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jenkirkman:

I was just having lunch sitting at the bar.  I overheard this conversation between the waitress and the probably thirty-something-year-old guy next to me.
Waitress:  “Would you like a lemon or a lime with that?”
He gets quiet. He says, “Ahhh. Ahhh”
Waitress:  “Lemon or lime?”
He whispers:  “The green one.”
Waitress:  “What?”
He says, “I like the green fruit with my drinks.”
Waitress:  “What….green…fruit? Kiwi?”
He says, “No. List the first two again.”
Waitress:  “Lemon or lime?”
He says:  “Whatever the green one of those is.”
Then he spots a lime on the bar and says, “That. I want that.”
HE DOES NOT KNOW THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A LIME AND A LEMON. A HUMAN BEING MAN WHO HAS A WALLET AND CLOTHES AND HAS BEEN ON EARTH FOR AT LEAST THREE DECADES - CALLS A LIME “THE GREEN FRUIT.”
PLEASE STOP CALLING AMERICA THE GREATEST COUNTRY IN THE WORLD.
THANK YOU, THE MGMT.
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jenkirkman:

I was just having lunch sitting at the bar.  I overheard this conversation between the waitress and the probably thirty-something-year-old guy next to me.

Waitress:  “Would you like a lemon or a lime with that?”

He gets quiet. He says, “Ahhh. Ahhh”

Waitress:  “Lemon or lime?”

He whispers:  “The green one.”

Waitress:  “What?”

He says, “I like the green fruit with my drinks.”

Waitress:  “What….green…fruit? Kiwi?”

He says, “No. List the first two again.”

Waitress:  “Lemon or lime?”

He says:  “Whatever the green one of those is.”

Then he spots a lime on the bar and says, “That. I want that.”

HE DOES NOT KNOW THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A LIME AND A LEMON. A HUMAN BEING MAN WHO HAS A WALLET AND CLOTHES AND HAS BEEN ON EARTH FOR AT LEAST THREE DECADES - CALLS A LIME “THE GREEN FRUIT.”

PLEASE STOP CALLING AMERICA THE GREATEST COUNTRY IN THE WORLD.

THANK YOU, THE MGMT.

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My grandma started teaching me to read at 3 and, once I was able to read “Where the Wild Things Are” on my own, I was hooked - a Sendak girl for life. I read all the other books, of course (“In the Night Kitchen” & “Outside, Over There” were favorites), but no book in my collection was more beloved to me than Wild Things.  In November of 1991, I was fortunate enough to see Maurice do a reading at the Pacific Design Center in LA. He hardly ever did readings & it was magical - he was everything I’d hoped he’d be - funny, grumpy, perfect. And when I approached him after the reading with my beat up copy of WTWTA, I was crying a bit. I choked out a little of what he’d meant to me over the years - how much I appreciated that he didn’t pander like many children’s authors; how no matter where I moved in this country, that book was with me; and the like. And as he signed my book, “For Holly”, he said “Thank you…thank you” and gave me a little pat on my arm. RIP, you beautiful wild thing. (Taken with instagram)

My grandma started teaching me to read at 3 and, once I was able to read “Where the Wild Things Are” on my own, I was hooked - a Sendak girl for life. I read all the other books, of course (“In the Night Kitchen” & “Outside, Over There” were favorites), but no book in my collection was more beloved to me than Wild Things. In November of 1991, I was fortunate enough to see Maurice do a reading at the Pacific Design Center in LA. He hardly ever did readings & it was magical - he was everything I’d hoped he’d be - funny, grumpy, perfect. And when I approached him after the reading with my beat up copy of WTWTA, I was crying a bit. I choked out a little of what he’d meant to me over the years - how much I appreciated that he didn’t pander like many children’s authors; how no matter where I moved in this country, that book was with me; and the like. And as he signed my book, “For Holly”, he said “Thank you…thank you” and gave me a little pat on my arm. RIP, you beautiful wild thing. (Taken with instagram)

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Santa Cruz Mountains road trip (Taken with instagram)

Santa Cruz Mountains road trip (Taken with instagram)

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“Unsolicited Advice to Adolescent Girls with Crooked Teeth and Pink Hair” by Jeanann Verlee

When your mother hits you, do not strike back.
When the boys call asking your cup size, say A, hang up.
When he says you gave him blue balls, say you’re welcome.
When a girl with thick black curls who smells like bubble gum stops you in a stairwell to ask if you’re a boy, explain that you keep your hair short so she won’t have anything to grab when you head-butt her.
Then head-butt her.
When a guidance counselor teases you for handed-down jeans, do not turn red.
When you have sex for the second time and there is no condom, do not convince yourself that screwing between layers of underwear will soak up the semen.
When your geometry teacher posts a banner reading: “Learn math or go home and learn how to be a Momma,” do not take your first feminist stand by leaving the classroom.
When the boy you have a crush on is sent to detention, go home.
When your mother hits you, do not strike back.
When the boy with the blue mohawk swallows your heart and opens his wrists, hide the knives, bleach the bathtub, pour out the vodka. Every time.
When the skinhead girls jump you in a bathroom stall, swing, curse, kick, do not turn red.
When a boy you think you love delivers the first black eye, use a screw driver, a beer bottle, your two good hands.
When your father locks the door, break the window.
When a college professor writes you poetry and whispers about your tight little ass, do not take it as a compliment, do not wait, call the Dean, call his wife.
When a boy with good manners and a thirst for Budweiser proposes, say no.
When your mother hits you, do not strike back.
When the boys tell you how good you smell, do not doubt them, do not turn red.
When your brother tells you he is gay, pretend you already know.
When the girl on the subway curses you because your T-shirt reads: “I fucked your boyfriend,” assure her that it is not true.
When your dog pees the rug, kiss her, apologize for being late.
When he refuses to stay the night because you live in Jersey City, do not move.
When he refuses to stay the night because you live in Harlem, do not move.
When he refuses to stay the night because your air conditioner is broken, leave him.
When he refuses to keep a toothbrush at your apartment, leave him.
When you find the toothbrush you keep at his apartment hidden in the closet, leave him.
Do not regret this.
Do not turn red.
When your mother hits you, do not strike back.

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Driving back into my city - I never get sick of this view. (Taken with instagram)

Driving back into my city - I never get sick of this view. (Taken with instagram)

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Chance sighting on the shuttle commute…I love a carnival - jinky, hasty construction and all. (Taken with instagram)

Chance sighting on the shuttle commute…I love a carnival - jinky, hasty construction and all. (Taken with instagram)

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dadsaretheoriginalhipster:

Your dad had the freshest ink around before you did and he’s still got the arm art to prove it. Systematically stabbed into his skin were the warpaint markings that made him an eternal badass. Each piece was an earned badge of honor from adventure-living, and death dodging. His skin read like a novel most authors wouldn’t dare dream about, let alone write. 
So hipsters, next time you’re getting an owl, buck, feather or Sailor Jerry inspired tattoo on your frail body so that you look tougher and cooler than you are, remember this…
Your dad made tattoos look tough, not the other way around. 
Thanks to Valariemcdowell on tumblr for the submission. 

dadsaretheoriginalhipster:

Your dad had the freshest ink around before you did and he’s still got the arm art to prove it. Systematically stabbed into his skin were the warpaint markings that made him an eternal badass. Each piece was an earned badge of honor from adventure-living, and death dodging. His skin read like a novel most authors wouldn’t dare dream about, let alone write. 

So hipsters, next time you’re getting an owl, buck, feather or Sailor Jerry inspired tattoo on your frail body so that you look tougher and cooler than you are, remember this…

Your dad made tattoos look tough, not the other way around. 

Thanks to Valariemcdowell on tumblr for the submission. 

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Eeeeeeee!

(Source: prettypthings, via ilikeprettyclothes)

Text

I

When you are seventeen you aren’t really serious.
- One fine evening, you’ve had enough of beer and lemonade,
And the rowdy cafes with their dazzling lights!
- You go walking beneath the green lime trees of the promenade.

The lime trees smell good on fine evenings in June!
The air is so soft sometimes, you close your eyelids;
The wind, full of sounds, - the town’s not far away -
Carries odours of vines, and odours of beer…

II

- Then you see a very tiny rag
Of dark blue, framed by a small branch,
Pierced by an unlucky star which is melting away
With soft little shivers, small, perfectly white…

June night! Seventeen! - You let yourself get drunk.
The sap is champagne and goes straight to your head…
You are wandering; you feel a kiss on your lips
Which quivers there like something small and alive…

III

Your mad heart goes Crusoeing through all the romances,
- When, under the light of a pale street lamp,
Passes a young girl with charming little airs,
In the shadow of her father’s terrifying stiff collar…

And because you strike her as absurdly naif,
As she trots along in her little ankle boots,
She turns, wide awake, with a brisk movement…
And then cavatinas die on your lips…

IV

You’re in love. Taken until the month of August.
You’re in love - Your sonnets make Her laugh.
All your friends disappear, you are not quite the thing.
- Then your adored one, one evening, condescends to write to you…!

That evening,… - you go back again to the dazzling cafes,
You ask for beer or for lemonade…
- You are not really serious when you are seventeen
And there are green lime trees on the promenade…

-Arthur Rimbaud

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happyhappy (Taken with instagram)

happyhappy (Taken with instagram)

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dadsaretheoriginalhipster:

After doing some complex mathematics combined with super science, I’ve empirically determined that I’ve posted 194 examples of how dads are the original hipsters.
This is example 195.
Your dad knew not to look directly into the camera during photos before you did.
Also, I’ve noticed that hipsters can be classified into different categories. I’m looking for the best examples of difference hipster sub-genres (like burly woodsman hipster). Send me over your photos and tell me what makes you dad the perfect example of one.
Potential examples: 
-Portland granola hipster
-Grunge-ster
-Broster 
-Lumberjackster
-Ye old times hipster (most likely wearing suspenders with long side parted hair and Tiny Tim boots)
Thank you to Sandy for the photo. 

dadsaretheoriginalhipster:

After doing some complex mathematics combined with super science, I’ve empirically determined that I’ve posted 194 examples of how dads are the original hipsters.

This is example 195.

Your dad knew not to look directly into the camera during photos before you did.

Also, I’ve noticed that hipsters can be classified into different categories. I’m looking for the best examples of difference hipster sub-genres (like burly woodsman hipster). Send me over your photos and tell me what makes you dad the perfect example of one.

Potential examples: 

-Portland granola hipster

-Grunge-ster

-Broster 

-Lumberjackster

-Ye old times hipster (most likely wearing suspenders with long side parted hair and Tiny Tim boots)

Thank you to Sandy for the photo. 

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Nutter Motherflippin’ Butter (Taken with instagram)

Nutter Motherflippin’ Butter (Taken with instagram)

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I love how incense makes our bedroom look like an opium den. (Taken with instagram)

I love how incense makes our bedroom look like an opium den. (Taken with instagram)

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thekittencovers:

Leonard Kitthen - Death of a Ladies Cat & Songs of Purr and Hiss

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