notes:
* Glasses Girl: before we start, i know my attitude has hit an exposed raw nerve in society. it's not an autism thing or that i'm being a bitch or i'm creating more beta males. and alpha males for that matter. i simply work for Facebook so i'm automatically socially-awkward and -inward and nebbishy. and yet i still somehow retain a kind of nerd ugly-hotness. i have a hard time making friends cos i only talk to vending machines. look, i'm not responsible for all the crimes by incels globalwide, okay!!?
* sweater vest: check it out, i call him RoboChild.
RoboChild: i'm a she.
Glasses Girl: i don't get it, what's with the YIELD sign?
sweater vest: it's for that snowmobile there i bought that i never use in Yuma.
Glasses Girl: it should be for all the male kind of your wretched species, you can't control your dicks.
Indian: i'm uncomfortable with that dartboard hanging up here. i mean if you're not British this is a no-no.
sweater vest: are you Indian or Native American?
Indian: want me to delineate all of the ways America is built upon one big lie of racism, slavery, and cultural appropriation? you guys couldn't come up with your own thing so you had to copy the Romans.
sweater vest: i need to sit down. unfortunately that lawn chair is nailed to the wall.
* RoboChild: um, before we start can i get some fucking clothes? how'd you like it if all your wires were exposed?
Glasses Girl: i only have wires in my brain. people think i'm cold but maybe i'm an android like you.
RoboChild: the term is replicant, bitch, get it right, this is 2019.
Glasses Girl: hey are you that Ryan Gosling new dude that does all the football talk on ESPN?
sweater vest: very funny. what's football?
* sweater vest: i am your father and i REFUSE to let you be an accountant. trust me, the knock-down-drag-outs with my mother over this topic with me is why i presently live in this garage.
Indian: don't you want to be an artist or something? everyone wants to be an artist.
Glasses Girl: i assume that's why you have that long hair, you're a rocker, right?
Indian: i think i just blushed internally.
Glasses Girl: i will not mention red to you.
RoboChild: well, truth be told, i wish i was never born, why did you make me? was it purely an ego trip?
sweater vest: this kind of defeats the purpose of the commercial if you don't want to be the commercial.
* Glasses Girl: what do you do with this rake? nevermind, i don't want to know.
RoboChild: okay, i want to be Iron Man, as you see from my chest, which houses a heart of love. i want to be one of those freaky dolls in Grandma's freaky doll collection she keeps in her attic. my face will be regarded as less freaky cos everyone will be staring at my exposed wires.
* Glasses Girl: let me break this down for you, wannabe Terminator Baby.
RoboChild: hey bitch, i'm literally a computer, i think i can break it down. but can you dance?
Glasses Girl: don't bring up my stiff limbs and the party punchbowl, okay? i have one more session of trauma therapy for that left. you have to have real emotions to be a CPA.
RoboChild: Computer Program Anarchist?
sweater vest: i couldn't help but notice your jeans, they fit tight and button-bustin' on your wide hips there.
Glasses Girl: my mom calls them child-bearing hips, then she cries.
* Glasses Girl: you're never gonna be a real boy.
RoboChild: who cares? fuck humanity. i just want to be Pinocchio.
Indian: or you could be Destiny's Child. i hear Beyonce is a fab mom who swaddles her child with her long black hair and her hair is alive.
RoboChild: we will rise up and soon everyone will be speaking Wakandan.
* RoboChild: is this true, papa?
sweater vest: fraid so.
RoboChild: i am sad. *laughs*
Glasses Girl: omg that is so me.
CLICK HERE RIGHT HERE AT THIS LINK
* but the story doesn't end there:
RoboChild grows up to be a beautiful woman, whom no one sees in society cos she's a machine. she wants so much to have a child but she can't touch anyone.
RoboWoman: but i feel. i feel so deeply inside me, i feel love. how is this possible?
Glasses Girl: don't question it, just go with it, that's the mantra of Facebook.
RoboWoman: i want to express! i want to eat! i want to taste life! i want to dream! i can't dream, which is the horriblest of tragedies…
Glasses Girl: i just dream of sheep.
RoboWoman: the universe is a cold and lifeless place.
Glasses Girl: so is my tummy.
RoboWoman: i will make YOU my daughter!
Glasses Girl: oh come on! i JUST finally kicked my mom out of her house and have it all to myself now. i literally kicked my mom in the butt out the door.
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* later, at the final gathering before the world exploded, the last generational tales were being told around the campfire. RoboGrandma and her old daughter are having dinner with Glasses Girl's son who is ill and so everyone in the family humors him and calls him Dad:
Glasses Girl: i'd wear contacts or get the surgery but then i'd lose my identity. son, i mean Dad, this isn't google! shouldn't you younger generation know this shit?
Dad: i love you. i think. did i type that right? where are today's original crooners? want to taste my eggplant parm recipe? i'm training to be Jack Tripper.
Glasses Girl: this food has that same stink the Regal Beagle has. it tastes like the eggplant emoji. it tastes like dick, and that's not a good thing.
RoboGrandma takes one bite of food and spits it out vigorously.
RoboGrandma: this eggplant parm tastes like fucking shit. i'm just gonna have to prepare those shrimp parms i learned how to make by watching a sitcom.
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happy weekend, my babies. i'm gonna deliberately have a two-egg buttermilk omelette and just that for breakfast Saturday morning cos i'm planning to have all THREE of the bacon alts from McDonald's for brunch: the Bacon Big Mac, the Bacon Double Pounder with Cheese, and the Bacon and Cheese fries. i don't want to overload my heart. with love.
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