Remember all those soul-deadening jobs where they’d make you wear some stained-up secondhand workshirt that came down to your knees and how hard you’d try to cool up the periphery in case you ran into anybody you knew? I wonder if that’s why punk and goth girls always cram so much shit on their necks and arms.Comments/Enlarge |
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I’d marry him or her, but only if they were playing the Ramones version of “Baby I Love You” while I walked down the aisle with him or her. I wouldn’t even bother asking which it is. That’s genitalist.Comments/Enlarge |
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