These people survived the apocalypse. Also, I like them. Apparently.
I like all of you, really.
people i would eat tacos with:
(I’ve actually eaten meals with four of these people)
People whose names I found scrawled on the bathroom wall at the Vince Lombardi rest stop on the New Jersey Turnpike:
Yo. What’s up.
indefensible replied to your link: Americanisms: 50 of your most noted examples
Railway station. It is a station on the railway. It is not a station on the train.
BUT IT IS A STATION WHERE THE TRAIN STOPS.
Also, we do not use the word railway here, unless one is watching Thomas the Tank Engine.
A reposting of something old, for Ross.
Things I miss:
Feeling the rumble of the Concorde every morning, feeling the vibration through the whole house, then my daughter, like clockwork, running out of her room yelling “The Concorde!”
We’d run outside and wait -we would feel the approach at least two minutes before we saw the plane -and my daughter would dance around excitedly looking toward the sky.
Then it would appear and no matter how many times we’d seen it before, no matter how many days we already ran outside at 8:40 am to witness it, we would always be starstruck by this majestic beast of machinery bulleting through the sky. It would roar above us and we’d just stare in wonder, the Concorde’s prehistoric looking wingspan making it feel like we were watching the future and past fly above us.
It was our thing, our small shared moment we had nearly every morning. I cried when they took it from us.
I miss that.
And the one which most resembles my own answer to the same question.
A venal little turd, a hypocrite, a hero. Read it all.
indefensible asked:I need something to go with the bitterness of seeing that my former business partner (who folded up a new venture last year 7 weeks after launch because of cash flow) now has a brand new Ferrari 599, as well as his 1972 Dino.
I think this might be the perfect song for you. Except for the part about being the best fuck he ever had. Then again, who am I to say?
Faith No More - The Gentle Art of Making Enemies