24 June 2009
23 June 2009
If you know me, you know a) I hate my job b) I hate any sort of work, c) I wish I was British, and d) I wish I was british and black. That being said, I'm always on the look out for a good hustle. Something to pay the bills with out the hastle of having to put up with some dumb shit cunt of a boss who I wish would die a slow and painful death from full blown aids. Something they investigate on 20/20 where I'm stealing old people's life savings and using the money to fund my high priced tranny hooker call girl ring while at the same time fueling my newly acquired cocaine habit. Stealing from old people definitely...or orphans, either way the shadier the better. By the time the feds catch on I'll have moved on to a country with no extradition laws with only my raging coke habit and the pick of the litter from my tranny stable as my companiion. While it's not a hustle that involves the elderly, this is one of my favorites:
Listen to this one: You open a company called the Ass Tickler's Faggots Fan Club. You take out an advert in the back page of some gay mag, advertising the latest in ass-intruding dildos, you sell it with, I dunno, "does what no other dildo can do until now", "the latest and greatest in sexual technology", "guaranteed results or your money back", all that bollocks. Now these dils cost twenty-five quid a pop – is a snip for the amount of pleasure they’ll give the recipients. But they send their cheques to the other company name, nothing offensive, er, Bobbie's Bits or something, for twenty-five quid. You take that twenty-five quid, you stick it in the bank until it clears. This is the smart bit - you send back the cheque for twenty-five pound from the other company name, Ass Tickler's Faggots Fan Club, saying I’m sorry, we couldn't get the supplies from America because they ran out of stock. Now you see how many people cash that cheque - not a single soul, because who wants their bank manager to know they tickle ass when they're not paying cheques?