Cruel

Non-alcoholic fatty liver disease (NAFLD) is the name of the bitch who’s out to get me. There is no treatment for this. The only thing one can do to try and control this disease is…

Exercise

Low fat diet

Less joy

So I came up with a few more innovative expansions for NAFLD

Nothing but a fucking load of dicks

National football league disaster

No ant-eater food allowed

Nice ass faulty liver too bad

Newton’s apple force for little dicks

Nosy aunt’s foot loose syndrome

I hear everything

The sound of wind on another planet gives me shivers. The emptiness makes me uneasy. It sounds so desolate. So dark and gloomy. So poetic. I love it. Having said that, there could very well be a tiny little alien jerking off right behind the camera.

I spent 3 hours on a boat with a bearded man

What is Kumarakom, and how do you find it? Easy, you get a map, burn it, and go where the ash takes you. You see, the main reason why I’m blogging today is because I was ghosted by a very attractive woman. I spent 3 hours on a boat with my best friend (very hairy) who is getting married this week. We watched little baby ducks play in the water. It doesn’t get more manlier than this.

Kumarakom, Kerala, India

Now here’s a question. Is the title of this post a click-bait, or are you just a closet-pervert ?

English failure

The IELTS test. What is it? What went wrong? Why?

I’d like to begin this segment by just saying FUCK. FUCK FUCKITTY FUCK FUCK.

Ahem…now that that’s out of they way, lets get to the details. The IELTS is a standardized test…oh who gives a shit? Just google it. I can’t believe I’ve been writing this shitty blog for fucking 5 years, and I still can’t write a letter to a friend inviting him for my damn birthday party. Unbelievable. The air conditioning in the exam hall was kept so low, my fingers wouldn’t move. It was so cold, if I peed, little yellow ice sickles would pop out.

Hairs

Last night I dreamt that I was abducted by a cult, while attending a detoxing retreat. These were young men clad in red cloth, with bald heads. Their preferred method of torture was the electric chair. They also smiled a lot, which only made it worse. While I was being transported by train, possibly for slave work, I managed to escape. I came across a group of construction workers, but quickly realized they were in on it too. So I stole a moped, and rode at a blazing 40 km/hr speed until I came across a police check post. A man armed with a generic bad-guy rifle came forward. I could not understand anything from the see-saw motion of his gigantic mustache. As soon as I saw him speak into his radio, I realized what was going on. My instincts kicked in, and I wet my pants. I ran to the bike, backed it up by a good 100 meters, and went straight for the gate. Then I woke up. I checked my ass for mustache hair, and went on with my day.

I’m thinking now

I found a very very very interesting video.

Here are my thoughts immediately after watching the video:

Let me try to put myself in the shoes of someone who’s gender identity is different from their physical characteristics. Oh wait, I can’t do that because I identify as a guy both physically and mentally. There is no way I can tell what these people go through. Okay, let me try to put myself in their shoes for a minute, maybe without the socks, but still a shoe. Suppose I identify as a girl, but my dick…you know… exists. I want to use the ladies room. I go to the room, and someone says, “you can’t be in here”. Wait…this is not going to work. Maybe I should switch it. I am a woman, I mean I look like a woman, I identify as a woman, but I got a dick. So I go to the men’s room, and a guy there says “you can’t be here” (things make more sense now). I would feel mad. I would be angry. But I feel like the whole issue is far more deeper than this. Maybe I need more context.