HEY STEVE NIEBAUER DO YOU THINK YOU COULD HELP ME MOVE ON THE 5TH OF NOVEMBER? I know you’re in the DR, but I also know you’re checking your tumblr. I mostly just want someone to help me pick up the truck and what not since I haven’t driven in a coon’s age. That’s right, a coon’s age.
“As I was purchasing the gift that I sent to you today, a production manager from one of our other plants said to me: ‘Are your kids flaming liberals? It would seem so from the gifts you bought them.’ I replied, ‘YES, they are. I brought them up correctly!’”—my dad, in an email to me, teasing me with a mystery gift that I am now extra excited to receive.
You know what’s funny? When I ask (because I have to) people for their email address at check out, while they’re on their smart phone and tell me they don’t have email.
I’m not saying I give mine out either, but some dude is holding his iphone, mid text message and says that he doesn’t have an email address.
Also, I’m getting trained to do shelving and such (Yay! It’s so fun! And I like it!) and people literally come up to me and other people doing this kind of work and say “I need this book and it’s about white people and the cover is blue.”
“She knocked me out. I mean it. I was half in love with her by the time we sat down. That’s the thing about girls. Every time they do something pretty, even if they’re not much to look at, or even if they’re sort of stupid, you fall half in love with them, and then you never know where the hell you are. Girls. Jesus Christ. They can drive you crazy. They really can.”—Holden Caulfield, The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger
Sufjan discusses Seven Swans, the Danielson Famile, and Christianity.
“I had been out of Michigan for about three years and probably was just being sentimental, you know, looking back, surveying my life, thinking about things, thinking about my family, thinking about the geography of Michigan, and kind of missing it in a way, and mythologizing it.”
“I want to be your wingman! Though, I think I would be the worst wingman ever. I’d be like, ‘Hey, this is Sam. She’s awesome. If she were playing in Oregon Trail, she’d shoot many bear and be able to carry at least 100 pounds back to the wagon.’”— infinitezest
One of the incredible things about my family is that I know they’re by my side no matter what. I’m sure that many people can relate, but regardless of its commonality, it’s a powerful feeling. My dad leaves work meetings when I call during the day in case something important happened. He listens without judgment. He tells me that he’s proud of me everyday, even when I am certain nothing I have done deserves merit, let alone his pride. But one of my favorite things when I am having a hard time is something that both my brother and my mom say to me: “Chin up.” This is ideal because it’s a small, manageable action. They’re not promising that everything will work out. They are merely demanding in a kind way that no matter how I feel inside, I just hold my head high and maybe the rest of it will come into place. But if not, I’ll still have my chin up. This is certainly sappy, but it’s a comforting reality to know I’ll hear those two words when I am unsure of myself.
I am behind a cash register all day and am held captive for all kinds of people to hit on me. The worst one so far being a guy who mumbled his compliment, and I asked him to repeat himself, as I thought it was a question about his transaction:
Me (politely): I’m sorry, what was that?
Customer: I said, uh, you look good. Real good.
Oh, great. I’m glad I had him repeat that. Awesome. I guess that’s one way out me asking him what his email address is.
IS AWESOME AND HAS A GREAT PERSONALITY AND DRESSES WELL.
WE HIGHLY RECOMMEND HER.
US”—a former follow intern, Niel, writing a letter of recommendation for me for any job I ever apply to in the future
“Listen, I don’t care what you say about my race, creed, or religion, Fatty, but don’t tell me I’m not sensitive to beauty. That’s my Achilles’ heel, and don’t you forget it. To me, everything is beautiful. Show me a pink sunset and I’m limp, by God.”— Zooey - Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger (via twelve-ish)
“It’s like morphine, language is. A fearful habit to form: you become a bore to all who would otherwise cherish you. Of course, there is the chance that you may be hailed as a genius after you are dead long years, but what is that to you? There will still be high endeavor that ends, as always, with kissing in the dark, but where are you? Time? Time? Why worry about something that takes care of itself so well? You were born with the habit of consuming time. Be satisfied with that.” —William Faulkner, Mosquitoes
“When a beautiful actress is cast in a movie, executives rack their brains to find some kind of flaw in the character she plays that will still allow her to be palatable. She can’t be overweight or not perfect-looking, because who would pay to see that? A female who is not one hundred per cent perfect-looking in every way? You might as well film a dead squid decaying on a beach somewhere for two hours. So they make her a Klutz. The hundred-per-cent-perfect-looking female is perfect in every way except that she constantly bonks her head on things. She trips and falls and spills soup on her affable date (Josh Lucas. Is that his name? I know it’s two first names. Josh George? Brad Mike? Fred Tom? Yes, it’s Fred Tom). The Klutz clangs into stop signs while riding her bike and knocks over giant displays of fine china in department stores. Despite being five feet nine and weighing a hundred and ten pounds, she is basically like a drunk buffalo who has never been a part of human society. But Fred Tom loves her anyway.”—Mindy Kaling on the women who only exist in romantic comedies | Flick Chicks (via rufustfirefly)