Mmmhmmm. Luxury jumpsuits for leisure living.

Well, there are the 6s—they’re curious about the world in a whole new way and liable to strangle themselves jumping out of trees wearing a towel as a cape.

My 17 year old niece who is Very Well Balanced and Stable and Full of No Nonsense recently went on a rant about teens and social media feuds and the politics of unfriending and unfollowing and purging your accounts of any evidence of former friends’ existences.

BUT WHERE ARE THE GINGERS?

...We finally fucked.

I think this one is not so much about the song as the Olympic feels of the video.

Decent pay, better hours.

But was there butter and jam?

Only the sausages.

You might think that, except for all the other punctuation.

Lox.

If that’s your concern, I think I can say that you’re medicated just fine.

Not wrong.

Right, sounds like “thanks for coming to the wedding, we will now complete the suicide pact!”

Aw, I was hoping it was Dance Apocalyptic.

I was just thinking about that, but reviewing the lyrics it’s actually also about fucking. Just your parents doin’it and making you.

I am extremely clumsy. NOPE.

Good grief—I’m on the phone with my mom and trying not to laugh at this thread.