"...It's just awful. He talks and talks and talks. And if he isn't talking, he's smoking his smelly cigars all over the house. I'm so sick of the smell of cigar smoke I could just roll over and die."
"The cigars are ballast, sweetheart. Sheer ballast. If he didn't have a cigar to hold on to, his feet would leave the ground. We'd never see our Zooey again."
When a financial institution asks me my “mother’s maiden name” as a security question. Because it’s assumed that I have at least one and no more than one mother in my life AND that she married AND that she gave up her own name AND that that part of her identity was erased enough from my public history so as to be a password to access my private information.
Holy crap, I never realized.
My roommate and his girlfriend got in the shower together and they’re… Talking about politics?
I was expecting to hear “OH GOD, HARDER,” not “George Washington was entirely correct in his prediction of what distinct parties would do to politics as a whole.”
Nope nevermind, there it is, apparently political debate is just their form of foreplay
STOP REBLOGGING THIS HE HAS A TUMBLR