Dec 02, 2005   | COMMENTS     

to your boys.

To you queers at the Human Rights Campaign you keep calling and writing asking me for money: I’ve given already.

I can lose a little weight. You can’t lose that ugly face!

Whenever you see a cute guy, you shower him with gratuitous insults and wonder why you don’t get more dates. With that M.O., your only hope for dates is to buy a package of them at the supermarket.

Hot, pretty-boy, poser club DJs have no entitlement to be the shepherds of you brain-washed queens bouncing-and-a-bopping around the club like caffeine-injected sheep.

Why does 50 Cent ironically look so gay? What other kinds of shots to the body did he take while in jail?

Since when did grocery shopping become an audition for “America’s Next Top Model?” If you queens don’t stop using the supermarket aisles as a cat walk, I’m gonna start dropping banana peels.

Your party had some good-looking guys and good food. Too bad all I heard from anyone was about their job and where they went to school. I should have stayed home and read a book or masturbated.

Loads of overdraft fees! Won’t that bitch at the bank just accept that I will not buy my clothes at Wal-Mart just to follow her stupid rule?

To the bitch who suggested professional help for those who enjoy casual sex: Get your own life, your own piece of ass, and shut up!

To the bull-dyke who tried to intimidate me into not talking to the hot blond by getting in my face with, “She’s mine!” If you didn’t want anyone talking to her, keep her home and don’t bring her to social gatherings.

Don’t screw over your girlfriend, she might just ta