December 22, 2008

  • PMS Strikes

    I am so pissed right now. Ticked, even. The holiday season is awful, and I never wanted to go out in subzero temperatures into stores packed with people (and the line in the bathroom. How ever shall I take a glorious poo?) whom I hate simply for living in this part of country, so I can buy gifts for a bunch of little assholes who probably won't even say "thank you" when they tear the wrapping paper away.

    Therefore, it's time for some angry blogging. Take note that most of the time, while blogging, I am not angry. If I seem angry, I'm usually just kidding, which automatically makes anything I say okay.

    According to television, this time of year is supposed to be with "cheer". So, why isn't everyone walking around with smiles on their faces and hugging strangers? The fallacy of these fanciful fantasies are fucked by phallus of facts. Efffff. I'm certain if we were go through enough government documents, we'd learn that Christmas was invented by The Irish, which they are using to control us all.

    Whoaaa, racism.

    Yeah, how about that, Xanga? I thought a couple months ago, we all agreed that racism was bad, then went home. Wrong. All the white people agreed that it was bad, then went home. Take a trip to the heart of hardXcore azn blogging, and you'll find it's rife with misogyny and racialism. And whiny blogs about relationships. Sweet Darwin in hell. There's always some girl, who is gorgeous, who also is dreadfully insecure, so she sleeps with a bunch of guys, then ends up heartbroken. Her solution? Date less Chinese men, date more Vietnamese.

    Yeah, that makes perfect sense.

    I don't even bother giving relationship advice, because whenever I do, the person says they'll try what I just said, then they don't because god-only-knows-why.


    Also, STOP TELLING ME WHAT I CAN AND CAN'T WRITE IN MY OWN BLOG, YOU FUCKING DOLTS. I don't have to write about my day. I don't have to bitch about my job. I don't have to complain about how my family acts like monkeys, throwing shit at each other all day.

    If I want to write a witty article about how we need to bring pink back into fashion, get off my ass about it. Or I will shoot a death ray out of my eyes that will reduce your body to a pile of black ashes. You know who you are, envious girl-writers (also males who are "poets") who hate me personally because apparently, my blog isn't as well-written as yours. YOUR FACE ISN'T WRITTEN AS WELL AS YOURS.


    If, per chance, you just subscribed (You made a horrible mistake. I will be sending robots to your house to go on your computers to correct this folly) I apologize. This is a stressful time. I'm stressed out. You're stressed out.

    Therefore, I'm going to text-scream.

    AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

    There, I'm glad I got that out of my system.

    -awkward moment-

    So, eggnog, anyone!?

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