Will You Be My Friend?
So, you want to be friends with The Angry Piper? Good luck. To be honest, the Piper is an antisocial creature, and he'd probably rather rub shit in his hair than hang out with the likes of you. He's too angry, too mean-and hey, let's face it-too cool to be your friend. Unless you happen to be a Norwegian chick living in San Francisco, or Dog the Bounty Hunter's wife, or Paddy Keenan, Mickey Spillane, or Dr. Murk. Then you might have a chance.
Besides, even though you think you want to be my friend, you wouldn't want to hang out with me in person. I smell like bagipe wax and spilled beer. And that's AFTER my shower.
But dont fret, Gilligan. You can still call yourself my friend, through the magic of Myspace. My therapist, Dr. Murk, thought it would be constructive for me to form lots more insipid and superficial relationships with no real time committment or emotional investiture, so I signed up.
I can't promise to be a good friend. Don't look to me to be the shoulder to cry on or the guy who remembers birthdays, because it won't happen. At best-and I mean absolute best-I can be an indifferent friend. In other words, one who will add you to my friend list if you request it, and who will expose you to good music by occasionally updating his Myspace profile (in fact, go there now and see what's playing); but who ultimately doesn't give a flaming shit about you (much like everyone else on Myspace).
In other news, angrypiper.com is being updated in small ways daily. Right now I'm working on my RSS Feed, so that you can subscribe to it and get notifications of updates delivered right to your waiting desktop. Having problems with the feed, though; I need Malach to help me out (slapping forehead).
Of course, there was a new Angry Piper's Book of the Week posted on Friday, so swing on by if you haven't yet, and feel free to comment on it at the Forums.
I live for your approval. Be my friend.
Besides, even though you think you want to be my friend, you wouldn't want to hang out with me in person. I smell like bagipe wax and spilled beer. And that's AFTER my shower.
But dont fret, Gilligan. You can still call yourself my friend, through the magic of Myspace. My therapist, Dr. Murk, thought it would be constructive for me to form lots more insipid and superficial relationships with no real time committment or emotional investiture, so I signed up.
I can't promise to be a good friend. Don't look to me to be the shoulder to cry on or the guy who remembers birthdays, because it won't happen. At best-and I mean absolute best-I can be an indifferent friend. In other words, one who will add you to my friend list if you request it, and who will expose you to good music by occasionally updating his Myspace profile (in fact, go there now and see what's playing); but who ultimately doesn't give a flaming shit about you (much like everyone else on Myspace).
In other news, angrypiper.com is being updated in small ways daily. Right now I'm working on my RSS Feed, so that you can subscribe to it and get notifications of updates delivered right to your waiting desktop. Having problems with the feed, though; I need Malach to help me out (slapping forehead).
Of course, there was a new Angry Piper's Book of the Week posted on Friday, so swing on by if you haven't yet, and feel free to comment on it at the Forums.
I live for your approval. Be my friend.
posted by The Angry Piper at 2:07 PM
11 Comments:
Call me tomorrow about feed doofus.
No one gonna want to be your friend when they read this:
THE ANGRY PIPER, TRUTH!
i met the fucking piper, and I can tell you this. Not only is he a fucking asshole, but he does smell like bagipe wax and spilled beer. And you know what? Don't ask me why, but the muthafucka is HOT!
MySpace? Isn't that where the pedophiles from the Department of Homeland Security hangout?
You....joined.....myspace? I'm sorry.
Myspace = webtraffic. It's all about the hits, baby.
Wow your offering indifference, drunken banter, smelliness and anger... pick me, pick me!!
Myspae=Traffic.
RubberSuit Studios average 3000 hits per day from the idiots over there.
Well, you can't be all bad if you took the time to wish my kid a happy birthday.
Spilled beer isn't necessarily a bad thing. What kind of beer?
I have no idea what bagpipe wax smells like.
The best part about this, for me, is that I invited you to be my friend on myspace after you posted this, without knowing. And you accepted! I'm so flattered. I love you, AP.
Eve: Sarcasm hurts. I'll console myself with the knowledge that you will always, ALWAYS be older than me.
Jen: Bagpipe wax smells like turpentine. To the tenth power.
XT: I love you too, but just because we're friends doesn't mean we'll be taking long warm showers together until the wee hours of the morning. I had to tell Malach that(he was heartbroken); figured I might as well tell you too.
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