He sat down next to me at an internet cafe and asked me how to get the internet working. I showed him how. I couldn’t work out why my friend was elbowing me, until we left the shop and she told me who he was.
I also once almost ran headlong into Nick Cave’s abdomen (I’m only 5’), tried to dodge and ran into Warren Ellis instead.
I was in Caffe Nero with some friends when I realised that the man at the table nearby looked familiar.
“Oh!” I said. “Isn’t that Thom Yorke?”
It was. As he got up to leave, he noticed us staring and smirked. Then he left.
by vanian
I got on a plane and saw a bloke who had totally ripped off Jack White’s appearance. I looked at him like he was a sad idiot. He looked back at me like he wanted to fight.
I then realised it was Jack White.
by G-Man
He was haggling with a vendor at a sidewalk sale. I didn’t say anything, but my friend called out something in the order of, “Hey, Iggy Pop! Buying a lamp, huh?”
”Yeah, kid,” he replied, ”Now leave me alone.”
by Evan Kindley
Why are you still not following this Tumblr?
[Picture: Background — a six piece pie style colour split, alternating black and grey. Foreground — a picture of an armadillo. Top text: “ [death as a metaphor for sex] ” Bottom text: “ [is a dead metaphor] ”]
Submitted by: guardiansilence
As a writer, playwright, and poet, I can’t help being annoyed by many “established” metaphors. While any good writer, in a postmodernist sense, will (should) be wary of such notions and can use them advantageously, memorabilia of bygone eras garble new images in the unwitting reader. But in any case, I feel most can appreciate the playfully coy nature of the juxtaposition. Or perhaps, I’ve created a monster. ;P
So are you saying it’s a… sexy metaphor?
When I lived in Toronto I worked in a cafe when one day Geddy Lee walked in and ordered a latte. I asked him if he was in a ‘rush’ and wanted it to go. He was not amused.
My sides.
Don’t you know it.
(Source: fyeahenglishmajorarmadillo)
![fyeahenglishmajorarmadillo:
[Picture: Background — a six piece pie style colour split, alternating black and grey. Foreground — a picture of an armadillo. Top text: “Start writing email to favorite prof” Bottom text: “Four drafts and days of revising”]
This happens a lot.
Same. Not just with my favorite professor, but pretty much anybody.](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lp27fsAx4Z1qhe5udo1_500.jpg)
[Picture: Background — a six piece pie style colour split, alternating black and grey. Foreground — a picture of an armadillo. Top text: “Start writing email to favorite prof” Bottom text: “Four drafts and days of revising”]
This happens a lot.
Same. Not just with my favorite professor, but pretty much anybody.
![fyeahenglishmajorarmadillo:
[Picture: Background — a six piece pie style colour split, alternating black and grey. Foreground — a picture of an armadillo. Top text: “ [death as a metaphor for sex] ” Bottom text: “ [is a dead metaphor] ”]
Submitted by: guardiansilence
As a writer, playwright, and poet, I can’t help being annoyed by many “established” metaphors. While any good writer, in a postmodernist sense, will (should) be wary of such notions and can use them advantageously, memorabilia of bygone eras garble new images in the unwitting reader. But in any case, I feel most can appreciate the playfully coy nature of the juxtaposition. Or perhaps, I’ve created a monster. ;P
So are you saying it’s a… sexy metaphor?](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lydvsqYJMJ1qhe5udo1_1280.jpg)
