![I just bought a bag of cherries from HEB, and it reminded me of all the cherries Ale and I were eating this time last year. Then in June we went to San Francisco, and while we were there we visited with my aunt, and she presented us with a giant bag of cherries. We were elated.
[Photo is from a public restroom on Haight St.]](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m4ve5kZQoC1r4lm5uo1_1280.jpg)
I just bought a bag of cherries from HEB, and it reminded me of all the cherries Ale and I were eating this time last year. Then in June we went to San Francisco, and while we were there we visited with my aunt, and she presented us with a giant bag of cherries. We were elated.
[Photo is from a public restroom on Haight St.]
“I want to know if my hair is just like yours,” he told Mr. Obama, so quietly that the president asked him to speak again.
Jacob did, and Mr. Obama replied, “Why don’t you touch it and see for yourself?” He lowered his head, level with Jacob, who hesitated.
“Touch it, dude!” Mr. Obama said.
Oh, Rick. So fucking heartbreaking.
I watched Pretty In Pink again over the weekend (on a local Atlanta channel, edited, just like the old days man), then saw this whole thing on Twitter yesterday. So good!
P.S. Rewatching the film, I made the startling realization that I now identify with the Annie Potts character. Like, you can come to my apartment and I’ll give you nurturing hugs and prom advice. Don’t waste good lip gloss, you guys.
Pretty in Pink is far and away my favorite brat pack movie.
(Source: capricecrane)
Another great thing about the D’Angelo story is that it includes the phrase “drunk off his ass”—and not even as part of a quote—which is something I imagine only people from my hometown say, even though I know that’s not true.
I think I’m reaching critical levels of grumpiness from which I might never return. This is the beginning of the next fifty years of me being a horribly bitter old woman.
I love that Lynda Barry mentioned MCA on her Tumblr. And posted a very handsome picture of him too!
