Ahah, you whisper to your neighbor, a bob haired brunette with a serpent of fire coiled on her lower back: It is un bro brawl! This is of the première importance, to make an ally at the onset of this fight, for, as that magnificent whore Byron once penned, “the two bros’ bellows / oft calls his fellows.”
Baijui tastes like turpentine. It is one of the most god awful things I ever drank. I would drink a few shots of it over a cigarette with the ex-military cab driver who owned a little dive just outside my apartment in Fuzhou: a filthy concrete hovel with a kitchen the size of a coffin and a dining room that could seat no more than a dozen…
Obviously, what we have here is a dress fashioned to look like a two to three foot-long vagina, and I guess… it’s feminist, at least according to urlybits, although I wouldn’t be able to explain exactly how. I’m not sure where this originally came from but, oh yeah – I was leaving anyway. I’m suddenly overcome with the need to stop looking at the internet. See you guys tomorrow.
What’s amazing about this profile is not just the fact that we get to see a rare honest glimpse into the life of a celebrity, it’s that Zimmerman never destroys Chris Evans. Sure, she’s critical, but she’s also fair. Rather than being a hatchet job, it’s just a re-telling of what actually happened when she interviewed Chris Evans The Action Star.
The consistent repetition of the lifestyle leaves the narrator feeling empty and seeking an alternative, which cannot be found within the world that he’s caught in. So this empty cycle is repeated ad infinitum, and typically culminates in aggression amongst the participants (“Chill man! Chill!”) due in all likelihood related to the entrapment within a tiny microcosm of empty indulgence.