leon dalton my beloved

wish i could call in bitchy to work

sorry boss can’t work today. i woke up and i feel like a total cunt. can’t be trusted with customers

I do not respect the grind. Go to bed

im a different girl every hour u have to understand this

the LMAO+ community

Ok, question. Why not use the For You page at that point?

Because it sucks

im a blorbo apologist but also they did every bad thing they did and i will get mad if u ignore that. complexities

I am not blorbo’s apologist, I’m blorbo’s defense attorney. And baby, we are going for a plea deal cause he absolutely did that shit.

did anyone ever tell the Backstreet Boys why

My FAVORITE quote, of all time, is from the like, 2008 VH1 Top 50 Best Boy Band Songs special when AJ was commentating this song’s #1 win and he said, “I’ve never understood this song. WHAT WAY do I want it? And why DON’T I want it that way if SHE wants it that way? What’s the way? This song makes no sense. But man, they paid me to sing it.”

He was so distressed about his confusion, and I loved it. I love this song. It is truly the song of all time.

The songwriter, Max Martin, has written or contributed to the lyrics for a huge number of pop hits since the 90s. Max Martin is Swedish, and English is not his first language, a fact which feels incredibly obvious once you know it.

It’s not my intention to mock him for this–his English is miles ahead of my Swedish!–but this sincere vagueness and novel interpretations of English grammar are a noticeable quirks of his songs, especially his earlier work, so much so that trying to tease apart the individual words and phrases of the songs is a task designed for a Greek tragedy. His songs are the aursl embodiment of “no thoughts just vibes.”

Citation: Slate’s 2014 article/highlight reel of some of Martin’s most baffling lyrical Decisions:

They don’t bring it up in that article, but Martin is also responsible for Britney Spears’s “…One More Time,” and I’m sorry to anyone in whom something was awakened with those lyrics, but our good friend Max thought “hit me” was contemporary American slang for “call me.”

I feel like this adds a thin, waxy coating of surrealism in a genre whose worst examples can lean hard toward bland vapidity, and I love that Backstreet Boys lyrics are still making people question their sanity 25 years on. But mostly I can’t get over the thought of all of these singers–many of them already really big before they worked with Martin–puzzling their way through these lyrics enough to figure out how to sell the shit out of them.

learned today (after googling it upon seeing the "Sadomasochism Brothers" post) that masochism was named by a psychiatrist who had read Leopold von Sacher-Masoch's erotic writing and was like "I feel safe in concluding that this man had Fucked-Up Freak Sex Disorder, which now until forever will bear his name", while von Sacher-Masoch was still alive. there are accounts of von Sacher-Masoch being like "bro what the fuck" about this

stomach hurts from hunger. stomach hurts from eating. what the hell do yuou want from me you stupid fucking organ

APHRODITE, Goddess of Love Hades (2020) vs. Hades 2 (TBA)

As someone around for 9-11 and the "NEVER FORGET NUMBER #1 GREATEST TRAGEDY EVER IN HISTURY" response to it I am in thrilled and invigorated by the fact that younger people just make amogus memes and TikTok nonsense about it. A huge chunk of America cared more about it than any entire genocide and thought you would cry learning about it. They hoped it'd make every generation patriotically angry forever and ever and want to join the military. Instead you Photoshop the towers into squidwards house and shit. Never stop lol

I’m physically unable to take 9/11 seriously, entirely because my grade 9 english teacher was bizarrely obsessed with it. We basically had an entire unit on 9/11. We watched that documentary from those students that were doing a documentary of firefighters and wound up getting the only footage of the first plane hitting. We did a novel study of a book about some kid being in one of the towers for take your kid to work day and him and his dad squeezing past the wreckage of the plane to escape in time. We watched that Nic Cage movie of him being a firefighter during 9/11 that gets stuck in an elevator shaft when the place collapses. I am dead fucking serious, we had to make up fictional people that died in the attack, write an obituary for our 9/11sona’s, and then write and deliver a eulogy as their grief-stricken parent. At one point in the unit the teacher clarified that she hadn’t personally lost anyone to the attack, nor was she anywhere near New York when it happened. She never bothered to ask if any of us had actually lost someone in the attack, which kind of seems like a thing you should do before making us invent fictional victims to give eulogies for. The unit began with her demanding to know where we all were on the day of the attack and what we remembered, and she started crying when we told her that 1. we were two years old at the time and couldn’t remember shit fuck, the closest thing was one of the older kids kind of thought they remembered being very confused at adults freaking out over the TV but that could have been literally anything, and so this meant that 2. we were the last class she would ever teach that could possibly remember 9/11. Probably didn’t help that someone pointed out that we were the class born in 1999, so in two years she’d have students that hadn’t even been born during 9/11. That may have contributed to the teacher crying over the whole thing.

We’re Canadian.

That last sentence KILLED me. Jesus fuck.

Melinoë in Hades II

every sunday i tell my liberal father that i'm off to go get another sex change. he tells me "yass monarch slay". but in reality i go to church to study the teachings of the lord. if my liberal father knew this i would be disowned. this is joe biden's america