Anthony didn’t choose the turbo life, the turbo life chose Anthony. A fact that was made abundantly clear when he hadn’t achieved more than posting digital shit-marks on Instagram by the age of 28.
He lives in a world where all fair and possibly life-changing criticism is written off as the jealous musings of “haters”. Why engage in the existential hell of internal-reflection when you can just live life like you’re auditioning for your own reality TV show that will never come.
To that end, Anthony uploads a shirtless photo of himself holding two bottles of Grey Goose in his divorced mum’s kitchen for no reason. He then captions it like the Shakespeare of shitcunts that he is,
“started from the bottom now the whole team here #FuckThaHaters #youmad #brokebitchesbegone #moneyteam #baller #buildingmyempire #selfmade #hustler”.
Not content with a mere photograph, Anthony turns things up a few notches by slipping into a shirt with GUCCI obnoxiously printed across the chest and posting a rambling Snapchat story while driving. His “fans” need an update.
He starts off by making up a story about how all his old teachers told him he’d never amount to anything. An astute observation if only Anthony was important enough for his teachers to have cared about him. He then fabricates some shit that would most certainly make those teachers retract their fictitious statements.
His “fans” can’t believe he is giving away this kind of life coaching for free. He signs off from his story by running his hand through his hair and stating he’s going to get a haircut, “cuts for the sluts, baby”.
In between the barbers and his favourite supplements shop, Anthony spots a Ferrari parked on the side of the road. His mumma didn’t raise her boy to miss an opportunity to be a massive flog, so he parks up, jumps out, sets up his tripod and takes a selfie posing next to the car with his gold plated jewellery & Thailand Rolex on display.
Sure, a normal person wouldn’t try to pass off this luxury sportscar as theirs, but Anthony’s grip of reality is thoroughly saturated in a thick layer of narcissism that could de-mould a bathroom. Accordingly, he goes nuclear and posts a photo of the car to Instagram, “feeling blessed #canthearmyhatersfromuphere #boom #selfmade #bosshunting #realone #seemyrolling #theyhating”
As he hits post, the sound of a hundred notifications can be heard through group chats who love nothing more than dissecting Anthony’s latest posts. Unfortunately, a girl Anthony reckons “craves it” accidentally replies to Anthony while trying to send his story to a friend for some mockery, “OMG check this babe also his latest Ferrari post HAHA”.
Oh shit. If there is something that Anthony is not equipped to deal with it’s a dose of reality. Given the circumstances, sitting the next few social media plays out would be a good idea however that just wouldn’t be Anthony.
He uploads a photo of himself flexing shirtless at Sets on the Beach 2016, “So many weak bitches talking shit! Try walking one mile in my shoes, you couldn’t!!! This one goes out to my all my haters, just jealous they ain’t this! #Beleive #FuckThaHaters #ohyoubrokehuh #sayittomyface #ifyoucomeatthekingyoubestnotmiss #kingshit #howdoyoulikemenow”
Thus the circle of mockery continues.
Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?