There was a time when I had conversations like this with Tom all of the time. This is one of the few to not end with any reference to Davy Havok or Rambo. Tom: damn, miles is killin Justin: miles who? Tom: yes miles who Justin: well what fucking song is it? Justin: how am I supposed to know …
I’ve never comprehended the pretense that because you share an elevator with a total stranger, you are required to make eye contact and do that goofy closed mouth half-smile to them or pretend to converse with them about shit no one ever wants to talk about. Leave me the hell alone, you wouldn’t ask me …
I was casually perusing some books at Barnes & Noble on my lunch break when this duo (brother and sister, maybe?) of white trash psuedo-goth teenagers (it’s a strange breed to describe but they are rampant in the south and if you’ve seen them before you know what I am talking about) rush the manga …
Two meathead jocks with backwards baseball caps and identical Abercrombie & Fitch regalia sit down at the bar in front of Kim and Justin’s table and order two Coronas. Justin: I bet that guy’s dick smells like that guy’s ass. Kim: Gross! That means that that guy’s mouth smells like his own ass! Justin: [laughs]
