Of all the kids here at Camp Chunky, you are my favorite. You don’t take any shit. While the other counselors encourage aerobic activities and sensible eating, you and I both know that’s a bunch of crap.
Here’s my advice:
Eat whatever the hell you want. You can be fat and still get laid when you grow up as long as you wear that cool sailor’s cap.
Ride the scooter everywhere you go. Walking is for A-holes.
Playing outside is okay, but watching TV is cooler. Tomorrow I’ll teach you how to smoke cigarettes while we watch Tyra Banks. She’s got a nice rack, right?
If Jonathon or Anthony give you a hard time about missing swim time, lemme know. I’ve got some incriminating photos of them together that will shut them right up.
ARE YOU LOOKING FOR A CREEPY SUMMER JOB? WOULD YOU LIKE TO MAKE $1000 PER HOUR? CAN YOU HOLD YOUR BREATH FOR 2 MINUTES WITHOUT DYING? MAYBE YOU CAN WORK FOR ME AS AN UNDERWATER MODEL! ALL YOU DO IS HANG OUT IN MY POOL ALL DAY AND SMILE A WEIRD SMILE AS IF YOU’RE NOT DROWNING! IT’S EASY AND BETTER THAN WORKING AT STARBUCKS! BUILD CONFIDENCE AND SELF-ESTEEM WITHOUT THE HASSLE OF BREATHING! CALL ME TODAY.
Christine: I want you to know that I get it. You love animals. So do I. And I’m really interested in giraffes. But what I really want to do is have sex with you. And I feel like sometimes your hair makes that difficult. It also makes breezes a big problem. As well as hats and swimming. I guess I’m willing to wait. But I have to say…I am dying to see what your bush looks like.
My Grandmother finally finished her Santa Claus rug. She worked on it for six months and just gave it to me. Let’s be honest, she did a terrible job. He’s all blurry and looks like an alcoholic. Old people should not be allowed to make crafts.
When will I learn that the women I meet at Woodland Creature Festivals are no good for me? Sure, the sex is amazing. Yes, we speak in made-up languages. But without the masks and feathers and tree bark…we have nothing to talk about.
This bike is called the Bitchcruiser. I would never buy a bike like this. But I would like to rent it for a day and see how long until I got my ass run over.
I am constantly inspired by the athletes that people don’t talk about anymore. Like Pete Cigerhardt. Though constantly having to stop due to diarrhea, he broke the world record for the 50 yard dash in the 1920’s.
Keith and Laura thought it was a great idea to get a caricature artist for their wedding. Keith then told Laura she looked “pretty fucking retarded” in their portrait. They were divorced 5 minutes later…
I would like to officially apologize to all the people I wronged at Bonnaroo:
1) The old man working the corndog stand with the trippy puppet. I should not have slapped the puppet. But you should not have asked if the puppet could rub aloe on my sunburn.
2) The passed-out couple under the shady tree. I am the one who painted a wizard scene on your underparts. You will find it in several days when you shower next.
3) Willie Nelson. You were right. Cops don’t laugh when I say, ‘Hey Willie Nelson just called you a bunch of pussies.”
4) The good folks at the medical tent. My mistake. The concert was NOT being attacked by rats with lasers for teeth.
5) Kanye. I hid some poop on your tour bus because I got mad you went on so late. It’s behind the mini fridge.
