Life’s a relentless, pulse-pounding dive into the raw, unfiltered chaos of our souls, and I’m not here for the shallow shit. Sure, a chiseled jaw and a sculpted body get my blood pumping, but it’s the energy  that hooks me—vision, depth, that quiet confidence that screams “I own this.” I’m not drooling over gym rats flexing for clout; I’m craving the ones vibrating on a higher frequency, the men who move through the world with purpose, leaving you wet with awe. And holy fuck,

Screw your gratitude journals, bitches—some days, my only “gratitude” is the mania when a God like Young Mazino crashes into my orbit like a Soju-fueled meteor. Welcome to Glenderful’s Shit List, where I immortalize the men that detonate my soul, leaving me to crawl through hot, sticky coals just to lick their boots clean. This Korean-American enigma isn’t just haunting my fantasies—he’s fucking them raw, leaving my dignity in tatters and my mind (what’s left of it !) begging

Let’s tongue-dive straight into the algorithm’s fever swamp, because that conniving Netflix temptress dropped me Bling Empire—an uncut, pulsing dream I never wanted to wake from. Out parades Kevin Kreider, the Asian-American Adonis who doesn’t just rip stereotypes apart—he leaves them gasping, ruined, on satin sheets. This jawline-demon, this shirtless Korean god, didn’t just climb Glenderful’s Shit List—he detonated the whole thing, slapping down the bland, noodle-white logi