How do you like my cat? I love cats. Do you love cats because I do. Cats.
He doesn't necessarily love his matching leather fedora and vest but he looks so amazingly cute in them. I think he secretly likes to be glamorous. I also think the world is a better place for having the ability to see these touching and important photographs forever on the internet. Everyone loves cats. And feet. And flowers. And breasts. And water drops. And the fake realism that skews your perception known as HDR. People not only need it, they love it.
Functional, but Ugly
The famaliarity of your home, where you grew up — the worn out carpet on the stairs, the long stratch that runs along the kitchen hardwood floor where you inadvisably spun out while riding your Big Wheel indoors, the layered smell of decades of spaghetti sauce and roast turkey and fabric softener — remains a steadfast marker of who you are, where you where formed.
Do I know this person?
High school was hell for me. I was neither cool nor a total outcast; somewhat tossed between ever evolving groups. It was a daily dread, the impending doom of what group would decide to use me as their scapegoat. I was the perpetual friend, the mediocre student. Thank God we had a pool.
I'll trade my pickles for those cookies
They're aren't many things I'm unwilling to admit to enjoying — Barry Manilow, Cracker Barrel and Fruit-of-the-Loom Sesame Street underwear, to name a few — but for some reason I feel odd about liking Antiques Roadshow (perhaps because I'm not a retiree drinking hot tea with lemon while watching on a 20" black and white RCA TV). It's human nature to want something for nothing, to find the best deal and make as much money as we can.
Simplicity at it's best
Since the Apple II hit the market in 1977, Apple has sold one thing — design. They've done that through injecting design into computers, phones, software, PDAs, PMPs, servers, peripherals and operating systems. There are other companies with similarly rangy product lines just as there are other companies with excellent design.
If websites could kill you...
I have this friend, who's at once incredibly smart and witty; always knows what's going on in the world — though easily susceptible rumors and conspiracy theories — and everyone seems to like him, but he smells. Not just smells like an old submarine sandwich full of onions, but smells like an old can of re-fried beans. Its painful to just be around him. Is it my duty as a friend to inform him of his "predicament"? I think it is.
Just because you can doesn't mean you should
Everyone has something about themselves they're afraid to admit. Call it the Barry Manilow complex. Sure its over the top, usually mellow dramatic and cheesy, but you can't help but sing along. Outwardly you say how much you hate him, but how you love Sufjan Stevens or Bon Iver or some other "cool" and "credible" singer songwriter that earns you the respect of your friends.
It doesn't matter if it's accurate
Not long ago men walked from door to door in rural neighborhoods throughout this great American landscape to sell information in a leather bound volume of books. "The Encyclopedia", by its many brands, was at one point something printed (with ink, onto paper, stitched and bound) containing nearly every important fact about animal, mineral, person, place or thing that a team of highly educated researchers and writers could reasonably gather. The old days.
Out of touch, but still trying
There comes a point when you become to old to try anymore. And I don't mean "don't try" to care, or live, or interact or go to the bathroom and bath; but care to "fit in" by making the necessary concessions to your personality to appeal to the masses. Some people let that point go on far too long and can border on — well, creepy.