Listen to me, you prion-addled cow. That exam is on Friday! What, you think that six chapters of biology is just gonna be dropped into your head moments before you have to begin writing? Stop wasting valuable study time! The witty and informative people will still be here when you get back, dolt.
In the name of the Buddha Amida, quit eating cookies! You know damn well you have hypoglycemia, what’s with the iced-raisin-cookies-for-lunch diet? Eat a salad! Have a peanut butter sandwich! No sugar! Fuck, woman, you want something sweet in your mouth, go suck your boyfriend’s dick. That poor man hasn’t had any in so long, he’s probably forgotten you even have tits.
Dirty, you sissy-ass crybaby. Get some thicker skin and quit taking everything so fucking personally. Heaven forbid someone gives an honest criticism of something you did. It’s not lke honesty ever helped anyone. :rolleyes:
And get a fucking job already. You’ve been unemployed for almost two months now, the bill collectors are knocking at your door, and the repo-man is eye-ballin’ your car. You’ve accepted enough handouts - BE A MAN! You’re 22 years old and still sponging off your family. They won’t be around to bail your sorry ass out forever, and then what? Welfare? Unemployment checks? Living in a van down by the river? Sounds like tons-o-fun to me.
If someone wants to pay attention to you, they will. Lack of conversation or social time does not mean lack of love or affection. And maybe, just maybe, if you’d get off your ass and leave the house once in a while, you’d have (gasp!) real friends!
And, uh … just because one person hurt you does not mean the whole fucking world is out to get you. Knock it off, and have some faith in humanity!
So basically, you whiney little bitch-boy, shape up, get a job, get a life, and quit feeling so sorry for yourself. Aren’t you always telling people that you get what is coming to you? Well, listen to your own fucking advice!
Damn … I never realized how much I sucked at being me.
You inebriated glob of mayonaisse! (I’m having trouble visualizing that, but it sure as hell sounds good.)
You don’t HAVE to have two tall glasses of wine with every dinner, you know. You don’t HAVE to spend hours upon hours a night on the Internet, so that your days are spent in a foggy haze. You don’t HAVE to let your temper get the better of you every time. You don’t HAVE to walk around vainly thinking you’re God’s gift to mankind.
And make your wife see the relatives every once in a while. She DID marry into the family, you know.
Outside of the two or three at work, do even have friend one within, say, three hundred miles? Didn’t think so. Get thee a life, wanker. Here’s a thought - maybe you could start by leaving the apartment once in a fucking while.
Oh, so you think you’re comfortable and content being single, huh? Well, I got one word for ya, Bub:
[sub]Pam![/sub]
Ha! I mentioned her name! Now you’re gonna be depressed all weekend long! Ha ha, loser.
Geez, jr8, you are such a lemming. I mean, not only do you post when you have nothing more to say than a glorified “me too”, but then you get all pouty if no one responds to your post. Get a life, loser.
Cherry, you cum guzzling gutter-slut, you don’t post in fucking ever and you expect the whole damn world to sit up and take notice. What an attention whore! And let me whisper a little secret in your ear…“YOU CAN’T CALL YOURSELF A WRITER IF YOU DON’T SIT YOUR BIG ASS DOWN AND FUCKING WRITE!” I know it would cause your heart to stop beating if you had to show some damn restraint. You eat like a wild goat on crack, you smoke like your ignorant ass doesn’t know it’ll kill you, and you play with yourself so much your gonna give yourself carpal tunnel syndrome. Which brings me to Bing. It is not his job to screw your skanky ass every time the fucking wind blows. Get a damn hobby and quit pestering the poor man. HE has a damn life, shit-bag. NEWS BULLETIN- This just in… it is not your job to take care of the entire world. As much as you want to believe it, your name is not Wonder Woman. Get a fucking life and deal with your own issues!
…stop spending your entire working day on the internet. You can only get away with it for so long, and you’ve already been warned. You are probably the reason for the global economic downturn. Children are starving because you can’t be arsed to make out those purchase orders and instead sit reading Threadspotting.
You have a beer belly. You’re only 23. Do some fucking sit ups.
Since you left university, you’ve done nothing but shitty jobs that you hate. You are wasting your life. Quit and do something that you really want to do. Or at least try.
Clean your room, those cheese n’ biscuit crumbs have been all over the floor for a week, you slob.
[sub]Okay, I’m way too lazy to do this to myself, so . . . [/sub]
You all sound like you have severe inferiority complexes, caused by your severe inferiority, except for SPOOFE, who has an ego the size of the planet Jupiter. Not only that, but most of you can’t spell any better than I do.
Hey, dumbass, you are not the center of your family’s universe. Didn’t your oldest child prove that to just last week? Get over it, already! Another thing, you are not the hottest thing in town, so quit thinking you are. Hell, you are overweight and never dress in anything but blue jeans (not that there is anything wrong with that ). Having you head stuck in a book all the time is better than having it stuck up your ass, but, jeez! Get a life! Face it, you have no friends. That’s right, zippo, nada, none, zilch. Quite trying to pretend you are someone your kids’ friends wanna hang out with. And speak up!, I can hardly hear you half the time. Get off your dead ass and do something for Chrissakes. Hell, you have lived in the same place for 6 years and you still don’t even know your neighbors. Yes, I know what you think about the “PTA Moms” at the school, but you are no better than them, so stop with the “I am the queen of the Universe” attitude and talk to them once in a while. Brush your hair and put on some makeup.
Modro, you sir, are a complete and utter waste of my parent’s gift of reproduction.
Why the hell don’t I go to school? Huh? I’m not getting any younger! What, I think this job is actually good or something? And what the fuck am I sitting in front of the computer for? Its 75 fucking degrees outside, not a cloud in the sky, 4pm in the afternoon, and I am sitting on my skinny ass in front of a computer. My god, I am such a fucking moron.
And what of this “my stomach is bothering me” bullshit? Repeat after myself.
“IT IS IN MY FUCKING HEAD.”
That’s right, it’s in my head. So why in the name of all that is sacred do I act like it’s an actual friggin problem? Try digesting some battery acid or something. That will show me what a tummy ache feels like.
And don’t even get me started on this relationships bull. Let me just tell myself one thing…
I have to try a second date too, ok? Understand that fuckwad self?
Now I want you to get my scrawny little ass outside. Hey, maybe I could actually try lifing weights or something constructive. Let me tell you, the TV remote is not a proper replacement. And that tan? Well, the glimmering lights of the computer screen aren’t going to lightly toast my epidermis in any meaningful way. Go outside!!!
Dammit, you’ve had this piece of paper on your desk for over a YEAR. All you have to do is call five people and ask to be put on their press-contacts lists. It’s their JOB, the other five distributors didn’t object either so why would they? It’s because you are scared of calling strangers up you moron! What the hell is that all about?! It’s like being afraid to bother the nice man at McDonalds for a freakin’ hamburger! Work this out, you insecure freak!
Also, stop visiting that chatbox. You know the one I mean. It’s filthy. It’s not you. Ok, so you’re bored with your sexlife. Big deal. Who ain’t? Use the time to read learn PHP or something like that. Pick up a marketable skill, you haven’t done that since you learned HTML 2.0!
You know, it would’t hurt to send off some letters asking for a writing-job. I mean, it’s quite a sensible thing to do as you’ve gone and quit your dayjob to be a free-lance writer ferchrissakes! Do you seriously intent to wait until the editor of a national newspaper happens to visit your website and offers you a job as a movie-critic? It ain’t gonna happen!
Then there’s the weight thing. You went from 111 kg to 87,5 kg in 6 months. That’s bloody brilliant! You swore you’d never go back! And what did you weigh this morning? 93 fucking kilograms! And what did you have for lunch? Chips with mayonnaise and a ‘broodje kroket’!!! (it’s a Dutch thing, about as bad as a burger) That’s about 900 calories right there! Idiot!
And quit picking that scab. How old are you, three? Let it be, it will heal by itself.
Stop farting everywhere!!! your girlfriend DOES NOT consider it funny anymore!!! try to do something to hide that enourmus pack under your pants everybody looks at you!!!
Loose weight NOW, stop smoking NOW, get up early in the morning NOW, get another girl NOW NOW
