“I can’t believe we’re doing this ironic birthday dinner at Olive Garden.
“$18 for spaghetti and meatballs? I could get nine 40s for $18, this is some bullshit.”
“Check this out, but play it cool. I don’t want Tight Ass to my right see this.
Now, those little crystals? They’re the kief, that’s how you know is good shit.”
“We haven’t seen shit from the Gulf, we’ve been hanging on the beach at my parent’s house on Long Island.
“James got a burn on his head.”
Edit: This is not a picture of Rosa. It’s Carville’s wife. We started drinking a bit early for Memorial Day. Thanks to everyone who emailed us about it.
“A Brooklyn Industries in Grand Central Station?
Is my life a sham? Am I living a lie?”
“Oh shit, that’s Craig Finn!
“Quick, pretend we’re making out. If he sees me, I’ll get locked up for violation of the restraining order.
“If I gotta go back to the clink, there’ll be a multitude of casualties.”
“I waited eight hours and the dumb bitch in front of me sat with her until MoMA closed!
I just wanted to cry. I just wanted to cry in front of Marina Abramovic.”
“John Mayer’s on Tumblr? Gay.
No idiot, I’m making fun of the people who actually say Gay.”
“I’m going to read Infinite Jest this summer.”
“‘You want me! XXXO! XXXO!’
CONGRESS SUMMER JAM MOTHERFUCKERS!”
“Look, Grandma, no one’s listened to Yo La Tengo since Summer Sun & even that was bullocks-lame. If you wanna rock your eyes out, get you some Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti & get your mind right.”