Genghis Jon's Christmas Wishes -or- Fuck Gold Membership
Man, what a shitty loooking diary. What kind of parents raised me having a diary that looks like this?
Yes, obviously my Gold membership ran out and I didn't renew it. I have two excuses to offer if you care to hear them.
Number one is that my date to renew was like 5 days before Christmas. A time of the year I traditionaly don't have a lot spare money lying around. And when the choice comes between getting my neice a lifesize German Sheppard that I will have hours of fun chasing her around the house with or paying the cost to host pictures on the web so people all over the world can be greeted by my trademark middle finger, sorry, but the kid is gonna' win. I guess what I'm learning as I mature is that one's time is better spent annoying one person that means so much to you as opposed to thousands who you don't know. You see, I'm going to play a pivitol role in ruining my brother's daughter's life. That's a huge responsibility and I cannot be distracted by you all out there who's lives have already been ruined long before you ever met GJ.
The second reason I haven't renewed my subscription is because I'm getting cheap. The other day I brought back a box of Rice-A-Roni I wasn't gonna' eat to get back my 99 cents. I know, really. Call me Genghis Jonstein. With that sort of penny pinching going around I kinda find it hard putting down $54.99 for anything other than certified female hookers.
The third reason I'm not signing up for Gold membership is because while people like me are spending money on trivial stuff like this, people are dying in Iraq.
On the forth day of Christmas my true love gave to me.....Oh, wait, wrong tale!
Anyways, I made the mistake awhile ago of showing people that I know my diary. Since then it's not fun anymore. There's not one person in particular so if you're reading this and you think it's you, it's not. (Unless of course you're John Mori, then it's definately you!) But it was a lot more fun back when I could call a friend of mine a fucking mental patient and not get a bunch of angry phone calls over it, even if said person is the heavyweight champion of mental patients if there ever were such a thing.
I dunno'. I hope you all have a great Christmas. I know I will. Scaring 7 month old girls with a big, scary stuffed dos rules and let's her know from a very young age that Uncle Genghis is not to be triffled with.