Greeaaaat, my neighbours are fighting again. If you find yourself standing on your front porch, loudly discussing why you felt the need to become a prostitute with your boyfriend, then maybe you should fucking kill yourself and save me the trouble.
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I'm about to stop playing "Who Should I Kill First" in my head, and go with what feels natural.
When I know a word in a foreign language, I'm usually able to recall when/where/why I learned it.
I have the recollection that I've known the French verb "violer", "to rape", for years. I don't know why I learned that. It seems like I'd have some reason to learn it.
Maybe it was so I could write my alliterative quips. J'ai violé le voleur en violet!
Composite past tense participles in regular -er verbs are pronounced the same as the infinitive, but spelled with an é instead. Unless, of course, their used with a feminine or plural subject and are conjugated with être, in which case they have to show agreement.
Maybe they need agreement even with avoir in certain usages, I don't know because I fucking hate written French over spoken French and it doesn't matter one fucking bit in spoken French.
It's because you're so good that you need not obey all the rules. I have a note from the teacher about it.
I'm a bit on the opposite side because spoken french can kiss my pasty white ass, but that's really only because I'm taking french again after 10 years, and I've lost so much in the interim that I had to start over again. It *sounds* quite pretty, but not when your grade is riding on the ability to tell the difference between calme and calmes.
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I'm about to stop playing "Who Should I Kill First" in my head, and go with what feels natural.
Guys, I finally broke down and investigated my penis on the internet. I guess its adorable idiosyncrasy is called a "skin bridge". Some sites describe it as "extremely rare", others as "extremely common". I even saw pictures of people with my idea of exploiting it with performance-enhancing decoration, although none were nearly as ambitious as mine.
Staring at medical-setting pictures of penises wasn't the best way to spend the past half an hour. But, maybe I can finally convince myself that I'm not The Chosen One, or if I am it's not because of my penis.
This is worth chatting about, so I will NOT consider putting this in Loveline.
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