depo medrol costo widen Please!!! Notice me!! No, don’t notice me, for I am shy!!! Now, NOTICE ME AGAIN!!! I don’t need glasses by the way. Now don’t look at me.
attain nolvadex price in india We all do it, but some just do it way more than others. The lonely little bachelor, the cat loving eccentric, and the ‘look-at-me’ teenager.
“Just had some gravy” and “The moon is quite high today” or “Making tea” etc etc. And what amazes me is the amount of ‘likes’ and comments that are generated from then pointless fucking drivel. I post something about my endeavours as a writer and although I get some likes from some much valued followers, there are a much higher proportion of likes going on comments regarding someone getting drunk again. That drunk probably going on to beat their partner to a bloody pulp, off their tits on ‘likes’ and comments such as “Nice one” and “Me too!”
karlsruhe frauen treffen “Man, I am drinking so much beer! I don’t even get hangovers! All I get the next day is a headache, feel sick, very tired, dehydrated, and feel shit. But nope, I am hard and do NOT get hangovers!”
rencontre serieuse 63 I am not saying don’t do it, but we don’t need a fucking monologue of your god damn life. Also… twitter… twitter is for that shit (and not cutting and pasting philosophers cheeky thought-provoking shit like “if a bear is blown to pieces by its own inability to release gas build up from digestion will it actually have existed”) Just slow down tiger, one pointless comment per day.
rencontre filles montreal HAVE to be kind of ambiguous because of you adding fucking millions of people as friends, including managers and members of the HR department etc. You idiot! I suppose you also do have the issue where you are NOT being Facebook friends with managers and HR departments but are ratted out by some snivel-nosed little sad twat that decides to report you to make themselves feel good. They thrive off your sadness. You can thank Facebook for your now futile attempts at trying to get a new job. In this situation, my advice, just be friends with actual friends! People that care about you! Then make your profile as god damn private as you can! Or, failing that, do what I have done and set up a private group where you can complain on a regular basis AND include the name of the bastard that is fucking you off!
https://distillery244.com/frnew1/5989 Dickheads are everywhere! They live in houses near to you. They lurk among your social circle. You can see them walking down the street. The annoying sons of bitches are even among your family. Maybe YOU are a dickhead! I’m not.
Dickheads are different to dicks. Dicks are the sort of people who are scathing and annoying. Nobody likes them. They are arrogant. They are dicks. No there is a big difference between dicks and dickheads, and right now I am talking about dickheads.
The words pretentious and attention seeking summarise them pretty well. They are guy and girls that can’t quite decide whether they are living in the 70s, 80s or 90s… even bits of the 60s are in there! They are alternative. Nothing wrong with being alternative but fucking pace yourself. Take it easy. No need to shove it down everyone’s throats.
“Look at me! Look at me!! I am SOOO fucking fashionable by being unfashionable!” Dickhead.
They are easy to spot. Both the male and the female version of this annoying killable beast. Places like Urban Outfitters tend to be a rutting ground for them. Their quiffs, their sockless feet stuffed into pie-crust shoes, their really, REALLY thick rimmed glasses (which they do not need), their vintage jacket seven sizes too small for them. These things disgust me when combined.
Back in the good old days of Blur and Oasis, there was a massive increase in retro types all drifting around with the smell of a pensioners house emanating from their clothes. Hair was fashioned into a Lego style and flared trousers were the way to go. Fake accents were splurging from their lips. These were not dickheads. These were the ingredients. These were the left nutt.
Much later the Indie sound morphed and became mainstream. It was no longer indie and as things mixed and blended 80s shit got mixed in. Synth became ‘cool’ along with ‘8-bit’ chip sounding stuff. This was muddled up with the indie look. Next add a bobble hat with massive earmuffs. A dickhead is born.
Pink shirts on guys, trilbys on girls, trousers so tight that they will sterilise both sexes, classic rock shirts on people who don’t like rock, dressing like a geek but not being one (nothing wrong with being a geek for real). Dickheads. Blokes with plunging v-necks that almost reach their naval, exposing their birdcage chest. Dickheads!
What is the god damn point in wearing JUST frames. Right now I am wearing lensless contact lenses…
Any person that you see walking down the street that is dressed like a fucking lost property box that has not been emptied since the 60s AND has exploded all over them deserves to be ignored. Yes, ignore them. They WANT you to look at them and go, “Oh, I wish I had the courage to wear those delightful threads.” I know we are not thinking this at all BUT dickheads are totally fucking ignorant to their surroundings. They actually believe that they are the second coming of Christ and the worst thing that you can do in both scenarios is to look away or break wind near them.
If you are unfortunate enough to have a dickhead in your social circle then you know that you are not as great as them. You picked up a copy of the latest album by a band you really like! WELL Dickhead has a ltd edition signed version that was only made available for 32 seconds. Would have been much nicer if the dickhead was to join in the conversation that you were having instead defeating you in a battle you didn’t know you were having.
As I write this, a dickhead has literally just walked past me. He was wearing skin-tight jeans, a blue dog-tooth suit jacket WITH blue shiny elbow patches. His wafer thin upper body is clothed with a red, white and blue shirt. His hair was thick and air-blowed back into a colossal ‘bike helmet’ and as he walked he actually put a little ‘bob’ in his step so that the hair moved like a punchable brown cloud. Fucking dickhead.
Ignore the dickhead. IGNORE THEM! They feed like vampires from your annoyed attention.
Still, if my vagina only had one go left in it I would probably let him take a shot whilst I whispered into his ear (if I can reach it under that bouffant) “you are a dickhead and your penis feels like a dead worm.”
I am not a dickhead for writing this but perhaps I am a dick. I don’t care though because the only person in this scenario that I am going to offend is a dickhead. Fuck you dickhead.
This video and song sums it all up perfectly. See how many of these apply to you.