Oh readers. Oh my dear, dear readers. I guess the end is coming after all. This reminds me of the time I killed my lover with my giant penis and then sat alone in my room with no lights on for two weeks, listening to Brick, by Ben Folds. BECAUSE THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT I HAVE BEEN DOING FOR THE PAST TWO WEEKS.
I'm pretty sure that was an appropriate song to listen to. I mean, it seemed sad, so whatever.
ANYWAY. I digress. I've been trying to call people I care about and talk about our impending doom, but every time somebody picks up, I just start crying until they assume it's a prank call and hang up. That's right, fuckholes, Chad Henne cries too. He cries but good. Because he cares.
So since I can't call any of you poop snorters, I want to at least tell the world something over this blog. It's the least you interbloggers can do, since you've spent the last several months fucking up my business online.
Here goes.
I love you. All of you. I want to thank you all for being so good to me, for rooting for me as the Miami Dolphins' quarterback of the future, for, if you are a lady, fellating me. It's been one of hell of a ride, and I'm sad to see it end this way. As a result of Machine Gun Christianity.
I guess there's only one person left to go see now. Wish me luck.
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