Archive for Idiots

Hey Hey WHAT century are we living in?

Posted in Shit That Sucks & Blows with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 8, 2009 by Buck Frain

This is what passes for entertainment in Australia. It was on national TV last night and today the media is awash with debate about whether or not it constituted racism. The general consensus from the bogan masses of this country seems to be that everyone should get a sense of humour and have good old brain-dead laugh at it all. I tend to think that if you don’t believe it was racist, YOU ARE A RACIST! You may not be burning crosses, wearing pillow cases on your head or trying to murder people but you’re a lousy racist sack of shit all the same.

Some Australians seem to be under the misapprehension that if they think something funny, that perception of humour cancels out any perception of racism experienced by anyone else. IT CUNTING WELL DOESN’T! It’s the sort of boozy logic that leads footy players to think that because they want the girl she automatically wants all of them. She may have thought she was gang-raped but that was just her being a bad sport and she should really get over it. If she wasn’t so uptight she’d admit that in fact she had a great time. 

Too much? Let’s look at it seriously. What is funny about the above skit? There was no amazing choreographic homage; there was no satirical reworking of MJ’s lyrics. It was white people dressed in black face and an Indian guy who says he’s never been called racist in his life (because if your skin is brown you can’t possibly be racist, can you?) dressed in white face. These shining members of the Australian medical profession – yes, these are educated Australians – have gone two for one, compounding racism with bad taste. Perhaps the best value in the sewer this week. Perhaps not. 

But it was just a bit of fun. 

Really? Take away the make up and what do you have? Oh yeah, nothing! That was the act. That was the gag.

It’s funny because they’re white guys who are pretending to be black! See, that guy’s face is painted white because MJ was black but he looked white! He’s pretending to be a black guy who’s self-mutilating to make himself look like a white guy due to his deep self-hatred, a legacy left over from an abusive childhood! Aaaaaaaaahahahahahahaha get me another pair of pants! That’s gold!

FUCK YOU!!! 

Australia is a very racist country. We don’t like to think of ourselves as racist but that’s just denial. Refer to the last 221 years. We usually hide it behind a mask of humour nowadays but that doesn’t make it any less ignorant or wrong. Pretending it’s all matesy Aah, you ol’ black bastard, ya! doesn’t remove the degradation, humiliation or inherent violence from it. It just makes you feel better about being a cunt. Racism hurts people and divides society. It is ugly and absurd. If you want to make racist jokes with your racist mates, don’t fucking well do it in public, keep that feral shit to yourself! 

I do have a sense of humour but I fail to see anything funny about a plastic surgeon making racist jokes with his rich doctor mates on national TV insulting a recently deceased legend who was plagued with the sort of psychological problems that keep said plastic surgeon and his industry in business. At the very least it was in extremely poor taste but if we’re truly honest with ourselves we have to acknowledge it as bare-faced racism and spurn it as such. Fuck you, Channel 9 for approving this shit for broadcast! Fuck you, Hey Hey It’s Saturday, for being a shitty, out-dated dog turd of a show recycling 20 year old bigotry. Fuck you, redneck bogan wankers of Australia, who are too stupid to realise you are racist scum-sucking cretins! FUCKING DIE!!!

Australian_racism 

To Harry Connick Jr, respect! Nice work calling it like it is and having the balls to go against the grain in a foreign land.

Old People Are Rubbish.

Posted in Wankers In Denial with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 7, 2009 by Buck Frain

RENTON:   Right. So we all get old and then we can’t hack it any more. Is that it?

SICK BOY:   Yeah.

 

RENTON:   That’s your theory?

 

SICK BOY:   Yeah, beautifully fucking illustrated.

 

RENTON:   Give me the gun. 

 

Old people fuck me off, I’m not going to lie about it. They just give me the fucking shits. I mean, I completely understand that I’m headed that way, as we all are. I’ll get old, I’ll lose my shit and I’ll die. Inevitable…unless I get killed while I still have my faculties – which, considering how many people I seem to piss off, is a real possibility. I know there are a load of things that old people are great for – stealing prescription drugs from, telling really long, pointless anecdotes badly, smelling weird – but generally, old people are rubbish and nowhere is this more apparent than on the road.

 

Twice today I’ve nearly been killed by stupid old wankers in cars. The first was a senile old bint who was so shrunken she could barely see between the steering wheel and the dash. Long after the light had turned red and people filed onto the pedestrian crossing this daft old crone pilots her ancient Peugeot through the intersection. I was over half-way across the road so she’d had plenty of chance to work out the light was red. Two people ahead of me leapt forward to get out of the way, I had to jump back wards to avoid being hit. As I went back I slapped the roof of the car as it went past. Eventually she reacted, screeching to a halt, gazing around, wide-eyed, spasmodically gaping and pouting like a fish drowning in air and blinking furiously behind coke-bottle glasses.

 

THE LIGHT’S FUCKING RED!!!, I screamed.

 

She continued pathetically to fish-mouth at the world and blink, I made my way to the imagined safety of the footpath. The lights changed. She stayed there. The cars behind her started to blast horns at her to move her decrepit arse out of the shitting way. This spooked her even more and I was starting to wonder whether she was having some kind of stroke when finally synapses must have fired and with a cliché grind of gears, the old beast lumbered into motion and lurched unsteadily across the intersection before limping on up the road. God help the poor fuckers up there.

 stupid_old_driver

Deciding I needed to take a breather from the world I ordered a coffee at a nearby café and sat at one of their outdoor tables on the footpath where I could watch the world go by…or so I thought. A geriatric fuckstick in a late 70s BMW dropped in on me. Literally. He reverse parallel parked his way into my table. Slowly. Meticulously. He reversed until the back wheel of the BMW mounted the curb. Then he continued…into the steel barriers the café had erected next to their tables. Neither the sensation nor the noise of the collision registered. I stepped away from the table and yelled an indignant Hey! as he continued back pushing barrier into chair into table and scraping Jesus out of the side of what had looked to have been a pristine automotive specimen. Still no reaction from Jurassic Heidfeld. Satisfied, he applied the handbrake, turned the car off and got out. He wouldn’t have looked back except that I finally broke his fog with a hearty:

 

HEY! Nice parking, mate!

 

Whaaat?, He enquired.

 

I said NICE PARKING!!! What are you doing? You just parked in my fucking coffee!

 

Again just the vulnerable, vacant stare of second childishness.

 

Look! Look at this. You could have killed someone. Look! Are you blind? You’re on the footpath, you smashed into all this stuff! Didn’t you hear it???

 

Slowly he came around and saw the remains of a bent chair trapped between barrier and a now-mashed-but-sturdily-bolted-down table. He studied the side of his car and the damage. Eventually looking up he asked:

 

Are you alright?

 

Yes, I’m fine, but fuck dude, maybe you shouldn’t be driving! You could have killed someone.

 

Oh…(long pause while he gave the impression of considering all this new information)…sorry.

 

And that was it. He just shambled off across the street to do whatever crazy old man shit he had to do. I was amazed. WHAT THE SHIT??? The café manager came out, he was righteously fucked off at his bent table and chair arrangement. I explained what had happened, left my details with him if the police or insurance needed a statement and left him to it.

 

Why the backed-up-colostomy-bag don’t old people just admit it? I mean, they must fucking realise that their reflexes are shot to shit, that their peripheral vision is virtually non-existent and that their brains have scaled back all sensory input to a bare minimum despite the world carrying on just as it always has. Surely they must realise they’ve fucking lost it! I guess like the rest of the species they’re just in denial about their own shitness. I suppose it makes sense, why start facing up to it after the fun bits have gone and you’re back to shitting your pants, eating dog food and begging for attention.

 

The only responsible solution for society is that we take their fucking licences away so they can’t destroy the lives of people who still have something to live for. Fucking test their reflexes, test their vision and hearing. Every fucking year! and as soon as they start to lose their shit cut the shitting licence up. Fuck them. Let the old fuckers walk home, or catch the bus or buy a fucking zimmer frame. Anything so long as they’re not running over people who’ve still got some miles on the clock. SELFISH OLD SHIT-SACKS!!!

 

You think I’m being ageist? Fuck you! I’ll take the fucking test. I don’t fucking care. Make everyone take it. I’m happy for anyone who’s a useless fucktard to be taken off the road. I’m happy for us to start euthanasing the pathologically useless en masse. I mean, tolerance is great but I don’t want to get killed by it! FUCKIN’ WAKE UP, HUMANITY, IT’S NOT LIKE WE’RE SHORT OF PEOPLE ON THIS ROCK!!!

Hunting The Bogeyman.

Posted in Things Rank And Gross In Nature with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 7, 2009 by Buck Frain

OK, so here I am. Again. Back at my stupid, stupid, fucky old job facilitating the acquisition of accurate research data for sociopathic multi-nationals. Ticking boxes and going through the motions for malevolent, imbecilic and monstrous bints. Yeah, it sucks but what really fucks with me is how the cancer of toxic personality trickles its way down the corporate ladder infecting everyone in the whole organisation.

I went to the staff toilet on our floor today. I think it’s the first time I’ve been to the toilet whilst at work since I’ve been back. No, not because I’m afraid, but because I don’t drink enough water, although after today’s experience I don’t want to go back. Standing at the urinal I couldn’t help but notice that the wall at eye level was spattered with bogeys. I’m not talking about a dried phlegmy spit which is gross but quite common to see in male toilets, but a serious spattering of crusty boogers.

I examined the form and pattern trying to work out what the volcanic arsehole was going on. There was no way this was just an unguarded sneeze, there must have been over 100 of them. This was a conscious and premeditated work undertaken over months while I’ve been absent. It was a veritable nose-goblin collection that Stimpy himself would have been proud of. I was fucking appalled!

stimpy_nose_goblins

So, was the Bogey Collector just leaning back while pissing and blowing the loose bogeys out onto the wall? No. I don’t think so. That may have been how it started but it had since gotten way out of control. He really liked this. He liked putting the bogeys up and he loved that they were staying there and that there was nowhere else to look but at them. There were some that were definitely picked, I could see what looked like smear marks trailing from some of them. This meant he was standing there, pissing, dick in one hand, other hand stuck up his nose fishing out grunties and then wiping them on the wall. Now that is just cunting well wrong! I don’t blame the cleaners for not cleaning the bogeys off. That’s not their job, this is vandalism, this is some crazy fucking act of mucus terrorism. ONE OF THEM HAS A CUNTING GREAT HAIR IN IT, FOR SHIT’S SAKE!!! Quick – call forensics! I need that fucker DNA tested so I can track this snot-fiend down.

I left the toilet. Nauseated. Outraged. Bogeys on the fucking wall! WHY!!! It doesn’t hurt The Wobblers, they don’t use the gents…maybe they do – eew!!! As a form of protest it is completely redundant. It’s just fucking gross. It only serves to further demoralise people who hate being there anyway. Even the most inarticulate graffiti has a message, this has no message… Or does it? Is it just a pure emotional expression? Is it a visceral interpretation of the rage generated by corporate containment and the impotence of the individual? Is this the post-modern answer to conventional graffiti? Could this be the future of street art? NO! NO! NO! IT’S NOT AND IT SHITTING WELL COULDN’T!! IT’S BOGEYS ON A MOTHER-FUCKING WALL!!! IT’S FUCKING FILTHY AND WHEN I FIND YOU, BOGEY COLLECTOR, I’LL FUCKING EXPOSE YOU FOR THE SHIT-EATING, CUNTFUL DEVIATE YOU ARE!!!

DON’T SMEAR YOUR FUCKING BOGEYS ON WALLS!!!

I WILL FUCKING FIND YOU!!!

ARSE!!!

 

11 Shit Things That Make Share-House Living Suck – #10

Posted in 11 Shit Things That Make Share-house Living Suck. with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 9, 2008 by Buck Frain

 

#10. Financial Usurpation & The Crafty Bail-Out.

 

Contrary to the postulations of that twat, Bean-bag-dick Peter, I do not share the opinion that the majority of people choose to share accommodation with strangers out of some altruistic sense of community and shared resources. I do not believe that people are driven by socialist virtue into the company of randoms. I tend to think rather that people live with strangers because they are too fucking poor to live on their own. Yes, that seems a good deal more reasonable to me – poverty not choice forces share-house living. Don’t believe me? When was the last time you saw the Sultan of Brunei looking for a relaxed, employed, dog-friendly male or female non-smoker to share sunny 3 bedroom house in St Kilda with unfeasibly wealthy monarch and yoga instructor? Never, and that’s not because he lives in Altona, it’s because he’s fucking rich and doesn’t have to bum around looking for vaguely trustworthy/tolerable fucksticks to share a rat-infested shit-hole with.

 

One of the fuckedest things about share-house living is that your poverty forces you, not only to live with strangers, but into financial interdependence with them. How people deal with money is a very personal thing. It’s not like personal hygiene, you can’t tell financial responsibility by looking at someone or by having a close chat with them and sniffing for cheese. No, you’ve got to wait until the fucker moves in to find out what they’re really like. I tend to think I’m pretty financially responsible. I’ve never had lots of money but I try to live within my means. I pay my bills on time. Boring perhaps, but I find I’m less stressed when I don’t have people chasing me for money and I take pleasure in the little things like being allowed to stay in my house and electricity. A lot of people don’t seem to see things the way I do. A lot of people don’t care for being financially responsible nor for financial commitments nor for the impact their lack of responsibility may have on their co-habitants. I’m no great fan of the rich but a lot of poor people are, in my experience, complete cunts.

 

Why?

 

Rent. Even before you move in you know it’s there. You know how much it is and when it’s due. You don’t own the house, therefore you have to pay rent – that’s the deal. Simple, you may think, but how many excuses are there?

 

Wow, is it this week?

It’s the same week every month and you never get it right. Can I offer you a calendar and some nice bright marker pens?

 

Oh, no, I’m broke.

I know, you’re also an alcoholic who’s addicted to poker machines. Your addictions are now impeding my recreation. Personally, I’d feel better about paying the rent on your room if it were empty and I knew you were living in a public toilet, blowing married businessmen for change.

 

But I’ve been living at my girlfriend’s place this month!

But your shit has been here, dog-fucker, pay the slutting rent!

 

Even worse than the fuck who can’t pay his rent is the criminal shit-sack who takes everyone’s cash to pay the rent but goes on a bender instead, a fact you find out two weeks later when the landlord sends you a letter telling you you’ll all be evicted if you don’t pay up immediately.

 

I’ll pay it back, jeez!

ARSE!!! I’ll stab you in your fucking sleep!!!

 

People are selfish and fucked! How many petty little arguments do you have to endure about bills?

 

Why should I pay more for the phone bill? I thought we were splitting it.

Well, you’ve racked up $300 from calling your ex-boyfriend in Japan. Fuck you!

 

Hey this is too much for electricity, I’m not paying this!

Eat shit! Maybe you’d like to get your stupid girlfriend to chip in seeing as she’s living here rent-free to get away from her parents, is unemployed hence here all the time, using all the hot water, eating my food, leaving her crap everywhere and she never cleans a fucking thing. How’d that be?

 

Of course, you may have it all worked out. You may have house-mates who pay their bills and rent. Congratulations, fucker! But what happens when circumstances change? Do they still remember their responsibilities? I came home from work one day to find a note from one of my house-mates the day before rent was due:

 

Hi guys, Dave and I broke up. I’m really screwed up so I’m going back to Sydney to get my shit together. I’ll miss you, Marnie xx

 

Fuck you, Marnie, where’s the shitting rent? Where’s the bill money? Where’s the 4 weeks notice? Why has your mobile phone been cut off? Nice work, bitch, just bail out. Just fuck right off and leave us carrying the shit! Fuck missing us, I HOPE YOU GET SCALPED IN A WORKPLACE ACCIDENT!!!

 

You’re completely trapped in a share-house. You’re bound in a loveless, sexless polygamous marriage ‘til death do you part with people you don’t know and have never loved. Even if you manage to extricate yourself from an ugly share-house situation, the utilities are probably in your name and gradually over the next 10 years your credit rating will be decimated by unreliable goat-felching bastards you never even met who aren’t paying their bills.

 

Some people are poor because they weren’t born with money and haven’t made it yet. Others are poor because they can’t count and are crap with money. But then there are those who are poor because they share houses with bastards who refuse to honour their commitments or plan or budget and instead just suck the life out of anyone who comes anywhere near them. I fucking hate these bastards. I want to make them pay. I want to kill them. I want to fuckin’ kill them! I WANT TO FUCK AND KILL THEM!!!

11 Shit Things That Make Share-Living Suck – #6

Posted in 11 Shit Things That Make Share-house Living Suck. with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 8, 2008 by Buck Frain

#6. Burning The Midnight Toast.

 

This particular share-house phenomenon took its name from a quite inoffensive event. After a suitably boozy night when several members of the house had returned late from their respective nights out, we arose to find two ice-cold pieces of blackened toast sticking out of the top of the toaster. Beside the toaster sat the butter and there was an unused butter knife on the counter over an open cutlery drawer. The evidence all pointed to someone being so heavily shit-pantsed that they’d decided to make toast but either forgot the cause part-way through, or weren’t up to completing the task and just went off to bed. As each member of the house surfaced, they were asked: 

Hey, who was burning the midnight toast last night?

 

It was loveably roguish behaviour and burning the midnight toast made its way into the household’s vernacular as a euphemism for any strange domestic rearrangements that may have taken place overnight, possibly under the influence of intoxicants.

 

Unfortunately, the term began to lose its lustre as it became used as an excuse for all sorts of unpleasant indiscretions. The following are all 100% genuine questions we had to, and did, ask house-mates over the course of several months:

 

Excuse me, do you know who…

 

     …left an uncooked cake in the oven?

 

     …owns the dildo on the couch?

 

     …kicked over the stereo?

 

     …ordered a prostitute?

 

     …screamed abuse at the neighbours last night?

 

     …left a used condom on the kitchen floor?

 

     …tried to poke vomit down the plug-hole in the bathtub?

 

     …had a piss in the fridge?

 

It’s bad, bad, bad, wrong, wrong, WRONG!!! Everyone has their moments and most people burn the midnight toast at some point but there are limits, people, FUCKING LIMITS!!! Get help, get counselling, go to rehab, leave me the stomped-ballbag alone because I don’t want to fucking well live with you filthy fucking animals ANY-CUNTING-MORE!!!

11 Shit Things That Make Share-House Living Suck – #4

Posted in 11 Shit Things That Make Share-house Living Suck. with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 4, 2008 by Buck Frain

#4. Sleep Deprivation & Forced Live Audio Porn.

 

In retrospect, the polished floorboards in the entrance hall weren’t as great an idea as they looked. When every bedroom comes off the hallway they turned out to be a complete hedgehog-stuffed-rectum amplifying even the most discreet of entrances into major seismic events. Fuck you, aesthetics! It was a bad call – go for carpet next time!

 

That’s just life, the stuff that really sand-papers my nob, however, is the blatant lack of consideration shown by supposedly civilised adults to their co-habitants. I don’t mind GTA at 3am, if I didn’t have to be up in three hours it could be me sitting in the living room belting ‘round in a stolen Camaro running over innocent bystanders and shooting gangsters. What I mind is that it’s at a volume that has the bass rattling the window in my bedroom. What the shit is wrong with you? Are you deaf? Did you forget that you don’t live alone?

 

There are various permutations of this sort of selfishness, random 4am techno music, the bastard-o’clock* pissed domestic dispute.

You’re a fuckin’ cunt! You never loved me, you just haven’t got the balls to tell me to my face!!! Have ya? Nah, I didn’t think so!

 

Let go a mah fuckin’ hair ya mad bitch! Jesus, why d’you fuckin’ reckon I drink? Couldn’t put up wi’ your shit sober!

 

I’m not stupid enough to leave my room to find out who’s stuff they’re smashing, I’ll just make sure I remember to put on shoes before I go to the loo. Even worse than the domestics though, is the forced live audio porn show. Maybe I should blame architects for poor sound insulation but – fuck it – you know you live with other people. I’m all for people having fulfilling sex lives but when I feel like I’m on the fucking sideline and all I want to do is sleep, it’s fucked. The last thing I need is to hear my nineteen year old house-mate brutally training her new beau in the delicate art of cunnilingus.

No, there. No…no…no, get over here…here!!! *slap* OW! Don’t fuckin’ bite it! Lick it, dickhead! There. There. Yeah! NO!!! *slap* There…put your finger in! No! Like this…yeah? Yeah…that’s it…yeah…no, there…NO!!! *slap slap slap* Well?…get back down!

 

Poor bastard had the absolute piss slapped out of him. He didn’t last. I admire a girl who knows what she wants but not when I’m trying to sleep. She was scary, she woke me up one night and I thought I was next-door to The Exorcist.

Fuck me Jesus! Fuck me hard, Jesus! Ooh, harder, Jesus!

 

I’m serious – she was actually calling him Jesus, not just blaspheming-in-the-heat-of-passion. I saw Jesus the next morning – his name was Brian…he didn’t even have a beard!

 

I had a room for a while next to a guy who always got himself into trouble for trying to slip his female visitors a backdoor surprise. He got a lot of very colourful reactions including a nasty cut above his eye that needed five stitches. On the other side, he once ended up with a young Greek girl he couldn’t shake for about six months, she didn’t seem to like him at all as a person – not many people did – but he had certainly touched a nerve with her.

 

I suppose it’s all terribly comical when it’s not you, isn’t it? Yeah, ha-ha-cunting-ha! But what if it is you? What if you get no sleep at all? What if you then have to do a full day’s work or uni or both and then come back to a quiet house only to have it all start again as soon as you’ve fallen asleep? It would become wearing, don’t you think? Just a bit? Sleep deprivation does bad things to people. It does very bad things to the brain and caffeine alone cannot fix them, no no no it can’t. SHUTTUP!!! IT FUCKIN’ CAN’T!!! You get too many sleepless nights due to the selfishness of the deviates you live with and you can start to lose that easy-going approach to communal living. You can get snappy, unfriendly…violent even. I don’t know, maybe I’m just a bad and intolerant person but I need my sleep. I FUCKING NEED IT!!! SO, IF YOU DON’T LET ME SLEEP, I’LL KILL YOU ALL, YOU CUNTY, CUNTY, COCK-STAPLING FUCK-FREAKS!!!

 

* Bastard o’clock –  The hour of the morning when you realise there’s too much light in the sky for there to be any hope of feeling even vaguely normal at any point during the next 24 hours.

Muti-tasking Or Being A Useless Twat?

Posted in Random Shit That Gives Me The Cunt with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 17, 2008 by Buck Frain

Multi-tasking. What the fuck is the modern obsession with doing 50 million things at once? I don’t fucking get it! Yes, life is busy. Yes, the world is moving faster than it did before people had mobile phones, wi-fi internet or the wheel. But, seriously, are you saving time by doing a half-arsed job of a bunch of things? What the cunt are you doing?

 

 

It makes me sick. I’m a singular focus person. I like dedicating myself to a single thing and doing it properly before moving on to the next thing. I’m also a guy and doing more than one thing usually fucks me up. Women seem to be better at multi-tasking and good luck to them. I draw the line at walking while listening to music or watching telly while drinking beer, that’s the limit for me. Whatever! The thing that nauseates me, like a floating turd in my breakfast cereal, is the useless cunts who insist of multi-tasking at the expense of both tasks.

 

 

The attention-deficit FUCKHEADS who try to compose text messages while riding bicycles. These are truly useless people and I want to buy a big car just to run the fuckers over. No clue! No fucking clue where they’re going, what’s around them and I dread to even think about the spelling in their stupid messages. They cunt along at walking pace all over the road like they’re just screaming to the world: KILL ME NOW!!! Oh no, I better answer the message now or my pathetic social life will crumble. Ooh, no but I’d better not stop pedaling or time will stop and I’ll miss my vegan-sexual-philosophy tutorial. DIE!!!

 

 

DECIDE!!! Text OR ride! Not both! You’re not saving time. If you stop, type and send your message, then start riding again, you’ll be riding faster and you won’t give everyone around you the steaming shits by forcing the guilt of manslaughter on them, and the person who gets the message may even understand it. What the fuck is the point in fucking up both tasks? It fills me with boundless fury. They don’t deserve the oxygen they’re wasting on their atrophied brains. They should be legally designated outlets for public indignation and repressed rage. I want to snatch your stupid phone out of your hand and smash it on the road, and when you come back around to ask me in your neo-hippy-passive-aggressive way what my problem is, I want to swipe you off your bike with my cricket bat and smash your chinless body into a greasy paste in the bike lane!

 

 

Multi-tasking is bullshit, except when done by girls…sometimes, and only because they can make it work. Note the word can, they can make it work, and if they do – fine. Anyone who can’t should abstain from it and just learn to fucking well PRIORITISE!!!

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