The name's Peter. From New Jersey. 22 years old. Absurdly sarcastic. Read much more in my "about me" by clicking on the link below. =) Side note: Many people are wondering why there are no "non-anon" questions on my blog. It's because I answer them privately so my blog doesn't get overwhelmed with questions. Side side note: I don't do promos. Side side side note: I don't reblog unless the post is something I really feel needs to be seen.
**Automatic thought** “OMG, THE COOK’S PUBE.”
WHICH LAZY ASSHOLE IN THIS HOUSE WASHED THE DISHES!?!?
Society’s obsession with looking perfect is one that is has been steadily worsening for quite some time. Not only is this detrimental to one’s mental health, it’s also proving to be detrimental to one’s ability to look like a fucking human, in the case of many celebrities.
Instead of accepting themselves, they get their lips plumped up to look like they were kneed in the mouth by a quarterback, their boobs enlarged to look like overfilled beach-balls, and their faces nipped, tucked, pulled, and plucked to look like they’ve just survived a massive fire and/or possible explosion (in Michael Jackson’s case — too soon? Who cares.).
Here are two disasters to examine:
Up first is the queen of plastic surgery. Her nose looks like it belongs in Whoville and her facial skin looks like it was grafted from a horse-saddle. With one look at this over-stretched kisser, children are reduced to tears and barnyard animals scatter. Yes, it’s Joan Rivers.
What a looker.
Next up is the world’s first supermodel, Janice Dickinson. She was stunningly gorgeous in her prime, but has since gone from supermodel to supergross. Her lips look like a baboon’s ass, her boobs like poorly-filled, crease-ridden water balloons, and her facial structure is beginning to resemble that of the Crypt Keeper’s.
Time to pack it in, Janice.
The moral of the story? Stop obsessing with perfection. It’s an abstract, non-existent notion that does nothing but create unattainable expectations and wreak havoc on one’s self-worth. And obviously, plastic surgery is (more often than not) a terrible idea, as demonstrated by the frightening catastrophes above. Don’t change yourself to appeal to what society deems “attractive.” Play the cards you’re dealt, accept yourself, and be happy.
I understand your constant desire/pressure to look sexy, but I think the term “sexy” is more and more frequently being confused with slutty, and downright nasty. Although I could go on and on about the many manifestations of nastiness that I witness on a daily basis, I’m going to limit my discussion to the most repulsive of all: cameltoes. I’m aware that this isn’t the most classy subject to discuss and I unapologetically apologize for that, but since when has a little repugnance stopped me before?
As I was saying, I find cameltoes to be absolutely nauseating, and each time I see one, I always manage to unexpectedly vomit a little in my mouth. Not enough to come spewing out, but just enough to catch my attention. I mean, wearing tight pants is fine, but if they’re so tight that you have a cameltoe big enough for a fucking grasshopper to hitch a ride in, you need to go home and think of a new game plan. How desperate for attention can one slut be? And more importantly, is the rest of your body so repulsive that you have to give us an all-inclusive sneak peek at your blatant beaver? So please, for the sake of the eyes of decent guys who don’t think with their second head; and for the sake of my mouth, which has endured far too many mini-puke-attacks, check your nether-regions before you go out and make sure that nothing resembling the coin slot of a Las Vegas slot machine is visible. Thanks.
Does anyone else find the “Twilight” series as ridiculous as I do? This is the voice that plays in my head every time I hear someone mention it: “Twilight: The story of a young girl choosing whether to commit bestiality or necrophilia.” In laymen’s terms, it’s the story of a girl torn between the decision to pork a dead guy or a wolf. Recounting such a heartfelt story makes me all warm and tingly inside. If you didn’t catch the sarcasm (in which case you should probably introduce your head to the nearest wall), that translates to: I’d rather be hung upside-down by piano wire over an erupting volcano than read/watch that rubbish (no I’m not British, but I like that word).
There are a lot of things in this world that make me shake my head in awe and disgust. Up near the top of the list are girls with sharpie eyebrows. Yes, these are the girls who shave off their existing eyebrows and then draw on new ones with a fucking black or brown sharpie. Why? Just why? They look like evil ghetto clowns that spend their days and nights scaring the weaves off unsuspecting children in the projects. How do these girls look at themselves in the mirror and say: “now THERE’S A LOOK!”?
Exhibit A (below):
Lookin’ good, girl. Lookin’ good.