My website is down, but at least I have you guys...

I have once and for all broken up with technology. I have been one of technology’s number one supporters over the years. Heck, I bought an Ipod, and even have high definition television. I had no idea technology would punch me in the ear and pour Theraflu on my exposed genitals like it has. My infamous website, http://patmclellan.com/ is down for the fifth consecutive day, and nobody has an answer for me. Sure, I hardly ever write, and when I do, it’s about drinking too much bourbon, and dancing nude at Chevron, but my livelihood is at stake here. People look to me during their tough work schedules to relieve some stress, and hear my tales of nine-day cocaine binges in Peru, and how one time I got kidnapped by pirates, and then sold to Russian gypsies for Campbell’s Chunky Soup, and a couple sticks of Bubble Yum. My site has grown substantially during the past few months, and I feel this downtime is severely hurting my fan base. I was number one on a Yahoo Search Engine for a while, and now people have stopped Googling me, and have started to search for German drive-thru sex huts. I’m begging you. Don’t let this inconsiderate bastard, technology, ruin this thing we have going. Think of all the laughs we shared. Remember the time I got drunk at Chuck E. Cheese and punched Munch the Monster in the stomach, and he malfunctioned during the Monster Mash, and a whole lot of crying ensued, and I was beat profusely with one of those mallets from that game where you hit the moles? What about when Ron from Canada yelled at me for making fun of their national anthem? I just want to make sure we’re on the same page here. I put a lot of my workday into your entertainment. I could easily be doing something productive, but I choose to write and share laughs about the homeless and such. I assure you the website has done more good for me than wrong. It has unfairly put me atop the lists of ongoing investigations regarding South American prostitution rings, and one isolated incident involving three pigeons and a can of Pepsi on the outskirts of Reno, Nevada circa 1988, but that hasn’t stopped me. I refuse to let a couple of IT nerds keep me from doing what my heart tells me, (Read: Elongated masturbatory session) write. I truly care about what my readers think (Very big lie). I want to make sure you guys are entertained (Even bigger lie). I desperately need my site back up. Only a few of you will even get to read this. I’ll post it on the home site of my official fan club, which is pathetic considering all of the people that read my literary works of genius (Biggest lie of them all). I know some of you are reading this and thinking to yourself, “is it really all that smart to talk about prostitution, and excessive drug use when you are the father of two daughters under three?” I will gladly respond to that. I am a damn good father. I never mix my rock star lifestyle of nose candy, and strippers named Mercedes with my family life. My house is a peaceful place. I would gladly get kicked in the nuts 7 consecutive times by David Beckham for my girls. That is dedication if I’ve ever seen it. The truth is, if it came down to it, I would give up my vodka and cough syrup cocktails, and I would immediately stop filling up my friends’ pepto bismal containers with my daughters’ amoxicillin prescriptions. That’s only if it came down to it though.

I have to so much more insight to bring to you. This will not be the end of my website, I can promise you that. I’m good at three things, Madden 2005, drinking on one leg, and avenging website downtime. So, rest assure http://patmclellan.com/ will be back up and running in no time. If I have to spill revitalizing conditioner on the faces of my enemies, I will. I am filled with so much anger. I called my web hosting company, and the exchange went something like this.

ME: What in the hell is going on here? I pay good money to have a website, and I expect it to be up and running. I am very close to drinking an entire case of beer by myself, then coming to your office to beat you with a rolled up calendar
Web Guy: Sir, this is Circuit City, I have no idea what you are talking about.
ME: Oh yeah? Keep getting smart asshole; you have no idea what kind of wrath I can impose.
Web Guy: No seriously, this IS Circuit City. Contrary to popular belief, we are not responsible for all technology. I suggest you call your server company, and find out the problem.
ME: You have a little mouth on you don’t you? If I weren’t ovulating, I would come down there and throw digital cameras at your face until you begged for mercy.
Web Guy: Um okay, I will be calling the police now…
ME: Screw you. One more thing, do you guys have any copies of Johnson Family Vacation on VHS? I fucking love that Bow Wow kid.
Web Guy: Click.

So maybe I never got in touch with the right people. I tried didn’t I? Was it so far fetched to assume that Circuit City is responsible for my website downtime? I mean, my God, it’s filled with wires and techno crap. Somebody is at fault for this, and it sure as hell isn’t me!
Real Web Guy: Actually, yes it is your fault. You haven’t paid your bill in over 7 months. We were given instructions to pull the plug on your pathetic excuse of a website. Pay your bills asswad.
ME: Shit.

Well, that totally backfired. I write an entire post on blaming the downtime on everyone but myself, and it turns out it IS my fault. That’s what I get for taking seven prenatal vitamins and passing out on the battery aisle at Super Target. My own worthlessness has caused my precious career budding website to fall to pieces, and for what? The time I got REALLY high, and slept in the dryer? What about when my wife threw Gatorade all over me for saying something offensive and out of line? To be honest, I had always hoped I would get Gatorade dumped on me after winning the big game, and these circumstances are less than ideal, but I’ll take it. It was about as sticky as it was exhilarating, but a dream come true nonetheless. Due to the fact I spent my savings account on illegal drugs and a box of Topps Flight baseball cards, I’m going to need some supplemental income to get the site back up and running. I have provided you cretins with almost two years of entertainment, the least you could do is send me a couple of bucks, or even a box of Oreos. I realize calling my precious readers cretins is not exactly the best route to take when asking for money, I digress.