Whenever I see a tails-side-up penny on a sidewalk, or in a parking lot, I think of her.

Every time she spotted one, she would kick it as hard as she could.

Everybody knows that only a heads-up penny is good luck, so she kicked the tails-up pennies.

I found this to be terribly endearing, like she was kicking out at the Fates. Take that, Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos.

Or perhaps by kicking a penny into the heads-up position, she selflessly passed on good luck to an unsuspecting stranger. Numismatic altruism.

Whenever I see a penny on the ground now, I think of her.

I think about what a talented songwriter and musician she was.

I think about my ruined credit from using plastic to pay for our band van repairs, gasoline, and groceries. Trying to survive in a rock band full of rich girls was not easy for a poor kid with no parental parachute.

I remember them coming into the Subway where I worked, alcohol buzzed midday and having fun. They had no idea how badly I wanted to be a carefree twenty-something on a day drunk too, but nobody was paying my way.

I think about all of the time I put into our band: the hours I spent on the phone with A&R reps, booking gigs, mailing music, and hanging show posters. How I quit college one semester from a degree to go on tour, only to be kicked out by her after we finally signed a major label record deal. And how they had to hire a manager to do all the promotional work I’d been doing to get us signed because nobody else in the band could ever wake up before noon.

I think about how she organized it so that the whole band and our label rep from New York kicked me out chickenshit-style as a group, rather than having the human decency to do it one-on-one. I was the fourth person she’d fired from the band in two years, so I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was.

I think about how I missed the chance to play at the private R.E.M. end-of-tour party in Athens, Georgia, even though I had everything to do with Mike Mills noticing our band.

I think about the time we got into such a horrible, drunken fight that we threw full beer cans at each other.

I think about the next day, when she asked me how my bathroom mirror got broken and I sarcastically laughed until I realized she really didn’t remember throwing the beer can at my head and missing. (I ducked. Seven years bad luck.)

I think about her annoying rich-kid-with-nothing-real-to-think-about ramblings. “What is the Absolute Truth?” she often pretentiously wondered aloud. “What are we doing here on the planet?” she would toss into a conversation. But most of us were tired from working a job all day here on the planet and just wanted to relax.

It was irritating to be around, to be constantly slapped in the face with someone’s existential angst. Struggling with unanswerable questions is not how I choose to live my life — that’s why I’m not religious. I don’t care who put us here, why we’re here, or where we go when we die. I’ve got bills to pay.

She had no job and her parents bought everything: her college, rent, brand new car, and musical gear. She could spare the brain space, as she had nothing to do but think about such things. Money can make a person crazy that way.

Sometimes I think about the cat she named Abby, short for Absolute Truth. She later abandoned it when she moved into an apartment that wouldn’t allow animals. I wonder what the Absolute Truth was for that poor creature.

I wonder if she’s doing drugs all of the time, and if she still thinks that when she trips on acid she’s getting in touch with her Native American heritage, as if her great, great, great-grandmother being Cherokee makes her drug-induced hallucinations “visions” instead of drug-induced hallucinations.

I think about her insane rages whenever she’d attempt to drink anything stronger than beer — when she’d become violent, uncontrollable, and even piss herself after shots of whiskey.

I wonder if she’s still ruining the lives of the people around her.

Whenever I see a penny on the ground now, I think of her.

And I kick it.

TAGS: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

TAWNI FREELAND played guitar and sang for rock bands in Lawrence, Kansas and Los Angeles before settling down in Tulsa. She is working on her first novel. She has no exotic pets.

78 responses to “Very Superstitious”

  1. New Orleans Lady says:

    Whoa! I didn’t know this story. Very interesting, Ms. Tawni.
    You know what, everything happens for a reason so maybe it’s a good thing that she was/is such a train wreck. Where would you be if you continued down that road in life? I’m sure you wouldn’t be bad-off but definitely not the person you are today.

    So, to Crazy-Ass Rich Bitch, I thank you.

    • Tawni Freeland says:

      Ain’t that the truth, my friend? I love my life right now, and everything that has happened to me brought me to this exact point, so yes. A tip of the hat to that crazy bitch. Haha. (:

  2. Tawni, for the last goddamn time, leave Art Garfunkel alone.

    But seriously. She sounds like a chore and a half. And I’ve always hated the way people paint behaviour with culture, so it’s not just some asshole being an asshole, it’s somehow mystic.


    • Gloria says:

      I just watched a Flight of the Conchords episode featuring Art Garfunkel, Simon. SES effect? Must be the penny in my pocket…

    • Tawni Freeland says:


      I couldn’t agree more, Simon. The glorification of a moody, troubled jerk as some kind of artistic genius, rather than just a moody, troubled jerk is so silly. So you’ve got some creative talent. Big deal. So do millions of other people. Are you a kind person? That matters a lot more to me.

  3. Zara Potts says:

    oh, nicely done. Just the right touch of venom for a serpentine old friend.
    Wow. People can be such assholes can’t they? I don’t understand it.
    I really like the way you wrote this – the way it builds and builds until the very last ‘I kick it’ is a totally different ‘kick it’ to the first line. Very nice, lovely Tawni!

    • Tawni Freeland says:

      Yay! Zara! (:

      Your comment gives me relief. I was worried there was too much venom, because as my friend mentions below, there is a nicer version of this piece. I decided to add details before posting it here because I felt it wasn’t explaining the vitriol on my part adequately enough, but I feared I had crossed the line from “reasons for anger” into “sour grapes turning into whine.” I respect you as a writer and person so much that it means the world to me that you liked it. Thank you so much! xoxo.

  4. Amber says:

    “I don’t care who put us here, why we’re here, or where we go when we die. I’ve got bills to pay.”

    Lady, you just summed up my whole life experience. Thank you for that.

    Can we put it on a t-shirt? I think it would sell. I would buy one.

  5. Erin says:

    The last version was nicer. This one is more real. I will kick pennies, for I am mad at that bitch for you.

    • Tawni Freeland says:

      You remember so well! That is one very smart brain you’ve got there, lady. Yes, the last version was nicer. I edited it down to 700 words for submission to an online flash nonfiction magazine and I think I took a lot of the meat out of it. The bitter, bitter meat. (: I’m glad you found this to be more real. It is.

      Thanks so much for reading and commenting, Erin. xoxo.

  6. Wow.
    I’ve run into a few of those in my day.
    Oh, Tawn-Tawn.
    It’s people like her and the wake of the mess that they leave that
    made me so glad to not be trying to “make it” in music anymore.
    It’s everything but the music (man, it’s everything but the music, man –
    sorry, I sound like I have a bong with me, but I don’t, alas and alack.)

    You are so much better than she – I am sure her great great great
    great grand Cherokee relative is not proud.

    • Tawni Freeland says:

      “It’s people like her and the wake of the mess that they leave that
      made me so glad to not be trying to ‘make it’ in music anymore.”

      Good lord. I am so glad I’m not still trying to ‘make it’ in music anymore too. Seriously. What a tough row to hoe that business can be. Yeesh. It didn’t help that I was never built for the job: between the early riser, drug chicken, and people-pleasing tendencies, I’m as un-rock and roll as they come. I still like to sit in my bathroom and play my toilet songs where the acoustics are best. But I want to play guitar and still be able to get to bed at a reasonable hour… is that so wrong? (:

      Thank you so much for reading, my sweet Steph-Steph. Mwah back! xoxo.

  7. Richard Cox says:

    What a bitch. Good riddance, even though I’m pissed at the way she handled it.

    What is it about spoiled rich girls that makes them so crazy? The lack of consequences? The absence of a need of an education?

    When I was in high school I was enamored with mean rich girls. I’m not sure what was wrong with me. I’m much better now. I think.

    • Everyone’s enamored with mean rich girls in high school. Why!? I don’t get it. Even though I’ve read Queen Bees and Wannabees and seen Mean Girls.

      Good stuff, Tawni! I can picture this spoiled brat perfectly. I’d like to passive agressively mumble what might or might not be an insult from roughly five feet away from this person for you and then just walk away like I mean business. Yeah.

      • Tawni Freeland says:

        “I’d like to passive agressively mumble what might or might not be an insult from roughly five feet away from this person for you and then just walk away like I mean business.”

        Hahahahahaha. You are one of my kind, lovely Miss Cynthia. Definitely a girl after my own heart. (:

        Thanks for reading!

      • Richard Cox says:

        I don’t know, Cynthia. Maybe it’s the fact that they hate everything, so if you somehow get through to them it’s like summiting Mount Everest? Or just a teenage hormonal thing? I guess it doesn’t hurt that most of them can afford expensive grooming techniques. Hahaha.

    • Tawni Freeland says:

      Yeah, I have about five moments in my life where the cruelty of other people profoundly shaped me, and that was definitely one of them. I was pretty emotionally wrecked for a little while after that. It was an unhealthy situation that I needed to get away from, but the way she did it just really sucked.

      I was also kicked out of my room in the band house at the group “meeting,” but all of the utilities were in my name, since I was the responsible one. I gave them two weeks to call the utility companies and switch the house utilities over to one of their names. Very civil. Yet nobody could be bothered to do this. They partied all night and slept all day. I finally called after a few weeks and shut them off, because I decided that in addition to being kicked out of the band and band house, I shouldn’t have to pay their fucking utility bills. They actually came over to yell at me for shutting the utilities off at my boyfriend’s house, where I was now squatting, much to the unhappiness of his roommate (awkward). I’m not even kidding. These girls were just in a different reality — one where money didn’t matter. I had to send them a letter of intent to sue them in small claims court for the utilities incurred after they kicked me out of the house before they finally decided to send me a check. It was ridiculous.

      I’m sure you’re much better now, Richard. You don’t strike me as a plaything for mean rich girls. Not at all. You’re the salt of the earth, my favorite Xanadude. πŸ™‚

      • Richard Cox says:

        Okay, now that you’ve added the story of the utility bills, it’s even more absurd. I suppose I can understand them being too drunk/hungover/lazy to change the accounts in their name, but for anyone to get angry with you for not paying their bills after they kicked you out…well, that’s not only stupid but intentionally hateful. I mean, they should have been embarrassed that you gave them chances and they were still too lazy to do it. Not angry. For the love of God.

        • Gloria says:

          Yes, yes. We’ll discuss this and all of the other Frogpond stories when you’re cruising Tawni and me around in the backseat of your Accura while we chug Mai Tais and shout obnoxiously out your window.

        • Tawni Freeland says:

          Eeeeeee! I’m so excited! I recently discovered the not-too-sweet joy of Mojitos. YUM. Can I drink Mojitos while we make Richard drive us around Tulsa fuck-hollering drunk and acting stupid? Please? (:

          P.S. Richard: Gloria and I decided via text messages the other night that you should probably to drive us around Tulsa while we drink and act half our ages. You don’t mind, right? I’m not a puker, I promise.

        • Gloria says:

          I’m not a puker, either. I am the happiest drunk in the whole world. I slur my speech, which I’ve been told is adorable. I may or may not hit on anything that moves.

          Man, I hope you have a sun roof…

  8. Gloria says:

    When I go to Oklahoma, do you want to egg her car?

    This is my favorite thing of yours that I’ve ever read, Tawni. Sincerely. You should let the steam out of that pressure cooker more often.

    • New Orleans Lady says:

      Ok, you guys get me to Oklahoma and I’m down! I’ll even bring the eggs.

      • Tawni Freeland says:

        You bring the eggs, and we’ll let Richard make his gross “creamy scrambled eggs that take five hours to cook” or whatever. Haha. (:

        P.S. Just kidding, Richard! I’m sure they’re great! I just don’t like eggs, or the word “creamy.”

        P.S.2. *gags*

    • Tawni Freeland says:

      Hee hee. Honestly, it was long ago enough that I can tap into it, but I don’t live there anymore. I don’t wanna be her friend or anything, but the anger has faded with time. Like it does. Plus, she lives in Kansas City, and I’d rather we make Richard drive us around Tulsa while we drink and do funny stupid things when you come visit us in Oklahoma. (:

      Thanks for the writing props. I am always afraid to not be funny. Not that I think I’m very funny. But you know what I mean. Like I have to keep it light. Don’t want to be a whiner. Which is silly, because writing is one of those places where we all get to be petty and angry and heavy in the name of catharsis and being real, right? I need to remember that it’s good to suck the venom out of the snakebites on our souls and spit it into writing from time to time.

      But I’m also afraid that if I open the pressure cooker all the way to let the steam out, I may never get the lid back on again. I know you know exactly what I mean, my friend. xoxo.

      • Gloria says:

        I do know exactly what you mean, Tawni. No one wants to behold the ridiculousness of my unbridled redheaded fury either. I’m always one toe too close to falling off the edge myself. The difference between you and me, though, is that no one would be surprised if I lost my shit. But I know. I have you figured out. You don’t fool me…

        • Tawni Freeland says:

          Unbridled redheaded fury. Exactly! And it’s nice to be understood, even if that really means you’ve sussed out my inner nutjob. (:

        • Gloria says:

          I can’t get close to anyone until I suss out their inner nut job. I stray away from the outwardly stable. What are they hiding, Tawni? WHAT ARE THEY HIDING!?

  9. Irene Zion says:


    This was a serious piece, I know, but I couldn’t help but laugh at this line:
    “I don’t care who put us here, why we’re here, or where we go when we die. I’ve got bills to pay.”
    She should have had a warning label.
    You are well rid of her.

    • Tawni Freeland says:


      Haha. You read that line perfectly. I meant it in a dry, sarcastic way. As in: “Yes, kid, we get it. You’re a philosophy major, and you’re so smart and deep. Can my friend finish telling me about her day at work now, please, before you drop another pseudo-intellectual existential bomb into the conversation?” (:

      We are all well rid of the toxic people in our lives. Getting away from her was a big breath of clean, sweet, fresh air after being trapped in a bubble of hateful, stinky pollution. Ahhhhh.

      Thanks so much for reading. xoxo.

  10. Becky Palapala says:

    Spoiled is a state of mind hardly exclusive to the rich, but being rich makes it so much easier to act out creatively and constantly with no real consequences.

    I’m sure I’ve thrown full beers and probably other things when drunk before.

    But that was okay because I grew up poor and smart and misunderstood and had a right to be pissed off. Or that’s what my mother always told me. Or that’s what I thought she was telling me.

    It’s probably better no one here knew me when I was a real monster. Though God as my witness, I was never exclusionary, conspiratorial, or disloyal. Those are the kinds of things that might make me tear someone’s phone off the wall and throw it at them, not things I’d do to someone else.

    I wasn’t a snake, I was just destructive.

    Yesterday, my 16 year-old niece was wearing one of my hand-me-downs. I fondly, however silently, reminisced how it was the shirt I was wearing when I got my DUI 8 years ago. Ah, memories. Traumatic as it was, I suspect that if I had a daddy that was willing and able to pay off the thousands of dollars that 3-mile mistake cost me, I probably would have done it again.

    Luckily, I had no such daddy. So, you know. Let’s hear it for working poverty. Broke me of my most antisocial ideas about entitlement at least.

    • Gloria says:

      But that was okay because I grew up poor and smart and misunderstood and had a right to be pissed off.

      **high fives Becky**

      **hobbles off under the weight of my own chip on my shoulder**

    • Tawni Freeland says:

      Ugh. I think we’ve all been monstrous at one time or another. I know I’ve thrown plenty of things drunk, and a few things stone cold sober too. I’m not proud of my very stereotypical redhead temper. My problem is that I dislike confrontation so much that I hold every tiny little slight inside until they all roll together into a huge ball of fury to be released in the form of crazy blackout rage at the most inappropriate time possible. Followed almost immediately with embarrassed apologies and groveling. So pathetic. I’ve managed to overcome this awful personality trait for the most part, and time has really mellowed me out, thank god, but in my youth, I humiliated myself plenty. You are not alone.

      P.S. Poverty breeds creativity, right? So at least we’ve got that going for us, which is nice. (:

  11. burnt says:

    i love you T-Money!

  12. Great article! I could seeth with the sense of injustice of it all.

    Don’t feel bad about being a responsible goody goody two shoes…I think they are truely the baddest-assed kind of people. Not someone who gets in touch with Native American spirit. (Or spirits, the boozy kinds.)

    Remember Kurt Vonnegut’s ‘Slaughter House Five’, he wrote that the sweetest kindest people in the world are the worst killers of us all.

    People who are responsible, go to church weekly, patient, prepared, well organized, keep themselves clean cut, keep the lawn grass cut, and pay the bills are usually the best ones to be in a high state of readiness to slaughter the bad guys real bad if ambushed. Beside keeping the grass cut create a nice clean killing zone if the enemy ever takes a step on it.

    • Tawni Freeland says:

      I love your Goody-Two-Shoes-As-Bad-Asses theory, Patrick. I have nothing but love for Kurt Vonnegut as well. And now that you mention it, my lawn is perfectly cut, and I am a really accurate shot with a gun and target. Haha.

      Thank you so much for reading and commenting. I truly appreciate it. (:

  13. Elaine says:

    Well written, Lady! We know *she* ain’t no lady. Never was, never will be.

  14. Fan says:

    Frogpond. Good times back then in those olden days.

    • Tawni Freeland says:

      Ah, yes, the good old days of the mid-nineties: when Kurt Cobain was still alive and Doc Martens were acceptable footwear for me. Glorious stuff. Thank you for reading. (:

  15. James D. Irwin says:

    This reminds me of something I read somewhere— I forget where— about how the poorer people are financially the nicer and more generous they become, whilst the richer people are the more nasty and selfish they become…

    I don’t like to generalize, but generally I dislike rich people. Some of them are alright, I’m sure… maybe if they’ve worked to get where they are… Even rich philanthropists annoy me, urging us paupers to give and acting like demi-gods because they selfless hand out half a million quid to whichever charitable cause is in the news this week… when they could, anonymously, afford to donate about five times that and still laud it over everyone else.

    It’s the same reason I hate Bono, Chris Martin, and a whole host of other popstars. Although I also hand the blandness of U2 and Coldplay… but I could tolerate it if they weren’t such dicks…

    Anyway. I also hate meanness in all it’s many forms. What’s so hard about being nice to other people? I’m sorry your band were all nitwits. Anyway, everyone knows the rich can’t rock.

    • Tawni Freeland says:

      Yeah, I’ve met very nice rich people, people who come from money and are amazing, kindhearted people, but this girl was not one of them. Absolutely ruthless. It never really got her anywhere in the world, treating people like that, so that is at least very satisfying. It’s always depressing when undeserving jerks get ahead, isn’t it? And I agree with you about the musical blandness… I don’t understand either of those bands. At all. I find them to be the aural equivalent to eating a bag of dry, white flour.

      “I also hate meanness in all it’s many forms. What’s so hard about being nice to other people?”

      Exactly, brother. It doesn’t hurt to be nice to other people. It can even make you feel better if you’re down when someone gives it back to you. I’m a big smiler/waver/hello say-er for this reason. It’s a superficial little gesture on the surface, but it can make a world of difference to someone who’s sad just to be acknowledged by another human. I call it the “I’m okay, you’re okay” moment. Because we’re all in it together, here on this funny little ride. But mostly because I’m a raging dork. (:

      Everyone in the band wasn’t a nitwit. The drummer was a wickedly funny, smart, sensitive, cool Pisces girl that I missed immediately upon being kicked out. One of the best senses of humor I’ve ever known. I’ve always wished her nothing but happiness.

      Thank you so much for reading and commenting, Irwin! xoxo.

  16. Marybear says:

    “The rich can’t rock” ….hmmm I can see Lady Gaga singing that πŸ˜‰

  17. Lisa Rae Cunningham says:

    Wow, the slap-down! I’ve got a mile-wide smile on my face, Tawni. Didn’t know you had it in ya, girl!

    This chick probably believes Ethan Hawke is a talented novelist. Have you ever tried to read Ash Wednesday? If I’d made it halfway through the book, I might’ve found out “the narrator” has a cat named Abby. For short. (That said, I still think Ethan Hawke is ridiculously sexy. That probably doesn’t clean up the mud I just threw, but given the chance, I’ll find a way to make it up to him.)

    • Tawni Freeland says:

      Oh dear. I didn’t even know Ethan Hawke wrote books. And I’m sure that delicious man will forgive you for the mudslinging when you meet him. There’s got to be a way you could make it up to him. Or three. Haha.

      Thanks so much for reading, Lisa Rae. Now I’m smiling because I was able to make you smile. It’s contagious. (:

  18. HA! Ok. I didn’t know you were in Frogpond. I may have seen you in Lawrence, KS at some bar, my mom took me. We may have met at some point, Tawni. How cool is that?

    I really enjoyed the music, but man, I’m glad that you’re out of there. That sounds like a living hell, it sounds like you got the waaaaay better deal in the long run. And you deserve it for putting up with that shit.

    • Tawni Freeland says:

      “my mom took me”

      Oh, dear god.

      *shoots self in very old, wrinkled head*

      We lived in Lawrence, so we played the bars there (and in K.C.) quite often. Was it a show at The Bottleneck? Or The Granada (opening for the band Bush, by any chance?)? Or maybe even The Replay? How cool it would be if we met at some point! I was the guitar player with probably short, white-blonde hair, stage right. Or maybe electric blue hair if you saw us during that phase. I played a robin’s egg blue guitar and looked really awkward and self-conscious most of the time. (:

      I’m glad I’m out of there, too. So glad. Thank you for reading, beautiful Ms. Megan.

      • SAA says:

        You opened for Bush? Like, Gavin Rossdale Bush? Good lord, how I wanted that man in high school. I saw them when they were on tour with No Doubt, all the girls I went with were all put out because we’d heard he was doing it with Gwen Stefani. Lo and behold…everyone on here is so cool, while you guys were all touring around all over the country I was getting high in my friend’s basement watching Faces of Death.

        • Tawni Freeland says:

          Holy crap. I haven’t though about Faces of Death in AGES. We are morbid little creatures sometimes, aren’t we? The monkey brain-eating scene still haunts me.

          Yes, that Bush. (That band name seems so weird now, doesn’t it?) After we played, as they went onstage, Gavin popped his head into our backstage dressing room and said, “Nice set, ladies,” in his sexy accent. After he left, we all swooned. And then we hurried to steal candy bars and beers from their green room. They had a good rider. (:

        • SAA says:

          That’s awesome, I would have pissed myself if he even looked at me from the stage. I don’t know why, I love morbid stuff, I still look at all that weird shit. I have about 30 books on serial killers, every time I go book shopping I end up with another one. I even have a book about the history of barbed wire, although that one’s a lot more political than sensational.

        • Tawni Freeland says:

          I really like books about serial killers too. I’m fascinated by the psychology of them. What the eff would make someone decide to do such things? Fascinating. Now you totally made me want to drink adult beverages and rummage through your book collection with you.

      • It was The Bottleneck!!! YES.

        And don’t shoot yourself in your very old wrinkled head. You have to be at least 21 to get into that joint, and I was older than that at the time. So if you insist on this wrinkly line of nonsense I’ll be standing right beside you, perhaps in front.

        • Whew. I’m so relieved that there will be no very old wrinkled head shooting today. Maybe just some good eye cream for us, then? (:

          Don’t you love The Bottleneck? I lived in Lawrence for 6 years, and loved seeing bands and playing in bands at that bar so much. I even cocktail waitressed there for a little while. I liked that a lot less than watching and playing music there. (Get your hand off my ass, drunk strangers!)

  19. Nanea says:

    Man, I am always glad when I take a moment to read something you wrote. Never fails. I’ll be kicking pennies from now on, too.

    • Tawni Freeland says:

      Awwww. I feel the same way about you and your writing, girlfriend. Thanks so much for reading and commenting. xoxoxoxo.

  20. Jessica Blau says:

    Flash NONfiction? Wow! Intense.
    Glad you’re just THINKING of her and not WITH her!

    • Tawni Freeland says:

      Ha. Truth is always stranger, isn’t it? It was definitely intense. Girl relationships can get pretty intense. And yes… so glad to no longer have that person in my life. Everything seemed a lot brighter after escaping that dark emotional situation, despite the obvious career disappointment.

      Thanks so much for reading, Jessica.

  21. Dana says:

    “Last Call for Vitriol” great tag!

    Excellent Tawni!
    I especially like the last line.

    • Great Superdrag record, yes? (I have so much love for that band.) The song “The Staggering Genius” makes me think John Davis probably dealt with a similar bandmate.

      Thank you so much for reading and commenting, my dear friend. xoxo.

  22. pixy says:

    t-dawg! for realz woman! we’re gonna have to get together and discuss many things including, but not limited to: hippie clothes, poop, music and how you did all that you did.

    never did i think that the following words would flow from my fingers, but(t): i may need to plan a trip to oklahoma.

    that hurt to even type it. πŸ™‚

    ps – this was awespants.

    • Yay! Gloria is planning a trip to Oklahoma for someday, so you should probably hook up with her and make that happen. We’re trying to talk about how Richard is going to drive us around Tulsa while we drink and act dumb so much that he will finally just accept it. I think our plan is going to work.

      YOU are awespants. Thanks so much for reading and commenting. Mwah! xoxo.

      • pixy says:

        i’m very on board with this idea. i say we make a video of it. “my drunk car: richard” and we can make videos of us being dumb and drunk and edit them brilliantly so that they are pieces of hilariously rad adventure.

        does richard have a pickup? the only way i see this being better is if the three of us are being drunk and dumb and sitting in the back of a pickup truck while richard drives us into the tornadoes.

  23. Learn how to play a guitar today. Lots of video tutorials and guides…

    The Nervous Breakdown…

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