Arrive alone at a party that you ‘just kind of heard of’ even though no attendee specifically invited you. This way, when people welcoming you make casual conversation to the effect of ‘so who do you know here tonight’ in an attempt to determine their own potential connection to you, you can respond evasively or turn the question back around on the asker.
Thou shalt never give thy friend with benefits the following things: a mixed CD, a toothbrush, a massage, flowers, chocolate, a trip to the cinema or opera, a flirty comment on his or her Facebook wall, too many explanations.
In describing the Blow Up, you can use words like “alienation.” It is based on a short story of the same name by Julio Cortázar, an author who smart people read. The final scene, a mimed tennis match, goes down as one of the best in cinema history.
In the 21st century, the popular social networking site Facebook has made a verb of the term ‘friend’, and it is now common to ‘friend’ people on Facebook/field numerous ‘friend’ requests on a regular basis.
I think the moment you realize how awful her songwriting is is the moment you are officially no longer a teenager. Leaving the Church of Jenny Lewis is an eye-opening experience and a true marker of adulthood.
Herein begins one of the most controversial sections of the song: The rap. Featuring an African American man in his mid 30s, audiences expect this lyrical maestro to hop on the flow and “break it down.” He evokes the muses by calling for “R-B,” but what follows can only be described as gibberish.
As if being gay wasn’t gay enough, I’ve gotten myself into quite a hole (metaphorically, not sexually, I’m a total bottom). I’ve started the complicated procedure of talking to a “straight” guy. I’ve never dated, or fucked, a straight guy before and therefore I am totally lost here. Is it a good idea? What experience can you share about fucking “straight” guys?
The flowchart inside presents a pretty excellent strategy for having a reasonable, rational discussion (instead of one party ‘lecturing’ or ‘giving a sermon’ to the other).
“There are two kinds of people” arguments usually strike me as cheeky and stale. But there is one incontestable version of the formulation: there are two types of people in the world—those who prefer Paul McCartney and those who prefer John Lennon. Let me tell you a little story.
Having been out of high school for six years now, I’m able to look back at my experience with warm fuzzies and nostalgia. The self-loathing, the drama, the devastating outfit choices: It all seems like so much fun in retrospect! Unfortunately, I’ve discovered that the cheese mostly stands alone. Today when the topic of high school is broached, most people groan and say some variation of “So glad that’s over. That shit was traumatizing.” What gives? Am I the only one that liked high school?
You know when it’s not working, and it’s not because you don’t want it to work, but because it just won’t? And so you separate, you go on a ‘break’ so you can figure things out, you realize you need to be alone so that you can think, rediscover the self that has been so completely “sunk in this shunt” in all the mess of an intense relationship?
The term “black ice” is a misnomer. Nothing about the thin layer of ice that forms on roadways when condensation from automotive exhausts freezes is black in any way. If black ice was actually black it would be less dangerous, because in cloaking the medians and texture of asphalt with a solid sheet of black it would provide drivers with a visual alert as to the imminent hazard awaiting them.
Recently, a good friend of mine and former roommate, who happens to be gay, made a pass at me through a facebook message. He knows that I’m straight and threw in, “two thoughts: I want you to be gay, and I want you to be my boyfriend.” Does that mean he respects my straightness and just wants to put it out there? Is he joking?
If you meet someone and they haven’t revealed their sexuality via a comment about the same sex or something similar, you can’t just be like, “Are you gay?” because they might be in the closet or even worse, actually straight (they’re never actually straight though).
Love is someone giving a shit about you enough to argue. Love is not passive. Love is “Don’t fucking touch me right now.” Love is “Who the FUCK were you talking to?” Love is sometimes hating yourself for a second. Love is hate. Period. Indifference is the real killer of love and the true antithesis.
My body is similar in touch to a dolphin’s. Yet – and by the title of this article I think you know where I’m going – I have extremely long ass hairs, up to 2-inches. Not only are my ass hairs easily the longest hairs on my body, but I would argue they are longer than any hairs on your body; unless, of course, you fashion long hair.
You like the party friend, but you actually don’t know a lot about them. Sometimes you wonder if they do normal things during the day like go grocery shopping or run to the post office. You also wonder if they’re actually happy and if so, how they could live this lifestyle you only experience once or twice a month.
Stay up late watching TV. Since you can’t afford HBO or Netflix, you’re going to have to endure a lot of commercials unless you use my trick of checking out DVDs from the library. Staying up cuddling with your remote tonight paves the way for hours of unconsciousness tomorrow.