This is gonna sound terribly politically incorrect but nice is wearing thin on me.
Not the nice of friends and family. Not the heartfelt goodness that wells up from the people you hold dear.
I’m talkin’ about the forced ceramic-glass-like nice imposed by banks and gas stations and grocery store owners.
The “How are you today, my name is whatever, and I’ll be helping you today and holding your hand through the scary bank deposit you’re making and can I possibly do anything else for you while I flash fake smiles and seem actually interested in your life and your day” kinda niceness.
Implants are less false.
I find myself yearning for more humaness. A yawn, a stifled groan, a muttered fuck you would be preferable to all this glossy vacuousness.
It’s ok to fart, people.
oceandoggy.com 