Sunday, August 27
So me and four of my friends prank called the son of a bitch about 15 times last night. I didn't say anything, because my plan was to have Quoc (pronounced "wuck," don't ask me why) speak english in his stupid retarded way of talking, added to his weird accent. He cursed and made sex jokes to the idiot and rambled about all this odd shit. Me and everyone else were laughing so hard that we literally had to cover our mouths. I buried my fucking face in a blanket to muffle myself out.

After about seven calls (dude we were having such a fucking riot with this shithead), Quoc started wearing a Darth Vader mask with its built-in voice changer.

Then my dad's friend came along (at about our fifth call) and did the most hilarious fucking Hannibal impression. I remember of it as this:

"I am Hannibal Lechter. I eat human meat!" in this grainy, low voice. Alongside his tenth beer or so, of course.

He also came back for the last call, where he talked about how meat in New Jersey is cooked differently than meat in Philadelphia, or some shit. That call was about a minute and a half long, Jesus fucking Christ I could not stop cracking up.

I think we all scared off the son of a bitch, and the great thing is, he most likely doesn't know it's really my cell phone number that he'd called seven fucking times yesterday and a total of about 11 or 12 times all week, because I never picked up the phone and instead just made a bunch of fucked up guys saying weird shit and questioning his sexuality.

The moron stopped picking up after the fifth call, so we left him a shitload of voice messages. I mean, if Hannibal is calling you and talking about "meat," then he'd most likely get the idea that I'm either not interested, or that I gave him the wrong phone number. And if he doesn't get it, well then some nasty fucking balls are going to be busted with iron clamps pretty soon.

I mean, who the fuck would call a girl seven times in a day, and three times within the course of a half hour? Holy fucking shit, RETARD. And then proceed to keep answering consecutive phone calls that are obviously going to be childish, hurtful pranks? You should get the idea on this idiot's level of stupidity.

He hasn't called me today, which is a good sign. I just hope the fucktard doesn't start calling my house again. Fuckin' A.

So, why not get rid of something bad and annoying by twisting it around and turning it into something fun? It was a genius idea, I must say. Asshole? I know.


Christina N. @ 1:10 PM