In response to yesterday's comments-
-I may or may not be on the Mighty Squirrels.
Either way, they are a team in the Blacktop Street Hockey League, which I am in, and they should be left alone.
In terms of the second question, "Onyxwolf" wants to know if "there is any more werewolf stuff."
Let me address that. First off, I am a werewolf, or until recently was. I still may be one, I just didn't change last month, and I'm still trying to figure that situation out.
I've said this before, and I'm sorry if I'm repeating myself, but fuck- Werewolves are people. You know, most of the time. For three nights a month, I turn into something awful, or did until recently. But this is not just a blog about a werewolf, it a blog about a man.
If you were to read a woman's blog, would you say "Um- yeah, that stuff about your life is interesting, but is there any more menstruation stuff?"
Cause, you know, that's something that happens three days a month to some people, and is not the sum total of their experiences, despite the equitable levels of savagery towards their fellow man that can result from it.
Also, if you can't spell "hockey" you're probably not that big of a fucking fan.
Still, I am a curious person, so I went to Onyxwolf's profile and found a blog.
Well, Christ- if that isn't the MOST CREATIVE THING I'VE EVER SEEN!
A blog from the perspective of a werewolf!
What a genius!
Let's read from the first (and only) post:
to my blog. The days of a wolf. Why would I want to read about your life you say? Well its simple. I am no ordinary person. I am a werewolf. "
Hey shithead, guess what? There are no comments and no follow up posts!
Hey asshole- if you're really a werewolf, let us know about it. I'm curious, the scientists who are currently probing and questioning me are curious, and I'd guess that my readers are curious.
If you are not- go the fuck home.
I happen to be a huge fucking hockey fan, and at ten past twelve on the fourth of May, the fact that I am responding to this bullshit instead of watching Jerome Iginla tearing the ass out of the Stanley Cup playoffs has me pissed off enough without dealing with you.
If you have a problem with me taking some time on my blog to talk about stuff that is actually making me happy, then you are not a real werewolf, you're some kind of gamer douchebag who is making trouble on my blog because, I don't know, you're having trouble updating your own fucking blog without taking off the gloves of your fucking "furry" suit.
Kiss my ass.
Sorry if this was harsh, but I'm doing my best to police this thing, and I'm sick of having my life be the fucking playground of fetishists.
And while I'm at it, here's a hearty "fuck you" to all you zooskool degenerates who found your way here.
I know, I shouldn't keep typing the word, cause it only makes it worse, but I get a fair amount of pleasure from the idea that some scumbag who wanted to jerk off to photos of women blowing dogs found his way here.
So if that's you, fuck off.
And what really sucks is I had a really interesting conversation with Julie, the werewolf girl today, and I was planning on talking about that today.
I think she's crazy.
Either that, or I am.
Fuck it, I'm going to bed.