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Ms #lovemylife

Courtney is a gushing pipe of trial and tribulations. An untappable leak of pessimistic life views about men and the “two-faced bitches” she calls her “omg bestiesss xxx”. To minimise the water damage of sad sackery, she applies an optimistic wrench to her social media account and tightens the bolts of bullshitting to seemingly airtight levels. #LoveMyLife. The contradiction leaves you as confused as an Indian man who rocked up to the spaghetti party with a spoon.

Courtney stuffs another row of Cadbury Milk into her face and turns to Citizen Purr, “let’s just give up on men and buy more cats ay puss puss”. Courtney quickly smashes out some makeup and fashions her hair into a bun. Glass of red, Cadbury block, her cat and a selfie taken from the double-chin hiding top angle. She selects an Instagram filter to give the illusion of candlelight and posts her Saturday night selfie, “Night in xxx #LoveMyLife”. Her love for life is only slightly trumped by her bitter trawling through Tinder and ruthless lolly-gagging of high sugar treats. She falls asleep on the couch trying to spoon Citizen Purr.

Instead of “Sunday Funday”, Courtney needs to work. She arrives at the salon she works at and finds a massive bunch of flower from the bloke who sits on the bench in the shopping centre and massages his old boy nuts through the torn pockets of his grubby stubbies. Instead of disposing of the piss-stained flowers like someone who is merely content with their life, Courtney feels the need to turn the moment into a fucking Hallmark card. She asks the apprentice hairdresser (the one she is objectively better looking than) to come and pose for a work selfie, “client sent us flowers, #LoveMyJob #LoveMyLife #Squee”. Jesus girl.

Sadly for Courtney, she has to take a break from loving the shit out of her job and fly to Bali for a bogan girl’s weekend with the poxy bitches she secretly hopes develop an allergic reaction to Clearasil. In Bali, she takes a photo of her fruit and yoghurt breakfast with the obligatory colourful 9am cocktail, “Bali girls weekend #Boom #LoveMyLife #KutaWat?” Her followers imagine she is cruising on scooters, having moonlight kisses with hot surfers and laughing while embracing her friends like they’d contracted MmmBop from a Hanson brother. The reality? She sits angrily in an internet cafe trawling through hundreds of photos she’s taken in an attempt to pick the ones that demonstrate the strongest love for her life. Gotta love that.

Courtney is seemingly so high on life that she is likely to hold a syringe full of self-absorption to your throat in an attempt to extort likes and comments. However, just like any junkie, the problem is not the drug, but the addiction. Love life in moderation people.

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