This query was posed to me by an obviously inquisitive ad dude copywriter blogger guy named Copyranter. Some of you might know him. His blog
is quite popular and funny at the same time. He's a nice guy, it seems.
Or... is he?
(Sometimes italics can be used to denote that you're saying something... in a sneaky sly way.
I just learned how to use... them.
Now I'm an HTML wizard.
Anyhow. Sorry. Back to the question at hand.
) Clearly we can ad 'druggie', 'menace 2 society' and 'negative role model for your children' to Copyranter's long list of credentials. Because by this tiny, harmless, cutesy, little lower case 'e', I assume you mean 'ecstasy', Ranter. That dirty little party pill known to make people want to dance all night to dance music. Yes, it's true, I am very much into dancing. And I do like to dance all freaking night long. Perhaps you've even seen me on the dance floor at our monthly Dancing With Bloggers party, shimmering and shaking like a glossy smooth piece of velvet under the staccato blue strobe light. Intensely making eyes with the ladies before I come up from behind them and hypnotically press my pelvis against their collective bums. And, yes, it goes without saying that, of course, ecstasy would help this little trance dance of mine along. Shit yeah it would.
But wait. Why must you know where I receive my e, Ranter? Is it because you're out of e and totally jonesing? (Cause, if so, call me, man. I'll hook you up.) Or is it something more sinister? Is it because the 'e' you refer to stands for ENTRAPMENT!?! Come on. Admit it. You're baiting me to reveal my e dealer to you so you can bust my ass and break up this ole blog party of mine! Isn't that right? Well, the gig is up. I knew it all along. You weren't just put on this earth to blog it up. No. You're not even actually an ad dude blogger guy copywriter. You're really an undercover narc cop masquerading as an ad dude copywriter guy posing as a blogger dude! Here to infiltrate a nefarious and deadly ring of mediocre, hardly popular, self-masturbatory bloggers like myself, and bring us down from the inside, 21 Jump Street-style! You even referred to 21 Jump Street in a previous post of yours. Coincidence? Pshaw! I think not!
And this isn't just my druggie paranoia kicking in, I don't think. No. No way. It couldn't be. I mean look at you. So mysterious. Never fully revealing your true identity except for the fact that you might be named Mark. And that you have a back. I mean, come now. This photo of you even. In full fake perp pose ala Serpico. (By the way, I can't tell if those are just super hairy forearms or prison tattoos. Hmm. The mystery deepens.)
Well, Ranter, here's the truth. The truth is I don't do e. Tell your goddamn superiors. And let it be known to the world. I'm clean, motherfuckers. Clean as a whistle. Sure I party. Oh fuck, I party like the best of em. I party hard, man. Really fucking hard. I'm like the craziest partier ever. Ever ever. You've never seen someone party like I party, I swear. You haven't even partied til you've partied like I've partied. It's crazy. But anyways. What was I saying? Oh yeah. I party, right? But I party clean-like. No drugs. Nothing like that. I'm all natural. High on life is all. Don't need no drug to keep this ass shaking.
Now excuse me while I get back to feverishly rubbing my crotch against the edge of my desk and keyboarddddddkjl;jhlkdhjasio'ur0 93q4 wepjferlckjnlknrkwanilqfjp'o'wj4q4lierfhvnsadjbnvja sdbnvk.ajsrjkvbjkrrrrrrrrakjjkkjjjjjjjkjjjdhcb,
By the way, if by "where do you get your e" you just meant "electricity", well, that's just a god-given gift really.