full of reet smarmy little cunts of late, and any amount of closet cases, the really, really aggravating type though. The type that'll sit and jip the "dykes" and the "puffs" that've actually come to terms with their preferance in genitalia, but sit at home with a face full of make up and wank over Chris Crocker and the Jonas brothers. Errrrrr what, we're ny on 18 man. you should've established by now wether you like cock in your arse. It's not like they even make the effort to hide it, the nails down a blackboard -esque, clearly put on camp accents and the garage door jazz hands gave it away about 3 years ago.
Erg, all the Doyles from school that you try to avoid and their twelve million farmville requests as well, and the incessant invites asking you to join "BLOKES WHO HIT LASSES ARE TOSSERS" groups. I wish Myspace hadn't died, it was much more personal than Facebook, and more reserved for those with more than 3 braincells to rub together, or so i found at least.
Blogging about social networking sites, lawl. Where did my life go?
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