Now will someone please come and get me off the moon?
I guess I had it coming, huh? I did get pretty drunk last night. I must have passed out and you guys pranked me by shuttling me 238,857 miles from earth and abandoning me on the moon. Good one.
Last thing I remember I was hitting on those women who kept telling me about their kids and they wouldn't give me their cell numbers and then I had another shot and now here I am close to suffocating in an atmosphere one-thousandth as dense as earth's.
Whose idea was this, anyway?
Sure, I know one of you guys might be mad at me or something if I ever messed with you in your sleep. but I really don't think I deserve being ditched in some 200ยบ F lunar crater. And I'm totally sorry if I was ever a dick to you, but this is way worse than drawing a dick on your arm, dudes. Not cool.
How am I supposed to get to work tomorrow? I can't phone my boss up and tell him I'm stuck on the moon because everyone already calls me "The Boy Who Cried Stuck-On-The-Moon." Poor planning on my part.
But, then again, I never really imagined I'd actually get left for dead on the surface of the moon.
I know I'm supposed to be a good sport and have a good laugh at myself but I think if I sound a little P.O.ed it's because I deserve to be and it's not because I can't take a joke. I know people say I can't take a joke and maybe it's true sometimes, but damn I wish you assholes hadn't left me on the mother-effing moon.
I've got an appointment to get my cast off on Monday and if I miss that I'm gonna be so mad. And, while I'm talking about the cast, I just wanna say that being in one-eighth earth's gravity doesn't feel great on my healing hand.
It's pretty inconsiderate is all I'm saying.
Some one come pick me up. And bring some clothes. Can't find mine.
No comments:
Post a Comment