Day Two of Blogging ^.^

>.<

Okay, so, honestly, I thought this blogging thing would be funner, but then again, I haven't really 'advertised' my page thing, really.

Anyways, onward with my award ramblings.

So, today I have a rant for anyone who's willing to listen, er...read. I shall introduce this rant properly. . .

 RANT: FAKE PEOPLE

I just love bold font. Anyhow, on with my rant. Let's see, where shall I start? Oh, I know, how about those living, breathing Barbies, well, at least I think they're living.

YOU'RE NOT A FREAKING DOLL, HONEY. SHUT THE MACADAMIA NUT UP ABOUT YOURSELF. There, now that we have that out into the air, we shall rant.
Why, why, why, must I find these people EVERYWHERE!? I rarely meet a cool girl who doesn't care about her make-up or hair. Like holy bedsheets, what is up with you guys?

It seems that the world is overflowing with an abundance of clones, plastic ones at that, and I just cannot seem to take it. My head is throbbing, like, why?

Okay, I understand ^ that ^ made zero sense, but it was fun to type. It's kinda Jack Douglass's fault since I'm watching YGS. I strongly recommend it if you love yourself.



Okay, okay, bunny trail (what does that even mean?), back into the topic:

And, okay, even if there's too many brainless clones in the world, I could learn to be okay with that lie. i'd probably die of overwhelming hatred for humanity, but seriously, why are there so few awesome people? Why is everyone trying to be a Hollister model? Like, what the freaking damnation location, bros?

And dudes, it's you too! Guys are usually better, but there's always that crew of guys that's trying to be, like, "swag" or "yolo" or something? What is that? No, bro, I don't care if you have a freakin' eight pack, six pack, or even four pack xD I just want to be able to eat without worrying about if there's anything on my face. And joke about farts and stuff. That stuff is cool. I don't care if you have the newest phone, or a nice haircut, or those stupid baseball caps, or even straight teeth (fresh breath is mandatory, though). Okay? Okay.

And parents, where are you? Do you realize that your daughter's butt is hanging out? Isn't she like, eight? When I was eight, I lived in summer dresses, even in the winter. . .okay, maybe that's weird, but seriously, girls dress WAAAAAAAAAAAY too sexy. You're not 25, kid, you're 12. And remember, however you catch 'em, is how you keep 'em. Just saying.

M'kay, I guess I'm done, though I know that I could say more.

Now that I'm re-reading this, I realize it has virtually nothing to do with fake people. Oh well.

Bai.