I’m not comfortable letting some one who curls her bangs design this project. That may fly in Worcester, but not in Boston.
Me, to my coworker. Not sorry. It’s a valid point. (via belovedofthewoods)
Worcester is my hell. I’m not even kidding. I had one lovely hour there once (it involved a beautiful man and a brownie sundae), but every other minute I have spent there has been a disaster.
True story - I once vomited on a Greyhound bus in Worcester. I had been in a car accident in Hartford, my friend and I were on the bus to Boston to get to our parents. I was broken, on crutches, and doped up to the high holy heavens on codeine. As soon as we rolled into Worcester I barfed all over the place. All over myself, all over the bus, didn’t even care. That’s the effect Worcester has on me.
Source: belovedofthewoods
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