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Here you'll find info about artists, rumors, camping tips, and the infamous Roo Clues. Have a look around then create an account and join in the fun. See you at Bonnaroo!!
ITT: Lots if people who weren’t in NYC/didn’t lose any friends or family on 9/11…but whatevs. I was lucky enough to check both those boxes. But I voted for it this round because it’s the day every year when I have to hear every gap-toothed conservative yokel who spends the rest of the year shitting all over New York City as not “real America” tell me to never forget, when I’d pay good money for an Eternal Sunshine procedure that would make me forget because that trauma runs deep as fuck.
That knock knock joke wasn’t bad, though.
Summer 2002 was the first summer I could legally drink, and I didn't drink til I was legal. I was in a wedding in upstate NY, and got a little loose that day. It was mostly because this guy poured two glasses of Jim beam on the rocks, handed one to me, and when I tried to turn it down said "my brother was in the south tower when it was hit, he'd be drinking this with me if he were here, so you have to take his place." I blacked out that night, but apparently the groom's fam was chanting my (eminently chantable) last name for the last hour of the night.
]Summer 2002 was the first summer I could legally drink, and I didn't drink til I was legal. I was in a wedding in upstate NY, and got a little loose that day. It was mostly because this guy poured two glasses of Jim beam on the rocks, handed one to me, and when I tried to turn it down said "my brother was in the south tower when it was hit, he'd be drinking this with me if he were here, so you have to take his place." I blacked out that night, but apparently the groom's fam was chanting my (eminently chantable) last name for the last hour of the night.
We're all a mess of paradoxes. Believing in things we know can't be true. We walk around carrying feelings too complicated and contradictory to express. But when it all becomes too big, and words aren't enough to help get it all out, there's always music.
I have to vote for Valentine's Day. I spent too many years working it in the food service industry.
I'd def vote off Mother's Day then if that's how we are judging it. Busiest Restaurant Day of the year and I won't go near one on that day. On the other hand, night before Thanksgiving is the best for tips - even over NYE.
I have to vote for Valentine's Day. I spent too many years working it in the food service industry.
I'd def vote off Mother's Day then if that's how we are judging it. Busiest Restaurant Day of the year and I won't go near one on that day. On the other hand, night before Thanksgiving is the best for tips - even over NYE.
ITT: Lots if people who weren’t in NYC/didn’t lose any friends or family on 9/11…but whatevs. I was lucky enough to check both those boxes. But I voted for it this round because it’s the day every year when I have to hear every gap-toothed conservative yokel who spends the rest of the year shitting all over New York City as not “real America” tell me to never forget, when I’d pay good money for an Eternal Sunshine procedure that would make me forget because that trauma runs deep as fuck.
That knock knock joke wasn’t bad, though.
Summer 2002 was the first summer I could legally drink, and I didn't drink til I was legal. I was in a wedding in upstate NY, and got a little loose that day. It was mostly because this guy poured two glasses of Jim beam on the rocks, handed one to me, and when I tried to turn it down said "my brother was in the south tower when it was hit, he'd be drinking this with me if he were here, so you have to take his place." I blacked out that night, but apparently the groom's fam was chanting my (eminently chantable) last name for the last hour of the night.
this is probably a more exciting holiday experience than anyone has ever had on Boxing Day
Post by piggy pablo on Apr 26, 2022 19:52:43 GMT -5
The worst thing that ever happened to me was on Christmas. Oh, God. It was so horrible. It was Christmas Eve. I was 9 years old. Me and Mom were decorating the tree, waiting for Dad to come home from work. A couple of hours went by. Dad wasn’t home. So Mom called the office. No answer. Christmas Day came and went and still nothing. So the police began a search. Four or five days went by. Neither one of us could eat or sleep. Everything was falling apart. It was snowing outside. The house was freezing, so I went to try to light up the fire. And that’s when I noticed the smell. The firemen came and broke through the chimney top. And me and Mom were expecting them to pull out a dead cat or a bird. And instead they pulled out my father. He was dressed in a Santa Claus suit. He’d been climbing down the chimney on Christmas Eve, his arms loaded with presents. He was gonna surprise us. He slipped and broke his neck. He died instantly. And that’s how I found out there was no Santa Claus.
The worst thing that ever happened to me was on Christmas. Oh, God. It was so horrible. It was Christmas Eve. I was 9 years old. Me and Mom were decorating the tree, waiting for Dad to come home from work. A couple of hours went by. Dad wasn’t home. So Mom called the office. No answer. Christmas Day came and went and still nothing. So the police began a search. Four or five days went by. Neither one of us could eat or sleep. Everything was falling apart. It was snowing outside. The house was freezing, so I went to try to light up the fire. And that’s when I noticed the smell. The firemen came and broke through the chimney top. And me and Mom were expecting them to pull out a dead cat or a bird. And instead they pulled out my father. He was dressed in a Santa Claus suit. He’d been climbing down the chimney on Christmas Eve, his arms loaded with presents. He was gonna surprise us. He slipped and broke his neck. He died instantly. And that’s how I found out there was no Santa Claus.
ITT: Lots if people who weren’t in NYC/didn’t lose any friends or family on 9/11…but whatevs. I was lucky enough to check both those boxes. But I voted for it this round because it’s the day every year when I have to hear every gap-toothed conservative yokel who spends the rest of the year shitting all over New York City as not “real America” tell me to never forget, when I’d pay good money for an Eternal Sunshine procedure that would make me forget because that trauma runs deep as fuck.
That knock knock joke wasn’t bad, though.
Summer 2002 was the first summer I could legally drink, and I didn't drink til I was legal. I was in a wedding in upstate NY, and got a little loose that day. It was mostly because this guy poured two glasses of Jim beam on the rocks, handed one to me, and when I tried to turn it down said "my brother was in the south tower when it was hit, he'd be drinking this with me if he were here, so you have to take his place." I blacked out that night, but apparently the groom's fam was chanting my (eminently chantable) last name for the last hour of the night.
The worst thing that ever happened to me was on Christmas. Oh, God. It was so horrible. It was Christmas Eve. I was 9 years old. Me and Mom were decorating the tree, waiting for Dad to come home from work. A couple of hours went by. Dad wasn’t home. So Mom called the office. No answer. Christmas Day came and went and still nothing. So the police began a search. Four or five days went by. Neither one of us could eat or sleep. Everything was falling apart. It was snowing outside. The house was freezing, so I went to try to light up the fire. And that’s when I noticed the smell. The firemen came and broke through the chimney top. And me and Mom were expecting them to pull out a dead cat or a bird. And instead they pulled out my father. He was dressed in a Santa Claus suit. He’d been climbing down the chimney on Christmas Eve, his arms loaded with presents. He was gonna surprise us. He slipped and broke his neck. He died instantly. And that’s how I found out there was no Santa Claus.
The worst thing that ever happened to me was on Christmas. Oh, God. It was so horrible. It was Christmas Eve. I was 9 years old. Me and Mom were decorating the tree, waiting for Dad to come home from work. A couple of hours went by. Dad wasn’t home. So Mom called the office. No answer. Christmas Day came and went and still nothing. So the police began a search. Four or five days went by. Neither one of us could eat or sleep. Everything was falling apart. It was snowing outside. The house was freezing, so I went to try to light up the fire. And that’s when I noticed the smell. The firemen came and broke through the chimney top. And me and Mom were expecting them to pull out a dead cat or a bird. And instead they pulled out my father. He was dressed in a Santa Claus suit. He’d been climbing down the chimney on Christmas Eve, his arms loaded with presents. He was gonna surprise us. He slipped and broke his neck. He died instantly. And that’s how I found out there was no Santa Claus.
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