please don’t waste my time by making me read your annoying whiney complaints about women and armhair. i hate men who whine about that more than i hate hearing feminists be feminists. fuck. there’s nothing that makes you lose coolness points faster than talking about a woman’s hairy armpit and then saying WOW I HOPE SHE TRIMS HER BUSH. it’s like people talking in movie theatres I WILL FUCKING PUNCH YOU LIKE PUT MY FIST THROUGH YOUR HEAD TO THE OTHER SIDE. hairy armpits are such a non-issue and should be treated as such.
if men can let that shit grow women can too, you think it looks good on men but not on women? women are suppose to be prim and clean and princessy all the time? whatever women are expected to shave men should have to shave the same parts too.
and if you DEMAND for her to shave her pits then she is allowed to put the hair trimmings in your sandwiches and toothbrush and underwear drawer and other mysterious places.
we saw final destination 3 last nite. it was crap. but good crap.
we ate at boston pizza, i had the thai chicken salad. it was crap. boring crap.
i saw my grandma yesterday. she looked scared. it was hard seeing my dad put lotion on her lips, i pretty much broke down.
we went to karaoke on saturday and i sang beastie boys and sarah danced in her money dress and we acted as obnoxious as possible, i wanted to make it so i would be too embarassed to go back there for awhile. i give them too much money, the megatouch machine, the booze and that place is terribly average and suburban and i am too cool for it so cool that the other people there don’t even notice.
they called us sketchy and sarah was like MORE LIKE SEXY.
i made our friend martin a blog, still working on it though. here it is.
i think nudity is boring as hell, my tits especially. sometimes i wish i never showed them. but then i think wait what that’s bullshit.
i am always in a bad mood because i am continually disappointed.
i am writing a new book. it is fiction. it might be a bunch of short stories or it might be one long story. once i have two pages written i am like wow this is an entire story in two pages because i am very concise and i feel details are pointless people can make them up on their own. maybe i will turn it into a choose your own adventure and kill off every single character, maybe. i want people to come away from my story feeling absolutely miserable and desperate and then they will be inspired to write a book and when they sit down they will be overcome with grief or something like it.
i always felt like i was better and smarter than everybody else anyway.
