Revenge of a broken heart

I love buying awful looking things. You can do that a lot in Korea. And - for being honest - most of these things might not taste THAT good. Today I found a very special drink. We had a hard start, because it was one of the most awful things I ever drank. But then the empty can and I started some sort of very intensive and short relationship. We broke up in some random trash can in Seoul and now my heart is filled with sadness and hate. Because of that, I'm posting pictures of my ex-can, where it might look fat, strange, unfavorable and/or naked including comments filled with negative energy. Because the Internet never forgets. Hahaha, take this, bitch! (Now I'm feeling sort of sad and might spend the whole night crying or drinking or sleeping or playing PS Vita!)

DO NOT BUY! DO NOT DRINK! It might contain Vitamins, but...

...for being honest: I don't think so. If healthy stuff must taste bad, this drink might be some sort of ultra-healthy. Kind of aid for cancer or something. (And doesn't Mrs. Can look awfully blurry here?)

 In fact, it tastes like some very special sort of shit. Imagine, you collect all the shit you can find, taste it and... (Haha! Lithuanian fingernails! You're not from Lithuania, Mrs. Can! Quite Embarrassing, isn't it?)

...take only the most awful pieces of shit, put them into a mixer and... (I said that I will never ever publish this picture in the evil Internet. What should I say, Mrs. Can? I was most likely lying to you! You look sort of dumb! Haha!)

...add the moldy meat of kittens (only for making you also FEELING bad while drinking) and put the result into a can that looks like in the picture above. (The arrow is pointing right on your belly. And it looks FAT! Hahaha!)

Now I'm feeling sort of bad. And sad. Dear can: 

An emperor without a kingdom to rule. A bloodstream without a heart to beat. 

A prisoner for eternity. That’s what I am without you.

Stop! Brain! Stop! A few pictures of things that taste better:

It appeared to look like football...

...but I was not really sure.

Abstract

We tried to watch some football the other day but all these Koreans were blocking our sight. We weren't able to understand any word, but somehow came to the conclusion that they know how to support their team. Therefore, it might be possible that Asian ladies and gentlemen know how to party. In this paper we're going to find and analyze resources verifying that in an academic way.

Keywords: Football, Snow, Suwon World Cup Stadium, Jumping

Introduction

Do Koreans know how to party? This question appeared being unsolved over the last few decades. Luckily, we discovered footage possibly taken from a football stadium:

Dear readers, I desperately need your help to finish this paper! Are there any certified articles out there or need I find out by myself doing field research and interviews?

This is the real shit

Breaking News!!!!

Warning: Might contain information that changes your life forever.

In Korea there are Koreans.

And Koreans.

And Koreans.

And Koreans.

Also, they have food.

And food.

And food.

And food.

 

And food.

My pants are very talkative

Me: Hello, Pants!
Pants: Huh?
Me: You can talk!
Pants: shhhh...
Me: THESE ARE MY PANTS AND THEY CAN TALK!
Pants: Shut the fuck up!
Me: THESE ARE MY PANTS AND THEY CAN TALK AND THEY ARE VERY IMPOLITE!
Pants: Geez, now you blew my cover! Months of preparation for nothing, thanks a lot!
Me: What are you talking about?
Pants: This is strictly confidental.
Me: Okay, nevermind (maybe we'll find out in later blog posts - cliffhanger!!!). I have a request.
Pants: *sigh* What is it?
Me: My dearest Pants, may I shit in you?
Pants: What? No! I left this dark chapter of my live behind long, long time ago.
Me: Dark chapter? Didn't you mean brown chapter?
Pants: You're sooooo funny...
Me: Dear Pants, your rejection fills my heart with sadness.
Pants: Good.
Me: Is that all you have to say to your disappointed owner?
Pants: Yes.
Me: What about shitting my pants a little?
Pants: No.
Me: I guess you didn't get it. What about shitting *my* pants a little?
Pants: No.
Me: You belong to me, so you need to fulfill all my wishes.
Pants: This is ridiculous. I'm off.
Me: PANTS? HEY, PANTS! WHERE HAVE YOU GONE?

This is the story of how I wanted to shit my pants but they ran away and I ended up in a dark alley naked and talking to myself.

Nine lives of love

Hello my dear reader!

First of all: I love you! Sincerely! You might say Why the heck are you loving me? I just stumbled over this Blog only because I hate the world and spend most of my time reading random stuff about the fun hidden in the mysterious treasure chest called life hidden inside random thoughts of people I don't know and don't wanna know as I already mentioned that I hate the world and therefore hate people and hate fun and hate myself and castigate myself by wallowing myself in all theses characters comprehending things I hate. Or you might say something else. Or nothing at all.

And now I discovered font sizes. The internet is full of miracles. Nevertheless, let's move to the motivation why I deflorated this innocent blog by writing the very first entry:

I love you readers! I purr the whole day (and night) as I'm currently feeling like a cat living my remaining nine lives in good old Austria where each life represents a single day before entering new worlds of adventure and confusion.