I'll Make You Famous…




I am – Text Messaging Famous Trash From the Road of the Day


I was away from the computer for the last 2 days and being on the computer is pretty much all that I do, so not being on the computer kinda fucked with my head. I didn’t know what to do with myself so I decided to text message Nicole Richie, Lindsay Lohan and Paris Hilton because a little lesbian birdie emailed me their contact info a few months ago.

This is what I wrote:

I just watched Jessica Simpson’s pro activ ad. She is such a useless slag. She reads at the grade 4 level and that kinda turns me on. Is Grade 4 when daddy pulled her out of school to suck his mic and by mic I mean penis. Brenda, being unemployed makes me realize I love you.

There was no response so I decided to step up my game.

Brenda, I forgot to tell you that I had a chance to see my doctor about the growth on my penis. Turns out it is only a genital wart. Actually, it’s about 12 warts bundled together. They will be gone by the time I come visit. Hope you’ve been doing your kegals.

Still no response, so I messaged Stavros.

Give me your email. I want to interview you via email. Thanks.

His response:

Who is this.

And I wrote….

This is Perez, Just 5 questions via email.

And then Nicole RIchie’s came in…


WTF are you talking about? This is not Brenda and loose the number u looser.

And I wrote

Brenda, we’ve gone through this so many times. Why do you always pretend to be someone else. It is annoying. Good job spelling loser wrong. Genius way to trick me. Speaking of trick, remember that halloween you dressed like Geordie Laforge? Loose this Number Looser. 🙂

She Wrote….

Get a Life Dear

I wrote….

A loved one is on her death bed. I am waiting for my bus home. Texting you is my life right now. My computer hates me. You telling me to get a life is tired, you can do better than that. I can only assume that you are mad about the genital warts. It’s not like I gave them to you. Stop pickin’ a fight and smile. Asshole.

and then…

PS – I am wearing the mexcellent ironic tee you gave me for my bday last year and it is all I dreamt it would be…

She wrote…

If u are this obsessed with me you should join my fanclub. By the way your number will be blocked from reaching this number by the end of today


You’ve officially ruined it for yourself

So I wrote…

Ruined what? What is your fan club? I guess we aren’t going on our red lobster date.

Then I wrote…

I guess since you are blocking me, I will need to get in as much text as possible. I am not obsessed with anything except maybe not eating. I feel like I don’t even know you anymore.

Then I wrote…

Why do you have a fan club and how do I sign up? Do I get a pair of your panties (dirty)? If so, I am down with brown and by brown I mean your dad. I just called to say I love you and shit…

Then I wrote…

Our date is off. Fatty.

Last message sent was:

I am not scared of you or your threats, I am scared of your anorexic and sharp elbows. But they are not as sharp as the heroin needle your mom used to spike into her arm after getting knocked up by shitty drummers after sneaking backstage at concerts back in ’80. Cuddles you fucking cunt.


PS – I know I am fucking amazing. Cuddles.

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