mythopoeics

What is wrong with the guys that go to NYU, seriously? In what realm of logic do you think walking up to some fine young thang in the coffee shop while she's writing away and quoting lyrics from a Young Money slow jam is going to make her swoon?

I mean really, of the myriad possibilities for lyrical come-ons you go with - 'Call me Mr. Flintstone, I can make ya bed rock' - and are shocked, nay stunned, when I just roll my eyes and go back to working on my thesis? Bitch, please, I can't think of any self-respecting sober woman who would fall for that. Save those lines for the frat parties and keggers, the hipsters prefer Jack White, or even Conor Oberst.

...I really need to find a better crowd to hang with.

It's Friday the thirteenth. Now, I don't believe in any of that silly nonsense because I've always have had good Friday the thirteenths. However, it's always enjoyable watching the overly paranoid fuss and worry about the harmless day.

Who here gets their panties in a knot over a number and a day?