Gratuitous proof that my head was not talked off. Cary.
Bonus: spiffy new haircut.
Song for the Dumped // Ben Folds Five
I have a surprising lack of Angry Music in my collection. This is pretty close, though.
Well, fuck you, too
Give me my money back
Give me my money back, you bitch
Report it to league management. Please. I’ve been that kid.
The problem here is that there is no league. These are ad hoc tournaments between all-star teams from different towns that last two or three days each and then they just end. This tournament ends tomorrow and I’m sure that team was eliminated just after they beat us. We may see that team in another tourney later this summer, or we may not.
I may write the head of the league in the town where that team is from, though there is a 50/50 chance the guy who will see it is the coach who was screaming. A better bet may be to call their mayor, just to let him know about what this guy is doing in his city’s name.
You are beautiful.
In my head, you are singing this to me as Joe Cocker.
WHO’S CREEPY NOW.
Cary’s son, my nephew, needs to come home to Illinois from Baltimore. His physical and mental health are becoming more and more in jeopardy and when he has to get off the phone because there’s gunfire, something needs to be done. Having lived in Detroit for 9 months, I know the desperation he’s feeling.
Contrary to my pride, and unbeknowst to Cary who would never approve, I figured out how to set up a pledgie for this purpose. If you can help, thank you. If not, your good thoughts are appreciated as well.
I don’t follow all the same people that Cary does so please feel free to reblog if you take a notion.
Clearly I need to be photographed with Cary more often.