What the Wicked Wrister means to me...

I'm on the fast track to stardom. I feel it. Even though I have no journalism degree, I know that some day this is going to spring-board me to a higher calling. Even though I can't spell worth a shit and love run-on sentences, I don't find it hard to believe that one day someone will walk into my office at the Post Gazette and say, "Remember when you used to write useless shit for that retarded blog run by two other useless douches? Now you're covering the Pens for one of the major publications in all of Pittsburgh. Funny how shit works out." I may even be with Sid the night he gets his first D.U.I, doing an expose on his personal life. That will be a story for the grandkids. Who knows. The possibilities are endless. Christ, I'm blogging. I can't believe I'm doing this shit. I had a nocturnal emission last night just dreaming of sitting here typing needless shit that probably only two people will read. I'm still going to be famous. So screw you all.

Go Pens. Hossa's a Fag.