Hello! I hope now works for a quick phone call. It always feels better to talk instead of text if you ask me. And I hate how cold emails can be.
First of all, how are you? I feel like no one asks that anymore. Just because I’m your landlord doesn’t mean I don’t care. I’m an empath, remember? If anything, I care too much.
You’re doing well? I’m so relieved to hear that! You deserve great things in life. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.
So, about your lease renewal. I’m really struggling to come to terms with this, but my life partner and I made the difficult decision to renovate the kitchen of our beach house this year. It really needed a facelift—I would get so depressed just looking at those stained countertops. I’m devastated to tell you this, but it means we have no choice but to increase your rent.
How much, you ask? Oh, I wish I didn’t have to say! I’ll try to keep my composure when I tell you. Here it goes…$500 a month.
I’ve cried every night this week wondering about the impact this might have on you. It shakes me to my core that this may strain your finances during an already difficult time, what with losing your job last month and all. But we have no choice. As I said, the kitchen was crying for a reno. Speaking of, let me grab a Kleenex. I’m starting to tear up thinking about how this will affect you.
You sound tense. I wish there was something I could do to help the situation. Oh! What if I signed us both up for a year’s subscription to Headspace, that meditation and mental health app? I heard they have some breathing exercises that help with reducing financial stress.
Did you say you’d rather I just kept your rent affordable? You know that’s not possible, and it’s honestly very rude of you to suggest that given how I just opened up and explained the emotional damage my second home’s kitchen is causing me.
What? You’ll have to move out if I raise the rent this much? Oh no! Please, don’t say that. Your words are hurting me, like daggers to my ears. Is there no one who can help cover the cost? Maybe you can get a roommate! I can sense you’re feeling lonely.
Just know, for the next 45 days until your eviction, I’m here for you.
It’s their debut, and well. It’s definitely a debut. It’s by no means a bad album, in fact we’d say it’s a great album. It sets the band’s sound going forward with their raw and fervent instrumentation. But, by pure comparison to the rest of their discography alone, the lyrics on this record feel a bit lackluster. Having said that, these Danish teenagers still outclassed most American songwriters on this album with their grasp of the English language. So for that, +1 to the Danish school system.
Look, we might get shit on for this placement as this album has the band’s biggest hit in “Pain Killer,” which features Sky Ferreira. If anything, this number 4 spot just proves Iceage is an incredible band with no bad albums, so mull that over before telling us to go throw ourselves underneath a frozen lake, they can’t all be ranked #1 ok? On “Beyondless,” the band seems a bit more playful, both with the instrumentation and vocal styling, with the addition of some solid brass. It’s just a matter of taste and unfortunately, we’re sadistic and depressed, which means we prefer the band’s somber work over this album in particular
We don’t know what happened in the two years between this album and their debut record, but it’s clear Iceage leveled up. Maybe it was something in the Copenhagen water or maybe it was the simple fact that the band were no longer teenagers. The lyrics on tracks like “Ecstasy” paint a vivid depiction of isolation and helplessness that comes with it while Rønnenfelt drops a Nietzche reference on the song “Everything Drifts.” With lyrics that showcase their flair for literature and philosophy, coupled with the increasingly harsher noise and post-punk elements of their sound, Iceage delivered an excellent sophomore album.
The band’s most recent studio endeavor where the band seems to have solidly encapsulated the sounds of their prior albums while maintaining a sense of novelty. The usual suspects are all here, the dense driving guitars, the slight bits of sparse piano parts on a ballad like “Love Kills Slowly,” and the poetic lyrics that even Genius.com has yet to fully derive meaning from. I’m sure we can figure it out, but that’s too much effort and we’d much rather be willfully ignorant and just nod our heads along to the music.
Jesus, what am I talking about? My angel from heaven would never hurt me like this. Trudy, I mean. My wife is definitely fucking around.
I don’t care how drunk and vengeful she was feeling, there’s no way my wife would let this hack loser lay a finger on her without immediately hanging herself the following morning, scouts honor.
He’s funny, he’s charming and he should probably be higher on this list. However, my wife is not exactly his type, if you catch my meaning. You know, because she’s not Italian.
Bert Cooper gets hard for two things—shoeless feet and Ayn Rand. My wife is self conscious about her bunions and has never even been to Russia.
There’s no way someone could land Joanie and not brag about it to everyone, even the husband whose heart they’re breaking.
A lateral move at best. She’s already got a terrible partner full of social rage at home.
This twerp butchered Don’s best joke, he would for sure strike out with my overly critical emasculating battle axe of a wife.
My wife has taken self-defense classes every Thursday for the last 5 years. That’s a lot of time, money, and effort for a piece of shit like Greg to lay a hand on her with his windpipe intact.
I find it highly unlikely that my real-life wife is having an affair with the fictional wife and manager of the fictional comedian Jimmy Barrett. She seems happy lately, and that’s not the effect Bobbie has on people.
Impossible. Didn’t you see the sparks between her and Sal?
Can’t rule it out. My wife has expressed interest in women and LSD.
She would seduce my wife just to be able to spread the gossip that my wife is having an affair.
Meredith and my wife? No. I don’t think so. I feel like I would have heard about that.
At best he cried in the corner watching her get it on with his wife.
If my wife wanted to fuck some egotistical hack who writes “Star Trek” fan fic she would just keep sleeping with me.
Sure, she was placed as Don’s secretary specifically to stop him from fucking his secretaries, but I’m not ruling her out. Let us not forget that according to Roger she was “The Queen of Perversions of the highest order” back in her heyday. Could she be taking up her old hellcat lifestyle with my beloved wife? I did find a Werther’s Original in her purse last week.
Do I think my wife has a secret relationship with Stan that started as purely antagonistic and blossomed into a genuine friendship until one day they both realized they’d been in love with each other the whole time? That depends, does he still have the beard?
He can’t hold his liquor, but he did once manage to wrestle Peggy’s loyalty away from Don. I got my eye on you, Duck.
No, my wife is not a pedophile, but as “Mad Men’s” own Betty and Glen have taught us, a grown woman is completely capable of emotionally cheating with a child. I can’t prove it, but I think she cut a clump out of her hair…
If my wife could suss out the sane from the insane she never would have married me in the first place. Anyone who can pitch an unsolicited Jaguar tag to Don and nail it definitely has what it takes to charm my intensely frustrated, clearly looking-for-the-door wife.
