We’re all borrowing.
—My Grandfather (On Life and Death)
(Source: camijoi)
Luckily, I’m actually a man, so this doesn’t apply to me. But ladies, get your shit ready to be offended, especially if you like to knit and/or eat sugary treats. YA SHIT’S SOFT and you are not worthy of living.
Buhhhhh, everything hated forever. The end. Forever. Now I am dead.
But hopefully it was just written to get a rise out of people.
Delightful indie rock brought to you by yours truly and the boys of Rockets on Wire (for freeeeee). Eat it up.
I’m not sure if I totally agree with the logic, but I still love the interview.
Interviewer: Black history month you find…
Morgan Freeman: Ridiculous.
Interviewer: Why?
Morgan Freeman: You’re going to relegate my history to a month?
Interviewer: Oh, come on.
Morgan Freeman: What do you do with yours? Which month is white history month?
Interviewer: (pause) Well, I’m Jewish.
Morgan Freeman: Okay. Which month is jewish history month?
Interviewer: There isn’t one.
Morgan Freeman: Oh, oh. Why not? Do you want one?
Interviewer: No.
Morgan Freeman: Right. I don’t either. I don’t want a black history month. Black history is American history.
Interviewer: How are we going to get rid of racism?
Morgan Freeman: Stop talking about it.
I do agree with the logic. I fucking love you Morgan Freeman. You are the shit.
“Harmonize” and/or “Harmonizing”
Let’s talk about it.
Don’t come near me and tell me that you’re good at harmonizing. Don’t come near me and tell me that you can harmonize really well with other people. Don’t come near me and tell me that you want me to teach you how to harmonize.
I don’t know what it is about this word, but when I hear it I want to run screaming through the streets lighting random houses and cars on fire. It makes me want to punch random baby deer in the face (whatever, @theveganvirgin, tell PETA all about it.) Rahh, I’m getting angry just thinking about.
OKAY so. Unless you’re into endangering the lives of innocent little animals, keep it to yourself, babies.
DO NOT:
Hang balls… and by balls, I mean testicles, from the trailer-hitch-guy of your truck and/or SUV and/or ANYTHING. It looks disgusting and makes me want to punch you in yours twice… one for each ball.
Later I am going to write an entry about how much I can’t stand the word “HARMONIZE.” I’m not even going to think about it now, for I will burst at the seams with hatred.
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