For Sale This is my jar of spit (1 Viewer)

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bergs

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All of this for $10 (Venmo only) to the first person that replies “I Need This Bullshit”. CONUS only because Alaska is cold and sucks, Hawaii is hot and sucks, and the rest of the world can just straight up suck it.

I will ship this at some point between now and the end of 2023. I will pack this horrifically ineptly, like when I first started at the grocery store when I was a bagger and 15 years old. We had a can sale and some old woman bought like 80 cans. I got 30 of them into the single ply paper bag and was proud of my efficiency....until the bag inevitably ruptured like my liver after a meetup, and broke her left foot. But I digress.

I will ship these via the slowest, cheapest means possible. If you live in Arkansas, and its 20 cents cheaper to ship these via container ship across the Pacific, through the Suez Canal, across the Altantic, to Nova Scotia, then to British Columbia, and then on the back of a recently emigrated shepa, to ultimately arrive in Arkansas, that is how I will ship your haphazardly packed and insufficiently insulted useless drivel.

Your tracking number shall be a random integer of my own choosing, but will overwhelmingly likely be “seven”, because it’s funny if you ask for your tracking number and I reply “oh, yeah....seven.”

I will put enough tape on the box so as to make it impenetrable unless it was being openly by a Marvel character (and not that utterly useless Hawkeye, either).

I reserve the right to use your package to fight off home invaders, prop open a garage door, and free kick it like Ray Guy from his 20 yard line so as to adjudicate an outstanding “how far can you kick a small flat rated United States Postal Service priority rate box?” wager. Please note that this doesn’t imply that will ship your package via USPS flat rate box. This will likely be delivered in the box that I used to store Roscoe’s pooper scooper in.

Any terms and conditions omitted here should be interpreted in the manner most possibly favorable for myself. You agree to indemnify me from anything, forever, until the end of whatever I deem to be the boundaries of reality. Any questions should be directed to Josh Kiefer’s cell phone between the hours of 3a and 6a Josh Standard Time. Acceptance of this offer gives me the right to throw water balloons filled with my dog’s stale urine at you at a presently undetermined time and place of my choosing. All rights reserved. The contents of this email may not be reproduced or copied without the express consent of Major League Baseball. Also, I’ve had your mom’s chili, and it’s terrible.

Thanks for looking, you poor, poor bastard.
 

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I need this bullshit
You failed to capitalize the requisite letters, but in their benevolent judgement the Council of Antiquities and My Balls has seen fit to honor your humble and misguided request.

Send me a PM, you sad sorry sonofabitch, and I will relay the unnecessarily arduous payment instructions for you. I hope there is a Wal-Mart nearby and that your mom left the car keys on the counter again.

To everyone else, how does it feel to be so massively inferior as to not even win a sale for the equivalent of a jar of spit? Perhaps you should take a moment and re-evaluate you pathetic existence on this bleak and doomed planet.
 
There I technically did it (still first too) in case someone complains haha
 
Is the jar of spit still available?
If you don’t understand the context of the title relative to the thread contents therein, you should really find a television, turn it on, and try to stick your head through the screen so as to become one with it and achieve true spiritual clarity and realization.
 
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