Frail Blog

Send your bullshit (e.g., submissions, questions, wishes, pleas, grievances, kitten pictures and the like) to [email protected]. it's good for you, do it. frailblog is operated by treetreetree and whatawonderful

[themattsmith-deactivated2017050]

[frailblog-blog]

(via themattsmith)

[lickystickypickyzzz]

[frailblog-blog]

(via lickystickypickyme:Picture: PA)

It's close to 4pm and some youngster's lurking in the semi-light. Under the bus shelter, you see a sight that almost stops your heart You try to holler but a cough takes the sound before you make it You start to spittle as them kids look you right between the eyes You're elderly.

[thedailywhat]

[frailblog-blog]

FUCK YOU GUYS I'M SANTA. I'LL TAKE UP TWO SEATS IF I GODDAMN WANT.

[frailblog-blog]

Dave turned to Allison just after taking his Cialis pill, "You know, this is great but we really should have gone the extra mile and just gotten that jacuzzi."

Looking into the sunset Allison said, "I don't think you take enough Cialis to make that cost efficient."

[frailblog-blog]

Clara- Clara! You gotta listen to me. I'm trapped in this- oh god, there's these ladies with these giant hats and- THEY FEED US CHUNKY WHITE LIQUID. What is that? No, no it's not cream of- LOOK CLARA, IT'S TERRIBLE HERE. I don't even think those ladies are human! They're aliens, I know it. Aliens working for the feds and trying to kill me with chunky white liquid. The FBI is running this whole thing, Clara. I just know it. You gotta do something- No! Don't call the police, they're in on it! They had a doughnut thing the other day and- Yes! The police were here! And the doughnuts! Don't get me started. They taste like- You don't want to know, Clara. You gotta do something. No. No- I won't play bingo with them! Jesus christ Clara, they're making me play bingo. Jesus christ, Clara. You gotta do something. Tell the grandkids I said hi.

[frailblog-blog]

That mixed metaphor isn't really working. Blood doesn't cry. I don't believe it would make any noise whatsoever in an aborted fetus (or even in a dead baby, for that matter). It would probably just sit there, in the ground. Hangin' out. I suppose babies could cry from the ground, but it'd be pretty muffled. This lady must have excellent hearing. Or super powers! Awesome!

Also that shirt is pretty awesome. It's like Lands End monogramming font except terrible.

(image via Jezebel)

[drawonthewalls-deactivated20140]

[frailblog-blog]

pleatedjeans:

robotindisguise:

gconnect:drawonthewalls

Instead of saying "cheese," the photographer instead said "Did you know that morticians put tubes in the lips of corpses to make them smile?"

[lookatthisfuckingteabagger]

[frailblog-blog]

(via lookatthisfuckingteabagger)

WATCH OUT SENIOR CITIZENS!!!! OBAMA'S GONNA KILL Y'ALL. WITH HIS PUBLIC OPTION DEATH PANELS.

UNLESS YOU'RE A FURRNERR.

[frailblog-blog]

Shortly after being named the Treasurer of Ocean World Surf Club, Muriel and her vice-treasurer, Geraldine, invented a new shortboarding technique - cane surfing. Cane surfing enthusiasts enjoy the extra balance the cane provides. Variations on the sport include team cane surfing, in which the surfers (or caners, as they're refered to in most regions) attempt to knock one another into the sea by smacking an opponent in the back of the knees. Scandal arose when Herbert Finkleman snuck a sword cane into competition and caused Stu Howell minor blood loss. Cane surfing competitions are much more structured to prevent such future catastrophes.

[pleatedjeans]

[frailblog-blog]

pleatedjeans:

My camp counselors.

hahahaha, bingo night.  (his expression: extreme pleasure or pain?)

[frailblog-blog]

Traffic is looking worse and worse.

[frailblog-blog]

A designated sign for this single old man was put up in Eland, Wisconsin.  There was a celebration as he (Lux Chesterfield) had almost been run over several times in the past year and a half.  Now it's rumored he just stands like that, by that sign, day and night.  He's a tourist attraction, but why would any tourists go to Wisconsin?

[frailblog-blog]

Fred and Millicent called in their son Johnny to help them protest the evils of megaphones. They had heard the megaphoners were bringing pennant flags to the event, so they brought the American flag that normally hangs from the pole above their front door. They arrived a few minutes early to the location the megaphoners were planning on grandstanding at, and realized that their plan of holding the flag and giving the megaphone a big thumbs down would be taxing, so they Fred drove home and got Johnny's old school desk from the basement and they began the laborious task of scotch-taping the flag to the desk. As the megaphoners began to arrive, Johnny helped his parents up on to the desk so they would have a more dominant position for their demonstration. As Johnny pulled himself up on the desk to join his parents, Millicent gasped. The megaphoners were more numerous than they could have imagined - 3 of them were already setting up, and Millicent could see a fourth coming over the hill. Fred, Millicent, and Johnny would have to point their thumbs down really hard today to acheive their objective, and smiling was certainly out of the question. As the lead megaphoner began megaphoning, Fred whispered to his wife, "I sure hope this desk we're standing on gets our point across, 'cause boy, we're in for a day."

[frailblog-blog]

Al and Ruth hated going to family functions. Their parents would always yell at them "Dance together! We didn't spend all that money on waltzing lessons for nothing! Show your Aunty Petunia all the moves Miss Laurie taught you!"

[frailblog-blog]

Blanche was voting for Richard Russell not because she agreed with his segregationist stance, but because she thought his prominent features "had an honest look about 'em." When asked to explain this opinion by her grandchildren, she yelled "HOW CAN YOU DOUBT A MAN WITH EARS SO LARGE?" Blanche then adjusted her hearing aid, turned the television up, and fell asleep in her favorite chair.

[frailblog-blog]

Today, boys and girls, we will learn about Tumblr. Tumblr is a place where lonely people who are fans of things find pictures related to those things and post them to show people on the internet that they have better tastes than their peers. Sometimes people post things that actually happen in their lives, but that is discouraged. No one likes posts lacking in pop culture references. At the very least, the words "GQMF," "awesome," "bacon," or "fail" must be used once daily to keep afloat in the murky waters of Tumblarity. If these words seem unusable, I advise posting an image of an inspirational quote in either Futura or Helvetica font early Monday mornings. Occasionally, Tumblrs posting their own artwork or design work - so long at it is either photography, typography, or drawings made with either black pens or bright crayons - achieve popularity, but generally this requires having acquired a large internet following elsewhere beforehand. I have started a group Tumblr for us to maintain, called "fuckyeahladieshatsattheseniorcenter," which I expect you all to post to tonight as homework. Images of ladies' hats are preferable, but news stories or links may also be submitted for credit.

[frailblog-blog]

Grampa is so disappointed in you.