Vous Les Mâles Sont à Base De Baies

I am only a blogger but that does not give me an excuse to be bad at grammar.

It does not give me an excuse to spell things wrong.

The impotence of good English should not overcome me.

I also do not need to fill every sentence with tens of profanities.

I should avoid using bad language.

I keep wondering though, what makes a language bad?

I feel blasphemy adds to the style.

Anger is a great drive.

A comical stance if you will.

I feel that cussing is sometimes funny.

Maybe my vocabulary is not very colorful.

Is retard a bad word?

Retard is a condition.

What if I was to say that you are funny, while in reality, you are not.

I am just being sarcastic.

Does that make me a bad person?

Many questions lurk my brain.

Simple questions, inane Questions, Questions nonetheless.

Yes, this post is written calmly.

I am slowly trying to express my viewpoint.

As apposed to little old angry me.

I even used old rather than ol'.

I feel rather dull.

I am better at kicking ass and taking names.

Oops, I said ass.

Well I meant the donkey you idiot.

The first ass in my post and I already made you laugh.

I suppose my style is impeccable.

Even when it is wrong.

However, I need to modify my practice.

Shoot, this post is taking forever.

I despise reviewing each and every sentence.

I do not feel like I am "spitting hot fire" anymore.

Earlier today, I went to the Avenues.

I was astonished to see the amount of Kuwaiti men hanging at PINKBERRY.

How does it feel?

I went there once.

My manly image was shattered.

My manly image would be obliterated.

So men, was it worth the bird watching activity you proudly practice?

(I shall not use chicks since it would be demeaning to my female audience).

I cannot imagine being in that situation.

Where a grown-rump (ass) man sit there eat pink yogurt with fruits.

It feels too fruity.

(Says the guy who is on a strict diet to buy skinny jeans)

Berries and masculinity cannot be mixed.

(Unless there is a drug test around the corner.)

Practically, you can never see the previous two words in the same sentence.

It is like mixing fucking with sniffles.

You can never hear both in one sentence.

Unless you are a redneck, then I would not be so surprised.

"CLEAN YOUR FUCKING SNIFFLES BOY"

If only that muscular guy noticed I was observing him.

Sitting there eating pink yogurt at a pink shop!

He looked like he was devouring green lentil rice at Kuwait's Central Jail!

(Shda3wa gelna tharb bs gool emawash! MO ELA GREEN LENTIL RICE!)

How does it feel?

What is your weather? (Sheno Jawik?)

Dear Mr. Steroids and/or Micropenis,

(I did not mean it in a bad way, I was referring to the actual medical condition.)

When I first saw you.

I froze.

I thought: This guy could kill two of me by strangling us.

One in each hand!

Then I saw you happily eating at Pinkberry.

He was using a spoon too! (Fashaltna yal wa7sh)

Eating berries is just as bad as calling yourself after one.

"Hello, my name is Mohammed, you can call me Farawla!"

I am sorry I refuse eating at berry, let alone being called one.

I would like seeing you try and defend that!

They try hiding their weakness by being big.

I easily call their bluff by catching them eating at a queer place.

Maybe that fruity inclination was what made you get raped from the start.

The bigger the fruitier.

Perhaps you should not give fruits growth hormones after all.

P.S.

I was inspired by the Napoleonic French quote: You Are Lions Led By Lambs.

The title should stand for: You are Lions made from Berries.

Now I went with You Are Males Made of Berries.

I used Google Translate, that is why the french maybe off.