Well, At Least There Isn’t A Hashtag.

Does anyone else hope this bus drives off a cliff and crashes into an elephant graveyard where people discarded their sharpest utensils and, what do you know, it’s a live volcano and now it’s exploding hot magma riddled with dinosaur poison?


Yea, me too.

The Motto Of My Generation.

YOLO, really? That’s all you got?

Fuck that. We did it better, kiddies.


Rufio and the Lost Boys judge you and your acronyms.

YOLO For Realists.

Fuckin’ YOLO.

It literally makes me angry even typing it, but I saw something that absolutely needed to be shared with the world. THE WORLD. Aka, my bloggership. Aka, my mom. I’m not sure she’ll get it, but I know she’ll read it because she’s my mom and is pretty much proud of everything I do. Even that short stint as a mascot hooker. The woman loves sports, what can I say?

Anyway, prior to the picture I’m about to share, I thought the greatest YOLO reference was by the Lonely Island guys¬†(“You Oughta Look Out”), because – well, I mean it just makes sense.



yolo cemetery

This is just perfect.

It would be like a cremation place being called “BRB Cremation”.

It’s so bad, it’s good.