One in the Chamber.

One thing you need to learn about married men is that they occasionally look attractive than a young single man. That of course with their belly size, facial hair growth rate and on what age level they were, taken into consideration.

On another term, you also need to understand that this kind of people, they don't gave a fuck with anything that spelled complex. They won't give a fuck of your swine little asses that required a whole bag of KY at every time they need to work it out. They'll go for the simplest. A blowjob.

Imma telling you why. Because life is full of shit. You were not born with it but you'll either live or die with it.

Good thing being human is, you were at least, at some point of your life were given the chance to decide. You can go on dreaming about being a pimp or you can start recruiting some college girls right away. You can talk shit about being good to people or be good to people.

Whichever your decision is, you'll die, anyway.

Me? I just got a mortal request granted by the dragon king, I'll be laughing at your funeral. I'll get lap dance in room filled with your dead picture. Suited up and eyes wide open.

Of Being A Wallflower.

I got a book. Partially got a book to be exact.

Its took me years to finally decided to write something that I knew will later caused confusion of something which radically means a world to me now. Thus when I spent months to even write the first few chapters, I believed it's me being me. 

Its really amazing how some people can write about something that they don't even went through. How we think that we know what other's feels like. I found it even harder to understand that this fat fucking loser was nothing but a fat fucking loser. But in his writing, he was a charming little prince, swaying sword, whom girls will surrender their asses to.

Imagination is imagination and fantasy is being fantasized until it hit the right person. And it won't get any better to learn that reality isn't even close to the shit the writer was telling. 

Fat fucking loser is a fat fucking loser. He died alone in a twelveth-floor apartment, dick in hand and porn on a repeat mode. Laying on the floor was his masterpiece that was soon to be converted into a fifty-two episodes tv serie.

Pathetic is, the money he left went into a foundation named after him to breed another genius in writing to continue his fat fucking loser's legacy.

Pathetic world, is pathetic.

What you dont kills, makes you stronger.

There were some quotes that I honestly believed was worthy of adjustment. Life for example, is never about giving a fuck of those thing that trying to keep you down, it should be more about not shutting out of whatever weakness/mistakes that you own/make and used it to fucking live a life.

Remeber when your teacher ask you how to safely cross a river with a tiger, sheep and some sort of grass I cant remember. What is your answer? Fucking travel with the tiger first, comeback with sheep and blah.. Blah.. Blah. Yes, we were taught to find a correct solution for a problem. In school, unversity or even in the community. And in order to find that one correct answer, we often neglecting the basic rules in celebrating ones life, namely; 

"It's my fucking life, I just do what I fucking want."

Oh I got this one song playing in my mind for like a day and a half already. It's Alanis Morissette's Hand in My Pocket from her 1995 Jagged Little Pill album. 

Unless you prefer big rounded asses, shiny cars and Suamiku Sotong Shit's novel, you will love these song.