An Exercise

There is something to be said for the fact that every time I go onto any website like Facebook.com or MySpace.com I am utterly disgusted by the things that I see before my eyes with people putting up pictures of their craziest nights out or their insightful and model-esque self-portraits or the ones who take the cake the guys who simply pose flexing their six-pack like anybody gives a shit about how many situps you can do because really all you are doing with your life is working at Hollywood Video and renting movies and working on that six-pack while I have to sit here and taint my level 12 intellect with the mental equivalent of pissing on an electric fence because in the process of putting rims on your Ford Explorer Mr. Six-Pack you haave lost any sort of ability to accurately and personally socialize so you send out messages "To all the LADIEZ" and hope that you can rustle up a date that you will undoubtedly fuck up by talking too much about yourself and your truck and how badass you think Bodybuilding.com is and how someday you hope to open your own vitamin shop or maybe you'll go out and finally finally finally get your GED so something in your life can be written on paper and you won't fade into complete oblivion like sands on the desert horizon. There is something to be said for this.