Nokes here!
I put Charles Barkley in charge of posting this blog but I recently got access to a top secret unfiltered Chinese Internet connection and found out that he had not posted this blog. He will be dealt with swiftly with my original set of medieval weaponry once owned by King Arthur...
...anyway, here is my last and long-overdue blog entry.
As you may have heard, I recently announced something that will change T-Mobile forever.
It was a morning like any other morning -- I fed some fresh giraffe to my pet tiger, was dressed by a billion nanotech robots in my most dashing baby panda skin pantsuit, had C3PO make a delicious breakfast of scrambled sea turtle eggs and baby seal bacon, and washed it all down with a piping hot cup of unfair trade coffee.
As I was reading over my daily intelligence briefings from the White House, Germany, and North Korea, Lil Kim and Charles Barkley walked into the kitchen. They had stayed the night in my 8000 square foot Mediterranean style guest palace the night before. I looked down at my diamoned crusted G4 -- it was 7:30. We knew what we had to do.
I sent Charles Barkley in the solid gold Concord because he's legally not allowed to be in or near a car. I, on the other hand, chose to drive my gold plated Bentley into the office. I needed a few minutes of fresh air to clear my head. When I pulled into the secret parking garage under Newport 5, I found Charles Barkley asleep leaning against a wall. For Nokessake! I think he may have already been drinking. After taking our private escalator, commanded by Rob Schneider, up to the 10th floor, my entourage arrived in Dotson's office.
"Robdog, we're leaving you."
Dotson dropped the box of powdered doughnuts his face was buried in. Powdered sugar was all over his face and on his sweater-vest. "Whaaa doof yuuf me?" He swallowed. "What do you mean? Why? When? Can we talk about this?"
No, we couldn't talk about this... my work at T-Mobile was done. It's all been an evil plot. All I've ever wanted was to permanantly live on my moonbase with my closest friends Charles Barkley and Lil Kim. The plan was going well until Charles Barkley lost his license for that silly DUI a few months ago -- I didn't think modern technology could determine if an individiual was intoxicated by power and baby tears. Anyway, I've been secretly abusing my position at T-Mobile to collect the items I needed for my moonbase.
I've had Verne Troyer, better known as Mini-Me from the Austin Powers Movie Series, hiding in Dotson's office collecting crumbs. I've promised him a spot in my moonbase because we all know just how cute he is in a little silver moon base suit. Anyway, C3PO has sorted all the crumbs and has used the 3G frequency radiation I borrowed from Cole to reconstitute and irradiate enough food to keep the moonbase running for 45 years.
Ever since the "Other Rob" came into my office and put his feet on my original Resolute Desk, built in 1880 from the timbers of the British Frigate Resolute, personally donated to me by Queen Victoria , I have been on a mission to destroy him. I've got your sheriff right here, asshole.
I've wired his bicycles with kinetic energy collection devices. Not only has it made it several times harder for him to ride his bike, he has personally generated enough energy to power my moonbase until, according to Brian Kirk Patrick's calculations, 2110! Nokes went green, bitches!
My most recent masterpiece has been in my sabatogue of Other Rob's personal pet project, that stupid IM thingy. For the longest time, no one could figure out why when one agent sent a marble it wasn't received on the other end. Well, my Nokesters, it was me. Muwhahaha! I personally tasked John Birrer with collecting them. I gave him a prototype Dyson Vaccuum cleaner and hid him in the floor of the Bothell Data Center. We almost got caught several times -- do you know how big that man's head is??It's impossible to sneak him anywhere! Anyway, we collected the marbles, ground them up into a powder, added a dash of Alticomm, and created the strongest glass the world has ever seen. My personal friend the Obamanator complimented me just the other day on my moon base's awe-inspiring panoramic views. In fact, he's put my moonbase down as his preferred continuity of government location.
Lots of people have reacted to the news of me leaving. I took Solid Gold Concord down to Albuquerque the other day, and the agents cried and wailed when I showed up. C3PO ran around and collected all the tears from the agents. I like the tears of Albuquerque agents -- they're spicy and have just a hint of red chile. They taste great in a Bloody Mary!
NASA was so saddened by my departure that they gave me a special spacesuit for my final trip to the moon. JD Powers and Associates, upon hearing the news, awarded me with their "Highest Overall Satisfaction for a Diety other than Jesus" lifetime award. I almost didn't accept it because even Jesus doesn't get an invitation to my cocktail parties... but I posed for a picture in the spacesuit in front of my new flag anyway.
Most of all, the ghost writers (there are many of them) of my blog have expressed extreme sadness in my departure. Although they have given me a lot of shit over the years, they appreciate all I've done for the company -- my relentless dedication to customer service that has won us countless awards and respect in the industry, the fact that I'm a positive role model to agents and truly believe they are #1, my ecclectic sense of fashion, and my questionable use of company resources. They know I will truly be missed.
I have just a few days left in this transitional period. People ask me if T-Mobile will change after I leave. I know, deep down in my heart, that T-Mobile will always be the beacon of customer satisfaction, champion of great value, and advocate of seamless personal connections that we have all made it over the past seven years. I'm confident that T-Mo will pull out of this slump and be on the way to the top in no time.
It won't be long before I take my final trip to the moon, never to come back... but you can pretty much be sure this isn't the last you've seen of the Nokes.
YOU CANT QUIT THE NOKES, BITCHES!
