I never get tired of this story: Mick calls Charlie’s hotel room at 3 in the moring, drunk as hell, asking “Where’s my fucking drummer?” Charlie gets up, has a shave, puts on a suit, then walks over to Mick’s room and pimp-slaps him. “I’m not your fucking drummer, you’re *my* fucking singer!”

Real talk, you’d have to be really fuckin dumb to kill a truffle-finding pig.

You can be pretty well-known in your field and still be relatively unknown to the world at large. Like, I wouldn’t recognize a high-profile mathematician if they sat next to me at a bar, but a lot of other people would.

Flargan and WHAT?

YEEEEAH! *guitar riff*

Aw, they’ll be all right. It’s not like when the Catholic Church painted fig leaves over the dicks on the Sistine Chapel or anything. It’s disposable TV culture.

He offered Rhodes a suit in the first movie, though. (And the War Machine suit is still 99% Stark tech, all Hammer did was bolt some guns to it.) But really, it comes down to the assumption that Stark doesn’t trust a lot of people. Hell, you can count the number of actual friends MCU Stark has on one hand: Rhodes,…

“...so that’s when I says to Lars ‘I got a better snare sound last night when I was banging your mom!’”

Maybe nobody’s made that discovery yet. Magic-based societies tend to get a little slippery when they meet science.

Most of the dudes I know who ride Harleys are under-40 millenial hipsters who won’t fuck with anything pre-Evo.

Probably because the books were illustrated by Geisel/Seuss as well and he was notorious for being shitty about even the tiniest color error. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was something in his will about not editing any of the illustrations in perpetuity.

Love how Entwhistle’s like “get the fuck away from me with that bullshit”.

JFC, not even 60. I can’t imagine how much the stress of dealing with all that bullshit had to have aged her.

Simping for billionaires isn’t a good look.

“...that’s a huge bitch!”

Fixed that for you.

“They” and “he” are interchangeable and either can be used when referring to the person known as Elliot Page. English (much like gender in this case) is extremely flexible.

Gender is fluid, “they” can be singular, and they can use whatever pronouns he damn well pleases.

Yes, but why would you stop making money for doing a thing, if someone else will also give you more money for doing the thing?

Desperation, stale In-N-Out, and last week’s boat party.