I don’t really believe this mumbo jumbo
I mean it’s a goddamn hat.
Right..?
The white rose, it symbolizes the unique beauty of all the women who wish not to be with a nice guy such as myse-
I wonder if this works with other kinds of hat…
Nothing ventured, nothing gained…
WHEEEN THE MOON HITS YOUR EYE LIKE A BIG PIZZA PIE THAT’S AMORREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
Men of Tumblr are my favorite kind of people…
wait, does that mean?
oh boy…….
Luckily, this nonsense doesn’t work on girls.
Observe…
IT’S GOTTEN BETTER!
This post is immaculate
It can’t be true.
And it can’t possibly work on motorcycle helmets.
I must test it.
Nothing happening so far…
HOLY SHIT IT WORKS
What in the world?
Oh why not? This should be interesting.
Here we go!
Were all mad here in Underland!
What the hell! Never Again!
… Actually …
One more time.
Linking to this as I look at my Trek 2018 FX2 I bought after my trusty Gary Fisher was stolen from my apartment building’s basement; by the looks of it one of the tenants is a motherfucking thief as signs have gone up about parts and bikes being stolen.
Oh right, back to the subject at hand… I remember bikes 25 years ago looked very different from what they look like now. Wondering what bikes are going to look 25 years from now.
Alright so tonight after work I decided I wanted a fancy drink because I’m looking at working 34 days straight an’ shit. So I went out after working at FOHjob. Hit up [fancy basement bar] and had a couple of fancy drinks and was feeling good but they have a 0100 bar close. Closed out my tab, then went up the block to [breakfast to beer] joint cos why not?
Big mistake.
I get there, sit down, and order a Tito’s and soda. Then strike a conversation with the gal next to me. She bides me to sit next to her, I oblige. Start drinking, she immediately wants to make out.
I’m all for making out but at least let me get yer bloody name, girl. She’s not that young, I’m thinking she’s in her 50s so she’s been around the block a few times. Yet here she is, hitting up a perfect stranger for some hot PDA.
So we make out until bar close (which at 0200 is okay-ish. I’m thinking MN should move to 0300).
During this entire exchange of salivary gland fluids I didn’t volunteer my name, nor did she. I got called adorable, cute, smart, intelligent, adorable (again) and what was it I did again? (server bitch at FOHjob). Every time I’d try to answer she’d try to shut me up with her lips.
I’m okay with that. I love making out. But I also like knowing who I am making out with. Kept trying to make conversation, to no avail; she would not have it. I close our tab (I paid for her drinks too, thankfully she hadn’t drunk that much) and start walking to her place, with frequent stops for warming up, as it were. She kept saying she lived three blocks from the bar and did not try to get an Uber right from the get go so I thought we were good.
We get to her place and then she says “I’m not comfortable with you.”
Wait, what?
I’m confused. You’re giving me all the signals but… fine, whatever. Yes, I am disappointed because I would like to touch someone and I would like to be touched. Fine. FINE. FINE.
So I bid her goodnight as she’s walking up the stairs to her door. Then she realizes she’s too drunk to find her keys, walks down the stairs and opens her garage. Last I saw of her was her smile as the garage door closed.
Well, okay. That was… disappointing, to say the least.
I made my way back to my bike, biked to my place and now here I am typing this up at three in the bloody morning as a lesson to myself to not trust any random women hitting me up at the bar:
When writers swap Trump for Cheeto and 45, it’s not just a put-down. Removing a keyword is the anti-SEO—transforming your subject into a slippery, ungraspable, swarm.
