Posts from ‘Post Secret’. I scanned these during lunch today, felt like posting them. I like the simplicity of other peoples secrets.
Most annoying words of 2013 that I detest. I’m pretty sure I have many more to add to this but I hate listing things.
‘Whatever’ was voted as one of the most annoying words of 2013 and has topped 5 most annoying charts for 5 straight years. It does aggrivate me somewhat, but not that much.
‘Awesome’ : while not a 2013 word, it is none the less always included in any word listicle. It was made trendy by Cali surfer lingo and is overly used by far too many people. There ARE other words in existence and it grates on my last nerve. Especially more when people wield it ‘creatively’, like using ‘awesomeness’ will somehow make it sound newer.
selfie & twerking: if everybody pitched in $1.00, we could prob scrape up nuff cabbage to have the inventors of these irritating words eliminated and preventing other such words from ever coming into existence to damage our inner peace.
‘Just sayin’: this phrase instills deep emotions in me, this is my inner response:
YOLO, NOM: proving annoying ghetto slang enthusiasts can whip up clever abbreviations to irritate the living crap out of you.
Tweeps: I feel I must shower if I ever get called a ‘tweep’, I’d actually stalk somebody and threaten to beat them up if they did, or throw ninja weapons at them.
Meh: *roundhouse kick to your face*
“Death is always on the way, but the fact that you don’t know when it will arrive seems to take away from the finiteness of life. It’s that terrible precision that we hate so much. But because we don’t know, we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. Yet everything happens a certain number of times, and a very small number, really. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, some afternoon that’s so deeply a part of your being that you can’t even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four or five times more. Perhaps not even. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless.”
― Paul Bowles, The Sheltering Sky
Who she is: Christian Serratos
playing: Rosita on season 3 walking dead
allegedly single but we all know that’s a bunch of bullshiat!
It is the cult of self that is killing the United States. This cult has within it the classic traits of psychopaths: superficial charm, grandiosity and self-importance; a need for constant stimulation; a penchant for lying, deception and manipulation; and the incapacity for remorse or guilt.
How many times must we
celebrate another reboot of ourselves?
til we’re finally out of beta
as if a Jenny Jone’s makeover for our butt nekked souls
will transform us like the autobots
and the decepticons
into flawless creations
as if were going to be rid of the very aspects
that make us beautiful to begin with
ugly never looked so sexy til a minute ago
you’re so 5 seconds ago
you’re so 5 minutes ago
you’re so 5 decades ago
you’re so something something
your macbook’s running an older version of operating system
your anti-virus virii signatures are outdated
your version of windows is pirated
come on, lets hide in the 80’s
lets rock the 70’s
lets relive the 90’s
lets get lost in limbo
lets get blown
by the winds of pandemonium
lets tweet every inane thought
and post a FB invite
to our private pity parties
how many times do we have to go viral
before somebody pretends to fall for our shit?
you can’t even smoke an e-cigarette without offending
the new age sensitive mileage flyers
and you can’t tell racial jokes
to your racist friends
and you can’t say something off kilter
less you get a ticket to the appropriate police ball
don’t speak to me in keywords
and stop using your pretentious ass 5 dollar words
only sitcom characters use with a clearer conscious
stop broadcasting your conversations
forcing me to wear my skull candy
just to buy your silence
and don’t make me wonder how
you devised a clever coffee concoction
complex as a 007 James Bond drink
the barrista spat in it…you yuppie fucktwat.
he wasn’t that emo as you described to me last night
and I found his stoops blog it was hella tight
he was posting animated gifs of zombies and saints
threadless t-shirt designs did in adobe illustrator
of celebrity sex tape scandalists
and retro info-graphics
he didn’t strike me as
an uncouth barbarous bum
a bastardly boytoy
a emotionally unavailable gattling gun
a seducer of hipster chicks who wear only thrift store finds
a guy that feeds his Aussie shepard organic dog food
and kimchi time to time
now I’m on his twitter feed
he’s watching walking dead
and writing deep thoughts
on improved survival techniques
better than that Korean pizza delivery dude Glen
and what he’d love to do to Maggie
how they’d make beautiful babies
that will grow into superb zombie destroyers
his Amazon wishlist
is so cute!
It’s populated with facehugger chopsticks
and alien chestburster plush pillows
ninja weapons and Japanese robots
I secretely bought him this inexpensive
and a bottle of Brute
to smell like a Homer Simpson type
an odd contradiction
So I think he’s like this, girlfriend:
he’s 5% narcissist
he’s a bit like Sam Malone from Cheers
a little bit like Frasier Crane
a smathering of crooked smile
a heaping tablespoon of imperfectionist
someone who owns a mail order samurai sword
and spies for the government
sending them his detailed reports
until they beg him to stop this at once!
I came back. I’ve been out of touch, off somewhere adrift in my own private playground, running amok, doing bit o’ this, bit o’ that. Being productive, proactive, counting the seconds until Spring officially arrives. This winter was brutally long and so needs to be over and done with!
Everybody is, whether they know this or not a natural born, gifted writer. So sayeth my current read, The Right to Write (an excellent read I might add).
That said and off my chest, presently in a holding pattern gridlocked until Spring. The sun’s out, and night doesn’t happen at 4ish anymore. More like 6pm. I’m still kinda busy, but I’m going to get medieval on my own ass to expound on my usual blazing insights and witticisms as much as I can up in here, up in here.