No one likes an eff-ing ass.
I probably am one of the greatest people you’ll ever meet but you would never know that because half the time--okay, most-- I seem, no, strike that-- am one eff-ed up bastard.
Mr. Hyde has nothing on me.
I wish I were more unapologetic about my pseudo-pessimistic sucky attitude or my spit-fire french or my frequent outsbursts of rage and contempt.
I envy Karen O's eff-you feminism. People should celebrate that kind of freedom. Yet in this part of the world, while it may seem off the wall and individual as opposed to dancing with the recent local shampoo commercial, that sort of attitude is contemplative of social suicide.
Anything different is wierd.
Anything weird is scary.
If people were more accepting, the world, including mine, would be a happier place.
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