*sick riff plays*

Thinking about how wild it must be to be Darnell. You skip a game of the soccer team you coach to hang out with and give gay bestie advice to the wife of your assistant coach. You're giving her room to vent when she gets a call. Your assistant coach has been in a fender bender and says the five of your players are missing. Not ideal. You help talk her down from being overly upset, surely the kids just wandered off with her husband's weird childless friend that he insisted on bringing along. She calms down enough and decides to call him to apologize only to forget to hang up before starting to talk about her desire for a divorce. You then help her collect herself to deal with the cops and the moms of the other players. Eventually your players show back up on the side of the road, after Rupert had to forfeit the game on your behalf due to lack of coaches and a chunk of the team itself, and you realize you now have a very traumatized co-dependent faction of your soccer team. I mean can you imagine?

Contemporary art haters will be like "i don't get it" and then not read the title or artist statement or the medium or the year or

I don't care if they're the highest grossing movies on planet freakin Earth, you say "Avatar" and everyone and their mom still thinks that bald little bitch and his magic cow. Soggy James can keep his millions, he'll never have the streets.