Saturday, August 15

What does one speak of when times are confusing and emotionally overwhelming and generally thoroughly disorienting? Cellulite, naturally. Internet, I have a lot of cellulite. Bits of me are completely dimpled and ripple gracefully when I so much as move. Also, it’s not exactly bits of me. It’s most of my thighs and all of my ass. It’s a highly disgraceful state of affairs. I really ought to do something about it considering I’m only 23. Now that I’m here in Colombo, with precious little (except really intense stuff) to occupy my unnaturally large brain, my day is broken up into two discrete parts. The morning and early afternoon when I feel fantastic about the cellulite and my general hotness and the awe-inspiring scope and savage beauty of my game. The second half is late afternoon onwards when my game becomes limited to the creepy old men in my hotel, who are naturally chubby chasers and attracted to my resemblance to a nautical vessel :| Internet, am I doomed to never find the answer? Is it my inherent whoriness compensating for Cellulite City or the awe-inspiring scope and savage beauty of my game?

Now I have suffragette city playing in my head, except Bowie’s singing to my ass.

Don’t lean on me man
Cause you ain’t got time to check it
You know my cellulite city
Is outta sight
She’s all right

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