maybe i’m a goddamn bleeding heart hippie liberal but i’m totally down with paying an extra .50 cents for a thing of fries if the person who makes me those fries doesn’t have to work 3 jobs just to survive.
When I hear the screams of the crowd, I think it’s because I must look stunning. Then I notice something is rising up around me. Smoke. From fire. Not the flickery stuff I wore last year in the chariot, but something much more real that devours my dress. I begin to panic as the smoke thickens. Charred bits of black silk swirl into the air, and pearls clatter to the stage. Somehow I’m afraid to stop because my flesh doesn’t seem to be burning and I know Cinna must be behind whatever is happening. So I keep spinning and spinning. For a split second I’m gasping, completely engulfed in the strange flames.
please don’t touch my thigh my dick will rise like apollo 13
but apollo 13 exploded
that’s the goal
Ezra Koenig and Chris Baio saying different variations of the word porn.
Dante’s Inferno: a helpful diagram to eternal damnation
Now there’s a great Sammy laugh.