Bruno Mars had a Grenade, and Tiao Cruz had Dynamite, so they both threw them at Katy Perry who exploded like a Firework. The bang was so loud that the Black Eyed Peas forgot The Time, while Rihanna had memory loss and ran around saying Whats My Name.Eminem looked around and said Im Not Afraid, then Willow Smith began to Whip Her Hair, which started a Far East Movement. They then crashed their G6 into a club and stopped Party Rocking Luckily for Nelly it was all Just a Dream
Date a girl who eats a lot. Date a girl who dares to order a steak instead of slowly picking at salad leaves dressed with vinaigrette on the first date. She is the girl who knows what’s good on the menu, and knows that carbonara is often ordered by the bland brigade of people who don’t know any better.
Take her to a steak restaurant; make sure that you order your steak medium rare and not well done, because she knows that only barbarians order well done. Steak, medium rare, is the best way to identify good meat from the mediocre. She skips the Hollandaise and tucks in, stopping only for a bite of potatoes in between. The girl who eats doesn’t beat around the bush: she knows that steaks that require sauce are insecure.
Date her because that’s the same way she likes guys: substantial, and real. You won’t need to impress her with fancy restaurants, because the girl who eats has been to roadside eateries that serve food that’s just as good—or even better—than stuffy establishments. Knock down a stick of barbecue and a good, cold beer with her (as long as you don’t ice it down to a watery mess).
When you’re with the girl who eats, you won’t have to worry if there’s a fried chicken grease spot on your shirt, or if there’s ketchup on your cheek. She’ll understand—she’s been there. Maybe as a joke she’ll smear cake icing on the tip of your nose and kiss it off.
Date a girl who eats because she’ll take care of you. She’ll feed you chicken soup when you’re sick, and bake cookies on lazy weekends. A girl who eats isn’t afraid of adventure, and is constantly in search of new things to try: fried milk, chocolate bacon, tequila-flavored ice cream.
The girl who eats will go all over the world in search of the perfect meal, but knows that often, the best things are the ones closest to home. She will keep coming back to the basics: a bowl of steaming rice topped with her mom’s beef stew, flavored with onions and pepper; her grandmother’s soup, the result of hours of stirring in the kitchen. Her dad’s grilled cheese sandwiches, done in five minutes, but no less impressive.
Maybe one day, while the two of you share a slice of cake, she’ll realize that you’ve occupied a permanent place in her heart in the same way the stews and soups from home have, and she won’t have to go around the world in search of the perfect meal. Because anything you make for her at that point is the perfect meal, even if you char the steak and forget to salt the potatoes.
Date a girl who blogs. Date a girl who finds solace in sharing her most private letters to the noises of the world. She has a rhythm to the writing, as the sounds — the tap-tap-tapping — are touched with every bit of emotion she can muster. She’s writing, ignoring the 9% battery warning as she tries to add a little more perspective to your world.
Date a girl who blogs. Find her that new restaurant and wait for her, patiently, as she skims through the menu, to cherish the Serifs and italics of the posh, and the Arials and doodles of the diner. Watch her order, and question the waiter, and then the head chef to hear a story you’ve never cared to hear before. You will learn. Watch her envelop her tongue at the morsel awaiting judgement, then chew, her face barely betraying a smile as she takes down notes on a torn paper napkin. She forgot her notebook. Buy her one. And seal it with the URL of your new blog.
Today she’s doing more than just writing. She’s moving the widgets, repositioning the ads and maybe doing a bit of SEO. Help her. Buy her a new domain — buy it for 3 years with a promo code — and then maybe configure a forwarding email address, because you know deep down that self-hosted email servers are a thing of the past.
Share her posts on Facebook. Like them. Create a hashtag for your affection to her and let her come to this knowledge through the Internet, but follow through in real life. Your story deserves to be written down.
Suggest her for #FollowFriday.
Go out on dates. Let her heart open up to you and digest these memories into a single post which will be remembered in the archives of our search engines. Kiss. Change your relationship status. Kiss some more. Add her friends. You now have more mutual friends. Tag your photos together. Add her on Farmville. Harvest her farm. Poke her.
You are no longer forever alone.
Marry a girl who blogs. Propose to her by making a website with animated gifs and MIDI background music; she will show you the secret journal she’s been writing for years for you, and you alone. You will find that it comes with no ads, no links, no page rank. Only her trust rank. You will be overjoyed to read the fondness she has had of you, and realize that this, and this alone is the memory she chose to keep from her readers.
Have kids with a girl who blogs. Let her post photos and status updates about your children. Share them with your friends. You will see that she has saved everything onto a USB drive and printed the most fond ones for a real family album because the grandparents are not on the Internet.
Date a girl who blogs because she will find interestingness in the most uninteresting of things. You deserve to be interesting and that this life you live, though monotonous in its day to day is the perfect testament to why she loves you.
i dont get it, how someone can wake up one morning and just forget you. how they can be your best friend one day, and a stranger the next. how they can replace you with someone they hated. how they can go from the nicest person to a bitch. i just dont get it how people can change their personalities so quickly, how they can decide that you arent good enough for them so quickly. i just dont understand it.
Did you ever love someone so much, you thought you’d die. You sit home alone all night, and just cry cry and cry. He looks at you but sees nothing. You look at him and yes, you see your world, your hopes, your dreams in a place inside his chest. You tear yourself apart inside, searching for reason…
I hate this. I can’t control myself from eating what I want. This deflates my determination to thin down. I hate. I keep on motivating myself to limit my food and yet I still keep on eating stuffs. I hate this. I know this is for my own good but hell. It’s hard. Tell me, I don’t have discipline and what else. I hate this. Must concentrate on this diet plan. This has been going on since like I’ve hit the puberty stage. Gaah. Help :| I need some tips.
“When people are ready to, they change. They never do it before then, and sometimes they die before they get around to it. You can’t make them change if they don’t want to, just like when they do want to, you can’t stop them.”— Andy Warhol (Andy Warhol: In His Own Words)