OK, it’s late Thursday night, and I have the funniest joke I’ve written all week (not saying much) all ready to go. When I go to drop it in, I find my space pillaged by some bullshit correction. Well, it’s the end of the week, and I ain’t trying again.
Friday’s forecast: Good thing we got that “tortfeasor” stuff corrected. Now people can correctly not give a shit.
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“dusty rusty crusty musty ass california hills”
“frowning in plaid (haunted radios, bird bones + anthropomorphized wind)”
“warming my hands on bridges i’ve burnt”
“songs that make me see god”
“My Playlist #236”
“classy wine moment and intellectual conversation”
“90s heroin chic model off duty”
“tweet tweet bird emoji map emoji”
“not my circus, not my monkeys”
“a grave is probably cheaper than an apartment”
“ATE THESE BITCHES LEFT NO CRUMBS / DID IT IN DESIGNER PUMPS”
