I think someone ran over my childhood with their jeep. Or Hot dog car I should say..
Scarry Pigs in Peril - a set on Flickr
At long last, a canonical home for the least self-interested animals in the pantheon of children’s literature: Richard Scarry’s pigs.
Although many of the animals in Richard Scarry’s books have an unusual interest in meat, no creature is more intrigued by the exploitation and consumption of his own species than the smiling and good-natured pig.
A man accused me of budding him in line today when I was purchasing a muffin at work.
I am sincerely sorry that you felt like your place in line was threatened by a 5’3 female. I had no intention of taking your place and placing my order before yours.
I am sorry that you could not make a decision as to what you wanted for lunch.
I am sorry that it is an open top counter and there is no “official” queue.
I am sorry that I walked right up to the counter while you were deciding.
I am sorry that the woman working at the counter decided to ask me what I wanted.
I am sorry that she felt you were incredibly obnoxious and decided to ask me first.
I am sorry that when you questioned whether my actions were justified or not, I simply shrugged my shoulders.
I am sorry that this is not Nicomachean Ethics.
I am sorry that you tried to make my actions deep philosophical question. Key word here is tried.
I am sorry that you are not observant.
Most of all, I am sorry that you’re an idiot.
I played the clarinet at some point in my life.. Did not sound THIS cool
The Kid Ory Band - “Royal Garden Blues”
How do you even make a clarinet do that?
(via fuckyeahalbuquerque)
remember him, jackie.
This is one of the best ways to demonstrate success, of course I remember him.
I just spent the night embarrassing my sister at her junior high band concert. You know you have done a good job when they are no longer able to look in your direction.
my “dog-dog”.
lovelovelove.
Bug my frog again, and this fellow is getting dunked into the washing machine.
from a certain television network.
