Oh fuckies on sticks. My goodness gracious! This is a letter and video for the New York City Clerk's Office. On a day where it reached 101 degrees in Manhattan (107 on the heat index), I had to go to 36 Centre St. in order to pick up some Official Documents. So I'm walking and walking. Just walking forever like I'm Frodo fucking Baggins; only I had no fat hobbit-kiss-ass-sidekick with snacks by my side.
Instead I was confused, red-headed, and alone. After walking back and forth and not being able to comprehend why I couldn't find 36 Centre St. (the Clerk's Office), I finally chose a random, official-looking building where I said- "Hey, where is 36 Centre St.?" The security guard looked at me like I had three dicks. I repeated this question four more times until I said, "Where is the Clerk's Office?" He said: "Oh. The Clerk's Office has been moved." At which point he handed me a flyer detailing the old location of the Clerk's Office, followed by a walking route to the new location. Thus, HE FUCKING KNEW I WAS TALKING ABOUT THE CLERK'S OFFICE BUT WAS PLAYING STUPID IN ORDER TO ANGER ME WELL GUESS WHAT FATSO IT WORKED!!!!!
I finally, arrived at the Clerk's Office after getting past Sauron and a giant spider, picked up my Official Documents, and threw that fucking cracker jack ring into some lava. The End. Here's a video of me about to have a heart attack: