this is amazing.
“dear pretty girl, there is only one true fancy gentleman.”
—this is amazing.
“dear pretty girl, there is only one true fancy gentleman.”
—herb alpert - rise (1979)
amazing. this was the number one song the week I was born—the youtube comments are incredible.
—hello?
—I gave Jack a triceratops costume for Christmas. He liked it.
—Finally got my car back on Thursday, Jan 12. The accident happened December 19th, and the grand total for damages was more than $6K. While bluey was being repaired, I had a totally sweet Dodge Charger loaner car that used half a tank of gas every time I started it, and it was totally sweet. I kiiiinda want a muscle car now. Don’t tell my brother.
Can’t stop laughing at this life cycle display I came across on Reddit.
My favorite stages in life are the end parts, when you become a gay bank robber, then a gay lumberjack, then a closeted gay elderly Italian, then a straight shepherd who is dying and just now remembered he forgot to sign his flock over to his step-son and he’s upset it’s going to go to his biological son, Tommy Jr, who is totally just going to sell all the rams for some Perc30s!!!
Then you die. Also you are gay again.
everyone should read whydoihaveablog.
Around 11 tonight I was laying on my bed playing words with friends on my phone (yep) when I heard the sickening crunch of a car crash outside. I knew immediately (something about where the sound came from, maybe?) that it was my car.

A young lady made this small modification to my bumper for no apparent reason.
I got her info and took some pictures, she parked her car (no longer drivable) and I went inside all irritated and told a couple friends what happened. They freaked out and asked why I didn’t call the cops, and after about 10 minutes of that I called the non-emergency number (just in case they were right) and about 5 minutes later, 3 police cars pulled up outside the house.
Be ye not as dumb as I: don’t call the cops, not even the non-emergency number. They don’t need to see the cars. If you have the other driver’s name and insurance policy number (which I did) all they will do is offer to look up the person “in the system” to make sure they are who they say they are. But let’s be real, 3 seconds after you get the other driver’s name you’re going to find them on facebook and see that the profile picture is indeed the same adorable little high school girl who just fucked up your car, and you’re going to call it a day. Meanwhile, cops everywhere.
The girl’s mom drove up a little bit later while I was trying to take a couple more pictures, and while she was polite and everything, she said three things that baffled me.
“I’m so sorry about this…” I have no response to this. Thanks? It’s ok? It’s not the end of the world, certainly, but it’s also not ok.
“Could you take it to get a damage estimate tomorrow? No reason to involve the insurance company.” You know the best part about having insurance? When shit like this happens, you call them and they take care of everything. Everything! Even though it’s 5 days before Christmas and everything is nutso, you call and they’re like “no problem, just bring the car to this place and we’ll give you a loaner and we’ll let you know when it’s fixed.” Or, “no problem, we’ll get it towed to this place and drop off a loaner, and we’ll let you know when it’s fixed.” Many things about being a grownup are totally shitballs terrible, but having good insurance is fantastic. Sorry lady, I am definitely calling my insurance company.
But the most baffling thing she said to me:
“Why did she hit you?”
I looked at her, trying to formulate words, but my brain was all WHAT THE—WHO—WHY WOULD I—WHAT—SHE—so I had to just let that one go.
Merry Christmas, everybody!
This is a video of a Krampus parade in Austria from last year. It’s so fantastic (in the literal sense of the word), it makes me incredibly happy—look at the effort people put into making the world more magical!
—
NO, RYAN. DON’T GO BACK TO CHINO. THE COHENS ACCEPT YOU, AND THEY CAN GIVE YOU A BETTER LIFE. SETH NEEDS A REAL FRIEND. HE’S SO ISOLATED AND SOCIALLY AWKWARD. YOU’RE JUST THE TYPE OF COMBINATION CONFIDANTE/ROLE MODEL HE NEEDS.
I just went to a metal show and came home and immediately started listening to Queen again. I have a Freddie Mercury problem.
glitter, kittens, and metal.