This time of year I think about what I'm thankful for. I'm thankful that I'm not a young kid with cancer whose last wish was to spend time with Michael Jackson. Kid's are so stupid. He should have asked for Justin Timberlake, or that whore Christina Aguilera. Either way he would have gotten his dick sucked.So why not head over to T-Shirt Hell and purchase something for the holidays. After all, nothing says "I love you" like an offensive shirt you know your fucked up friends and family will love
I'm glad I wasn't home when Scott Peterson called to see if I wanted to go fishing with him last Christmas.
I'm glad I only take cooking tips, not stock tips from my neighbor, Martha Stewart. Here's an inside tip on Martha; she loves a good fisting, followed by being filled with a half gallon of milk...and then fisted again so that the milk is pushed out.
I'm glad my sex tape with the Hilton sisters has not been made public. (It's not that exciting. It's just Nikki laughing and pointing, while Paris rubs my back and assures me it happens to a lot of guys.) Fuck you Nikki. Your handbags are all derivative.
But mostly I'm glad I have you, my loyal customer base. Glad that at the end of the month after blowing most of your paycheck on lube, cocaine, and midget entertainers, you still have something left over to buy the occasional t-shirt. Plus, when I think about your desperate lives, my life looks even better in comparison.
In T-Shirt Hell's most recent newsletter they decide to give thanks during this holiday season.