"emocore," not "emotional," is the reason it's said in derision
I was talking to Benny (my middle-aged ex-con spanglish coworker) about how I was sleeping on a mattress on the floor because we had a border. I explained that the original plan was that I would be in Maine or NYC during July, but had decided to stay because I was enjoying the job so much, and that this was just the way things shook out. Benny would have none of that:
"My mommuh make me sleep on the flo', I'd...I'd...FLUSHUH HUH down thuh TOILET!"
To which I replied: "You'd flush your mother down the toilet?"
"I can do SOME CRAZY SHIT if I'm DRUNK."
I didn't take this any further mostly because I had no real desire to debate physics in broken English. He did show up yesterday about a half-hour late with a fucking huge bruise on his forehead. Apparently he'd gotten shitfaced on Thursday night and crashed his bike into a tree and rolled into the street.
Also, I'm considering getting those thick black plastic-framed emo glasses that get those moody poet types much ladies. I'm kind of so-so on the idea, so I offer for your consumption this HIGHLY ADVANCED supercomputer simulation that may assist you in assisting me with my decision here.
In this first picture you'll find me, and Connor and Louie and Will. I'm in the middle in the back. This was from my "what the fuck, who the shit am I trying to impress again?" pink bandana phase late in sophomore year. Come to your own conclusions about my appearance in this photo, but I don't feel like I look particularly smart or interesting, and my deer-in-headlights pose really falls flat given the soccer hooligans I was hanging with that night.
Now, add emo glasses! I'm just spitballing here, but I think these glasses make me look a hundred, nay, a thousand times sexier, and instantly transform me into the moody and poetic yet highly intelligent fellow who can still dick around and drink Red Dog with the best of them. Why, even my stupidass face is given an air of quiet contemplation, as if I wasn't merely throwing a goofy look at a camera, but caught deep in thought, deep in sexy thought.
Anyway, I could be way wrong. Help me internets!
"My mommuh make me sleep on the flo', I'd...I'd...FLUSHUH HUH down thuh TOILET!"
To which I replied: "You'd flush your mother down the toilet?"
"I can do SOME CRAZY SHIT if I'm DRUNK."
I didn't take this any further mostly because I had no real desire to debate physics in broken English. He did show up yesterday about a half-hour late with a fucking huge bruise on his forehead. Apparently he'd gotten shitfaced on Thursday night and crashed his bike into a tree and rolled into the street.
Also, I'm considering getting those thick black plastic-framed emo glasses that get those moody poet types much ladies. I'm kind of so-so on the idea, so I offer for your consumption this HIGHLY ADVANCED supercomputer simulation that may assist you in assisting me with my decision here.
In this first picture you'll find me, and Connor and Louie and Will. I'm in the middle in the back. This was from my "what the fuck, who the shit am I trying to impress again?" pink bandana phase late in sophomore year. Come to your own conclusions about my appearance in this photo, but I don't feel like I look particularly smart or interesting, and my deer-in-headlights pose really falls flat given the soccer hooligans I was hanging with that night.
Now, add emo glasses! I'm just spitballing here, but I think these glasses make me look a hundred, nay, a thousand times sexier, and instantly transform me into the moody and poetic yet highly intelligent fellow who can still dick around and drink Red Dog with the best of them. Why, even my stupidass face is given an air of quiet contemplation, as if I wasn't merely throwing a goofy look at a camera, but caught deep in thought, deep in sexy thought.
Anyway, I could be way wrong. Help me internets!