Those Blogs

It probably isn't the first time this is mentioned, and I seriously doubt it'll be the last. I've dedicated a few hours of my life browsing through what seems to be an endless amount of filthy, shit stained, hopeless blogs written by teens whom I suspect suffer from a serious case of some sort of virulent idiot virus.

Very few of these I think, forget that due to their intense amount of fans they have a lot of influence, which they use to spread insecurity and a lot of bullshit. No one would read this blog if I updated it daily with the useless shit I do every day. My clothes aren't interesting, my son is a monster, my dinner looks like someone shit on it, and I don't spend a national budget on shoes or my hair. If I was to put silicone in my dick, no one would cheer me on for "Fighting insecurity", or "Standing up for the real me"... (Heh, standing up... funny). Whatever, I don't know the lingo, but my point is no one would read it.

Sure, they're all pretty young ladies, but for the love of Cthulhu, they're not WOMEN. They're immature girls who doesn't realize that their rantings, make-up tips and pro-silicone/restylane is hurting the next generation. Well, now I'm threading on fire because I'm pretty sure there are "dedicated" 50 year old fans who just LOVE to see their close-up nearly naked pictures because of their new dress, shoes or fantastic make-up tips.

Right.

They, like most of the world is playing on sex, and it's hurting both my eyes and my head. My beautiful girlfriend doesn't have extensions, fake tata's, jungle lips or a wardrobe from hell, and I love her more for it. I can't fucking stand the brain damaged attitude they portray, and I'd fucking throw paint on them screaming "STUPIDITY IS MURDER" if it wouldn't leave me with nine thousand angry 50 year old "fans" on my door.

Anywho, I'd figure since they can share their day, I can share my day. I know it won't get me more readers, but at least there will be a thread of reality to it.


This is toilet paper. I use it every day. I really love the triple-layer feel to my ass after I've taken a long shit. I prefer this Norwegian brand called Lambi, because it's super smooth and it doesn't fall apart when I need to rub the nook and crannies.

Like, the technique I use is called "Front to back". I know it's a little traditional, but it prevents shit from sticking to my scrotum. Everybody should use "Front to back".

I could post a video of it, but I suspect my blog would fall into a whole other category if I did.

This is my son, Damien. He wakes me up before Satan has gotten a chance to set shit on fire, thus starting my day in some twisted twilight world where reality is blurred and pigs throw frozen poo on my window.

He's great, don't get me wrong. But he keeps my head leveled and automatically sets my world settings to "Reality" whenever he's around.

My dog, Satan. (Actually he's called Lukas, but Satan works just as well).

If my lovely son isn't around to wake me up, he'll make sure to remind me what time it is, preferably six or seven times during the night. I've caught him gawking at me from the edge of the bed more times than what I think should be necessary.

Glaring... Watching me sleep...

Fucking dog.

This is TV. TV is my best friend. He's got like a million million colors, and he shows me everything I find interesting.

There are no teen-bloggers, no teen-moms, teen-whores etc etc in the worlds given to me by him. Mainly because I don't own cable, so everything displayed by TV is either streamed from Netflix or my PC.

I love TV. I think I'll marry him.


So, I've given you a small taste of my day. Maybe if I get to do something more interesting I'll fill you in on it. Looks like this is the shit people want to read, so maybe I'll have to give in. I just need to get some silicone and bigger lips. Maybe some extensions... Maybe start putting on make-up before I start my day. Sounds like a plan... If I didn't have any dignity left.