Chopsticks. Always with the fucking chopsticks. I spend hours crafting a witty, eloquent, and insightful post – a post which directly address our capacities for perception and understanding, and thus skewers the very heart of the human condition – and all people want to talk about is fucking chopsticks. It doesn’t matter how many clever-clever references to fictional Victorian junkies I slip in, it all comes back down to the fucking Magic Food Twigs.
Showing posts with label Mystical Gobble Prongs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mystical Gobble Prongs. Show all posts
Friday, 2 March 2012
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