Now Elvis Wants My Autograph
Whether y’all realize it or not, I am a very popular person. Heck, I may even be more popular than the president. I know this because I get emails everyday telling me that people are looking for me, wanting to meet me, or want me to be part of their family. And as we all know, TV, polls, and facts may be manipulated, but emails never lie.
Daily, I get an email from some reunion place, telling me that 52 people are looking for me. It’s hard to believe that 52 people went to a website to find me, especially since I still live in the town I grew up in, have my phone number in the phonebook, and keep in touch with a lot of the folks I grew up with on a weekly basis. I guess not everyone gets new phonebooks every 20 years.
There are also at least 73,000 local women who want to meet me. I know this because I took all of those emails telling me that 7 or 10 local women want me, and I added them all together. And it's not just the local ones either. Russian women want to date me to. I had no idea I was popular outside fo teh country.
46 of my old flames are looking for me, too. Honestly, I can’t remember having 46 old flames, but obviously I must have had a really wild time that night I got drunk in New Orleans. Never go on Bourbon street without a chaperone!
Last week, I got 34 separate emails from lawyers all over the world, telling me that someone had died and left $10 million to no one. They then tell me that if I trace my roots, I will find that me and the dead guy were both descended from some guy named Adam. I am then informed that if I come forward, they will split the $10 million with me 60/40.
Sounds good, huh? That’s still $4 million to me, anyway. But I ain’t stupid. I know that all they really want to do is learn my secret to having 73,000 local women want me, and then they will try to move in their 2 crazy aunts into my back-house. Sorry lawyers, but I got enough crazy aunts already.
Bankers, of course, are just falling all over themselves to refinance my house. They beg for my business at least 26 times a day. They offer to pay me to let them refinance. But sometimes I wonder where these bankers were when I was actually buying my house. I guess I must have bought during golf season.
Naturally, it is still a little hard for me to believe that I have reached such heights of fame, but obviously I have. They will probably be knocking down my door any day with offers to be parade Grand Marshals, local festivals’ dignitary, and possibly even a Mardi Gras King. So the next time some asks you if you know anyone famous, you can tell them that you knew me back in the early days, when I was just a redneck with a typewriter.
Of course, that was before my typewriter was gold plated, and my neck was dyed a nice golden tan.
Daily, I get an email from some reunion place, telling me that 52 people are looking for me. It’s hard to believe that 52 people went to a website to find me, especially since I still live in the town I grew up in, have my phone number in the phonebook, and keep in touch with a lot of the folks I grew up with on a weekly basis. I guess not everyone gets new phonebooks every 20 years.
There are also at least 73,000 local women who want to meet me. I know this because I took all of those emails telling me that 7 or 10 local women want me, and I added them all together. And it's not just the local ones either. Russian women want to date me to. I had no idea I was popular outside fo teh country.
46 of my old flames are looking for me, too. Honestly, I can’t remember having 46 old flames, but obviously I must have had a really wild time that night I got drunk in New Orleans. Never go on Bourbon street without a chaperone!
Last week, I got 34 separate emails from lawyers all over the world, telling me that someone had died and left $10 million to no one. They then tell me that if I trace my roots, I will find that me and the dead guy were both descended from some guy named Adam. I am then informed that if I come forward, they will split the $10 million with me 60/40.
Sounds good, huh? That’s still $4 million to me, anyway. But I ain’t stupid. I know that all they really want to do is learn my secret to having 73,000 local women want me, and then they will try to move in their 2 crazy aunts into my back-house. Sorry lawyers, but I got enough crazy aunts already.
Bankers, of course, are just falling all over themselves to refinance my house. They beg for my business at least 26 times a day. They offer to pay me to let them refinance. But sometimes I wonder where these bankers were when I was actually buying my house. I guess I must have bought during golf season.
Naturally, it is still a little hard for me to believe that I have reached such heights of fame, but obviously I have. They will probably be knocking down my door any day with offers to be parade Grand Marshals, local festivals’ dignitary, and possibly even a Mardi Gras King. So the next time some asks you if you know anyone famous, you can tell them that you knew me back in the early days, when I was just a redneck with a typewriter.
Of course, that was before my typewriter was gold plated, and my neck was dyed a nice golden tan.
posted by Rick Quick | 6:23 AM
1 Comments:
good job rick,and oh so true :)
excellent site, I now have it bookmarked.
faceman
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