How To Prove You Love Her

You can stand in the rain for an hour. You can keep standing in the rain. You can stand in the rain until you become the rain.
You can stand in the rain for an hour. You can keep standing in the rain. You can stand in the rain until you become the rain.
There is an urban legend about a man in a rabbit costume who attacks people with an axe.
Fact: The Wizard of Oz has some of the wildest behind-the-scenes facts of any movie ever.
Taking your computer or phone to a specialist almost always leads to fun and embarrassment for everyone!
[Sand dunes] bear a resemblance to the force that created them, wind. It is as if each grain of sand were a bit inside the memory of a natural computer.
Some contained phrases I couldn’t quite place – T-girl? Shemale? I clicked a file, my curiosity officially piqued, and there it was.
16. Evidence also indicates that we may have had our first bisexual or lesbian first lady.
his beautifully designed speaker, while small enough to fit in your pocket, carries enough sonic strength to blast your favorite album loudly at a party with all your friends.
When text messages were invented, passive aggressive people around the world rejoiced and said, “THANK YOU JESUS! There’s now yet another medium I can use where I don’t have to express my true feelings to someone and can make them feel bad in a variety of subtle (and not-so-sublte) ways!”
The Disney Channel Original Movie is a vital staple in the childhood of anyone who came of age within a half-mile of a TV in the late 90s and early 2000s. Your favorite directly correlated with your character, even so long after the franchises’ heyday.
3. Be there. Friends can get really good at disappearing on each other, as we learn to take peoples’ presence for granted.
I’m going to casually mention an ex-boyfriend just so he knows that other people have loved me before.
Perhaps the strangest thing about all this was how little I cared about who was responsible for the attack. I’m sure I will. I’m sure one day, when I learn who did this, I’ll lose sleep, and feel rage, real rage, and want to see them (or him, or her) killed. I’ll want blood. I’m no better than anyone else.
Creep out of our bedroom late at night to eat our leftovers, the food we swore we would save for lunch the next day, and consume them ravenously over the sink like a wild animal.
Now you’re just sweat and pubes on my sheets and I wish I could freeze you in time so I could get familiar with all your crevices and poke and prod around like you’re my high school science experiment before we go any further with this, but I don’t quite have the technology.
We can’t jump off bridges anymore because our iPhones will get ruined. We can’t take skinny dip in the ocean, because there’s no service on the beach and and adventures aren’t real unless they’re on Instagram.