My Page

Alright then. Go away now.

“Don't quote me on your page!”

~ Oscar Wilde on some fucker quoting him on their page

This is my very own page, and I will put all of the secret things that I don't want anyone to see here. After finding so many other pages owned by other people on the internet, I thought I should have my own. The following will be all my own private thoughts and such, so I would appreciate it if you would go away.

Secrets

This is my section for secret things I don't want anyone to know about. Like my high blood pressure. Most people don't know this, but hypertension is most common in African Americans, old people, fat people, alcoholics, crack heads, short angry men, and women taking birth control pills. Unfortunately, I am all of these. You see, when I was young I-

...well I was going to start filling my page out but I noticed you haven't left yet. Go ahead and leave, I'll wait here.

Gee whiz, I can tell by the dull look on your face that you haven't been on this "internet" thing for very long, so I'll take the time to explain how you can get the fuck off of my page.

Screw Off, Assface

First off, there's a handy little red button with an X in it, at the top right of your page. The "X" stands for "Quit being a nosy bastard". Click it and you will find yourself back at what us computer-savvy people call "the desktop". Don't be alarmed little one, you're not on top of a desk, you're just off of my damn page.

Here's a second option since I can see you don't take directions very well; just jam your thumbs into your own eyes and roll around on the floor bleeding. That will get you off of my page, you annoying little prick.

Other Secrets

OK, now that I am alone again with my personal page, I will start to write down my most hoarded secrets. First off, a secret about the government so shocking that when I found out about it myself, my mouth fell agape and it stuck there for a fortnight. I'm not kidding.

It turns out that George Bush is really a... hey!

You're starting to piss me off.

You think I don't see you there slumped over your keyboard, glaring at your monitor like a fat kid staring at a Twinkie filled with mayonnaise? You must be two tacos short of a combination plate, you know that? (I'm getting myself really hungry here.) Get off of my page before I call the internet police. This is an invasion of public privacy.

Go On, Get!

I've tried talking to you like you're a human (a really big fat one), but since you won't listen, I'll be forced to talk to you like a dog (a really stupid fat one).

C'mere boy!

Goood doggy.

Sit!

Yes, that's a good puppy wuppy.

Now go on! Go, boy!

GO! GO ON DAMMIT! GET THE FUCK OFF OF MY PAGE, BOY! DIE A HORRIBLE DEATH YOU MUTT! YOU FU-

Deep Breaths

I just got back from the hospital. I had a heart attack this morning while I was writing about that idiot who wouldn't get off my page. The doctor says I may die at any second if I don't learn to control my temper. But he-

...you're still here? Jesus Christ, man. I know you think you're being funny, like "Hahaha I'll read the private memoirs of a dying old man and stalk him until he dies of a violent heart attack." Well you're not funny, you're just a murderous little computer geek. That's right, you want me dead. Every time you piss me off you are threatening my life, so why don't you just take the high road and move on. Find some other private page of personal thoughts to violate with your perverted eyes. Just leave me in peace for chrissake.

OK, I think he's gone. I better squeeze in a few super secret secrets before some other bonehead shows up.

That's it mother fucker! YOU'RE DEAD!

Quick Secrets

Here are my most guarded secrets, I'll post them as fast as I can.

When I was 8 years old I killed the neighbor cat because he wouldn't stop howling by my window. I found out that at Wal-Mart there's a bin of old DVDs like Attack of the Monsters that you can buy for 2 dollars. I hate bolonie because I don't know how to spell it, and it tastes like the neighbor cat did. George Bush killed 9/11. For lunch on Tuesdays I go to...

...GODDAMMIT! Get out of here you SONOFABITCH! I'm going to track you down, and then I'm gonna slice you up like a tomato, and then I'm gonna kill your friends and all of your friend's friends! And then I'm going to kill all of their friends, and all of their pets! I'M GOING TO KILL EVERYONE WHO'S EVER KNOWN ANYONE WHO'S EVER SEEN YOU, EVEN IF I HAVE TO KILL MYSELF IN THE PROCESS, YOU STUPID LITTLE BA-