amindamazed:silentauroriamthereal:I don’t know who wrote this or why, but this writing is just
amindamazed:silentauroriamthereal:I don’t know who wrote this or why, but this writing is just *chef’s kiss***Editing to add: I now know that this was said by Lindy West in her book The Witches are Coming. Good to know! Image text:My husband plays the trumpet, which is a sort of loud pretzel originally invented to blow down the walls of fucking Jericho and, later, to let Civil War soldiers know it was time to kill each other in a river while you chilled eating pigeon in your officer’s tent twenty miles away, yet somehow, in modern times, it has become socially acceptable to toot the bad cone inside your house before 10:00 a.m. because “it’s your job” and your wife should “get up.” What a world! If one was feeling uncharitable, one might describe the trumpet as a machine where you put in compressed air and divorce comes out, but despite this—despite operating a piece of biblical demolition equipment inside the home every bright, cold morning of his wife’s one and only life—the trumpet is not the most annoying thing about my husband.from the essay “Gear Swap”: google books version -- source link
#trumpet#lindy west#lmao reblog