Tweeter Twits

24 May

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I was on Twitter for the first time in over a year yesterday doing what Twitter was meant for: making fun of other people’s tweets. And I stumbled upon (ha,ha!) a tweet by one of my close friends that said, “Texting people over social media, without emotion, is like cupcakes without icing.”

Profound words to which I replied, “You mean muffins?”

But my poor classmate isn’t the only one. Have you ever come across an account with a famous name that tweets things you wouldn’t associate that name with? I saw this one account called The Little Mermaid that tweeted, “Dear girls, if your boyfriend is doing this, then he is definitely cheating on you.” And she was nice enough to give a link to the death of my PC.

And I replied, “Why is the little mermaid talking about this?” (WHY???)

And don’t you just hate those people whose accounts are just a thousand retweets from bigger accounts and they end up with millions of followers? Like (aren’t I on a roll today?), there was this on tweet that went viral, “Goals? dm.”

“Those things you score in soccer,” I said. Sometimes I wonder about the education system…

What have your Adventures in Tweeterland been like? Share your experiences!

Goodier, Moi mentil Mind

Chronicles of Spiderwick (er)

18 May

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High School is, unexpectedly, is fun! All that extra homework, those hateful teachers that would love nothing more than to build a strip club on your grave, backstabbing, heartless schoolmates…aah! Nothing could be better. I was discussing the red velvet hot chocolate I had to drink on one Sunday with one of the few bright souls in my accounting class. “It looks like menstruation, but it tastes great!” I exclaimed.

But onto more sightly news, I’ve found my soulmate (at least for this week)! Wicker hats have quickly become an obsession that rivals cocaine. Of course some people have the affinity to make wicker hats look cheaper than a Chinese prostitute. But when done properly, I think they’re the most attractive (and least threatening) hard thing to go anywhere near your face.

Goodier, Moi Mentil Mind.

Glove Love

10 May

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Iv’e been so bored lately, that I started singing ‘how do you solve a problem like Maria’ in bed. Not my best moment . My new English teacher, though young and sometimes fun, is more terrifying than salad fingers and a world without brownies. And speaking of brownies, guess what happened? I was walking through the school hallways, all unsuspecting and peppy like every other non-alcoholic teenager (an endangered species) and then WHAM! I run into this girl who was carrying a plate of brownies! Never have I been so embarrassed.

But onto more fashionable news, Winter has begun to set in and I feel like I’ve been showing more skin than a hairless cat. So, to continue with that trend, and invite pneumonia over to My Body for tea, I’ve compiled images of barely helpful (retarded) yet comely gloves to wear in winter.

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Clothes can’t be that expensive…

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My exorcism gloves

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I can feel the flu raping my immune system already!

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Geezenheimers, times are tough…

 

Goodier, Moi Mentil Mind.

That’s so shady

7 Mar

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I cannot stand sunglasses! They keep getting darker than Atlanta and Basketball. I mean, if I wanted to look blind, I’d’ve asked Stevie Wonder for tips. Did you know, though, that sunglasses were originally created to hide a judge’s reactions? Geezenheimers, those glasses must have been larger than a pregnant American.

I just don’t understand why people wear them so much even when it’s entirely redundant. If you want to look like that kid that sees dead people and does some of the cheap stuff (sniff, sniff), then I won’t judge. You most probably have a knife. I don’t think people that wear shades ceaselessly, even when it’s darker than Akon, should even consider going on “Are you dumber than a 5th grader?”.

My biased opinion is that only obnoxious people with no initiative of their own wear sunglasses. And now that the season for cancer and cheap tans is heer, I see this more than I’m happy to. Maybe I’m just being an intolerable cynicist?

Forever the misanthropist,

Goodierm Moi Mentil Mind.

I furred all about it

28 Feb

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Some people don’t like the fact that they can wear a newborn animal’s arse on their shoulders, and then you get people like me that would carry foetuses in their schoolbag (I joke). Fur is a trend that has hit designers and forest critters harder than a wrecking ball to the nuts. I try to rationalize fur clothing by saying that the animals would’ve died from toxic water mutations or a speeding car. But now they’ve been afforded the privilege of adorning my shoulders. I prefer wearing clothes that have as little fur as possible without looking like that cheap boyfriend that takes his dates to McDonald’s. Because, let’s face it, despite how wealthy you may look, at the end of the day you are sweating more than a black man in court.

I’m sure that I cant be the only one.

Goodier, Moi Mentil MInd.

Hair we go again.

8 Feb

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Hoobligano Pepsis! We have a new foreign exchange student in our class and every one of the girls is falling for him like fat children for candy (traitors!). He’s German, so I’m a tad too scared to talk to him, just in case he tells the Gestapo about me. It’ll be Anne Frank all over again – African Style. (Take shelter in the mud hut! Bring your cleanest loincloths.)

But onto more interesting and less life-threatening news: hair. Everyone is soooo obssessed with their hair nowadays. From the girls of Christian Club (Cross-Connection. Such a pun!), who make-up themselves, a.k.a. make themselves look like Ukrainian ladies of negotiable affection, and wearing skirts shorter than a hamster’s lifespan, right before going to meet Jesus.

One of my friends, against all odds, turned out to be a member and insisted on me attending a meeting.

“It’s Heaven on Earth,” she said.

“That’s what all rapists say,” I replied.

To the boys that play rugby and take steroids like they’re going out of fashion or Miley Cyrus is doing it.

And then there are those precious few that should send complaints to Yahweh Corporations, because they just didn’t get good hair genes. For example, I saw this one boy at school who’s hair looked like a hermaphrodite chicken withe hepatitis B! I kid thee not. But the question I find myself asking is, “Why is everyone so obsessed with their hair? I mean, they’re all as bald as a CLEAN chicken’s egg by 30, anyway.

I’m not obsessed with my hair, because my mother makes me chop it off every few months. The kids at school then use my head as a bongo drum until the hair grows back. But when it does grow back they say it looks like pubic hair and feels like a sponge. Sigh, just another reason to take terrorist lessons.

 

Goodier, Moi Mentil Mind.

What’s that smell?

29 Nov

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Hoobligano Pepsis! I can finally let my Maths teacher out of the storage closet. Poor thing had nothing to eat but gummy worms and flint. On the flip side, she can now fit through the door…The school year is officially (thank Jésüs) over! Now i can throw eggs and vinegar at pedestrians without risking suspension, or even worse…community service (Oh, the horror!)! P.S. I will not be held accountable for any arrests and lawsuits due to vandalism and sheer stupidity.

Onto more legal news, I don’t think you’ve noticed by my 2000 bottles or the heavy breathing you hear in the fragrance section, but I L.O.V.E cologne! They smell better than most of the people I know (maybe even look better). I dont know where this obsession stems from (hopefully it’s not a French brothel that I sleepwalked to…somehow…over the oceans…). But I think that no person is ever complete without a bottle of their own. And not that cheap spray stuff that stings much more than a bad case of Chlamydia and leaves strange white spots. I’m talking about the real makoy!

A lot of people say that your natural scent is better than any fragrance that the world could throw at you. And that is true. If you live in Floral-Tobacco-Smell Land, which I do not. But maybe your views contradict mine. Fragrance: is it as delightful as the day your cousin brings the clothes he “borrowed” from your closet back? Or is it worse than the stench of a football player whom you’re probably too afraid to tell due to the fact that you would like to go to school in a pair of Vuittons, not a full-body cast?

Goodier, Moi Mentil Mind

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