Congratulations. You’re cold. Now cover that shit up.
This is your chance, this is your freedom
Please don’t go, little girl, her father says to her
It won’t work out, it won’t be easy” —“Elephant and Castle” (via jeninla)
SHUT THE FUCK UP.
So if you own a car parked on Poinsettia and your side mirror is all kinds of fucked up, you should start looking for a Middle Eastern cab driver (there can’t be that many of them, can there?).
But he’ll probably just say to you what he said to us (“I deedn’t do that.”).
Good luck. And that sucks about your car. Try parking on a less narrow street next time.
If it’s any consolation, I’d leave a note if it were me that hit it. But then it’d probably just look like this.
Yeah, that’s why I keep her around.
WHAT?! What the fuck, Simon.
For the time being, I’m not joining. I can barely think of enough half-ass things to say on my blog some days, and I just feel like my tweets would be the Cliffs Notes version of my blog. Which would be extremely vain.
In other news, I proudly made someone else’s Twitter today. Marisa quoted me: “Brittany: He does have nice arms. That might be why he’s allergic to sleeves.”
So basically my plan is to say enough weird things and in turn tweet by proxy.