Monday, July 4, 2016

TINY TASTE


Cheapen the word with advertisement, anodyne. The word cannot stand on its own. The word is drunk off her ass from sangria and tequila shots and is wobbling to her boyfriend’s car in Payless platforms. Oh she thinks she’s quite a hot bitch but the word is actually a self-absorbed fucktard incapable of clearing fogged cobwebbed mind of years of Southern Baptist programming and American media saturation. Fucking Helen Gurley Brown and her tawdry love affair with italics. Keep Your Man With Blow Jobs That Will Blow His Mind, Darling! Fucking Hugh Hefner and his terrible taste in women. Fucking Charlie’s Angels. Fucking Scooby Doo. Fucking Gilligan. Fucking Wally Cleaver. Fucking Arthur Herbert Fonzarelli. A tiny infinity of Lifetime movies, color coded sitcoms, self-help books, the dating life of Leonardo DiCaprio, the love life of Brad Pitt, the sex life of Charlie Sheen, expired orgasm coupons, regurgitated words of love, idiotic ramblings of booty call nation, trying to adore men with halitosis, trying to commit to men with mommy issues, those thirty extra pounds, soul mate mythology, the kama sutra in five positions or less, astro.com, Mars and Venus conjunct in Gemini, sun and Jupiter conjunct in Virgo, Gin Blossoms, Matchbox Twenty, HPV, organic kink aisle at Whole Foods, Kim Kardashian’s Twitter feed, The Billy Madison Show, bottom shelf moscato, leaving face wash at his place to stake some kind of pathetic claim.

The word is an illiterate bimbo. She tries really hard but comes across as a pale imitation of Erica Jong meets Anais Nin meets Sandra Cisneros on a really bad hair day. Fuck the word. Fuck the word so fucking fucking hard.

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