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"If you came with a warning label, what would it say?" Doubtless something about super-flammable contents, that's what usually crops up in memes.
I'm already a bumper sticker, attentionally-speaking, and it reads as follows.
Honk if parts fall off.
And I've sung so many songs for girls; I've never understood.
I do have a plan. This is the future face of darling baby sugar angel, assuming I can get one in automatic. They cost, on the average, six grand. That's the primary, if not the sole, determining factor.
Additionally: the mileage is okayish, it doesn't feel like a coffin, no one can hide in the backseat (for good or ill), and they said I could have it. That pretty much wraps it up.
It'll come in whatever color and year coughs up the automatic transmission. I'm so picky and demanding. Her name will probably be something like Amanda Daschiel Stephanie de Jarjeyes, because I'm screwed up.
(Stephanie, honey, if you're surfing through classmates.com and the gods are kind, call me. Seriously. Please. <3)
They do too come in automatic. I knew I was right.
Generally, I don't argue with people. What's the point? It's not my fault they're wrong, and often, they've neither interest in nor tolerance for "standing corrected", which is a phrase I'd never heard until I was sixteen and of which I am becoming sorely tired. It's a fancy new way to say "verbal beatdown", and is often used by people who haven't got their facts straight in the first place as a way to attempt to soften the blow.
Fuck you. Lay it on me, it's what you'd prefer, and it makes my superior knowledge taste better going down. *Halo.*
Now to go be financially responsible. And then window-worship at the Ikea Temple to get the nasty taste out of my mouth.
Sounds like a plan. ^_^
I'm already a bumper sticker, attentionally-speaking, and it reads as follows.
Honk if parts fall off.
And I've sung so many songs for girls; I've never understood.
I do have a plan. This is the future face of darling baby sugar angel, assuming I can get one in automatic. They cost, on the average, six grand. That's the primary, if not the sole, determining factor.
Additionally: the mileage is okayish, it doesn't feel like a coffin, no one can hide in the backseat (for good or ill), and they said I could have it. That pretty much wraps it up.
It'll come in whatever color and year coughs up the automatic transmission. I'm so picky and demanding. Her name will probably be something like Amanda Daschiel Stephanie de Jarjeyes, because I'm screwed up.
(Stephanie, honey, if you're surfing through classmates.com and the gods are kind, call me. Seriously. Please. <3)
They do too come in automatic. I knew I was right.
Generally, I don't argue with people. What's the point? It's not my fault they're wrong, and often, they've neither interest in nor tolerance for "standing corrected", which is a phrase I'd never heard until I was sixteen and of which I am becoming sorely tired. It's a fancy new way to say "verbal beatdown", and is often used by people who haven't got their facts straight in the first place as a way to attempt to soften the blow.
Fuck you. Lay it on me, it's what you'd prefer, and it makes my superior knowledge taste better going down. *Halo.*
Now to go be financially responsible. And then window-worship at the Ikea Temple to get the nasty taste out of my mouth.
Sounds like a plan. ^_^
