I wonder what we’ll find on Rupert Murdoch’s cell after we hack it when he’s dead.

I know for damn sure we won’t be deleting any of the messages as he did. Except maybe that sext he sent about how he has a handful of Viagra ready.

"Kevin, you’re such a disease."

Cults

This album is only 34 minutes in duration, but quite nice.

Link <—-

We’ve been classy for much too long.

Let’s make out.

Pseudo Sami

I’m not normally into gore-porn movies, they make me want to upchuck. Not in the sense that it makes me queasy, but just how cheesy it all is. Albeit, I saw 13 Assassins last week, and I’ve made it my goal, or side project, to be a samurai. I’ve begun gathering all the tools.

A sword version of this baller knife.

Instead of the traditional samurai garments, I want to be donned like one of the Crazy 88. I mean…come on, being a badass in a tailored navy suit versus looking like an asian Cabbage Patch Kid with a haircut done by it’s scissor happy 3 year old owner. 

Pretentious

Is what I am when I say: You’re an idiot if you derive any enjoyment from [insert American wide release film].

Then I raise my nose and say that Oldboy is phenomenal and recommend it as if watching it would cure [sliced bread] and is the greatest thing since [polio].

Call me a douche? Humor me? Could anyone please correct my logic?  

There hasn’t been a post because I’m a douche.

That’s all I’ve been doing this summer… accumulating stories where it began with me being an asshole to assholes. Albeit, I now know I’m just an asshole.

I ain’t mad tho.

So I get a ‘lil bored…

And I decide to make a small social experiment with OkCupid. Creating a fake profile.

I’ve read women’s profiles and they state that their lady parts are being holla’d at by men with terrible grammar and being exposed to skeeveyness. NO SHIT. It’s much easier for ANYONE to be classless than to take the time to be genuine, write a nice message, and not be a douche-bag.

Well, I wanted to see for myself just how terrible the messages women are receiving actually are. I present to you screen-caps of one particular butt-hurt bro. The fake profile is listed as bisexual (and by-sexual I mean he’ll/she’ll fuck anything…lame pun) and in the “You Should Message Me If” field it states that I’m only looking for women. I state that because I noticed that men would message regardless and I was curious how women send messages as opposed to men. It’s pretty fucking similar, but women tend to at least show off their fifth grade writing capabilities. 

Be sure to give me a response/reply, whether it be: You’re a creep. That’s hilarious. WHATEVER, I’d like to know what you’re thinking. Sincerely.

I can’t decide which type of night I prefer over the other

1) I wear my navy suit pant with brown leather wing tips and tie, donned in handsome and charm, and equipped with my silk/witty/sharp tongue. Arrive at the lovely lady’s home, open my car door for her, and I take her to an amazing five-course Italian dinner. Relevant banter - we swing dance the night away, and of course…sweep her off her feet. I end the night with a smooch.

 2) Sweat pants (sans undies) and band-t. Pick up girl. Get road dome. My place. Ganja. Adventure Time. iTunes on shuffle. Fuck. 

I’ve experienced both, have not exhausted those situations, and unfortunately have not had both of those as a happenstance together.

Unabashed debauchery

My comrades and I created a flaming shot where we set the drinks aflame via the almighty dollar. We justifiably christened it: The Money Shot.

I’m watching Casino again and…

Just the sunglasses worn throughout the film. FABULOUS. 

When will I be Robert De Niro?  ;___;