I’m afraid that if I cry at the Beyonce concert before anything actually happens, or even if it does, that the person next to me will not also be crying, but instead thinking I’m a fucking moron.
Listen here, potential fellow concert-goer, if you don’t cry at a Beyonce concert, you’re the fucking moron. For you clearly do not understand and therefore under-appreciate the fact that you are sharing a space with such a goddess. My tears are my respect. I suggest you do the same.
That awkward moment when your entire movie is just an intro to a Backstreet Boys music video.
My first attempt at shepherd’s pie.
OM NOM NOM.
if you break up with him you’ll have more time to play animal crossing