a QuinnLark fanfiction
You won't find me listening to Blink 182. Those preppy punk-wannabes can stick their lacrosse sticks up their asses and call it a day for all the shits I give.
There's no way in fuck I'll subject my very special ears to walking, talking Barbie dolls with computer-corrected voices like Britney Spears and Christina. Fuck-to-the-no.
And those boy bands?! Why don't we all just step back and admit their synchronized dancing is the result of one too many ballet lessons followed by rubbing up on each other in the shower while swearing their heterosexuality by dating the above listed Barbies; Their bleach-tipped hairs have definitely soaked into whatever brains they've got.
Give me Oasis or the Smashing Pumpkins or Nirvana or the Pixies any day. But stop fucking torturing me at these goddamn college parties with the bullshit these teenagers think is music.
Yes, I'm bitter. As I should be. Fucking hell.
A/N: something new. Music. All the way.