Ever get sick of living in such a materialistic society? Countless advertising consultants have spent thousands of hours learning just how to convince us to pay money for crap we don't need. It's useless to resist. We're doomed.
Surround sound, 7.1 megapixel, Reidel martini glasses, Prada anything, leather case for my iPod (it was a gift, shut up!), high-def flat-panel plasma screen, Escalades... none of it makes any difference. (But since I work on digital TV software, that's a different story. HDTV i's very nice, people. Buy it.)
It's summer now and gorgeous outside and I'll admit to lusting after every motorcycle I see ride by. In this case the advertising executives have convinced us that such a purchase is a very dedicated (yet high-priced) way of shaking one's fist at the man, blinding us to the irony. Genius! Be a rebel and stimulate the economy at the same time! I want to buy a brand new one and spend my entire paycheck on shiney chrome accessories with skulls on it and spend all day riding up and down the same streets. It's so juvenile I can barely stand myself. That would do me as much good as a cordless jumprope.
I drive a Volkswagen Golf. It does nothing to enhance other's perception of my penis.
I remember thinking, when in high school and college, that by the time I was out of school and had a real job that I'd finally have the money to afford all of the crap I was convinced I needed. Seems like the exact opposite is true, I had more spending money in college than I ever have since. I might not be able to whisk away to Monaco or buy that 911 Turbo I'd look so good in (now we're talkin' bout enhanced perception, yeah!), but I think I'll survive.
Here's a picture of me when I was little:
Alright, no, I can't do it; I ain't claiming them suspenders.
Join me again later, when I rant about petroleum products, discuss my inexplicable sports bra fetish, and share an amusing yet long-winded story about bovine semen collection.
Surround sound, 7.1 megapixel, Reidel martini glasses, Prada anything, leather case for my iPod (it was a gift, shut up!), high-def flat-panel plasma screen, Escalades... none of it makes any difference. (But since I work on digital TV software, that's a different story. HDTV i's very nice, people. Buy it.)
It's summer now and gorgeous outside and I'll admit to lusting after every motorcycle I see ride by. In this case the advertising executives have convinced us that such a purchase is a very dedicated (yet high-priced) way of shaking one's fist at the man, blinding us to the irony. Genius! Be a rebel and stimulate the economy at the same time! I want to buy a brand new one and spend my entire paycheck on shiney chrome accessories with skulls on it and spend all day riding up and down the same streets. It's so juvenile I can barely stand myself. That would do me as much good as a cordless jumprope.
I drive a Volkswagen Golf. It does nothing to enhance other's perception of my penis.
I remember thinking, when in high school and college, that by the time I was out of school and had a real job that I'd finally have the money to afford all of the crap I was convinced I needed. Seems like the exact opposite is true, I had more spending money in college than I ever have since. I might not be able to whisk away to Monaco or buy that 911 Turbo I'd look so good in (now we're talkin' bout enhanced perception, yeah!), but I think I'll survive.
Here's a picture of me when I was little:
Alright, no, I can't do it; I ain't claiming them suspenders.
Join me again later, when I rant about petroleum products, discuss my inexplicable sports bra fetish, and share an amusing yet long-winded story about bovine semen collection.
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Nice pic.