Monday, 25 February 2013
A Day in the Life
Choose a family. Choose a beta provider sap of a father and a strong empowered woman for a mother. Choose school. Choose being introverted. Choose a dumbed down feminazi education. Choose crippling shyness and being bullied to an inch of your life. Choose cutting your wrists to feel something, anhedonia en aw. Choose smoking weed in the toilets and blowing it out through the vents. Choose loosing your virginity to a fatty. Choose unremarkable grades. Choose university. Choose a degree which fills your head full of feminist fluff. Choose obstreperous lassies, cheap Chinese takeway, foods with high glycemic indexes. Choose hating the gym rat who fucks while you buck you shitty little gamma you. Choose insulin insensitivity and diabetes. Choose shitty friends who pick the same table in the same pub and never approach any lassie any day. Choose lesbian porn. Choose wasting your nights on facebook. going through lassie's pictures and dreaming of getting your hole. Choose cheap action flicks filled with men who you'll never look as good as, and women who are so beautiful, it brings to mind Borat's sister. Choose a shitty job working far below your creative and mental potential. Choose degeneracy. Choose a supplement, Rogaine, Viagra, Xanex, SSRIS that ensure you retain water and cause you to fart a lot. Choose living the dream. Choose team conferences. Choose cheap vodka. Choose the IKEA furniture set, the curtains, the washing machine and dryer, the annoying flatmate that plays jungle music at three o clock in the morning. Choose Coppers on Friday nights. Choose Labour in the next election. Choose formicating up and down city streets in the freezing cold. Choose a 32 year old call centre girl with saggy tits and a flabby ass. Choose gossip in a whirlwind of shit.Choose a kid with Down Syndrome. Choose another kid, name him Alan, unremarkable and twatty cunt who eats glue and worms. Choose counseling. Choose watching films like Lost In Translation over and over again and imagine tapping dat ass everytime you frequent the shower. Choose your dear lassie falling out of love with you and proceeding to wank off a man more than a decade younger than her in the back seat of your car and filing for divorce thereafter. Choose seeing the kids on Thursdays, maybe Fridays if the judge likes your cut. Choose an ever expanding waistline. Choose being perpetually in debt. Choose going over all the dreams that you had since your childhood and regret not acting on them. Choose sitting on a bar stool watching yet another Rugby game in your local. Choose getting old. Choose seeing your kids moving away, solipsistic little brats en aw, and only calling you on Tuesdays. Choose sitting on your porch, head chocked full of doomsday porn. Choose The Guardian and The New York Times, and talking about the latest government proposals to your pasty faced friends. Choose losing your mobility. Choose breaking your hip and falling on the floor. Choose the white van, taking you toos sunny meadows where you sit in a chair and listen to failed fucken cabaret singers sing Frank Sinatra tunes to you while you pass in and out of consciousness before one big final s-h-i-t and you find yourself chucked in with all the other lawyers, scumbags, criminals and rapists and all because you made fun of The Amish. Congrats. You fucken did it man. We couldn't be any prouder of you.