Y'know, Lux, you could've just pacified everything but telling Mr. No-Fly who you are and what you do online. I bet that conversation would've been a million times more entertaining than any level of Angry Birds he would've played on his iPad.
Okay, I give up. Who took my smokes and rumpled clothes? Listening to Edith Piaf in the buff is a pleasure best enjoyed in the summertime.
Holy shit, this is heartbreaking. I loved attending Ari Up's shows, if only to watch her spin her dreads around like helicopter blades. So, so sad.
I love how Cherry Grove is always depicted as where lesbians and leather daddies congregate. Dear Pines: you bitches sleep 8 to a room because you can't afford much else after buying new swimsuits and poppers. Truth.
Brown terrorists? I thought terrorists only attended Smith.
It's still okay to dress up as Steve Jobs' donated liver, right?
If you are going to tell your children that you aren't living for them, at least have the decency to have that conversation over a table of coke. Don't forget to show off family ties: share the straw.
"Perez-ious?" Mother Mary, is she for real?
I also just bought the phone and I am really happy with my purchase. Before the G2, I jailbreak'd my iPhone 3G after my contract expired. While i miss the compact size of my iPhone, my G2 does what I need it do (and then some). And I can actually, y'know, talk on the phone without dropping calls.
Now I just need to figure out what apps are must-haves.
Now I just need to figure out what apps are must-haves.
Dear Steve: please, please, release a better version of Font Book. 'Cos JHC that is one useless application for managing fonts.
Oh…Sad Panda.
Would Burberry approve of her choice in footwear? Methinks not.
It's been a while since I watched Monty Python but I could see the British style of humor loud & clear in those adverts.
"Twitter is over capacity."
I could not tell you the actual title of the owl movie to save my life, but I can tell you that I would have enjoyed it a hell of a lot more if not for the three self-absorbed adults behind us in the theater that felt the need to talk throughout most of the film, even after I turned to face them and said "you need to shut the fuck up."
Sorry for the run-on.
Sorry for the run-on.
You've paid for a subway token in pennies—and the MTA clerk took enough pity on you to even let you drop all those coins into her booth.
I demand that you edit your list immediately and add "Phosphene Dream" by The Black Angels and "Black City" by Matthew Dear. Brilliant albums both.
@I_am_a_genius_I_mean_this: I had to file that entire experience under "I'll only share it that one time on Gawker."
I worked briefly at ErosGuide back in 2003. When I worked at the company, unless otherwise instructed, every photo was given a makeover via Photoshop. Even men's photos were given a slightly larger black box around their junk to improve their potential. The liberties taken with Photoshop should be illegal, not consensual pay-for-sex.
I bet Camo Pantie Grandpa and I would have the best conversations ever on that plane ride.
