who would have thought i would have to do what i'm about to do? its so not fair. if it doesn't work i wont be able to keep this stupid positive attitude anymore.............. but yet i wont be able to stop trying........................super.
so I finally put up the deuces, and for good reason too.
The idea that I was being played was apparent, but I didn't mind as long as it wasn't staring me in the face. Last Tuesday it spit in my face and I was left with no choice. Really I should have drawn this conclusion in the beginning. too bad because that ass is seriously tax deductible. I mean that in the nicest sense.
what was nice as well was the back up that I got from everyone.
But worry not, you think I don't have a back up plan? pfff... I don't really. But you know me, perpetually on the prowl.
This is a letter I've been meaning to write for awhile.
To You,
Can you explain something to me? How is it that he's been back in town for almost a week now and you've slept with me for 5 out of 6 of the nights?
When you were arrested, who did you call first to come pick you up? Who drove you to get your car from the towing company? Who talked you down until 9 in the morning?
If you didn't look so good in my Rooney jersey when you aren't wearing any pants I'd probably not have let you stay and although I may have played the "point to the couch and tell you to get the fuck out" story line in my head I cannot follow through for the life of me
Sometimes, I wish I was a cold beer.
You are considerably hindering my ability to get some whilst augmenting it at the same time.
This song, while its meaning likely different from my interpretation, seems to lay out the one consistent dilemma that I find myself in, and which usually gets me in trouble in the end.
I do feel as though it's a bit narcissistic to try and describe you're own life...
Remember when I really hated Emo-core in high school? If you do then you probably thought I was obnoxious (I'm sure that was the only reason). I've gotten pretty good about not hating things just to hate, but there is still something about this band that I just cannot tolerate. I don't know if its the whole get-up (i.e. the make up and clothes whatever). I just find it obnoxious. It's like Lady Gaga for me, I feel as though she'd be a great musician on her own without the uncooked turkey on her head. Call me shallow.
The music isn't that great to me either: It's just bland. Robert Smith's voice doesn't do it for me. If your band is going to be famous for a lead singer he should be like a Robert Plant and like a David Bowie if hes going to be this level of eccentric.
In the end I suppose it just boils down to preference. What I won't do now that I might have in the past is tell you that you suck for liking The Cure.
What makes me happy about Jack Johnson is simply that there is no underlying theme I have to take into account in his music. It's pretty straightforward, and who can really be unhappy when thinking about sex and pancakes?
It took a sec to decide, but I think this is really the song I've loved by them the most, and seeing as how I've loved this band more than any other over the years I assume that that makes it my favorite song... I guess...