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I’m on fire

I’ve Unboxed my phone. And I believe in better. Just do it. Tick.  Just did it.

But wait, can’t get my breath because I am – of – so – very – ON.

I’m a consumer consuming, a dumb man walking with a smart phone talking back at me.

I’m hyper consumptive and coughing up bloody Mary firmly goosed with Grey.

I’m For Living and licking the fingers of good with a chicken from Kentucky or any other such United State you care to mention, and I’m hanging with people who are As Good As Our Word, absurd but fiercely true.

My Snap Crack Popple Pipe went off in my face but I don’t care Cos I’m the ‘Eating Fresh’ Prince of Been There Done That but same-old, same-old doesn’t cut it anymore so I’m Thinking Different because I’m worth it, so Earth calling the Spaceman, Yes We Can.

And I’m feeling the Magic BUT am I Tasting the Rainbow? I may go to customer service and COMPLAIN because it definitely ain’t raining technicolour on me anytime now.

But I’m doing a lot so Every Little Helps and I’ve got welts from whipping myself senseless with spring greens sustainably sourced of course.

Smash. Boom. Crash.

Whatever works for you in the clattering noise of consumption land but don’t shirk on your Durch Technic mate or your spring will remain Vorsprung.

Pick a language any language I’m with the worlds local bank so I’m fluent in Yoplait yodelay hee hoo exotica and inter-continental catch phrases so I stay firmly ‘flame on’ across the channel to the E.U.nited States of Holiday with the sparkling surge of Orangina fo-fina at my lips Naturally

But shucks I’m brunching and crunching and I’m Living Well with kitchen dancing and prancing in pimpy pumps that pumppumppump me UP and the car in front, well, it’s behind the times ‘cos its hybrid and my bid’s for Accelerating the Future in an eco-super-green Mung-ready dream that I can snapchat attack about because Life’s more fun when you live in the moment, apparently – and my 2facedbook feed reads like Walter Mitty, more’s the pity if the truth ever got in the way of ME – but that’s why I have FRIENDS with a capital F*%# so I don’t get the bends when I de-acclimatise from my threads of marvellous invention.

The tension is killing me – might I pop out a truth just to see if anyone’s following me? – let’s see – stalk stalk – I can totally talk the walk if I just snort an Instagram of my glorious self.

Let’s face it, I’m preposterously prosperous and shining my crown but, wait – why am I feeling so down?

Quick boys quick check the follower rating – that does the trick cos joy stats are waiting – I’ve tweeted a storm and its thrown up a swarm of murmuring twitteratti, look who’s following my vapour and skyping my party of one, hell, I’m coming out windswept with twenty new following.

So all is good and calm and I’ll chance my arm with a hashtag blowback and fill my lungs with the honey sun of my digitally consuming gloriously connected self.

Phew. Who knew that eating so much life would make me phat. Isn’t a life well lived negatively calorific and cheap at half the price? (as smaller credit card bills would be nice).

Truth be told I’m choking on broke and my dreams are currently staying in a hotel so far beyond my means that it comes with a free car because, my friend, bullshit just can’t walk that far.

Time to do a runner. Needs must.

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