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Mr. Don't-know-shit:
I understand that you are paying me to run your website and not your brain. Even through I feel that there is a dire need for intervention I am not Dr. Phil and the real Dr. Phil will not return my phone calls since I sent him the 8x10 glossy of me raping a fleshlight. At any rate, I feel that you are making another huge mistake by only offering high-end shit. I mean there are some pimps with enough flow to hook the fat shizzle, but you need to think about the little pimps and the wannbees that just don't thave enough game for the top shelf. What I am trying to say is that I am not going to be responsible for you fucking up the website that you paid me to build because you won't let me add bargin basement items.
But now that I htink about it you are the one paying for this and who am I to grumble. After all I am making fat stacks with ghettothugs.com and you are just a piece of dog shit on my shoe.
FUCK YOU I QUIT. Try running your own damn website.
Love,
xenigo
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"Because the World Wide Web is all about two things: horrifyingly stupid psychodrama, and naked chicks."
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