Rhys Honey Jones is an absolute sex beast of a character. Type of erratic bloke that you can’t tell if he’s just done 4 ounces of cold cut Cocaine or just power wanked over his mates cousins.
Usually hench as fuck but no doubt some cunt in the pissend of somewhere is a letdown to the name.
Every time you meet a Rhys Honey-Jones either one of two things with happen. You’ll get your head caved in due to something so petty like him dropping something at his workplace, or you’ll have the most ecstatic time of yer life.
Homey Jones refers to a famous urbanister, perhaps the most famous, who rapped so furiously he disappeared into a temporal crack in the fabric of the universe.
when you're holding up your phone and making faces at it, as though you are taking a selfie, but you're really taking a picture of the person across from you or the wall or anything else that seems interesting but you don't want to be caught dead taking a picture of.
This action is often made more convincing by wiggling the eyebrows or opening the mouth, to pretend you're trying to get a Snapchat filter to work.
FRIEND A: "Did you just take a stealthie of me?"
FRIEND B (turning phone around): "no I was just using snapchat's new filter, see?"
The grindset is a contemporary ideology of self-exploitation disguised as strength, deeply tied to the aesthetics of the “sigma male” and to new digital forms of patriarchy. It promotes the idea that human worth depends on productivity, economic success, absolute emotional control, and the ability to work endlessly, turning vulnerability, rest, community, and tenderness into signs of weakness. Beneath its rhetoric of discipline and power often lies a profound inability to relate healthily to pain, fragility, and human interdependence.
“That’s the grindset, brother. While weak men sleep and complain, sigma males stay disciplined, work in silence, suppress emotions, and build power while everyone else wastes time chasing comfort.”