Ah, the mail has arrived. Time to slip into my Hef-inspired robe, pour a cold Keystone Light into a brandy snifter, swirl it around to let it breathe, then chuck the rancid bastard into the fire. Enough with the mood music, let’s get on with it.
From: Paul
Subject: dance dance rehab?Ever seen that dance dance revolution game? you know, all the little asian kids having an epileptic fit on an arcade machine? the game solely designed to embarass white folk from the suburbs with no rhythm?
check this guy out. (7.2MB)
This is the point where hobby becomes disgusting addiction. … And yes, being a white suburbanite who couldn’t bust a move with a pantleg full of Jell-O and a rabid squirrel, I am quite jealous. But hey, take his crutches away and the man is nothing. NOTHING!
Sweet Jesus in a birchbark canoe, I’m in an extremely spiteful mood today. Must be the weather. Or the uppers.
