Maybe he took the bus.
As to the dual identity, every time I become ERIC dogs try to piss on me and women won't give me the time of day.
Don't try a come-back. You'll fail.
Sooo…. The sofa lurch has made another name change? What is it with this fruit melange? We’re going to have to set up an Excel program just to keep track of the doughboy’s various aliases. I see he’s still full of excrement from his toe nails to the pointed tip of his cement skull. He seriously thinks we’re going to believe he’s only been used as an alternative to a fire hydrant by dogs since he changed his name again??? He thinks we’re going to believe that he suddenly began to experience problems in his social interaction with women since he changed his name again???… Bwah ha ha ha ha…
Get real you fat dermatitis consumed sofa humper! You’ve never had a dog walk by you without having the urge to urinate and defecate on you since your mother began bringing you in from the sand box because she found out the neighborhood cats kept trying to bury you. As for your lack of success with women, what would make you think that your name change had anything to do with that you festering blimp? All men, women, cats, dogs and pet gold fish are repelled by you from the moment they first see your fat acne infested face entering the room like a huge pock marked porky pig balloon at the Macy’s Day parade.
Instead of surrounding your sofa like an obese jelly fish all day long, casting aspersions upon those whose tax payments are subsidizing your unproductive, KFC gobbling, pizza snarfing, donut chomping, Kool Aid sucking existence, get a job. You have all sorts of natural talent that could provide lucrative compensation. You could make a fortune being the “before” picture for weight loss companies, gym equipment manufacturers, acne treatment companies, dandruff treatment manufacturers and denturists..
As for your recommendation that Eric not try a comeback because he’ll fail; don’t make us laugh. Your comebacks have about as much zip as a wheelchair bound octogenarian stuck in a mud bog. If you ever came up with a retort that didn’t enter the forum wearing an oxygen mask, lying on a gurney, struggling for each breath while dictating it’s last will and testament, we’d all go into astonished shock.
Like I said, get a job. Move out of your mother’s basement apartment. Take a shower. Wash your clothes. Brush your tooth. Put on some deodorant. Go on a diet. Get some exercise. Comb your mangy mullet. Brush those dandruff flakes off your pen nib shoulders. Brush those pizza crumbs and potato chips off your “Village People” XXXL T-shirt and tuck it in under that mushroom shaped muffin top that slaps against your weak flabby knees when you walk to and from the welfare office. Then, have a huge bowel movement. You’re long overdue and you could lose 20 or 30 ugly pounds in the process.
Once you’ve done that, waddle out the front door of your single wide and suck in that fresh air like it was the exhaust from a KFC outlet. Now, make your way over to the employment office. It’s a new day sofa slob. Time to start contributing. Oh and don’t worry about losing your place in here. We’ll anchor a gigantic hot air balloon in your spot until you return.