we are all here, compelled to show how big our dicks are, and how much jizz we can load out our cannons. that's the matter with life. life is a big fucking beauty contest, a wrong grammar would earn you shame, but would leave a very large dent in everybody's scrambled brains.
the thing is every moment of our lives is patterned after a song, a movie or a tv show, not the other way around. there's this irritable force that pushes us to hear the original motion picture soundtrack everytime our existence takes a plunge, or a leap whatever the case maybe. and the worst part is that every zit faced teener with bangs covering half of their faces would regard his/herself as the "emo" demigod!!!! whoa, man! i think that 90% of all these "emo" fanatics are virtually clueless of what their idols are wailing about, it's just hormones man, major big fucking hormones. after a couple of years you'd outgrow it.
everyone in the workforce makes a fuss of who they are wearing, it's a sick thing of bothering yourself if the shirt on your back appears in the latest glossy. sick!sick!sick! please don't give a fuck if the people in the MRT would project you as someone fashionable, nyuck!!! as far as i'm concerned everybody wants to be different which makes a full circle turn and they all end up exactly just like everybody else. all these "differently clothed" pa-cool, cigarette-smoking, uber-hangin
call center "ooh-i'm-so-good-at-speaking-english-i-don't-even- understand-what-i-say"
agents, are the perfect example that one cannot display intelligence and taste just by having an american twang, and by wearing ivy-leagueish vests in this hot, tropical country!
everybody here wears havaianas "flip-flops" because everybody thinks that it's the ultimate-syosyal tsinelas. tough luck i'm not wearing a pair, and never in my dreams would i... my beachwalk tsinelas(es) are the best damn thing since sliced kamote.
the thing is every moment of our lives is patterned after a song, a movie or a tv show, not the other way around. there's this irritable force that pushes us to hear the original motion picture soundtrack everytime our existence takes a plunge, or a leap whatever the case maybe. and the worst part is that every zit faced teener with bangs covering half of their faces would regard his/herself as the "emo" demigod!!!! whoa, man! i think that 90% of all these "emo" fanatics are virtually clueless of what their idols are wailing about, it's just hormones man, major big fucking hormones. after a couple of years you'd outgrow it.
everyone in the workforce makes a fuss of who they are wearing, it's a sick thing of bothering yourself if the shirt on your back appears in the latest glossy. sick!sick!sick! please don't give a fuck if the people in the MRT would project you as someone fashionable, nyuck!!! as far as i'm concerned everybody wants to be different which makes a full circle turn and they all end up exactly just like everybody else. all these "differently clothed" pa-cool, cigarette-smoking, uber-hangin
call center "ooh-i'm-so-good-at-speaking-english-i-don't-even- understand-what-i-say"
agents, are the perfect example that one cannot display intelligence and taste just by having an american twang, and by wearing ivy-leagueish vests in this hot, tropical country!
everybody here wears havaianas "flip-flops" because everybody thinks that it's the ultimate-syosyal tsinelas. tough luck i'm not wearing a pair, and never in my dreams would i... my beachwalk tsinelas(es) are the best damn thing since sliced kamote.
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