An Obituary for All the Fucks I Had to Give
All My Fucks graduated from Shame University in 1998 with high honors.
All My Fucks graduated from Shame University in 1998 with high honors.
Now, I’ll admit. I knew the words that I was singing were not in fact “words.” They were more like syllables strung together.
You Remind Me of Jessie’s Girl! Please, Do Tell Me, Do You Have a Name? – While just a tad bit rude, this is also respectful enough to answer!
This guide is not for the kids whose parents are still friends and kiss on the cheek every time they see each other. Those kids can go to hell.
The PhD student who worships Peter Travers and prefers Kurt Cobain’s technical prowess as a vocalist over Nirvana as a band.
I’m disappointed that after our four-message exchange about how our weekends went, you haven’t proposed. It’s been almost a year, after all.
With casualties in the hundreds of thousands, just be glad you're dating someone that’s alive.
I mean, if my life were a novel, this would be terrible writing. The reader would be flipping back, looking for pages they must have skipped.
It may seem like the only offshore things he cares about are drilling and banking, but remember, you are a strong, sexy, SENTIENT storm.
I have noted my standards and policies. These are negotiable due to the extremely low bar I have set due to previous experiences with straight men.
Persistent Car Salesman: Hi, Jared, it’s me, Buddy (at least that’s the name you call me by). Well… I’ve written a screenplay!
Pride leads to compromise. Compromise leads to shorts. Shorts lead to mosquitos. Mosquitos lead to suffering.