Yeah I read that too. Are you gonna plagiarize the whole thing for us? Do you have any thoughts of your own on this matter? Is that your thing? You come into a thread, you copy some obscure passage and then paste it off as your own idea just to impress some of your "crew" and downvote my friend? See the sad thing about a guy like you is that in 50 years you're gonna start doing some thinking on your own and you're gonna come up with the fact that there are two certainties in life One, you are a talentless and unoriginal hack. And two, you wasted time trying to post other people's thoughts as your own while you could've been honing your skills to be actually creative instead of a thoughtless loser with a paste fetish.
I used to be a real ad
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Natalie Portman is the reason I work out
Natalie Portman is the reason I work out. I have this fantasy where we start talking at the Vanity Fair Oscars party bar. We exchange a few pleasantries. She asks what I do. I say I loved her in New Girl. She laughs. I get my drink.
"Well, see ya," I say and walk away. I've got her attention now. How many guys voluntarily leave a conversation with Natalie Portman? She touches her neck as she watches me leave.
Later, as the night's dragged on and the coterie of gorgeous narcissists grows increasingly loose, she finds me on the balcony, my bowtie undone, smoking a cigarette.
"Got a spare?" she asks.
"What's in it for me?" I say as I hand her one of my little white ladies. She smiles.
"Conversation with me, duh."
I laugh.
"What's so funny?" she protests.
"Nothing, nothing... It's just... don't you grow tired of the egos?"
"You get used to it," she says, lighting her cigarette and handing me back the lighter.
"What would you do if you weren't an actress?" I ask.
"Teaching, I think."
"And if I was your student, what would I be learning?"
"Discipline," she says quickly, looking up into my eyes, before changing the subject. "Where are you from?"
"Bermuda," I say.
"Oh wow. That's lovely."
"It's ok," I admit. "Not everything is to my liking."
"What could possibly be not to your liking in Bermuda?" she inquires.
"I don't like sand," I tell her. "It's coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere."
Classic
FeelsOkayMan
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