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Comparing your relationship to Romeo and Juliet to express how in love you are is kind of like using Hamlet to demonstrate how close and well-adjusted your family life is
fingers crossed for team lads action news during ahwu today
i hate when you’re not in the same mood as your friend like when you want to slay your enemies and feast on their flesh and your friend wants to dance in a field of daisies and sing for the sake of singing like no stop that grab a pitchfork
Between this and the story about him reassuring F. Scott Fitzgerald re dick size, I’m developing a picture of Hemingway as the mother hen of the disaffected white male literary set of the early 20th century.
He probably called up Steinbeck sometimes and was like I CAN’T EVEN WITH THESE DIPSHITS and Steinbeck was all “That’s what you get for living in Paris, asshole”.
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