Can't hit the Looo~Key
So, this is where I tell people about me, right? Well, guess what. I'm not. You wanna know, ask me. I don't bite.. much. So, just ask.
“During one shoot at a house, he was waiting for us to set up a backdrop, and he sat down at the piano and started playing and singing. I immediately told the assistants to pull down the backdrop, which was blocking the light coming though the windows to where the piano was— afraid I would miss this moment. No problem—Downey played a 45 minute concert that gave me plenty of time to make a series of great pictures, and he enthralled everyone in the room with his performance.”
— Sam Jones
I’m currently at the new house trying to put my posters on the wall and finish up washing my clothes when my -lovely- mother starts telling me that she hates the chair I’m sitting on. So I told her to get rid of it. Then she goes: Well what will I sit on when you father is here. And I pointed at the computer chair. And she shook her head. Then she proceeds to tell me that my dad claimed the computer chair. FUCKING REALLY?! I claimed that chair months ago when she told me she was going to get me a desk. Which I’m not getting now. Because they are assholes and don’t want to get me shit. I will not be getting a desk my computer will still be on a box with a chill pad under it. So, who wants to tell me that my parents care about me? I mean really.
