Calling drug dealers is the most awkward thing ever. I wish I was back in high school when I could just ask my friend at lunch to ask her boyfriend to meet us after school with a couple of dubs.
You know when you feel like you're going to fart, but then you think "Wait... that could be poop" and then you take a chance and let it out and, to your relief, it was a fart? I just had that happen, except it wasn't a fart.
This famous paradox becomes much simpler and less paradoxical if you just judge the velocity of each object by relating them to different points in space.
Once a year I make a pilgrimage to Disneyland, drop acid, and talk to the characters. They are my gods, though they probably don't know it. None of their advice has yet steered me wrong.
My hairclips have a habit of breaking. I wear sunscreen on my left arm to try and even out my driving tan. I'm learning Persian, though I am of Northern/Eastern European descent.