Stealing beauty, fuckers and fuckshits!
Ok, I'm listening to one of my favorite movie soundtracks ever: Stealing Beauty. Now, there's very few soundtracks i actually own (mainly- because most just plain suck); however, be that as it may, this one in particular is one of the few that comes pretty damn close to matching my own taste. And, as any of you fuckers know, i'm a bit nuts. Er, about music.
Now, to my point- this song on here Rocket Boy by Liz Phair. Now, there's only so many chords you can play on a guitar, but one of her riffs sounds kinda like a dead ringer for one in Sex Pistols' Pretty Vacant. Please, tell me I'm not deluding myself.
Last week I called and talked to the gen. mgr of the last restaraunt I worked at asking them where the fuck my W2 is at (I want money, to this end, I need the damn forms to fill out the tax shit). He took down my addy and all that (i'd rather not set foot in their establishment again. ever), and it still hasn't arrived. Now, this piece of mail has to travel a whopping TWO BLOCKS. If it's not in my po box by thu...there's going to be trouble. I'll call him one more time, if stuff isn't resolved to my liking, i'm going to call the IRS or something and have them bitch him out for being a fuckshit. Or something.
the next woman i overhear under a size (x) who bitches about how she's soooooooooo faaaaaaat- I'm going to suggest a steady diet of ice cream and big mac's for a solid six months. straight.
Now, to my point- this song on here Rocket Boy by Liz Phair. Now, there's only so many chords you can play on a guitar, but one of her riffs sounds kinda like a dead ringer for one in Sex Pistols' Pretty Vacant. Please, tell me I'm not deluding myself.
Last week I called and talked to the gen. mgr of the last restaraunt I worked at asking them where the fuck my W2 is at (I want money, to this end, I need the damn forms to fill out the tax shit). He took down my addy and all that (i'd rather not set foot in their establishment again. ever), and it still hasn't arrived. Now, this piece of mail has to travel a whopping TWO BLOCKS. If it's not in my po box by thu...there's going to be trouble. I'll call him one more time, if stuff isn't resolved to my liking, i'm going to call the IRS or something and have them bitch him out for being a fuckshit. Or something.
the next woman i overhear under a size (x) who bitches about how she's soooooooooo faaaaaaat- I'm going to suggest a steady diet of ice cream and big mac's for a solid six months. straight.