I  have no wish, nor do I possess the temper, to sit straight in my chair, without fail, un-doubtful, un-fidgety, unnerved. My chair has wheels which demand attention. And I will never deny them their rights. So if you may, you might want to consider moving sideways just a little bit as I roll past.
I will refrain from hurtful jargon, but I do wish to make a point here. As un-unique and mundane an idea it is to possess a chair on wheels, I beg  to argue that my chair is nothing close to blekh-ness. I do not mean, God forbid that it is trendy or funky, or even fashionable. No. It is far from stardom or the tedious life of a celebrity. What it is however is much much simpler than that; it is wild (as in its wheels run out of control every time you feel gracious enough to give them a little bit more liberty), comfortable, and convenient. What it is not is cheap. While it does roll out of control most of the times to be fair, my rolling chair is something of a genius. But enough of that. Let us talk about those wheels. I am dying to talk about those wheels.
With the new trend of tire-burning and tire-blocking the streets and highways of Lebanon, every minute someone sneezes in the wrong direction, I feel invincible in my chair on wheels (size does not matter after all, though we might face what you might call an inconvenience regarding a miscalculated road length vs. tire-coverage, my statement still stands). Yup! I am invincible.

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