we've had some good times, we've had some bad times. i've dedicated you hours of my life, you know some real parts of me. and i've always been understanding. i never beated you (unless you asked for it, whilst bent over). i've put up with your tramp advertising; i mean, hey, you're a working girl, right?, but this is too much. you added buttons and options that do nothing new or useful. it's like you've surgically implanted five more plastic boobs, another mouth and a sixpack of fake clits - you don't need them, i don't need them, you feel nothing new, i feel i have to uselessly work more to get to the same thing and you look like a monster that's not even a monster i'd like to sleep with - which is pretty far to reach in my book. yes, you went too far, just as far as the keanu reeves impersonation by pablo francisco. and now, keanu is a sad keanu.
yes, yes, your idea is that, albeit people are reluctant to change, i'll come around, blah blah. you also think that, if you know where i live and what i do, you're also entitled to decide what i like and what i should eat for breakfast, dinner and lunch. (and second breakfast and elevensies, if i were a hobbit. which i'm not, although i usually am barefoot.)
well, i got news for you, bitch: there's a new chick in town, her name is google+. she's hot, easy-going, user-friendly - what more could you want in a chick - and doesn't talk back. plus, she's very well educated. in comparison, you're the whore that slept with everyone, never shuts up and always talks (loud) about the same bloody things. well, fuck you! remember myspace, that girl you put out of business because you got bigger tits and longer legs? well, g+ (cool name, i know) is 10 times hotter than you. remember hi5? yes, i know, you can hardly call it "street woman", "sewer woman" would be a more accurate term. well, better get your act together, you overconfident slut, because that's where you're heading: the sewer.
p.s. you know where this text is going, right? g+, twitter, my y!m status and your sorry ass.