* It really doesn't take a lot for me to get going on some radical, sanctimonious, quasi-socialist rant. And that scares me, because I'm supposed to be a cynical, unfeeling hipster. I mean, for God's sake, I have a goatee. If I'm NOT cynical, that that just means I'm a few darbouka lessons away from being an unwashed, barefoot hippie. And I hate hippies!
* ...okay. I secretly want to learn to play darbouka.
*With douchy inflection* The rhythms and I sojurn through the thirsty desert.
*Drum sounds* FLAK-A-WAH!
*My main tactic in arguments involves making people feel completely ashamed of what they actually believe in. As I explained to my brother Nick, "when people get up on stage and start doing their monkey dance, get up in the audience and do the monkey dance, too. When they see how ridiculous it looks, they'll sit down out of shame."
* I hate it when you talk to people with messed up lives who spout off complete bullshit and then suddenly drop unsettling nuggets of Truth (capital T). And when you put all those unsettling Truth-nuggets together in Oujia board formation, it spells out: GET A GIRLFRIEND. OR AT LEAST SOME SORT OF SIGNIFICANT OTHER FIGURE.
* To the cholos/drug dealers down the street who choose to repeatedly drive past our house at midnight on weeknights -- SHUT THE FUCK UP! And buy a damn muffler. Your "pimp" ride sounds like a Vespa with swine flu.
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