Dear Murray
I’ve been doing this online dating thing for quite some time, but it never seems to work out. I’m an attractive, artsy girl with my own apartment, eclectic tastes and a good sense of humor. None of these guys ever want to get serious with me. All I want is a solid relationship. Is that too much to ask?
-Single in Silverlake
Oh god, please stand still for five fuckin minutes whilst I fling copies of Donnie Darko at you while a dude in a baseball helmet gauges how fast i’m throwing. Do you go prowling for relationships? You think you’re gonna just input a couple of variables in the computer and out pops the perfect boyfriend? Christ. Didn’t you see the movie? YOU HAVE TO REMEMBER TO HOOK UP THE DOLL.
Look, you can’t force this fucking shit. You’re getting on my fucking nerves, lady. Are you one of those people who if a dude says “i think we should be friends” goes nutso screaming shit like “I don’t NEED any friends.” I have fucking met people like that. You want to be my boyfriend, but not my friend? If you wouldn’t be my friend, you’re never getting in my fuckin pants, lady! Get yourself a fucking kitten to be codependent with, and maybe you’ll get that shit outta your system and stop creeping your dates out.
There are alot of fucking people out there who are just looking for some goddamned anyone, and Murray is nobody’s motherfucking anyone.
NOW LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE.
Categories: General Malaise
Dear Murray
Dear Murray a tasty, tasty bitch beloved and feared by hordes of basement-dwelling illiterati and their fierce antagonists, the Grammar Nazis. He single-handedly turned the webcam whorefest of Myspace into a lively commerce of ideas, including whether or not the TUBGIRL photo will ever be topped as a postmodern expression of the inexpressible. According to web historians, he has inspired more photoshop projects and syphilis jokes than Britney Spears (who he has been repeatedly linked romantically to). He is also rumoured to be the father of Anna Nicole Smith's baby, a disciple of Cliff Yablonski, and the second gunman on the grassy knoll. Although he could not be reached for comment, he reportedly resides in or near the tent cities along the LA River Basin, third right after the walrus sunning station.
He has vehemently denied all charges that he is any any way responsible for that rash your wife claims "is from the heat".
His primary function is doling out advice; the inspiration sprang from an endless and eventually dull repetition of fucktards failed to heed his words.
A secondary result is a dysfunctional family "round table" of people who contribute innumerable one-liners and personal experiences, rarely related in any way to the actual question.
It is estimated that tens of thousands of readers have "LOL'd" approximately 5,395,645,694,167,467,105 times, with the toll expected to rise.
He is immune to kryptonite, chlamydia, and brainwashing.
Wikipedia has banned PENCILTITS's entry, debating the relevance of his tasty bitchiness.