mumford and sons is like a butter face (but-her, get it? bwahahaa like kirsten dunst) but for your ears. just like kirsten dunst has a pretty fit body, and can wear a dress without you wondering if she's man, but once you look up, AH! it's kirsten dunst teeth! and face! and ew.
are you with me?
so anyway, mumford and sons is whatever is the vocal form of a butter face. they start off super rad and then slip in some banjo and you're all like, "YEEEAH!!!!"
but then the guy starts singing and suddenly...ew. things take a turn. there are still banjos and a good beat, but there's this guy who sounds terrible. You briefly consider changing the channel or cd, but then the chorus starts and the other guys in the band sing along to help cover up the main guy's terrible voice and they up the banjo and drums. now you can't change the channel because it's time to jam! and then it's over.
do you see what i mean?
who in the HELL decided babies need their own special cake to smash on their first birthday? because they deserve a swift hook to the face. i bet it was the same dick who invented cake balls. who is it out there that keeps wanting to waste perfectly good cake?! in what world is it logical to make a whole cake for a infant so he/she can smush it and spread it around and make a big ass mess? what mother thinks, "i know, usually cakes are for eating, but they could ALSO be for me to clean off the table and floor..."
it's infuriating. illogical. idiotic. alliteration.