I’ve consumed so much Laguna Beach/The Hills content in the last month I don’t even know who I am anymore.
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

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@chloe3point0
I’ve consumed so much Laguna Beach/The Hills content in the last month I don’t even know who I am anymore.
I’m so mad and I don’t know where to place my anger. I don’t know how to shrink it or stifle it and it’s burning a hole inside of me. As a person living with multiple chronic illnesses, I already don’t feel in control of my own body. I don’t get to choose how I spend 95% of my time because my illness dictates that. Now as a woman my bodily autonomy is threatened and that threat will only increase in the next four years.
I’m scared for women and minorities and children and immigrants and queer and transgender people. I’m scared for a person I love whose family in another country might not be safe. I’m scared because he might not be safe here in this country. Maybe I won’t be safe either as a person who wasn’t born here.
But mostly it’s the anger that’s possessing me. Anger at the women and minorities who voted for him and voted against their own rights. At the white men who voted for him easily and flippantly. I’m angry that he’s alive at all.
I don’t really wanna live here anymore.
This song is the closest I’ve gotten to old Radiohead vibes in a long time. It almost feels like it would fit into “Hail to the Thief” or “Ok Computer.” I fear we’re never going to get another Radiohead album, and even if we do, will it be any good?
E.B. is a real cobbshucker for hurting Richardson.
Just here to post Steve Brule gifs for my own personal use.
Horse.
I wonder how all these “House of the Dragon” Targaryen dorks would feel if they found out that in about two hundred years their entire lineage is basically wiped out, save a secret non-blonde Targaryen who murdered the blonde Targaryen trying to bring their family back to greatness. Also non-blonde decided he didn’t want to be king, but it’s cool because his half brother (who’s actually his cousin?) who used to be good at climbing stuff but then got paralyzed and then turned into a tree for a while will be a great king. Right?
And while we’re on the subject of Robyn, this lady deserves some credit for being around in the music scene for nearly thirty years and still being rad. Great representation for the blonde community.
It’s been years and I’m still sad that Robyn never released a full length version of this iteration of “Honey.” The one she ultimately released pales in comparison. I guess I’ll just listen to this video on repeat.
I want to see this scene for the first time over and over again. Well, this and Philip Seymour Hoffman saying, “Oh, there are frogs falling from the sky.”
Every movie ever made has at least one close up shot of bare feet. Prove me wrong.
Having to Do With My Existential Crisis, Stone in My Kid’ Edition
Earlier I heard a snippet of “Warp 1.9” by the Bloody Beetroots on some ridiculous YouTube ad, and it instantly transported me back to the crowd of Voyeur in San Diego, where they played a show a hundredish (thirteen?!) years ago. I could feel myself gently swaying with a gin and tonic in my hand while the crowd writhed around me, screaming out the WOOP WOOP in unison. All the club bros carried on about the sick beat drop. Steve Aoki whipped his hair around like a helicopter, screamed live into his microphone along with the track, and ultimately stage dived, breaking at least two phone screens that I know of and one camera lens.
Was that really my life or did I dream it in a fog of convalescence [Can it be called that when you’re not getting better?]? It seems silly thinking about it now. Hard to believe that I ever went out and did things, saw shows, browsed the aisles of book stores, ran six miles a day.
Anyway, I have a kidney stone. Big deal. At least a billion people have had kidney stones at one point or another. They pee them out or get them sonic blasted or what the fuck ever. I’m just here to scream into the void that I don’t appreciate what feels like another delay in living my life. My whole existence feels like a pointless joke.
But whatever, I’ll just be here peeing into a fine mesh strainer.
On repeat.
Angels in the Outfield (1994)
Saving for later because reasons.
Birds. Can’t live with ‘em.
That’s all.
Apparently I have a superpower and it’s contracting COVID 19 twice a year every year.