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By clicking “no” I fully acknowledge that by not subscribing I’ll be the only loser on the block who doesn’t know the two items in my pantry I need to mix with fresh mango pulp to create an all-natural exfoliating facial scrub that’s to die for. While everyone else is rocking the radiant glow you can only get after rubbing a third of a mango chutney recipe on your face, I hereby certify I don’t give a damn that my pores are big enough to drive a truck through.
(It’s coarse salt and brown sugar, BTW. That’s the last freebie you’ll get from us!).
I am saying “no thank you!” to email subject lines filled with a playful false sense of urgency like, “You HAVE to bring these Tofurkey bacon-wrapped dates to your next PTA meeting… or else!” because my sense of humor died decades ago. I fully acknowledge that I am slapping away a helping hand that just wants to rescue me from my own inability to get my life in order.
I acknowledge that by rejecting this offer I will never know what gut-healing ingredient to put in my smoothies every day that will supercharge my bowel movements, ensuring that I will always be full of shit. In addition, I, of sound mind, understand that not signing up for this objectively astounding newsletter will haunt me for years until it becomes a permanent stain on my soul that cannot be expunged without the help of a specific spiritual guru whose name I’ll never know because it is exclusive to newsletter subscribers.
Until I come to my senses and realize signing up for this newsletter would be the best decision I’ll ever make, I’ll have to somehow find it within me to continue living as a stupid filth monster with no hope of salvation. I want to revel in my sin and celebrate my nasty. I’ll see you all in Hell.