I plan on overhauling my wardrobe. Though I’ve had my fun with skinny and super skinny jeans (Levi’s 510 forever!), it’s time to move on. I’ve sold all but one of my six pairs of skinnies to Plato’s Closet (which is the biggest scam ever, btw) and used the payout to buy…wait for it…a whole THREE gallons of gas!
But I’m going for a grown, yet hip look. Because I’ve sold all but one pair of my jeans, my current fashion inclinations can only be embarrassingly described as summer camp counselor. I’m not kidding, six out of seven days of the week, that’s how I dress (with the exception that I wear a button up shirt instead of a t-shirt like some troglodyte). And though that look is perfectly fine and dandy sometimes, I’ve come to realize that it is not befitting a 20-something year-old trying to find a wife.
I need to wear nice clothes. Something to get me through my 20’s and 30’s until I graduate to glorious middle age when I can wear dad jeans, with walking shoes and still be considered a DILF.
So I’ve decided to invest in new jeans, along with casual pants like chinos, tapered khakis, shoes (no more sneakers), etc. I’m never going to not wear plaid, so shirts aren’t really a problem for me. Basically, the rest of my 20’s and 30’s well look like this…hopefully.
Wish me luck. Oh, and if anyone would like to help me out along the way (hint, hint), you’re more than welcome.
Perched at the edge of your bed, listening to your soft breathing. Struggling with the want to let you sleep, and the need to jump your bones.
My dog Millie being adorable.
I’m not going to fall asleep, ever.
I’m both scared and intrigued.
Season one marathon!
Or I could tell you the truth.
The truth being: I’m sure in due time you’ll prove to me that you’re just like everyone else, disappointingly so, however, you’re new, and I’m bored, and you’re convenient, and I have an almost twisted sense of anticipation to see just how you’re going to disappoint me and prove that you’re not you, but actually just another one of them.
Let the good times roll.
And eventually come tow screeching end.
Isn’t it cool how the things you eat become a part of you? I don’t think people realize how amazing that fact is. Like, I eat food, and all the chemical elements that make up my diet are broken down and reconstituted into my body. It becomes my hair, my skin, my blood, and my bones; isn’t that amazing?
My take: So fucking what?
The man has (“allegedly”) killed three people (one of them not a cop, but the cop’s daughter) and has vowed to kill again.
The man is a terrorist (let’s not mince words here), and if the goal is to protect the US and its citizens against enemies, both foreign and domestic, then he qualifies. It shouldn’t matter if he’s a US citizen or not; it shouldn’t matter if it’s on American soil or not.
All of that is insignificant.
Do what you need to do to get the job done.
And FYI, it’s only a spy drone, not the send a AGM-114 Hellfire missile from the sky-type drone.
This in no way means I side with the LAPD. They’re corrupt as hell and fuck them.
Step 1. Listen to ‘I Love You’ by Alex Clare.
Step 2. Thank me later.
Remember, always listen with a great pair of headphones or speakers. Protect your ears from subpar music. Safe listening is good listening.
I don’t think I care much for friendship right now. I don’t need someone to listen to my problems and I don’t want to pretend to listen to anyone else’s.
I just want someone to use me at their convenience, and who is willing to let me do the same.
So at first I decided that I’m a fatalist.
Our actions are free, but nevertheless work toward an inevitable end.
We are powerless to do anything other than what we actually do.
However, I also believe that I have a slight sense of determinism in that I believe for everything that happens there are conditions such that, given those conditions, nothing else could happen.
You can listen to it here.
It’s probably my third favorite song by Kings of Leon. And shockingly it never made it onto the band’s fifth album (it was released onto the bonus album of B-sides).
Here’s a descriptive essay on the song. In case I had to describe what it sounds like to someone who’s never heard music.
It’s such an amazing song. It’s an experimental track. Noticeably so; departing from the usual bands southern country garage rock sound. This song is much more haunting. A dark tale told in a whiny twanged baritone.
How the song sort of slowly gallops along for the first 3 and a half minutes of the song with bassist Jared Followill leading the charge, followed by eldest brother and drummer Nathan joins in with snares and heavy kicks, and lastly middle child Caleb Followill plucks at his guitar, following along in rhythm. Oh, did I mention cousin Matthew (you guessed it) Followill makes his guitar whine and wail like a banshee at the same damn time? Because that’s what he does.
And then at the 2/3 mark, everything explodes. Everyone hammers away at their instruments. The lead singer shouts into your ears:
“It’s in the celebration, there’s something in the air! A little celebration, it’s something in the air! aaahhhhhh!”
It’s a huge rush.
The song ends and I hit repeat.
KoL never fails to deliver. Whether it’s the usual sound or something new they’re playing with. I welcome experimentation.
And that’s why I admire the KoL; they’re not afraid or apologetic of taking chances.
Experimentation is good.
*comes crashing down to earth and slams into an ocean of feelings at mach 8.6 and drowns*
That goes without saying that the liar is the one who fucked it all up. That’s why they lie, so no one knows they’re a fuck up.