If I tell you something is art, you believe me, because art is subjective. But that doesn’t make it truth.
Just the symphony, sweetie.
It’s totally the TARDIS.
I don’t know who came up with this “drop a deuce” phrase, but they should be punched in the face.
Calling something a flow chart does not magically make it a flow chart.
I see nothing wrong with educating your daughters on using caution in the types of photos they post of themselves on line. Despite what some liberals appear to believe, it is possible to teach your daughters to have self respect without being ashamed of their bodies.
What does that even mean? You are assuming a level of intimacy that does not exist and your post is wildly inappropriate.
The controversy over the Harley Quinn tryout script is ludicrous.
AllahpunditÂ remembers 9/11/01. An old post, but so worth reading (again).
“Not that keen
On the guy who smokes and texts on his cell
Holding a sign by the gas station everyday
Saying need a job please help”
You are just so tiresome. You do not have PTSD. Just stop.
I don’t find Anson Mount nearly as attractive with short hair and clean shaven as I do with long hair and a beard. Go figure.
OK, yeah. Totally hooked on Hell on Wheels.
That might be the most ridiculous hat I have ever seen. It appears to be an upended, empty horn-o-plenty.
This is fascinating, but it also, for some reason, makes me sad.
“She’s not dumb … she wrote a book.”
“Anybody can write a book – look at Obama.”
Ohh! I want them!
I think it’s hilarious and kind of sad that you truly believe that you have to be the final word on absolutely everything, as if you were somehow that important in the world.
I lost my Bad Brains ticket.
I love this.
“On the eve of 9/11, we have a President trying to convince the American people that we should aid the terrorists we ourselves have been fighting for a dozen years.”
Head. Agony. Why.
My poor Vulcan brain.
We stalled a bit there.
I need some Count Chocula.
I would like to see this film.
“He had no hair, no sunglasses, and no seatbelts.”
Won’t someone think of the children???
I hate listening to people type. They all have their own distinct rhythm. They hit keys with a specific and varying degree of force in a specific order. tap tap tap TAP tap TAP tap taP tap tap tap TAP tap TAP tap taP. It drives me crazy.
It’s so hot today. I can’t stand it.
I wonder what the final count of bikers will be. Such a cool thing.
ARGH! She’s eating chips!
K1206 dimensional plans. I don’t have those.
I need a different job.
I need to be obscenely wealthy so I don’t have to have any job at all.
Notes of quote.
OMG!!! wait, what OMG!
People make me sick.
Rain rain rain rain rain come on rain please rain rain rain stormy rain.
I cannot concentrate on anything at all today.
Someone needs to send me chocolates.
Are we sure the Japanese didn’t write eleventy seven versions of the modus vivendi? Because I’m pretty sure that’s how many I just read.
You’re a business major who can’t spell business. I’m sure you’ll be very successful.
Thanks, Accuweather. I had no idea that this was migraine weather. Whatever would my cracking skull pain do without you?
I need some kind of vise like pressure band for my cranium to keep my skull from bursting open.
Also some damn rain!
Nooooooooooooo! This is the wrong doc. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu
So many many things I’d rather be doing.
I might be having a minor existential crisis. It’ll pass.
I should knit. No no no I need to get this homework done. So much homework. But knitting!
Burn all the codes!
This is a good story.
book choy and criminology mushrooms
I need some smell good stuff.
Why, yes, yes I do. I wonder how good it actually works. Well. I wonder how well.
Damn. I could have sworn I watered the plants. Oops.
“Get down here. Now.”