Just another psychotic Sunday by the Bangles

I am back. Willie, in all deference to you last week, I am THE King of Idiots. I have been waiting for my new cheques (checks to you Americans) to arrive but I just found out they were sent to the bank (like I always have them do). I am such a fucking dope sometimes.

I do not like cheques, though. It goes back to something that Jerry Seinfeld said, "a check is like a note from your mother. If you contact the people here, you will see that I have the money." Credit cards are so much more adult. Cash is king really since it can be untraceable. With a credit card, your every fucking spending move can be traced. Did you not see "The Net"? Scary stuff, I say.

Then again, who is after me? Which brings me back to the land of the psychotic, I have been getting numerous calls (I avoid them for a while, I love Call Display) from the former customer of mine who is, well, psychotic. She continues to call me to tell me that she will be arrested. She heard bank tellers talking about "her". This has been going on for over 12 years and she has yet to be arrested (fucking life re-runs). I have finally stopped buying into her "you believe me, don't you?" line.

I have taken the honest route. I believe you THINK you heard that and believe that YOU believe it. I have heard the same fucking story for 12 years now and there has been no arrest, so until one happens, I am not buying what you are selling. I then questioned what she claims to have heard. I got her to admit that she only saw the tellers talking and she did not hear what they had said. I then got off the phone and giggled. I am cruel, but that is what you get when call the Madman during a psychotic episode.

Who will be there for me when I cross that line? I do cross it at least four times a day, but then I listen to the voices in my head much like I listen to the voices outside my head. Oh well.

Oh yeah, she always says that she is not coming on to me. The thought of her doing so gives me the creeps. She is not what I call attractive. She did tell me once that she was a lesbian. You know it is "bad" when I cannot even stomach that thought. It is in the same creepy vein as imagining my parents having sex. No, actually that is much worse considering my father is well into a state of death. My mother must be one sick fuck to be having sex with a corpse that has been that way for about 17 years. I may have to have her checked into a home for that one.

Okay, so that is not a good example. I could use my in laws, but better yet, it is like imagining The Wife's aunt and uncle (don't matter which) having sex. She, the aunt, once said "I like to get laid as much as the next person" EWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! is all that I can say to that one. I have to now go and scratch my brain to get that image out of my head. I just cannot imagine her getting plowed from behind by my wife's uncle, nor do I want to. Blahhhh! I think I have to drink some bleach just to see if that will get rid of those thoughts.

I have to go. I have to look at some young silicone enhanced tits and well groomed pubic regions. It is time for an Internet porn search (not much of search if you ask me) just to get those images out of my head. If you do not hear from me soon, check to see if my hand has not frozen into some sort of deformed claw or held chisel me out of my underwear.

On that happy note, ciao!