Every time. Even after our nuts empty into her twat for the 10th time, a bitch still fucks us men up. It's a persistent lashing onto our egos, but such is a bitch. And a lot of us men accept that crap because of the pussy; we become accustomed to eating bullshit from a member of the opposite sex simply because of the benefits no one else can provide.
It's pussy!
It cannot be replaced, simulated properly, or be made to make any heterosexual think it's not so important.
The cleanest pussy out there in your zip code is still a new disease. Believe it.
See, but when a corporation starts feeding off you as if they hold the golden ring to your elation, then it's time to start grinding your teeth, take a step back and say to yourself, "Look, there are enough entities out there trying to pillage everything I have on a daily basis. I don't have to put up with this shit from someone who's not actually blowing me."
And that intro brings me to Sprint/Nextel. Sprint PCS, rather.
Holy fuck, am I heated.
I can't believe the audacity of a company such as this. Sprint-fucking-PCS. Kiss my dick!
Ya know, we've endured Nazi-like corporations for years; fuck-sticks like Micro$oft, Bust-Buy and Taco Hell, but Sprint is taking the gold and practically 'sprinting' for first place in the five-star asshole Olympics. There's no reprieve once you sign that two-year contract. It's almost like a prison sentence, except when you're a member of the state, at least you get three hots and a cot and can likely defend yourself from taking it up the ass; not with Sprint. They fuck you hard and long. What sucks is sometimes you don't even realize you're taking it gently.
Text Messaging
Here's a good one: If you don't pay the ridiculous 'cover charge' for text messages with Sprint, text messages cost 10 cents per text, incoming or outgoing. Chicks probably throw themselves at the unlimited text messaging 'plan' simply because they're bitches, and bitches love to text. Bitches also love smiley faces. So I try to include a :) when I text a bitch, but that's neither here nor there.
But Sprint, ya know what? Maybe someone like myself doesn't text enough to warrant another $20 a month for the green flag to text useless AND limitless words onto some innocent people. Text messaging is such bullshit to begin with. There is nothing that could possibly be sent via text message to positively affect somebody's life. NOTHING!
Which brings me to picture mail; same shit, different approach.
This isn't even a Sprint amenity; it's all over the place with US Cellular, Verizon, etc..
Picture mail is so lame to begin with, but with Sprint, if you don't pay the extra 'In-tur-net' service fee every goddamn month, one will get charged per kilobyte downloaded if you get lame picture mail, and I'll tell you what . . .
There are a quite a few chicks in my phone who likely mass-mail gay picture mail to everyone in their cell without realizing there are some of us out here who don't give a shit about what they think is humorous, yet we still have to pay roughly 30 cents per picture gotten. It's kinda like uhh . . . late fines at Blockbuster: "Yes, I saw the movie. It sucked, but just because I wasn't available to return the piece of shit on time doesn't mean I should have to take it in the ass anymore."
Now, I don't bust these chick's balls because they're women, and I already know explaining mathematics to them is like talking to David Allen Coe with a Jamaican accent, so I don't even attempt to bother with it. I just chalk it up as another toll-booth to pay in life that's really not even important enough to mention. Fuck it, ya know?
And I shouldn't have to mention anything to these dodo birds, anyway. Essentially, I should have an option at Sprint HQ to
DENY ALL picture mail, but no such feature exists. Bummer, eh? Eat shit, consumer.
It's kinda like those 3 simple bitches you got in your phone, and about every 80 hours, you receive chain mail saying something like, "Today is St. Patrick's Day and I'm green with envy. Send this to 10 other people and you will be lucky enough to have people think of you the way that I do."
Aww . . . isn't that special? Eat shit, yet again.
Faggotry.
Insurance
Sounds like a solid plan, hey? Your cell gets stolen, submerged, or drops levels rivaling that a fucking basketball rim, you're backed up on floppy, hey?
Guess again, mother fucker.
When you pay the extra $5 a month for insurance on your piece of shit Sprint phone, one would typically think, "Hey, if my phone ever becomes submerged in poopy water or I use it as a projectile to hit someone in the face, I'm covered because I pay these pricks even more money to have my phone replaced."
Fuck no.
Once your phone dies, you'll get on the line with some Arab/Mexican and explain your plight, only to have them tell you, "Sorry, we don't carry your particular phone anymore." Or, "That model has been discontinued, but we will send you a phone equivalent in nature." (And really at this point in life, your third option is to just start hating everyone with a permanent tan who breathes USA oxygen.)
Great. Thanks, shit-bag. Why the fuck am I paying INSURANCE every fucking month if I can't get what I want when it needs to be replaced!?!?!
We don't want a different phone! Stupid dicks. Time and familiarity has seeped into our brains with the phone we'd had, and for whatever reason that phone is dead, and we'd like the EXACT calling tool back again since we're paying insurance.
Now . . . a lot of people would like to think that I'm making the forthcoming up, but I'm not. A Sprint representative got on my girl's phone and said they were sending me the Katana LNX after my original Sprint M1 died (backup,) and after they'd sent me a SHITTY replacement that couldn't get service practically anywhere in Milwaukee (I don't want to elaborate because I'll just end up having an anyerism,) they said:
It would arrive in 2 business days: The replacement for the replacement they'd already sent (big joy in my shorts.)
Whoa! Imagine the boner I produced, but . . .
Now, I don't even want to bring up the $50 deductible because I'll just start screaming at inanimate objects again . . . . So, guess what I got in the mail in two business days instead of the Katana 3.2?
The EXACT SAME PHONE I'd gotten originally from Sprint's insurance. The exact same piece of shit I couldn't get reception on, and I'm not kidding. Not only did the fuckwad on the phone FUCK UP, but the entire company embarrassed itself by sending me the EXACT MAKE/MODEL of the phone I'd originally complained about, and remember, this is after the representative said on the phone, "We'll send you the Katana LNX."
Can you readers grasp how big of a fuck up that is? Seriously?
It's basically like substituting a retard with a mongoloid, then going back to the short bus for advice.
It's essentially like playing with a broken Transformer then fiddling around in the sandlot with a Go-Bot, but then saying 'Fuck it. I'll play with Barbies while having something resembling a cumquat up my ass.'
I don't know how far I can go with this, but let's just say that voting for Sprint/Nextel is the equivalent of being proud that George Bush is on a fucking lie detector test and passes just because word-of-mouth made it seem he was too stupid to lie. Sprint is horrible. Sprint is like a discontinued appetizer at Denny's but somehow there were too many rednecks/assholes out there who proclaimed the same dining table at 4:30 a.m. equaled that of The Last Supper, while most of us knew a lot of America didn't even get a plate and still, sorry to say, went hungry.
Here's a funny story --->
I'd went into a Sprint store with the lame phone they'd sent me that couldn't get reception anywhere except for probably on the set of a Tom Cruise movie (props to L. Ron.) It's this one:
See it in action? You fuckin' kidding me? If Sprint considers paperweights 'action,' then yea, it's nothing but pandemonium out here while we keep loose stationery from flying off. Let's not forget about how this piece of shit phone can apparently contact the mothership yet can't get service unless you step onto your neighbor's lawn and contemplate taking your own life because of the upcoming cell bill . . . . but hey, the phone is so advanced in features!
Well fuckin' beam me up, Scotty! I'm so glad the phone can get me "free" music and can zoom in on China and probably tell me how dead that fuckin' robot is doing "Roving Mars" and such, but . . . does the mother fucker work locally?!?! Fuck no; can't find service here, bitches. It can't even tell me why Lee Harvey couldn't return a library book properly in 1963, so fuck it.
Anyway, I'd waited in a queue for roughly 38 minutes just so I could tell this dude how badly the people who pay him $8.50 an hour are fucking up. Ya know, he was good; transferred my "contact list" over to my new phone, but as I stood there at the counter while he was tending to my phone(s) I'd noticed a tablet of paper, so I ripped one off and thought to myself, "Jesus, this piece of paper is going to make my upcoming post even greater."
Check it:
Now, I'm mailing that in, believe me, but, check those numbers to the questions up there. Here's what was really going on in my mind.
1.
Overall was my experience at the Sprint store satisfying?
Sure, if you can find a person who was captive in Vietnam admitting that the year he spent in a Gook dirt jail was borderline smirk-worthy, then yea, I was fucking ecstatic.
2.
Was I satisfied with the help the associate gave me?
Actually, I was pleased as peach his skin pigment matched mine, because only then did I know my headache wouldn't escalate.
3.
Was I satisfied with the length of time it took one of your assholes to help me?
Definitely. Compared to how long the Jews have been waiting for the Second Coming, it was like a goddamn catnap.
4.
Would I recommend Sprint to someone I still have in my life?
Only if I genuinely felt their self-esteem needed to be lowered by someone other than me.
5.
Was I offered any other bullshit by your Sprint representative?
Of course. He tried to talk me into all sorts of shit. That's why I wore sunglasses so I didn't have to look him in the eye. Ho, sit down.
Digressing, joke time --->
A priest, a rapist, a felon, a pedophile and a Sprint representative walk into a bar . . .
That's the end of the joke. For real. And why is that funny? BECAUSE THEY'RE ALL THE SAME FUCKING PERSON!
After you hear, "Priest," "Rapist," and "Sprint," it's all the same person. All they do is fuck you in the ass, to your dismay, then they walk away like nothing happened. I'd love to turn this post into a Bill Gates/Micro$oft ploy, but no . . . Sprint Wireless is the fucking devil. If you signed a two-year contract like me for the 5th time, you may as well be pilfering in the fifth ring of Hell praying upon your unholy carcass that shrapnel penetrates their thick, greedy crust as you continuously exhaust hours from your life trying to pay these pricks without any guilt.
Yes, Sprint sucks that badly.
It's like a horror show in your asshole with no relief; a constant pounding of your heterosexuality at a gay bar. No reprieve.
In conclusion, if you're ever deliberating between cell-phone companies, consider drinking a fifth of Ketel One whilst on heroin before signing a contract with Sprint. Or consider bathing yourself in sulfuric acid. Or just shoot yourself in the cock.
The only reason one should sign with Sprint is if they have fourth-stage lung cancer, because really, you have nothing left to lose.
Don't even get me started on the bars in your phone representing 'service strength' around the area in which you live. Go stand next to a Sprint tower with the phone lodged in your trachea, maybe then you'll get reception. Fuck off, shit-dicks.
