Quincey P Morris

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@blogonpage394
Quincey P Morris
me, appreciating all the hard work that goes into creating video game environments:
trying to outgrow the deep shame and embarassment woven into my existence wbu
i hate it when i cant even write a poem about something because its too obvious. like in the airbnb i was at i guess it used to be a kids room cause you could see the imprint of one little glow in the dark star that had been missed and painted over in landlord white. like that's a poem already what's the point
i love you ciabatta i love you brioche i love you focaccia i love you challah i love you sourdough i love you rye i love you multigrain i love you bagel i love you pita i love you pretzel bun i love you baguette i love you english muffin i love you naan
*through gritted teeth* every day i choose to be kind *barely restraining myself from violence* i choose to have compassion *tamping down the vicious bloodlust inside me* i choose to care and to be kind and to love
Everyday I wake up and go ‘SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH ME!!!’ and then I go to work
whatever (renders to 240p because i don’t feel like being 1080p today)
my mom used our old spice rack like it was a roulette wheel. she'd spin the rack, grab a jar, give a sniff, and if it appeased her, she'd start sprinkling until i can only assume god or ancestors made her stop. she would repeat the process until she got bored.
i know this was her method bc whenever we'd compliment dinner, she'd go, "yeah, i wish i knew what i put in it this time!"
#incredible!!! genius!!! utter chaos!!!#i wonder if this ever turned out completely vile of if OP’s mum is magical (or just. good at cooking lmao) (via @miriagreyhaven)
nothing was ever vile! a couple meals would end up kind of bland, but then she'd come back with a vengeance the next night; or they'd end up with too much of a specific seasoning and we'd have no idea which was the offender. there was one time we had grilled chicken that was pretty good, but the aftertaste was so shockingly spicy that she was the only one who was able to finish it.
to add to the chaos, the spices came with the rack and she only recognized about half of them. she also follows recipes as if the steps were filtered through a game of telephone, so i'm choosing to believe the mum is magical. or just very very protected.
me, when i can’t organize or plan for shit: nonlinear narrative sequence enhances the dreamlike atmosphere of this tragicomedy
i was about to caption this “me every time my friends and i are just trying to have a nice dinner” or something like that until i remembered that that is, in fact, the exact situation going on in the full strip
i wonder how much healing that one xkcd comic did to the internet with saying “you’re one of today’s lucky 10,000″ when encountering a person who hasn’t been exposed to a popular or well known thing
you’re so right
TIL “Yankee Doodle” was written by the British to mock americans. “Doodle” is thought to come from the German “dödel”, meaning “fool” or “simpleton” and “macaroni,” a flamboyantly stylish type of dress, painting the Yankees as morons who thought placing a feather in one’s cap made them a “dandy.”
via reddit.com
so you’re telling me that “stuck a feather in his hat and called it macaroni” would be like saying “wrote a G on his belt and called it gucci”
that’s…a pretty good analogy actually
US moron came to town
Hunting for some coochie
Wrote a G up on his belt
And this bitch called it Gucci
Seeing my notifications get flooded with this every July 4th is the only thing I respect about America