For instance, many Sam Hunt lyrics could possibly fit into normal conversation, such as “I don’t want to steal your freedom.I don’t want change your mind.” However, many lyrics came from out of the blue, did not fit into normal social standards, and men seemed to skip over completely, such as “All of your old shoes are looking brand new, they wanna be worn but never get the chance to.”After three days of hilarity that ensued, and only being caught once, I deleted Tinder because I was sick of seeing men’s professional head shots as their main photo. Fast forward around two years, Bumble becomes the new Tinder and there are still so many men with professional head shots on both apps that I wonder if I should start a side hustle helping with dating photos.—Submitted by Kristi Cecil, Facebook Misheard lyric: "The Uncle Cracker song — I always thought it was 'give me the Beach Boys, and free my soul.'"Actual lyric: Give me the beat boys and free my soul.—Submitted by Rachel Epstein, Facebook Misheard lyric: "When I was a kid I heard Kenny Rogers [as saying], 'You picked a fine time to leave me Lucille, with 400 children and a crop in the field.'" Actual lyric: You picked a fine time to leave me Lucille / With four hungry children.(That's assuming he actually asks her out or even uses the word “date" in a sentence). I distinctly remember how angry my mom would get when flirty junior high girls called to talk to my cute 7th grade brother.It's apparently much easier to see if she wants to “hang out," which leaves so much room for interpretation, and inevitably lead to an exasperated girl finally asking the guy, “So are we just 'hanging out' or is this a date? She'd give them a short dating etiquette lesson that ended with her abruptly hanging up the phone.
Is there a note on my forehead that reads, “If, then”?’s a great song in the musical “[title of show]” that asserts, “I’d rather be nine people’s favorite thing / Than a hundred people’s ninth favorite thing.” For two decades, that’s been Maria Bamford’s brand.She’s played small roles on sitcoms; she was the spokeswoman for Target. In her You Tube series “The Maria Bamford Show,” which was set in Duluth, Minnesota, where she’d retreated after a breakdown, Bamford played not only herself but various family members, frenemies, and dates—while crooning to her psychiatrist, “If I keep the ice-cube trays filled, then no one will dieeeeeeeee.” In her self-distributed show, “Special Special Special,” she performed in her living room, with only her parents as an audience.But it has a distinct vibe, somehow at once celebratory and melancholic, with a hallucinogenic edge.It performs a small miracle by expanding Bamford’s story just enough to make it feel sitcom-like while still maintaining her voice.