Post by vhodka on Oct 22, 2022 22:05:57 GMT -5
When they first gave me the question, I’ll admit that a hundred different names and faces ran through my mind. There were the things I knew that would stand out among the field - celebrities, historical figures and the like. But even though I would like to break my bare foot off in Rowan Atkinson’s perpetually loose asshole for what he has inflicted upon the world with Mr. Bean I just couldn’t muster the passion for it.
And then I got to thinking about people in my own life, people that I really know. It would be satisfying to tell you that I’d like literally pay money to Ike Turner that Walgreens cashier whose missing half his thumb and only speaks in fucking whispers. But I have the foresight to realize the optics of something like this or Mr. Bean before him. America doesn’t like bullies and whether you believe it yet or not - I’m America’s sweetheart.
I even went so far as considering my own husband, Vincent Black. Not because he tried to poison me with something called “kale” (he did) or even because he’d consider it appropriate foreplay before he took his blue veined GoGurt tube head to head with my carnivorous cum cave.
But for the simple fact that no matter how far or how hard we come I’ll never forget the feeling of having to watch Vin on the other side of the divide where he lived his life with his wife and his children, both of us reaching out across the chasm but always just a little out of reach of the other. Because we were young and we were stupid and we made bad decisions that compounded bad decisions. That girl on the outside looking in still exists somewhere inside me and as much as she’d like to get her licks in before he got to licking the fact of the matter is that time in our lives has passed us by.
And then I walked in this room and saw our esteemed panel of judges. Universally beloved Denzel Porter couldn’t be with us today so someone defrosted an otter in a microwave and sat him behind a Theo Price name plate. That’s cool, I guess. But I’m not into animal cruelty so Theo is safe.
Sauceboss doesn’t quite meet Denzel’s level of adoration but in my dealings with him he’s been a fine man who has given me no good reason to want to take his head off with an ironing board.
But then there’s Larry Tact with spittle forming in the corners of his mouth as he uses every ounce of willpower he has not to launch himself over that table and rip the Level Up Power Championship off my shoulder all because I had the audacity to do my job which makes him not entirely unlike the person I would actually like to send muff diving into a woodchipper. So with that said,
I heard you was talkin’ shit, Buster Gloves.
I saw your cute little tweets and heard your whispers in the halls of the arena and at first, I was confused. After all, I haven’t said an unkind word about you or anyone else in that place aside from Sarah Wolf and one would assume the enemy of your enemy is a friend, right?
But you don’t want to be my friend so you go out and you start saying some hurtful things about me to anyone who would listen. I gotta say Magic School Buster, it hurt my feelings.
Now I know a lot of people find Buster Gloves career to be similar to a bottle of melatonin so you might have missed out on our boy Grandma’s Bussy being in a bit of a rough patch. Yep, Mr. Why-Don’t-You-Cheer-Me lost a few matches and started hitting the bottle because Buster is just being eaten alive by darkness inside him - hey, maybe that’s why he feels like picking on little ol’ me, huh?
Well, I got news for you Bussy Boots, I know all about Darkness. I probably know more about Darkness than anyone else in this business and do you know why that is, Buster?
It’s very simple. It all comes down to the fact that I own Chapelle’s Show on every format made available. Now, since we all know you’re the equivalent of an Olive Garden breadstick someone left in a sink full of water overnight I understand that dumb look on your face right now means you don’t have the slightest clue what that is or why it’s relative to your whole Criss Angel MindFreak deep dive into the depths of human emotion but try to stick with me
I have watched Charlie Murphy’s story over and over again so don’t think you can step to me talking about Darkness like you know something, alright? I will straight up Rick James your ass so hard UNITY will not just be imprinted into your forehead it’ll be imprinted into your squishy frontal lobe too. You want to know what the five fingers said to the face? They said fuck around and find out.
I know that you’re out there somewhere right now watching this. Your jaw is clenched and that vein in your forehead that’s likely bigger than your erect dick is bulging out and all you can think about is how much you want to hit me.
But deep down inside of you in a place you can’t bear to look at you’re also a little turned on by all of this. Because men like you always like women like me. There’s a part of you that desperately wants to know what it would be like with me. Maybe not forever, sure, but for a night.
And that thought scares the shit out of you because you're the kind of man who no matter how far we come or how good we are, will only ever see women as accessories. But you, me, Tact and Otter-With-An-STD all know that Vhodka Black is no accessory.
And hey, maybe that’s part of it for you, the thrill of finally meeting a woman who could make you know what it feels like to be Daddy’s Little Girl. The only problem is you’re too stuck in your rigid heteronormative box to ever let go enough to give yourself a taste of what might cure what ails you.
Now me? I don’t want to fuck you. I imagine fucking you would hold all of the excitement of fucking an empty excel document. But if my name keeps coming out of your mouth or my @ somehow finds itself coming from your fingertips then I will fight you.
And then you’ll really get to know what it’s like.
And then I got to thinking about people in my own life, people that I really know. It would be satisfying to tell you that I’d like literally pay money to Ike Turner that Walgreens cashier whose missing half his thumb and only speaks in fucking whispers. But I have the foresight to realize the optics of something like this or Mr. Bean before him. America doesn’t like bullies and whether you believe it yet or not - I’m America’s sweetheart.
I even went so far as considering my own husband, Vincent Black. Not because he tried to poison me with something called “kale” (he did) or even because he’d consider it appropriate foreplay before he took his blue veined GoGurt tube head to head with my carnivorous cum cave.
But for the simple fact that no matter how far or how hard we come I’ll never forget the feeling of having to watch Vin on the other side of the divide where he lived his life with his wife and his children, both of us reaching out across the chasm but always just a little out of reach of the other. Because we were young and we were stupid and we made bad decisions that compounded bad decisions. That girl on the outside looking in still exists somewhere inside me and as much as she’d like to get her licks in before he got to licking the fact of the matter is that time in our lives has passed us by.
And then I walked in this room and saw our esteemed panel of judges. Universally beloved Denzel Porter couldn’t be with us today so someone defrosted an otter in a microwave and sat him behind a Theo Price name plate. That’s cool, I guess. But I’m not into animal cruelty so Theo is safe.
Sauceboss doesn’t quite meet Denzel’s level of adoration but in my dealings with him he’s been a fine man who has given me no good reason to want to take his head off with an ironing board.
But then there’s Larry Tact with spittle forming in the corners of his mouth as he uses every ounce of willpower he has not to launch himself over that table and rip the Level Up Power Championship off my shoulder all because I had the audacity to do my job which makes him not entirely unlike the person I would actually like to send muff diving into a woodchipper. So with that said,
I heard you was talkin’ shit, Buster Gloves.
I saw your cute little tweets and heard your whispers in the halls of the arena and at first, I was confused. After all, I haven’t said an unkind word about you or anyone else in that place aside from Sarah Wolf and one would assume the enemy of your enemy is a friend, right?
But you don’t want to be my friend so you go out and you start saying some hurtful things about me to anyone who would listen. I gotta say Magic School Buster, it hurt my feelings.
Now I know a lot of people find Buster Gloves career to be similar to a bottle of melatonin so you might have missed out on our boy Grandma’s Bussy being in a bit of a rough patch. Yep, Mr. Why-Don’t-You-Cheer-Me lost a few matches and started hitting the bottle because Buster is just being eaten alive by darkness inside him - hey, maybe that’s why he feels like picking on little ol’ me, huh?
Well, I got news for you Bussy Boots, I know all about Darkness. I probably know more about Darkness than anyone else in this business and do you know why that is, Buster?
It’s very simple. It all comes down to the fact that I own Chapelle’s Show on every format made available. Now, since we all know you’re the equivalent of an Olive Garden breadstick someone left in a sink full of water overnight I understand that dumb look on your face right now means you don’t have the slightest clue what that is or why it’s relative to your whole Criss Angel MindFreak deep dive into the depths of human emotion but try to stick with me
I have watched Charlie Murphy’s story over and over again so don’t think you can step to me talking about Darkness like you know something, alright? I will straight up Rick James your ass so hard UNITY will not just be imprinted into your forehead it’ll be imprinted into your squishy frontal lobe too. You want to know what the five fingers said to the face? They said fuck around and find out.
I know that you’re out there somewhere right now watching this. Your jaw is clenched and that vein in your forehead that’s likely bigger than your erect dick is bulging out and all you can think about is how much you want to hit me.
But deep down inside of you in a place you can’t bear to look at you’re also a little turned on by all of this. Because men like you always like women like me. There’s a part of you that desperately wants to know what it would be like with me. Maybe not forever, sure, but for a night.
And that thought scares the shit out of you because you're the kind of man who no matter how far we come or how good we are, will only ever see women as accessories. But you, me, Tact and Otter-With-An-STD all know that Vhodka Black is no accessory.
And hey, maybe that’s part of it for you, the thrill of finally meeting a woman who could make you know what it feels like to be Daddy’s Little Girl. The only problem is you’re too stuck in your rigid heteronormative box to ever let go enough to give yourself a taste of what might cure what ails you.
Now me? I don’t want to fuck you. I imagine fucking you would hold all of the excitement of fucking an empty excel document. But if my name keeps coming out of your mouth or my @ somehow finds itself coming from your fingertips then I will fight you.
And then you’ll really get to know what it’s like.