Wazzup bitches? I just wanted to (gloat) tell you all that I graduated! That's right. I'm now a twenty-two year old with an associates degree. Whoop-dee-fuckin'-doo right? Well fuck you. I passed and I'm happy. Don't ruin this for me. You with all your harsh criticism. You may not say it but I know. I know. With that silent but telling glare of yours. You think that everything I do just doesn't cut isn't that it? I was never able to appease you was I? Well despite what you think I don't live to please you. Yeah, that's right. And you know what? You, and your... your bullshit is why she (or he, whatever) left you. You just couldn't be happy with another person's success. Always willing to put your little daggers, your little commentary in other person's life-notes (life-notes?) you egotistical fuck. I hate you. I think about brutally killing you and savagely raping your corpse. Yeah I went there. But you know what? You drove me there against my will and made me pay for the gas while you were at it. You fuck. And how 'bout you chip in on the tab every now and again? Money means something to other people too you know.
And if you're going to stand outside my window at night, could you please not have your dog piss on my lawn? It's barking makes it a little hard to talk to Charlie Chaplin dressed as Hitler and Hitler dressed as Charlie Chaplin (for some reason, I think he's trying to show Chaplin how it feels when someone else steals their schtick).