Art! (via lindsayism)
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I kid you not when I say MySpace is the biggest brainfuck ever. S. and I spent the entire morning IMing each other about our fellow HS alumni's (alumnus?) pages: the seizure-inducing glittery backgrounds, the spinny GIFs, the computer generated, big-eyed, "Bratz"-doll looking "weather pixies (??wtf??)", and last, but not least, one classmate's indescribable moustache. Really, indescribable.
So, just to let you in: the world is now calling being a hot soccer player in high school, then knocking up a bunch of 17 year olds, then growing an ironic 70s porn moustache at age thirty while living at home and raising all those kids, then creating a Myspace page about it: "The Bryan Peterson Effect."
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Tomorrow, sweet PIAB followers, tomorrow is the most exciting concert event of 06. Do not argue with me on this. Even my dog agrees. If you have not read Britt Barton Lindsay's piece in the latest issue of Hit It Or Quit It, then you prob do not understand why my expectations are so high, and I really don't have time to explain it to you.