I was thinkin', shaving my legs sucks. Once when I was a kid, my first step mom told me that the reason we shave our legs now is because prostitutes in the Old West used to shave off said fur off their gams. You know, like smooth for his pleasure. Yeah, cause that's all a roughed-up, old, gnarly, grizzled cowboy wants is smooth, lady legs.
Anyway, I was commiserating with Number Five today, and as we were eating Fruit Loops out of the box with our hairy legs kicked up on her table to see who had hairier legs or hobbit feet (I win!), we were talking about hair removal. We were talking about ripping it out with molten wax, using a "laser",
or just continuing on with our normal routine of using an extremely sharpened slice of steel to cut hair off, I dunno, like half our bodily surfaces. Totally safe right. That's when I had the idea! The idea that's gonna change my life. I totally thought of it when I was looking at my pits. Cause pits are stinky, and hairy pits are stinky, and squirrel, and you know who has stinky, hairy pits?
Scummy hippies!!!
Also, if you want to keep reading, I'll throw you some Existentialism with Ashley.
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So, those hippies rocked harder than anyone. They totally lived life like life was given to you to live, not given to you to waste away on computers, she says while typing away at a computer. But I was wondering, are we hurting ourselves by reaching broader audiences easier. What is there to strive for, to live life for? Where do ambitions come from now? And what's next? If someone in Bangladesh can read my blog about hippies, where's my ambition to reach a wider audience, to "get my message out there"? Then I think about all of the brain power we waste on these idiot machines and how, essentially, our lives are stored and lived out in megs of stuff or yaks or rams or something, but basically that we can smush our entire lives, our whole being, into a teeny tiny computer chip the size of a finger nail. Whoa! That's heavy. I don't want to be a computer chip full of compressed data though. I want to twirl around and spread my arms out and soak up the sun, you know, all that scummy hippie stuff. And I realize that when I say "hippie" what I really mean is the romanticized version of hippies we're all fed now. I'm not an effing retard, I know that it wasn't always sunshine and roses, but by god the romanticized hippies sure seemed to enjoy... everything.
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