Beauty and the BlarggNothing says "Wacky" like making a crazy face in a picture, and nothing says "Obnoxious-Piece-of-Shit" like the word wacky. Digital cameras have allowed people to take countless pictures of themselves and friends at shoulder length. To liven things up, many people enjoy purposely looking ugly; however, the vogue behind making a funny face went out with your fourth grade class picture. No, making a wacky face ruins the picture, meaning everyone must do the process over. As if your presence in the picture weren't enough, you actively attempt to do more damage. It's like you're pouring gasoline on yourself and then running at a forest fire, in a photographical sense. If you're bored of taking regular pictures, then play the fun game of getting out of the way and create a win-win situation for everyone involved.
This is you snoring with the addition of a woman, an attractive bone structure, and clean sheets Snoring is the "Guess What? Chicken Butt" of sleep. It's the least common denominator of annoyance, and you're doing it without even knowing. Being obnoxious for the thirteen or so hours a day you're awake takes a lot out of a person, but to continue that uncomfortable brashness into your sleep is the true measure of your prowess. Too bad you couldn't put this much effort in getting the tarter off your molars, maybe then your breath wouldn't reek of garlic for days. A lot of people don't even know that they snore, so here are a few simple questions to ask yourself:
If you answered yes to all three questions, congratulations, it isn't (entirely) your looks that stop people from sleeping with you.
The phone has two purposes: One: Snake, Two: to allow communication over long distances not normally possible through human voice. Shouting your weekend plans into your cell phone is redundant. The people who scream into phones are the type who clean before the maid arrives; or, more appropriately, the people who scream into phones are the type who needs a maid. I just don't understand why people talk so loudly. Do you think strangers in the grocery store want to hear about your raid at eleven?
Being my roommate applies to a small amount of people, namely Scott. Scott, you do all these multiple times a day and then complain why no one calls.
Alright, that's the lesson for this week. Maybe next update I'll cover another important reason why no one likes you, like not paying rent.
The singer dove off the stage and crowd surfed in a sort of reverse funeral procession where the person being carried is the only one truly alive. Touching him I felt religious ecstasy and started speaking in tongues and requesting songs that didn't exist.
There's no easy way to put this, so I'll tell it like it is. Bouillon is died. He went missing before the weekend and yesterday I found his skeletonized remains at the bottom of the #3 soup vat during one of my swims. I thought the cream of mushroom soup had an especially nourishing taste, and a lot more clumps of fur and skin than usual.
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