MY

ME

AND

SOME

FAGGOTS

Pasta pasta pasta PASTA. Is this all you ever talk about? Fucking pasta? Is your existence so trite and pathetic that on a website with individual boards devoted to a litany of diverse interests you choose to fixate on the most trivial, ephemeral aspect thereof? I can just picture you: a fat, pallid, slovenly excuse for a human bathing in the glow of your dusty monitor–the only light thereof in the ill-kept basement belonging to your parents who long ago became disillusioned with their child's future prospects. I bet your mother is thinking right now about what the fuck went wrong, and your father is ashamed that his seed spawned such a lowly organism. How many years of your life have you wasted with your ass glued to your chair, expending all your energy in forcing your inept fingers to type in an ineffectual attempt to discuss fucking pasta? How many opportunities to do something more with your life have you turned down because you thought discussing pasta made you cool; how many pasta have you bemoaned the death of when they became common, as if you penned their inception when in reality you were only a tool of their inevitable spread?
I'm serious, you may be the most pathetic person I've ever seen witness of in existence; there may not be a more accurate representation of a waste of life than you. If I were you, I may have killed myself years ago. Frankly, suicide is the only route left open to you. You will be happy. We will be happy. Your parents will be happy.
Kill yourself.

lol