After many brief discussions on the topic of identification and how we as individuals perceive ourselves through our actions and beliefs, therefore affecting how we believe others may perceive us in return, something very strange and dare I say it, something quite pathetic had occurred to me. Elaborating before I let you know what this is, you’d only have to spend three minutes with your hands down your pants scrolling through Instagram, as well as stalking the gritty trenches of Twitter awaiting notifications, before you’ll encounter a similar trend. Procrastination? No. Well, yes, but that’s not it. Perception. It’s all about public perception and how people present themselves.
Where am I going with this, you may be wondering: Positive display of showmanship? Or a long-winded rant detailing how pathetic they are? Oh, fuck. It’s most definitely the latter. If you haven’t yet read my post regarding the Vegans and why they need to get the fuck out of town, I would suggest you do so. It may serve as a tour guide for the upcoming fuck-fest I’m about to go bareback on. Yes! Everyone’s getting fucked today. No lube. Whether I go in from the front or the back makes no difference, there isn’t no diameter nor circumference too small for General Veinous Maximus. Embrace the verbal penetration.
So here’s the thing. No one cares about your Bio. And no, not your Biography, because let’s face it; a vast amount of people are far too thick, not to mention compulsive fucking liars, to write one anyway. I’m talking about your online bio. How you present yourself to your followers, friends, and families. Triple false fuckery. The limiting word count on each and every social platform which demands your best lie and unrealistic version of yourself, which fails to match the depressed lonely bitch fingering herself behind the screen. That bio. Does that sound sexist to you? Guys can be bitches too, don’t worry about it.
But, this incestuous need to portray yourselves as something you’re not through the make-believe templates and filters because your photographs are bad and your lives’ a fucking train wreck. Fuck. Instagram scroll, Twitter flick, Tinder swipe. Can you live up to this ideal version you’ve put on display? I doubt your self-awareness, lady. How are you able to describe your personality in such detail and depth with such few words and terrible grammar – mirror rehearsal? In a perfect world, bacon grows on trees, vagina smells like mangos, and women don’t pass wind. But this isn’t fantasy. Fuck, if they’re not providing such rich and glamorous descriptions, they’re listing their poor lifestyle choices as well as their pitiful interests and hobbies, followed by motivational quotes to success. “Geek Girl, Anime Lover, Dedicated Vegan. Building My Success One Day At A Time”
What in the grand fuck of post-release cum does success actually mean? Money, health, luxury – friendships where you don’t actually trust anyone because it says so on the seventh rule of the black and white photograph with Hashtag Empire? Millennials, knock it the fuck off. This race to success culture of doing everything and anything during your twenties is becoming real fucking wretched. Slow the fuck down and drop the motivational quotes. You’re poor. What’s even more disheartening are the lifestyles choices. For instance, why does every fucking vegan feel the need to state they’re a vegan in every single bio and social post they ejaculate on the internet?
We get it. You rape trees and babysit rabbits. Don’t eat beef, chicken or unicorns. Don’t eat meat but you still want the D. Okay. It’s almost as if they’re gearing up for war just in case someone will actually start a conversation regarding what they choose to put in their mouths. Baby, What that tongue do? Vegans, nobody cares. Your skin’s pale, your hair’s brittle, you’re forever constipated, and forty years from now you’re going to regret it. No need to let us all know. I’ve spoken enough on vegans in the past, see the previous post I mentioned during the start of this post, but one more thing; You’re stranded on an island with nothing but a Mermaid for company. Do you eat her or do you eat her? Case closed.
While not being as bad as the vegans, the next set of tight-jaw piss flaps are in need of some serious penetration. Foodies. Here’s my question to Foodies, since they’ve now been established as an actual type of human fucking being. What makes a Foodie a Foodie – as opposed to someone else who just eats food in order to enjoy it, and you know, stay alive? I mean, I breath oxygen. But that doesn’t make me anymore enthusiastic about about trees, and leaves in the wind because Hashtag O2. It would be much more interesting and make a great deal more sense if they were to list Clam Slapper or Cunnalinguist instead. At least those provide some detail as to what’s tickling their tongues.
Don’t mistake my donated hearts to your Instagram pictures for me taking a liking to you as an individual. I’ll like but I’ll never comment. I’m that guy; scroll back through the last four months of photos and double-tap until my fingertip runs red. Much like the thick-thigh soft porn damsels on Instagram who label themselves as “Instagram Models” – idiots – I’m a fan of your work, not you. There’s absolutely no need to state in your bio which fictional profession defines you as a person. Dry my dick with a curtain, my pull out game’s strong. Give me time to restock I’ll throw a shot at the Travel Bloggers.
Original Copyright © 2018 by KalifornicationX.