It sucks to be me


Every day, when I come home from work, I enter into my pig-pen of an apartment that I have affectionately named “The Fortress of Solitude”. It’s not the fortress of solitude that Superman spent his summer vacations banging Lois Lane. Oh no, my friend. It is a place that I spend the bulk of my time–in silence.

I utter nothing–for I have no friends. I do, however, have friends on Twitter and Facebook–but, with friends like these who in the hell needs enemies.

Everybody wants something …
Some philosophical nut-job once said that, “…money is the root of all evil”. In my opinion, that person was a homosexual who never experienced a woman, and the power she posses in between her legs! Yeah, I said it–women are fucking powerful! Men still make more money, but women can get what they want just by wearing a short skirt and a pair of pumps.

I had the object of my affection come up to me and ask me what I was doing for the weekend.

*grin* *composure* *try not to sweat* *thinks to self-I think she’s going to ask me out!*

“Ah, I’m probably going to do nothing.”
“Oh great!” she said with a smile, “I’m moving out of my apartment on Saturday, and I can really use some help.”

*FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKK*

“Sure, I can help you. That sounds like a lot of fun” I said with a pussy-face smile.
“Great, my boyfriend and I can’t wait to see you!” she said, and when she turned away I banged my fucking head against the table fifteen times!

Ain’t that a bitch, but that is what I get for acting like a chick. I’m a man, dammit!! I should act like one!

I spent a teeny-weeny bit of my time writing an ineffective blog, and I’m always getting some blowjob who messages me,
“Oh, can you please read my blog and help me out?”
My first reaction is to say NO!…but I’m a pussy…”Sure!”
I put in the time, and in the end I get nothing. I’m just a pawn, but you come back for more.

You beg for my help because you are in a verbal altercation with some other blowjob on Twitter, and you need me to defend your weak ass. I just keep saying to myself, “You got to be shitting me? You’re DM’ing me because someone is making fun of you?

There is more to life than Twitter!

I guess it doesn’t suck to be me, and on that note I’m off to go spank my monkey to how many Twitter followers I have.

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