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AOL stole my soul for 2 months severance and a frisbee

I sit here, now in my 4th, and almost fifth month of unemployment wondering where the hell I went wrong.  I wake up, job search and find that the last six years of my life were wasted on taking a road to nowhere with a hobo named Jarvis that would open my eyes to new levels of craptacularism.  Jarvis being AOL that is…

You see, Jarvis taught me how to be cynical and conniving.  It told me to take a hammer to Jiminy Crickets head if he dared chirp at me.  For where I was there was no need for hope.  All I needed were the brains of a chimp and the ability to accept what I was doing wouldn’t help the customer.  For five years I thought, “Hey they can’t be that dumb.” or ,”They’ll listen this time.”

So here I am before you, at home, in my chonies and looking to gain my humanity back.  Never again will I let a corporation take away pieces of me… well not unless they pay much better and give me some skills and experience I can take somewhere else…  Ugh, if I do that then I’ll have to say how much I’ve wasted trying to be successful in the eyes of those around me.  But at least I’ll be doing it from a leather chair in silk boxers.

 Portzer #2

Looking for a better life

::sniff:: ::sniff:: and crap like that…

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Been a while…

Now this sucks… we  haven’t posted in the longest of times.  The celebrities of the world are imploding on their dingleness.  Why do these people get worshipped?  After all they are just people.  They have all made lucky breaks and were just like you and I at one time. 

Heaven knows that Portzer #1 could be on some fetish site making a cool 2 mil a year in his parents basement web casting his fetish stuff dealing with poo, water slides and Richard Grieco posters.  But that is all based on luck.  We all possess wonderful abilities such as these to entertain the world. 

I will sexy dance like Richard Simmons to Yanni music if it means I will be able to enjoy a life of expensive cars and fine cheeses.  And that is probably the amount of intelligence I would have to display in order to be the next fixation of the general public. 

Sadly America wants to know what the likes of Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan and (insert combined names here. e.g. Bennifer, TomKat, etc.) are doing. 

In order for us to focus on things that matter I guess Nelson Mandela would have to get a rippin’ six pack and wear a speedo.  Stephen Hawking would have to go on a drinking binge, ram a bus stop and call the good samaritan picking him up sizzle chest.  Although it might be interesting.

It seems the majority of America is more apt to believe what is told to us than what we discover for ourselves.  So we can probably stop the whole retarded celebrity thing if we ignore it.  But hey, I’m talking about that stuff now anywho.  But I’m doing it more to make fun of the hoopla around it than to consume that shizzle like Pete Doherty with a syringe of heroin (celeb reference… drat…).

But I guess I’m getting all caught up in what matters rather than taking the time to smell the Rosie O’s big toxic talk show vaginga (va-jing-ga).

I almost made sense…  I think…

Portzer #2

Pop Tarts and the Art of War

Well today I went to go toast my pop tarts…. I push the handle down and nothing…  Ok, so I look in there and there are busted chunks of pop tart charcoal in the bottom.  I dare to push it down again this time with great dexterity and force.  So now it starts smoking.  Well it turns out I didn’t get to toast my tarts to golden brown goodness but instead to barely warm.  I was a little pissed.  Then walks in portzer #1 who began giggling like a schoolgirl that peed in the rose bushes.  He admits as to doing it and laughs. 

DUDE, you do not f*** with a man toatsting his pop tarts.  I told him to take it out but he didn’t.  How the frick do you leave large chunks of pop tart in the toaster.  If you are so dinglish you don’t know how to remove a pop tart in one piece you do not deserve to live.  So says Portzer #2’s Art of War.  So I say to you portzer #1…. you shall pay.

He is in trouble.  As you know I grew up as a street brawler.  I fought for cash money.  The only reason I’m here and not battling underground ‘Lionheart/Jean-Claude Van Damme’ style is that I needed to end my violent ways.  I put the life behind me, but the art I still practice.  My Shidoshi has taught me to control my violent outburst, but as I start my day I expect to be able to eat a friggin pop tart without any fear of under-toastage.   So for that portzer #1 I give you warning.  Pray that I do not find you in the parking lot or in the break room or…

Can of Whoop Aspirin

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