You really should have stopped after “Let’s just get this straight, I ain’t here to win…” Because that is most prophetic. You aren’t going to win. You won’t disgrace every member of HOW. Hell, you won’t even get to meet every member of HOW in this little single elimination tourney. But I applaud you nonetheless. Keep “training” for that epic shit. Being a connoisseur of epic shits myself, I am kind of sad that I won’t be able to see you and your big-tittied girlfriend reenacting 2 Girls 1 Cup.
All shitting aside, you really ought to do your homework before you just open your mouth. All it does is show your ignorance. Everyone knows I haven’t been in HOW for a year, ever. I’m good for a month, maybe two tops. And if it goes past two, then all credit goes to the Bandits, as they allow me to coast along their coattails. But no, after my allotted two months, I ultimately pull a Dooz-dini (or would that be a Houdoozer) and I disappear.
You and I have that in common it seems.
Our reliability is shit. And if you were like me, then Lee probably had you on the back burner waiting for ANYONE else to step forward to fill the slot of this tournament. So don’t get too confident in yourself there, you and I weren’t exactly top draw coming into this thing.
I really have to know one thing though. If you walked away because of all the brown-nosing, the question must be asked… Why did you come back!? Everyone that was here when you left, is still here, and guess what, they still have their noses firmly inside the boss-man’s brown eye. We’re talking so deep the hairs on Lee’s crack are tickled by the eyelash! So if you’ve come back hoping things will be different, you might want to just go ahead and pack up your shit and head on down the road. It will save Lee from having to book you in a match that you will suddenly disappear from.
Or, you can come on over to my locker room and while you’re dropping off your girlfriend’s lacey Double D cup demi bra (because I prefer my brasseries to be sexy over comfortable), I’ll let you borrow my knee pads. The old man can sure take a tuggin’ and he keeps on chuggin’ and if you’re like me, your knees will get sore! Just be courteous and take a number, Darin Matthews doesn’t appreciate when you cut in line.
I’m confused by you, Simon. I’m confused with how arrogant and full of yourself you are. Sure you may have beaten a past his prime, Chris Kostoff. But, honestly, that is your ONLY claim to fame. Like me, you lost to Gilda, or was it Jatt Starr. And you lost to High Flyer before you took your ball and went home.
If anything all you did was point out how quick you are to give up. What? You beat old Kostoff and you immediately think of yourself the next Cecilworth Farthington?
No. Lose to Darin Matthews. Or Brian Hollywood. Then you can contemplate your future. Lose to Scott Stevens and then you can think about using that AIDs infested machete on yourself, no one would question it. We’d all understand.
But in the end, how about we don’t kink shame. In this day and age, it’s just classless. I may enjoy the odd cuck here and there, and you may get off to scat play. There’s no judging in this circle, my friend. Mike enjoys the whole step family/incest thing. LT enjoys the femdom with the financial kick. Dan Ryan likes granny stuff, for obvious reasons. Zeb prefers the outdoor exhibitionist angle. And Cancer Jiles loves himself some reverse gangbang. You know, where it’s one dude and twenty chicks.
In the end it doesn’t matter what we enjoy. All that matters is that you accept reality, and stand firm in the fact that you ain’t here to win. A singly thing.