I Can Be A Badass Dj When

How Come Princesses Always Have Some Huge Flaw That Can Cause Their Downfall?

I Figured Being A Bed Salesman Was A Job Of Biblically Bad Paradox. I Mean, Here He Was, Forced To Stand For Eight Or Nine Hours A Day, And The Whole Time He’s Surrounded By Beds. And Not Only That, He’s Surrounded By Shoppers Who See The Beds And Can’t Help But Think, Man, I’d Love To Lie Down On That Bed For A Second. So Not Only Does He Have To Stop Himself From Lying Down, But He Has To Stop Everyone Else From Doing It, Too. I Knew If I Were Him, I Would Be Desperate For Human Company.

Lou's Such An Old Punk He Was Around When The Ramones Were Junkie Hustlers First And Musicians Second, When Punk Meant Something Other Than A Mass-marketing Concept Designed To Help The Bridge-and-tunnel Crowd Feel Cool.

There Is No Such Thing As A Soulmate...and Who Would Want There To Be? I Don't Want Half Of A Shared Soul. I Want My Own Damn Soul.

Do You Want To Guess What's In Here?" I Asked Dash. "i Think I've Got It Figured Out Already. There's A New Supply Of Red Notebooks In There, And You Want Us To Fill Them In With Clues About The Works Of, Say, Nicholas Sparks." "who?" I Asked. Please, No More Broody Poets. I Couldn't Keep Up. "you Don't Know Who Nicholas Sparks Is?" Dash Asked. I Shook My Head. "please Don't Ever Find Out," He Said.