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.
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?
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.
Alcohol can punk you like that. It will be like, “I’m going to take you on a funny crazy ride and then drop you off on the corner of Darkness and Tears. Bye!”