Every now and then I ask myself, “SHOULD I EVEN WORRY?”
And before I give logic a chance to answer that for me I go ahead and worry anyways.
The cheesy and obvious, the reminder that floats around my head in the middle of the afternoon…
True tales of eerie elevators
- Some guy treats me like the invisible little shit I am and some prettier girl walks into the elevator.
- Guy: Which floor are you going to?
- Girl: 7.
- In chivalrous fashion, which again, was not saved for me because I'm an invisible little shit, he pushes the button for him and the girl. The elevator quickly passes my floor.
- Me: Oh sweet Christ, here we go again.
- It passes the other two's floor. By this time, the guy's breaking a sweat.
- Me: *eyes closed* Bah, it's not the first, and I doubt it'll be the last, elevator I get stuck on.
- Guy: What'll happen?
- Me: The doors will open and then we'll plunge to our impending doom *smile*
- Girl: uuuuuuuuuuh *twirls hair, chews gum, eyes widen, breathes heavier*
- The elevator doors open at the penthouse, skipping all our floors.
- Guy: Well, you enjoy that. Plunging elevators arent't my thing.
- The girl, without a word, zipped out.
- I smiled and made my way down without plunging to my impending doom. : )
Maybe I did something wrong.
Like letting people in, sweet God what a mistake.
What’s the use when they’ll only make excuses to walk away the same way they walked in?
Slowly coming to terms that smoking in stairwells keeps me cosmically connected to you.
It makes me feel so beyond stupid.
And the absolute euphoria of being under the same lamp post as them for about an hour.
(Source: car-efree, via evertalfonso)
"I love the things that we should fear / I’m not afraid of being here"
— Lit, “Miserable”
Kaiser Chiefs // I Predict A Riot
They say that when something is harmful for you, the best thing to do is to nip it at the root. So today, I took to some social feed cleansing….and it felt marvelous. :)
“ojala y te salga tupac en tus sueños y se preste a todas tus demandas como un esclavo obediente y feliz de hacer tu volutad!”
Yo quiero que alguien me explique como verga no le voy a tener cariño a ese osito vale…
"I will definitely consider you if I ever want to conduct a trial on the use of cannabis as an anticonvulsant."
— My neurologist to me.
El: Aja, este seria nuestro 4to motel caraqueño.
Ella: Creo que deberiamos escribir la Guia de Turismo Tiristico a lo Valentina Quintero pa que nos de excusa de recorrernos todos estos antros, te anotas?
El: Si va.
(Source: ken-and-elig)
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
Mariah Carey - Honey
True story time:
When I was younger, my dad had a Mustang and whenever it was just the two of us - before I discovered the walkman and he discovered Brazilian music, of course - he’d let me choose the radio station. But I was the annoying brat at the beginning of RUSH HOUR…you know, the one that sings along with Mariah Carey and whatever pops up on the radio. AND OUT OF NOWHERE HE’D TURN THE RADIO OFF TO SEE ME THERE SINGING LIKE I THOUGHT I WAS THE SHIT.
.____________.
Fucking troll, can’t do shit in this family.
Also necessary to add that with this song Mimi claimed her black heritage. Pissed all over it. Like, bitch walked into the room screaming I’M HERE AND I’M SLIGHTLY NEGRESS in 7 registers.
Si marico, lo dije: Yo en algun momento del tiempo le tuve asco a la mortadela.
En Sao Paolo existe un mercado que es famoso por sus sandwiches de mortadela. La vaina es que son como de medio kilo de mortadela, la cual es cocinada a la plancha y todo ese olor a grasa sube y tu ahí del otro lado esperando tu sandwich con ansia. En una oportunidad, fui con un grupo a ese mercado y en vista de que solo el tamaño del fucking sandwich me daba asco, decidi comerme otra cosa. IGUALITO me cayo mal…lo cocinaron en la misma plancha que todo ese verguero de mortadela. (2 dias vomitando!!!!!)
Entonces si, cuando te digo que fue un milagro que comi mortadela en Valencia: ES UN FACT!
