Nacho Bike

Re: This bike isn't your stolen one :(
Inbox
x

Terry
11:19 AM (26 minutes ago)

to me
I'm sure the police have contacted you and given you the bad news ,it's not your bike.

Sent from my iPhone
Thanks a lot, jerk. I am sorry the PD wasted their time checking the bike you were selling out.

I am more sorry that you have wasted my time so thoroughly. Next time, when someone asks for proof of sale, you should consider offering it up on request.

Thank you SO MUCH for taunting me about it in email. I hope you never sell you bike, asshole.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

From the DC Madam to Late Night Shots

Image
[Updated 7/18/2007] These are the animals running our country: Late Night Shots Think Pretty In Pink where Blane is a young Republican blueblood and Andie is another young Republican (although tragically nuveaux riche ) making a sharp right turn down a dark, soulless rabbit hole where privilege, class and premarital sex between 20 something social Conservatives finds its way onto the a'la minute gossip pages of the internets. Here is an edifying quote: RE: optimal number for a woman Posted By: Guy on 10-23-2006 1:35 pm I could put up with 12. Anything more than that without a good explanation, and the girl is incapable of being in a serious relationship. RE: optimal number for a woman Posted By: higher the better on 10-23-2006 1:39 pm I prefer high 's. It usually means they really like to have sex, and that they are very good at it. And the idea that you might be exposing yourself to a serious disease is thrilling and really gets my blood flowing. RE: optimal number for a
Read more

Anniversary

Anniversary. The first time I saw her, after nearly 16 or 17 years had elapsed, she was noticeably thinner than she was in high school. But she was also stylish, in a way I didn't recall her being as a teenager. There was an anxious confidence in her. She talked in stuccato, gesticulating sharply.  We dined on bacon and eggs and talked about LA and TV and the Scientologists across the street, in their color coded collared short sleeves filing out of their Scientology busses as the Scientology private police force circled the big blue building on bicycles. We walked to her house, passing a vitamin store (a Scientology front, but I was just as fascinated to hear the dirt as she was to dish it). She offered, smiling, "did you know my maid is a Scientologist?" We passed a Spanish-Mexican church. This was unglamorous West Hollywood, where staff writers and upstarts scrape by. Of course Emily was also on SSI, for her problems. I browsed her selection of books - novelized fictio
Read more