Let me show you something I received via text message from an ex-ex-ex . . . and maybe, another ex girlfriend of mine. Technically, I paid Sprint to read this 2 months ago, which saddens me more than all the watermelon seeds Brad and Angelina picked up around their Olympic-sized pool last night.
Yes, the forthcoming is verbatim, as I've posted on my Facebook some distant weeks ago back when we all were wondering what a Prius would be labeled pluralized. Yes, it is funny as hell, but I would like you, the reader, to soak it in as an entity other than words.
Think of this as a medium, and I present the text message to you as if it were a sweet letter she left in my mailbox by way of a Mexican who could actually use their calloused hands for something other than treading water or peddling fake roses late night, but really it was just a text at why she was pissed off at me as a
boyfrand . . .
because I suck at being that.
See, now that's some serious relationship-type of shit right there. Granted, it's funny because I'm an asshole like that, but if you are in agreement there's some other mortal soul out there who shares your bed and you're fond of the idea of growing together as one, you just don't present your argument in a
lame-ass txt message.
It's impersonal, and borderline rude, bitch.
Now, not even trying to get into a descriptive open diary as to where my cock has been the last few months, let's twist into a realm other than txt messages people nowadays are using as a foul, social interactive playground to communicate with you and I.
FACEBOOK
Let's get real.
No, come on now, I wanna get real with ya for a minute. Come on in.
Ssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh . . . guess what????
You DO NOT have 847 friends in real life!
Six people called the other two to tell them you got drunk and puked last Saturday, four of them didn't even give a shit either way, and your mom/father has either raped or abandoned you in any form of turning into something resembling success, so I'd cordially like to cut the shit with some goddamn abruptness.
More importantly, I'd like to remind any asshole on Facebook who is using this medium as a year-2000+ telegraph service that it's unnatural and against anything humane---Don't you people realize how much integrity you lose by not
speaking with someone face to face?
People have forsaken what we in real life call social skills so they txt message, chirp/tweet or what-the-fuck-ever, and it's turning into a large fuck story for this younger generation because as they get older, they won't truly know the reason man came together in the first place. More so, it's turned into a fuck story for those of us above our 30s who are sick of this detached behavior because this isn't the way shit was meant to be and certainly wasn't the method taught onto us.
Cavemen didn't write each other a note and stab it into the ass-end of a hyena to convey shit then send the fucker to a different camp, so I don't truly understand why I have to read someone's lame Facebook status, SMS txt message with a picture or not and tolerate it without repeatedly stabbing them in the fucking throat with a stapler that was originally meant for stationery.
Some of us still grope, hug, cuddle and whatnot. We were brought up correctly and practice interpersonal connection that goes beyond an Android or the Steve-Jobs dust you iPhone users wipe off your cord-less life-supports.
Pathetic, conservative, hip . .. yet all the while being a fag.
As a whole, people today communicate like a sonnet being sung to Michael J. Fox, but it's fucked up because as Mikey tries to rock to the beat, he perpetually drops seed at the bird feeder and we are all just standing with our hands in the air wondering what the fuck is going on because we got the shakes as well.
Why? Well because he doesn't understand an asshole's wayward way of transmitting speech because lately it's accepted with such motionless and impersonal methods such as txting or Facebook. In essence, don't txt or E-mail someone you want to permeate a true feeling of yourself, thusly we needn't shroud behind anything that can be put out on a keyboard as to speak the one voice we have on this planet.
Just say it.
WHORE ALERT
Take another ex of mine from just a few months ago, who probably has the mental capacity/retention of a Wiffle ball because I pick real winners like that. Now, naturally around month 2 of the
relationshit I began to keenly notice her fuck-ups, which in return had led to arguments and me being severely disappointed in her . . . over and over and over again. Eventually this routine transforms into disdain, which then effectuates into ignoring the person out of disgust, so for days at a time while living with her and all the ghetto fabulous atrocities that followed me giving her a key, we would sit in silence, usually for about 48 hours.
I'd ignore the 26-year-old cum tank, take the couch, her in the bedroom. Put my headset on, play my video games, enter the bathroom only when I heard she was finally finished using my hot water, never say "goodbye" when I left the house . . . you get the point: nonexistent, even though the bitch was 15+ feet away from me the entire time.
Know what happened around hour 50 of the "who will win this ignoring session?" The retard would text message me from the bedroom how she doesn't like when I'm quiet. If I walked out the house, my phone would blow up 5 minutes later with a multi-paged text on why I should be more forgiving to her ignorant ways. Yes, the behavior is beyond ridiculous, but we mustn't get off-topic here nor do I owe her anymore of my time.
Point is, nobody should be text messaging another person from within the same house unless they live in Alabama and weigh 350 pounds. I suppose it is then . . . acceptable.
Ya know, if I may conclude, we would so want to pick up where I left off in January of this jolly year, about how people don't provide inspiration. That's the exact same fucking reason I deleted my Facebook account for a month: because people don't inspire me, nor should they to anyone reading this account of human forfeiture. People are still equaling shit out there, and there's a whole new slew of 18-year-old to 26-year-old bubble gum heads out there who would prefer to communicate with their thumbs and look at a picture of someone on a monitor and type what they think rather than looking myself or anybody in the goddamn eye as to properly say whatever is on their mind with some rockin' conviction.
Pussies, cowards, and overall faggotry. In whatever city in whichever state, the younger generation is fucked. This might sound a little awkward coming from an asshole like me, but why don't you just hug someone you care about instead of sending them some series of binary code? Don't supplement your lack of personal skills with EMOTICONS, either, because that just ignites a yearning within me to jab a bottle of Tabasco sauce up your asshole, pick you up and shake.
Yeah . . . Speak. SPEAK . . . As to cease me from wishing your father had beaten the shit outta you back when you were pissing your crib and spitting carrots having the viscosity of pudding all over the place. Fuck all and fuck off.
