t care for him that much (in this case the jealous Guy is EXTREMELY CLINGY I’m talking about that “You’re Suffocating Me” type shit) and will dump him in an instant.

Granted Clingy sucks to no fucking end BUT its the lesser of 2 evils. Having a Jealous, paranoid, and controlling boyfriend (trying to dictate every aspect of his girlfriend’s fucking life like she’s a fucking slave) SUCKS WORSE.

Now back to our story already in progress…….

So His initial Texts where: Wanting to know who I was, Why was I calling, and that this was his girlfriends phone.

In return I Texted: You texted me so who are you, I told him I was trying touch with my Brother in Law, and got his girlfriends voice fucking mail by accident.

After that he starts acting like the tool that he is. He sends me a screen shot of his girlfriends recent call list with my number highlighted. Now I never denied calling because I did, BUT I had no idea the number had been Recycled to some fucking girl.

Being a Jealous Boyfriend the asshole said he didn’t buy it, and I better stay away from his girlfriend. I could just see this fuck on the other end of the line so to speak standing all tall, puffing out his chest for all its fucking worth, Glaring like a angry drunk hawk, and pacing frantically periodically looking out the windows as he passes for some threat thats not fucking there.

I basically didn’t give a rats ass from the beginning and couldn’t help thinking how many people have accidentally texted or called this girl only to have to deal with her dick of a boyfriend (bitchfriend is more like it.) At this point I really didn’t give a good goddamn about this overly jealous, insecure piece of human shit. I thusly ended the whole bullshit exchange with the alright my fucking bad whatever I deleted the number since its obviously no use to me. And that was that. Well for a few brief minutes anyway.

I decided that if the primary cell number that I called my Brother in Law on was Recycled then what about the secondary number I had. Me being Me and rather drunk came to the conclusion the best thing to do is call it, and find out if the number worked, was Recycled or possibly disconnected.

As it turned out that my Brother in Law’s alternate phone number had also been Recycled again I got some random girls voicemail. I hung up immediately and deleted the number figuring this situation was rather fucked up. LOW AND FUCKING BEHOLD this number too had been Recycled to the same previous asshole. Why the hell did his girlfriend apparently have come into possession of BOTH fucking numbers was baffling as hell.

Needless to say this set the little motherfucker off like a fucking rocket. This time around the little punk ass had the artificial confidence to call me up this time to chat about what the fuck was going on. As I stated I had no fucking idea, and couldn’t get over how utterly moronic this shit was. And now this paranoid and jealous little twat of a boyfriend thinks for sure that I’m scamming on his girlfriend.

The first idea that came to my mind on how to handle this horeshit was the old make him think your fucking insane, some real sick fuck that cuts off people’s heads and wears them as a fucking hat type of a Murderous Madman a real life Slasher Movie. Then I thought how cliche that shit was and opted for a new idea. The new idea turned out to be making this little turd think HE’S THE ONE WHO’S SANITY IS SLIPPING essentially flip flopping the original idea/concept.

This is how it all went down in operation “Its Not Me Who’s Crazy, Thats YOU”. For his part this Jack Ass spewed the normal line of macho bullshit cliques (doing his damnedest to make me think he was 10 feet tall and fucking bullet proof) like Propaganda for Pricks. It was SUCH OVERKILL the Guy was trying WAAAAY TOO Hard to be the almighty Alfa. What an Asshole.

In reality I imagine this little bitch was about 5 feet nothing, weighed about 90 pounds soaking fucking wet, Whiny, All Bark and NO BITE like a Tiny Toy Chihuahua. You’ve heard this shit before and I for one from what I have seen of the World am inclined to agree. Real Tough Guy/ Bad Asses DON’T WASTE THEIR TIME YELLING ABOUT IT WHILE HURLING THREATS AND INSULTS. They know they can kick the shit out of pretty much anyone so there is no reason for them to try and impress people.

I didn’t really have a set plan per say I just ad-libbed and then went from there. It started by me repeatedly telling him that the phone he is calling is STRICTLY a Business Phone. After a while of that I added that ONLY AUTHORIZED People have access to this phone. Again taking a few minutes to repeat this as much as possible BECAUSE its all about REPETITION, REPETITION, REPETITION.

Now before anyone feels the need to point this out theres no need. What I’m talking about is this I DID SWITCH my original story. Originally I told this Putts I accidentally called which was the truth, BUT to aid in my new game of “Who’s Crazy Now” as it were I SWITCHED my stance to I DIDN’T call you. Why you ask?! Well its simply because I needed to switch to keep the game going is all.

At this point the Butthead Boyfriend is getting confused. He can’t figure out why I’m not acting like an asshole too and yelling a bunch of bullshit trying to out macho his punk ass. He also is beginning to lock on the whole Business Phone Story which only serves to increase his confusion. So now he’s running out of steam having screamed himself fucking silly.

This is where I ramp things up. I start speaking in a aggressively Authoritarian Voice like a Law Enforcement does for example. I am now speaking to him like he’s a irritating child that got caught red handed doing some shit they shouldn’t. Some would call it ‘Talking Down” or “Being Condescending” and I would agree with both summations.

I start to shove the I didn’t call you from this phone which so happens to be a highly restricted Business Phone of some unknown sort. I start hammering the little Snot with the line “NO ONE is Authorized to make PERSONAL CALLS on THIS PHONE”

He has no clue now what the fuck is happening, he’s been so thrown off his macho bullshit ranting that he’s begging to flounder. The tables were starting to turn.

I then launched into “I DON’T KNOW who called you from this phone, But if we find out who they are they will be SEVERELY REPRIMANDED for their egregious actions.”

I’m now employing more militant or governmental type of speaking. This poor bastard now was beginning to get nervous that HE was in some sort of Danger. I then just unleashed like a Monumental Shitacane. I informed him that We had no clue who the fuck was violating a strict no personal phone calls from our exclusive Business Only phone. We would find out who called his girlfriends phone hell or high water. That NO ONE was Authorized to use this phone without selectively been given clearance. I went on to say I didn’t appreciate him being difficult and he should reconsider his behavior. I told him then to just drop his despicable attitude because it wouldn’t help him in the long run. This conversation was in fact being recorded (without a reason why given). He’s wasting my time with this trivial nonsense was not a wise decision.

The sad little fucker now is in a state of shock, confusion, and paranoia with good reason. Without acting like a typical macho male Jersey Shore Shithead he had no idea how to deal with the situation, and now had lost any and all control of the phone call. He was left wondering if I was somehow a Cop or Law Enforcement Agent, A Member of Biker Club, Political Group, Religious Group, A Governmental Agency, The Masons or possibly a Militia of some kind. There was no actual context so he became pledged by self doubt, and then had a mental melt down.

Seeing that the game had run its course and getting bored with the whole ordeal decided to end this shit circus once and for all. I told the little Pisser that enough was enough. This conversation was now over. Whoever called his girlfriend had violated Authorization of a Business Phone, and would not call back ever. They would be facing Strict Punishment. He then mumbled some garbage I assume was a last pitiful attempt at being a Big Man I mean his brain was fucking soup at this point the poor son of a bitch.

I then lastly took the time to inform him that if he called back he would be in direct violation of our mutual Cease and Desist agreement (which I made up right then and there there was no agreement of any fucking kind), and We would be keeping tabs on him in the future (thus playing into the paranoia of being watched and possibly being in or getting into trouble in the future.)

To This day I have never spoke with that little Dimwitted Douche again. I do ponder from time to time when I have a free moment to think (like when I’m eating or taking a leak) what the fuck did he tell his girlfriend happened that night or did he just not mention it at all because he still had no idea wtf was going on. Either which way heres looking at you ASSHOLE.

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober

Its Called Karma You Kreaton

I was down in The Great Southern Swamp for some hellish holiday shit when something rather odd happened.

My Wife and I were driving back to our temporary base camp when I saw a something peculiar out of the corner of my eye. I asked my Wife to hold up ,and turn into the small empty parking lot of some small business. I had her drive down to the far end and park. I got out and peered around the corner to see exactly what the fuck I saw because it look bizarrely different.

What I saw was an average run of the fucking mill garbage can (the one with a flip lid and rear wheels), BUT what was cool was someone had tagged the garbage can with yellow spray paint. The Artist had written the message “NCAH Will Bite You” on all 4 sides of the garbage can no less, and then topped it all off with a caveman like hieroglyph of what appeared to be some sort of cat looking animal. I decided it was odd enough I was going to take a few pictures to document the weirdness when I hear my Wife say “He’s just taking a picture.”

I stood up as I had squatted down for a better shot to see sizable Veterinary Technician lording over me. The big bald bastard must have been about 6’3″ or so 200 some odd pounds and was standing in front of me bowing his chest out. He had his arms hanging at his sides all tensed up like he was about to lunge at me, and all that macho male posturing primal bullshit. On top of it all the big son of a bitch was staring me down hardcore glaring at me like I told him to go fuck his mom.

I couldn’t figure out why the hell my taking a picture of a fucking garbage had illicit such a aggressive reaction. Second I thought fuck him in his big bald bitch ass the big bald bastard. So I stood up and simple explained the obvious that I saw the garbage can, thought it was rather bad ass, and wanted to take picture. This Big Bastard stood there not saying a fucking thing just glaring at me like I’m the asshole.

So I attempted to chat with the Big Bald Bitch because at this point I had no fucking idea what the hell was going on with this fucking whack job. He just kept up the silent tough guy like a hollywood action movie cliche. Finally the Bald fuck says “Its (the small business was) a Veterinary Clinic.”, and then went stone cold silent again like a shitty statue. I asked who NCAH meant to see if it was a place, organization, or business perhaps at which point the Big Bitch informs me it stands for NORTH CAL ANIMAL HOSPITAL in a cocksucking condescending tone of voice before going back to scowling at me.

Well I knew at this point there wasn’t fuck all I could do to reason with this Big Bald Bastard so it was time for me to get the hell home. I was half way back to the car when I turned around (still walking mind you) and said something like “I don’t see why your such an asshole… I just wanted a picture because its a cool picture I didn’t tag it you miserable fuck…You didn’t need to be a dick but you did you fucking asshole…fuck you, fuck off with that bullshit…Fucker…”

I get in the car as my Wife is telling the Big Bald Bitch that we’re leaving, when the Big Son of a Bitch say quite loudly “Why did it have to be that way??!” His question boggled my mind as I tried to figure out how big of a motherfucking ignorant idiot he really was. I couldn’t help myself and I yelled back “YOU DECIDED TO BE A FUCKING DICK, AND I DIDN’T TAKE YOUR MACHO BULLSHIT THATS WHY ASSHOLE.”

I can’t believe their actually People that are apparently like this gentlemen are simply too fucking stupid to live, how have they lasted this long honestly??!!

Thanks for the READ,

Les Sober

Hackers Can Go Hump Hitler in Hell.

Once again f-yourblog.com suffered another unfortunate set back. I was working on the GG Allin Pictorial when I went to open photos and the son of a bitch wouldn’t open. This had happened once before and it was easily fixed if by that you mean spending well over an hour on the fucking phone with Apple Customer Service Representatives.

So once again I had to grin and bare it and called Apple Customer Service.

The first Apple Representative I spoke with unfortunately had one of the thickest Indian accents I have ever heard. I honestly could only make out about every third word, and had to constantly ask him to repeat himself. Finally we got to the point where all attempted communication had ground to a slow but definitive stop. By that I mean I couldn’t proceed to do a damn thing because We had hit the point in the conversation where I had no idea whatsoever what the Guy was asking/saying/instructing me to do. After a couple of minutes of just simply telling the Representative repeatedly that “Its isn’t doing a damn thing!” we got disconnected. I think it is safe to assume the Representative had realized as I had that we could not go any further, and was getting tired of my growingly stand offish attitude. I can’t say I blame him for if he had stayed on the line with me it would have ended in a very ugly and obscene manner I assure you.

Now being thoroughly pissed off at the result of my first 40 minute failed phone call to Apple Customer Service I called them again immediately.

Now allow me a minute to explain that in these situations if the Customer Representative is Polite, Attentive, Apologetic (if need be), informative, up beat and helpful I guarantee it will be the most entertaining phone call that that they will receive all fucking Month. Yet if the Customer Service Representative sounds annoyed, bored, agitated, depressed doesn’t listen to what the hell I’m saying I guarantee it’ll be the most hellacious fucking phone call that they have EVER experienced. The reason for this is the Customer Service Industry is damn near dead as a door nail thats for fucking sure. I’m sick of having to call some 800 number to resolve a problem/issue and having to deal with some phone drones shitty attitude for god knows how long, BUT I digress.

Luckily for All the second Apple Customer Representative I spoke with was a very polite gentlemen named Isaac Internet.

Isaac Internet went on to inform me that the current issue wasn’t the same dippy dips hit as before and in fact its rather serious to say the least. Isaac went on to tell (and show me with the whole fucking screen sharing shit) that 11 fucking separate individual Assholes had been working on Hacking Our IP address, and had made it as far as shutting off our FireWall protection. Isaac explained the whole IP Address Hacking Threat in full from How It Works to How to Prevent it.

At one point Isaac “Momed” me. Isaac had identified the problem as being Hackers and all I gave a shit about was fixing the problem and preventing any future issues ASAP. I know what a Hacker is and what they do and what their looking for so I appreciated the tutorial BUT I didn’t want to hear a damn word of it right then, JUST FIX THE FUCKER. I laughed sarcastically at one point during Isaac’s Hacker/Hacking Lecture, and Isaac just like a Mom abruptly cut me off and sternly reminded me that this was a very serious situation and I shouldn’t think otherwise. Fuck it He was right. After Isaac’s impromptu Anti-Hacker/Hacking Speech we figured out a game plan and resolved the problem/issue so I can’t rightfully complain.

Now to be clear I am a rather paranoid person and I definitely don’t trust a fucking computer/Laptop/Smartphone/Tablet etc. in the least. At the end of the day as a habit I delete all the day’s texts, e-mails and recent phone calls I honestly don’t know when I started doing this but I won’t be stopping anytime soon. Its my utter distrust in the safety of todays electronic devices that more than likely saved our ass. See I don’t use my Smartphone as the wallet of today, that is there is no personal information on it to be hacked and stolen. If a Hacker did access my phone they’d be unamused and angry they wasted their time on a dead end. I also don’t carry around my Lap Top or Tablet like an electric brief case so again their’s no important personal information, no passwords, no record of Bank Transactions, no crucial business related items, no online bill pay, no Paypal account, no Facebook nothing an Identity Thief would give a flying fuck about.

You can use this Blog as a prime example of how I highly I prize and to what extent I will go to to hide y actual identity. Thats why there no actual pictures of me, my friends or family here, My name isn’t splattered all over the site because I personally don’t want to “Be Famous” or even well known OUTSIDE OF MY WORK. Thats why My Tech Paranoia carries over to this blog. That why I even wrote a post explaining my views on my personal Privacy/Anonymity. In that post I stated I am using a Pen Name as is everyone affiliated with or working for f-yourblog.com and thusly I would be changing the names of all people and places in every post, but not only that. I wasn’t going to half ass it I’m not calling Dave Donald or any simpleton shit I change the names to completely absurd ones that are totally unbelievable (as that is what they are intended to be.)

IN SUMMATION: ALL ASSHOLES WHO BECOME IDENTITY THIEVES THROUGH HACKING CAN GO SUCK SATAN’S BALLSACK, EAT THE DEVIL’S DICK, AND HUMP HITLER IN HELL.

TO ALL HACKERS: GO HACK YOURSELF UP YOUR OWN ASS AND FUCKING ROT INCASED IN YOUR OWN FUCKING FECES.

By Les “Than” Sober

Neighbors are a Nuisance

Its really no secret that I despise Neighbors and basically have spent a good deal of avoiding or ignoring them which has worked well for me. Neighbors are nosey, opinionated, annoying, time consuming obstacles. Neighbors serve no true purpose accept to bother you with these moronic social protocols (and social norms ) as much a humanly possible until you actually feel that your loosing your godforsaken mind.

Things unfortunately change in this case we made a geographical change moving out of the Great Southern Swamp to The Southern Country. One side effect of living here is the fact that the people here are insanely social and gossip is their bread and butter. I’m not social and I hate gossip. Lucky for me very few of our Neighbors actually live here year round so the benefit being that we only see them once in a blue moon for a few days and then their gone again for months. The house to our left is used as a family meeting/vacation spot which means their never around. The house on the right is the same story accept the people on the right their there even less which is wonderful.

Now with that said We did officially meet the couple that lives on the right of us once and I’m guessing We will never speak with them again. See heres the unfortunate events that doomed anything social between us and the Neighbors occurring ever again. We met them one afternoon when My Wife and I were hanging out on our home office’s massive front porch. The Neighbors happened to be out in their front yard doing mundanely routine lawn care crap at the same time. Eventually the Neighbors came over and introduced themselves and we introduced ourselves in return, and then proceeded to shoot the inanest of shit. After a few introductory minutes the Neighbors finally returned to their yard and life went on.

The next day I got an e-mail from our Realtor (We were selling our Great Southern Swamp vacated Offices) stating the bullshit shoppers were ready to make a real deal and I needed to contact him ASAP. Well I immediately e-mailed him, waited 4-5 minutes and then texted him followed directly with a phone call, but I couldn’t get a hold of him it was as if he just evaporated out of existence. This insane cycle goes on 8 hours or so and I still haven’t gotten a hold of him. A couple of minutes before My Wife came home I get a text from Our Realtor stating he had been called in for jury duty and had spent all day sitting down at the court house. While I was relieved to finally hear from the Realtor and to know what the hell was going on, BUT I was also pissed as a motherfucker because when he knew he had been called for jury duty he should I contacted me then and explained the situation properly.

My Wife gets home and I’m pacing the front porch like a rabid Lion at the Zoo. As soon as she sits down I erupt like a Nuclear explosion and launch into a full fledged Ranting and Raving Fit. I totally forgot where I was in reality as I ramp up more and more as I go getting a real adrenaline high from increasingly getting angrier. I spouted off all kinds of utterly screwed up statements and claims pertaining to our Realtor and the jury duty deal.

Here is an Example: (Note: When I hit lose my shit you know because every other word basically is fuck)

“E-Roc fucking e-mailed me 1st fucking thing and says we got a deal so I fucking have to fucking call him back but the son of a bitch doesn’t answer shit, not a goddamn thing! I texted the shit out of him, did no damn good, no fucking e-mails, no fucking phone calls so I’m fucking wondering what the fuck is going on since theres a sweet deal to get done quickly! Its fucking money, a good bit of fucking money and where the fuck is my Realtor, how the fuck can I get a fucking deal fucking done when I fucking can’t get a fucking hold of my motherfucking Realtor?!! When the fuck did E-Roc become an unbearable fucking asshole, he works for Us so he fucking doesn’t get a goddamn dime till we fucking sell the fucking shitty fucking old ass offices for fucks sake!!”

In the midst of this tirade I happen to suddenly realize where I am and as I turn to face my Wife I see both of our Neighbors milling around in their backyard. When our eyes met they both looked away quick as hell and then putzed around doing meaningless shit like moving the trash can from one side of the house to the other.

Thusly at this point I think its safe as safe to say we will never be speaking with them ever again as they seemed shell shocked enough by witnessing such a enraged rant laced heavily with profanity.

Oh well shit happens. I’m not losing any sleep over it I assure you my Fine Reader.

Thanks For Reading,

Les Sober

Its All A Matter Of Perspective

I just bought a new property somewhere in Podunkville East Cackalacki and hired a new contractor (not new per say he’s worked with my family on a myriad of projects, but this is the 1st time he will be working with us) named Rock EnRoll. When I was returning home I texted Rock the following text:

“The side gate by the pond in open”

All that meant was exactly what it said as its only value is face value.

Rock called back in less than 90 seconds and was all worked up talking so fast all I heard was his thick as tar southern accent. I was a tad bit stoned and rather exhausted so I handed the phone to my Wife stating to Rock she was the one who locked the property up.

As it turns out Rock doesn’t text and a rule of thumb is you shouldn’t text Rock. This is because in this small part of the country people keep their fucking cell phones in their pockets out in public (that includes placing their phone on table as if to say, “I swear I won’t check it every 2 fucking seconds to see if I got a text or a fucking FaceBook like for the picture of my goddamn dog in a cowboy hat.”) Now due to this technology differential Rock, among many if not almost all, have no idea or concept on/for interpreting the context of the text. I’ll explain.

Rock received the text, read it and interpreted it as some James Bond 007 super secret 911 code for an emergency AND he needed his help immediately. Why did he draw this conclusion I have truly no idea to be blatantly honest.

I mean when Rock read it did he possible think one or more of the following issues was at hand:

My Wife or I had had a severe and most likely life threatening accident.
There were hostile renegade poachers attacking from the cover of the woods.
A Home Invasion was going down complete with guys in ski masks and machine guns
My Wife and I were battling insane Moonshiner’s over still site(s)
Ali Baba and his 40 thieves were attempting to steal shit.
Wife and I were being “TAKEN” by Liam Neeson.
Wife and I were being abducted by Aliens.
Viciously rabid woodland creatures were surrounding my Wife and I.
The house was engulfed in flame and my Wife and I were stuck upstairs.
My Wife, The House and I were being swallowed up by a sinister sink hole.
Leatherface was running at us with his Chainsaw revving up like a fighter jet engine.
The Hills Have Eyes.
Cannibals were trying to kill us and turn us into BBQ.
Bigfoot was real and holding us hostage.
My Wife and I were in fact secret agents for the CIA and were being targeted by either the drug cartels, mafias, gangs, terrorists or foreign evil governments, and needed impromptu assistancte/help.

That though is only the first part, the second being the gate open part. If we were in fact in immediate danger of some sort why the hell didn’t we say so?! You’d think in an emergency we’d texted “HELP!”, “HELP US”, “911 EMERGENCY!”, “ACCIDENT! Need Help” or “Come Quick we’re in life threatening danger!!” but I didn’t text anything remotely like that that could be misinterpreted or at least that what I thought when I sent the text.

What about the gate being open?! Did Rock think this message of the gate by the pond is open was code for “Help Us, Come Quick! the side gate is open so you can access the property and swoop in and save us from whatever the hell you think the trouble is!”

Well I will never know how a simple one sentence text was thought to be a coded plea for help in a direly dangerous and potentially violent emergency , BUT I did learned my lesson, NO MORE TEXTING ROCK.

The PCP Party and The Pizza Delivery Prank

For a period time when I was 21 I was living at my moms house spending my free time sitting on my mom’s backyard porch drinking beer with friends. One evening it was myself and three friends Drivel, Cult and Ms. Razor. In addition to a 30 pack of Red Dog they had also brought a couple of dime bags of PCP which we preceded to roll up and smoke both bags. For our millennial readers PCP was a street drug that had its 15 minutes of fame hay day in the 1970s. The Irony is PCP is a veterinary drug (can you say foreshadowing? Special K.) that was/is a horse tranquilizer ,but in humans it can cause violent, unpredictable and aggressive behavior lets just say PCP was the Bath Salts of the 70’s.

Well the night finally ended as they always do with Ms. Razor, Drivel and Cult stumbling off into the night to raise more hell by morning. I was sitting in the kitchen after turning off every single light in the house off when their was a knocking at the front door. I stood up, grabbed a 12″ butchers knife and went to answer the door. I flipped the porch light on and whipped open the door to find some teenage pizza delivery guy holding a pizza of course. When I opened the door the delivery guy jumped back a few feet and was looking as nervous as a chihuahua in a thunderstorm. I glared at him with such intensity I’m sure that between the look and large butcher’s knife he thought he was going to end up dead, devoured and have his skin worn as a smoking jacket. I demanded to know what the fuck he wanted and he replied someone ordered the pizza so obviously he’s delivering it. I informed the delivery guy that I was the only person here and I didn’t order any goddamn pizza. He replied in a shaky voice that he was wondering what the knife was for ,apologized and high tailed it the hell out of there.

Interesting prolog:

I went to the pizza place where the delivery guy worked to apologize ,but he didn’t want to come up front to get it stilling being a tad bit frazzled.
I found out over a decade later that this rancid twat of an ex girlfriend who intellectually reverted to 12 years old and decided to play the call in a fake pizza order gag.