Doodycakes

I saw this business card in a local restaurant this past weekend, and I actually got physically upset. Nauseous. If I wasn’t such a cheap slob, I might have considered throwing up my food. But that omlette I just ate was $12 freakin bucks, and there was no way that was happening.

“My own personal paparazzi”? What?? I was disgusted. Not only did some shmuck have the balls to think that a fake paparazzi business was a good idea, but the fact that there might be a market for such filth made me sick. Stupid little skinny brats that want to pretend like their celebrities. Hey, skank-face, you know that cottage cheese on your ass? That’s what they’d actually be taking pictures of, not you cutting your Ferrari cake.

But then I had a revelation. Maybe this isn’t such a bad idea. So I booked them for my next birthday party. And as soon as they run up with their cameras flashing, I’m gonna scream, “Get the fuck out of my face, asshole!” And proceed to beat the shit out of them with my umbrella. Maybe even run over a couple of them with my Subaru SLK-Class Hatchback. So if you see this happening, don’t worry, it’s all “fake”.