A big old greaser is the ultimate being when it comes to unhealthy turds. It usually rates itself between 6 and 7 on the Bristol Stool Scale, and is the product of last night's low quality takeaway kebab. It has the consistency of somewhere between mushy peas and oily fish. It has the smell of any other shit, but its scent has a way of etching itself into your skin and clothes.
Person 1: Oh my god, what's that smell?
Person 2: I think that Bob may have let a big old greaser go in the bathroom?
Person 1: Classic Bob
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.
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.”