And you think I'm bad

Well, if you think that my ramblings about Fatass's demise are creepy and violent, you would love to hear the pillow talk he's giving to Bess right now.

He's talking about how he would gleefully drown someone in the lake and check up on them once in a while to make sure they're dead, or hell, just go underwater and slit their throat. Boy, if that don't spell love, I don't know what does.

What I've been up to

What have I been doing?
I've been busy being a ninja, of course!

So yes, yes, yes. I'm an asshole for not updating, but I've been working hard on passing school and all that stuff, so it's taken up a significant chunk of time. I've also been busy perfecting my mad ninja skills, so as you can plainly see, I've had quite the month.

So what have you missed? Well, it seems that Bess finally turned 18, but she's still 4 or 5 years younger than Fatass, so that doesn't make it any less creepy. Bitchface has been over nearly every day to torment my soul.

Fatass has still not learned the value of wearing a shirt. And also, he apparently broke his glasses when he threw them across the room in a fit of rage. Then he had to wear contacts and then got pissed because he kept ripping them or some stupid thing. I don't pay attention to his life. I just laugh at the snippets of irrational anger. He finally apparently fixed his glasses with electrical tape, so good for him.

An interesting, douchebaggy moment that happened over the past month was when we were apparently waiting in the Subway line together. I was busy looking over an assignment I had to submit for class the next day, so I wasn't paying attention to anyone, let alone his fat fucking ass. So I guess him and Bitchface were in line right behind me and were calling me "Scruffy" to get my attention. Granted, I was growing out my beard at the time, but I do not respond to things besides my name or "Pissy". So they're both laughing about how soooooooooooo very clever they are. He finally waves his hand in front of my paper. I was about to punch him in his fat face. I told him, "yeah, busy doing schoolwork," and turned back around. Jesus Christ, he's a prick.

So yep, nothing has changed. He's still a freaking douchebag, and that probably won't be changing any time soon.

You think you're a tough guy?

Fatass thinks he rules. He shall
suffer the same fate as O'Doyle here.

So on top of being the world's biggest incestuous douchebag, Fatass is a pretty big bully, especially to those who are smaller than him. There have been plenty of stories from sources other than me on the campus of Big State University about how Fatass has pushed them around, threatened them, and threatened their friends and family. Now, the reason why he hasn't done this to me is because I just don't give a fuck. He could say "well hello there" in his creepy assed way, or he could say "I'm going to kill you" in his creepy assed way, and all I'll hear is just a droning noise because I have my headphones on. You see? I'd be more apathetic if I weren't so lethargic.

But he doesn't think he'll ever get in trouble for anything forever, because he's Boris Grishenko. He's een-veen-cee-bull.

But there's one thing that scares the fuck out of Fatass. And no, it's not just soap. Every other night or so, Fatass will spend at least 20 minutes staring out at the parking lot to make sure nobody comes out. He constantly asks me, "Hey, do you see a red truck out there?" Again, I don't hear a thing because my headphones are fucking on, so he looks himself, and then sits back down on his bed like he's about to wet himself.

My guess is that he tried his Grishenko shit to the wrong redneck and he thinks they'd form an angry mob that's going to come track him down. Unfortunately, he still suffers from delusions of grandeur, so the mob is all in his head. Besides, if they haven't showed up and he's been waiting since August, shouldn't you get the hint? Or are they the mafia or something? Either way, nope, I still don't care.

So Fatass, you have to decide. Are you gonna be a bully or are you gonna be a pussy? Oh, wait. THEY'RE ONE IN THE FUCKING SAME. Go back to the sewer you came from, you fat fuck.

So what the fuck, right?

You're probably wondering where your favorite pissed off college student was this weekend, and I have to say that I had an awesome weekend, mainly because I was at work the whole damn time. However, I did get to think about a new story that I haven't told yet, so there is new material, albeit a couple days late. Here we go.

So back in September, while I was still nice enough to give a fuck about what Fatass is doing, I come back into the room after class. After I get settled in, he takes out this massive chef's knife and starts sharpening it. By Big State laws, you are not allowed to have any sort of that on a college campus, let alone concealing it in your fucking sock drawer.

Now, normally I'm okay with rights to carry and stuff like that. You'd be god damed to find out, but I'm actually a pretty tolerant guy. But the thing is that people actually heard the sharpening of the knife from rooms away, so the Big State University Police was called, along with the Generic Residence Hall Director. So pretty much, I hear a knock on the door and go over to open it and there's a university cop and the hall director glaring at me. I step out of the way to show Fatass sharpening his knife.

Nowadays, I'd want him to get his fucking due, but back then I felt kinda guilty for selling him out. If I knew then what I knew now, he'd be getting slapped down with a court appearance. Kinda wish he was. But the worst part of it all was that he made up a bullshit lie about his friend being a culinary arts major and he was just sharpening it for her. Riiiight.

So, they let him off with a warning, and he's thinking he's all high and mighty and invincible. Think Boris Grishenko from GoldenEye. He pretty much became an insufferable twat for the next two days, continually gloating about the fact that he pulled one over on a rent-a-cop.

What he doesn't realize is that had I known better, I would have sold him out faster than Napoleon sold the Louisiana Purchase in 1803.* But since that incident, it seems that the lesson sunk into his thick fat skull and he stopped doing stupid shit that will result in a court hearing.

I still wish he would be pimpsmacked by the law at least once, but I think that death by liquid nitrogen and then an explosion would be better.




*Your history reference for the month.

Just Bring It

So apparently, I'm not the only one that's had issues with Fatass over the course of his pitiful, meaningless existence. Today, I've learned that one of my loyal readers actually lived across the hall from Fatass for a little while, and the stories he's told me are quite interesting.

Apparently, as we've established from his phone conversations with Bess, Fatass is an emotionally unstable, quick to anger, manic aggressive cuntwad that should die in the most horrible and gruesome way possible. Apparently, Fatass had issued death threats to this reader for having his stereo too loud. On another occassion, Fatass picked this reader up. Attempting to break free of his grip, the reader grabbed Fatass's greasy slimeball hair so that he wouldn't fall over. Fatass threw him against a door, causing the reader to bleed from his head. Now, I can't prove if any of this is true or not, but I believe my readers over Fatass 10 times out of 10.

"So, Pissy," you're saying. "What happens if Fatass finds out the blog and comes after you?" Well, dear readers, the thought has crossed my mind, and I've come up with the perfect solution. Fatass likes to use knives. He has a long cutting knife in his closet that he never uses, so I don't even fucking know why he has it. Probably to issue death threats.

So what do I do? Well, what I've got that he doesn't is a pair of legs that work, a cardiovascular system that won't shut down when I try to run, and I've also got the smarts to know when to flee. However, I won't need to run, because at the first sign of him coming at me with a knife, I've got that mini TV that I had to bring. The second he walks toward me, I've got it rigged so I can rip the cables right out and then smash him over the head with it repeatedly until he's out cold. And then, for good measure, I take the knife and castrate him. I don't want to be up close and personal with Fatass's tiny pecker, but hey, anything to stop that from infecting the gene pool. I may have to bleach my hands afterward, though.

However, the difference between me and him is that I'd be doing it for self defense... except for the castration part, which is for the good of society as a whole. Do I think it'll ever come down to that? No, I don't. Besides, I think I could kill him just by pushing a bottle of body wash in his face. Let him melt a la Wicked Witch of the West.

So, to sum up my feelings about if Fatass gets aggressive toward me and tries to indimitate me, I will quote the movie Jarhead. "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for I am the baddest mother fucker in the God damn valley."