I don’t care what anyone says. I like Miley Cyrus.
Get this straight, cyclists: you are not a car! You are the equivalent of a dude...– The boyfriend’s blog.
Let Me Get My Hipsters Straight
After an email with the subject simply, “Why me, bitch?” in reference to my hunting comment on the post before the last one, let me clarify: I mean people who put their hair over one eye and look off to the side faux-thoughtfully while holding a (insert Vice hype band with anemic lead singer, excluding the Smiths…or maybe including the Smiths) vinyl album and take a picture of it...
“Stay Positive” - The Hold Steady ...
I’m not a huge Radiohead fan (I know, shoot...
Crunchatize me, Cap’n– My first kiss’s senior quote (I was looking through my old yearbooks). I guess I could have done worse.
Scarred for life: The teenager who asked tattooist... →
(via danceontheedge) Two things about this: How the fuck do you fall asleep while getting your FACE TATTOOED I don’t think her belt buckle engraved with the word “SEXY” is helping her case any when it comes to feeling insecure about her apperance now.
I Love This Country
One of my favorite sites, www.textsfromlastnight.com , featured this ditty that made me lulzzz. (202): therell be strippers and coke right? (703): no strippers. just coke. (202): i hate this fuckin recession
This is my favorite interweb writing (blog). It’s a blog about many things, the core of which is the daily life of raising two small children in Detroit (ohai favorite place/my hometown!). He writes with amazing wit and hilarity, heart, and paints a very genuine picture of Detroit, the most complex and hard to explain place in the entire nation, if not the Western hemisphere. The blog...
Even though he doesn’t do his own free styling, let me say for the record that I love Streeter Seidell. Literally, if I had to pick one human being in the world to snuggle with (or make out with, it’s whatevs) for the rest of my life, it would be him, assuming Jack White wasn’t available. Drool x1000000.
Dear Lady Gaga,
We get it. You drink a lot and do cocaine and you love to dance, and you own a Bedazzler. You’re not “art,” you’re the bored wife of a yacht rock singer.