Filed under: This Is Pointless | Tags: bullshit, entertainment, I hate Adam Lambert, issues, music, sex addiction, wtf, you rage you lose
I seriously thought this was a joke. And then I found out that this song is currently number one on the charts. What the fuck is wrong with America? My heroes eat shits like this for a pre-breakfast snack.
I’d rather hear about Tiger Woods’ and Jesse James’ perils with their made-up sex addictions than hear this song or see Adam Lambert’s face ever again.
Help build a better tomorrow, take down Adam Lambert today.
Sincerely,
Dacoda.
Or at least, I hate going to them. And I don’t go unless I absolutely need to. Like verge of death status. I don’t like the nerve-wracking-ness of the waiting room. Or the essential weighing before seeing the doctor, especially when you try to make it a point to never weigh yourself in order to be a little happier and content. And then you wait and wait and wait. Sitting on a paper covered seat and reading everything you can see in the exam room while you wait for the doctor to ask you awkward questions, poke and prod you, run tests, and tell you it’s either something tiny and here’s a prescription for some antibiotics, or tell you that it’s amazing you’re not dead yet.
I need to see a doctor. But I probably won’t. I’ve had a sore throat for two weeks. No other symptoms. It could very likely be strep, but the hypochondriac in me is screaming throat cancer. I take 6+ ibuprofen a day so I won’t notice it and try not to think about it. I haven’t taken anything in three days, and I want to rip my throat out and feed it to something that deserves to die from throat uckies. It hurts. A shit ton. Even eating delicious cheesecake wouldn’t be worth the pain.
I’m hoping it’ll turn out like my back thing. Over a year and a half ago, I somehow fucked up my back terribly. I couldn’t breathe, move any part of my body, or actually even lay still, without it hurting. And of course I never went to a chiropractor or anything. And now my back always, always aches. It’s in the back of my mind, but I’m always conscious of it. I definitely think my quality of life would significantly improve if I got it checked out and had my back whipped into shape. But I hate doctors. So it’ll probably never happen.
Maybe, just maybe, I’ll get over my throat thing enough to be able to live with it and accept it as being normal.
Or maybe in a couple years I’ll just get tired of it all and rip out my spine and throat and make a really nice modern art piece.
Dacoda.
