A few days ago I awoke to uplifting news of Justin Bieber falling off his skateboard, but upon further reading learned that he was barely hurt and gently drifted across the cement like a single sheet of leftover Christmas tissue paper caught in a persistent breeze.
No carnage, just blonde-headed Justin in dress skating poorly but still better than the average schmo reluctantly eating pavement, about as bruised as a green banana.
When you tell me Bieber fell I don’t necessarily want it to be to his death or with every bone in every joint poking out of his skin covered so covered in blood it looks like every supermodel he ever fantasized about had their period on top of him, I’m just talking about a little lesson in STICKING TO WHAT YOU’RE GOOD AT, which is NOT skateboarding or boxing or acting, it’s making girls ages 15-21 sing along to songs you didn’t write.
HE Is a little bitch he came into Riteaid and bought douche for his breath
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