A Letter of Appreciation for “One Headlight” by the Wallflowers
People will call you a monster, and in a way, they’ll be correct: you are a monster---a monster fucking hit.
People will call you a monster, and in a way, they’ll be correct: you are a monster---a monster fucking hit.
It was never my life goal to be famous like Sir Charles Barkley, the French Bulldog. If I had my way, I’d be like Butch, the mutt who lives next door.
Did you pick me up in a Subaru Outback? Full of NPR tote bags? I’m still a wild animal. And not the kind that’s gonna stop you from having a seizure.
Wanting to avoid doing three year's worth of laundry, I shall strike out once again, this time to conquer IKEA.
Do you really think that I, a gorgeous seed full of immense potential, want to hinder my growth by spending all of eternity in your intestines?
Raggy rand I go way, way back. Trust me, rin dog years it’s reven ronger. Reven times ronger. Reah.
I know it’s not very masculine, but it’s really more for my family than anything. I would have gone with a bigger one if not for my wife.
In traditional restaurants, you may feel societal pressure to treat your waiters with human decency, but there’s no pressure here.
He gets excited when I feed him, but seems lukewarm when I reach important academic milestones or make advancements in my career.
Delete all the photos on your social media that indicate you ever had a life before children. Replace them with a solid wall of photos of your kids.
I'm giving away the chance to enter a drawing for a trip for one to one of the most romantic destinations in the world: Calgary!
Judging by how few followers he had, I probably knew him best.