Proof that we are big into fake mustaches: Even our mirrors have them.
Explosions In The Sky - Your Hand In Mine (with strings) from the Friday Night Lights soundtrack.
Explosions In The Sky makes me want to climb mountains. But like, really slowly and purposefully. Instead, I think this weekend my wife and I are going to get dressed up and go to local open houses. We don’t want a house or anything, we’re just looking for excuses to wear fancy fake mustaches in public.
To the person who sent me the message about my tumblr52 post about my dad (I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to say who you were or not):
Thank you. I do really appreciate hearing things like this. It’s a reminder that everyone here is an actual person/friend and not just another random internet person.
Now, let’s all stop being sad and get back to the dick jokes, ‘kay?
Hobo vaginas are still a thing, right? (I know better than to click the “Let People Photo Reply” box after asking that.)
My parents never graduated from high school and it was my fault.
Despite the fact that my parents were careful, my mom became pregnant with me while they were seniors. They could not stay in school and provide for me since they both came from very poor backgrounds. My mom dropped out to care for me and my dad dropped out and found the first job an able bodied kid could: construction. They were married 24 days before I was born. There were no pictures.
My dad’s family kind of disowned him for having a kid/getting married so young so he moved into one of those $99 a month, climate controlled storage spaces and sent the rest of his money to my mom for me. When I talked to him about it years later, he said that he was surprised how easy it was to keep it hidden from the workers at the storage facility. He said that as long as he was in there by 9pm and quiet, they didn’t know he was there.
He was able to save enough money for all of us to move in together as a family. Looking back on the pictures, I’d never seen him so proud.
Over the years, he would talk about doing something else with his life, but he couldn’t because there was no opportunities for someone with no education. Soon one kid became two, two became three and I noticed he mentioned leaving construction less and less often.
As I got older, I noticed that he did too. He was diagnosed with aggressive Rheumatoid Arthritis when I was about 14. Most days he hurt too much to get out of bed, but he still went to work 6 days a week, every week. He was never home on a Saturday that I can remember unless it was a holiday. He started having to get surgeries on his hands and knees to clean out what we called “the yellow stuff” because that is what it was in the arthroscopic videos they would give him after. After his 4th surgery, he was in a wheelchair for a while and couldn’t work. He was disappointed.
After he got a heart cath so he could get steroid injections, he started doing really well. He was even able to go back to work for the first time in almost a year. He was himself again.
On Friday March 19th 1999 (3 weeks after my 17th birthday) We passed each other in the doorway, him coming in (from work. Yes, he worked the day that he died) as I was going out. He asked where I was going for the night and I told him I was staying with a friend because we were doing a fundraiser car wash the next day for a friend’s mission trip. He told me to have fun and we said bye. I never saw him again.
Apparently, a few hours later, he fell asleep and never woke up. My uncles came and picked me up from the car wash and said we had to go to the hospital but they wouldn’t say why. When we finally got there and walked into the emergency room, every person in there looked at me and then looked anywhere else they could to not catch my eyes. It was then that I knew.
My father worked himself to death at 38 trying to provide the best life that he could for us. For a while, I hated seeing his tools but now they are part of him. They are the few physical things I have left so they are invaluable because to me, he was too. He was my dad.
This picture thing has allowed me to be the typical internet asshat for 20 minutes. I’m sorry. I should be done now.
I call this picture ‘Biggest disappointment of my life’
WORST. BURRITO. EVER.
I found a radish, a cucumber and lots of onions in it.
Also, a tomato butt. A WHOLE TOMATO BUTT.
About a year ago, I did extensive research into whether or not radishes were still being “made”. Not grown. Made. It was not my finest hour.
Unfollow at will.
A Kool-Aid mustache is still a mustache, right?
I really, really want to study neuroscience.
The neat thing about neuroscience is that after all the studying & memorizing …there’s an art to it! It’s like a puzzle that some people get and others don’t. I totally think that you’d get it.
I get it. Again, I haven’t exactly dug into a human brain… but gawd, there was no challenge too large in my linguistics classes. Sometimes you find the things that just don’t feel like work (until you have to study them for 10 years, poor Bee) because the passion overwhelms it.
Some people want to fly to the moon, others want to dive to the bottom of the ocean. I want to understand why some people taste things when they feel fabrics.
O synethesia you are my favorite thing. (You will find that a lot in my poetry, actually.)
DAVE HAS THIS! He touched my arm once & said he saw “blue” — I thought he was nuts. But he has touch-color synesthesia & sound-color synsethesia! He hears colors! He has to listen to stuff that makes him hear pretty colors for his design! So if you ever hate his work, don’t blame him, blame the crappy band he was listening to!!
Ha! Bee - you make me laugh.
Also - I have this! But only with numbers. All numbers are specific colors for me!
Most people have this in some way but in varying degrees. I am always mixing up my senses but it is always the absolute worst when we are recording. We will sit in a room to eq and mix and I will get asked, “How does that ___ sound to you?” The three answers I give most are: Chalky, Milky or Like Beef Stew. These all make sense to me but it can get a little frustrating to other people because I can’t explain exactly what I mean. I guess most of my Synesthesia happens between hearing/touch.
bumpcrud ~ I also like Silverchair (despite their video) “I’m a sex change and I’m dancing with no heroin” How could you not love lyrics like that?
OMG LETS BE BESTIES ‘KAY?
I thought this album was ok at best but this was one of the better songs along with “Those Thieving Birds”.
