it's a complicated love/hate thing... @ginolalas - Tumblr Blog

a core part of being on tumblr is watching the site kick itself in the dick

25-35 is such a weird fucking age because you’re 100% a bread-and-butter Standard Edition Millennial but the cool teens are like “ok boomer” because you have a Real Job but the actual Boomers at your job are like “I’m not going to listen to a literal fucking child” as they download 16 self-replicating viruses and meanwhile the Gen Xers are telling you to refinance a mortgage for a house you don’t have and you’re sitting there at the Adults Table with the pretty tasty casserole you cooked because you’ve finally figured out how to do that now but everyone is eating the Boomer’s store-bought macaroni instead and admittedly they do sort of taste similar so it probably wasn’t worth all the trouble of cooking from scratch and you’re trying to comfort the freshly-graduated sobbing 22-year-old next to you because she just woke up here and doesn’t know where she is but you have like maybe 5k dollars in a savings account labelled RETIREMENT that grows approx. twelve cents a year and you keep eating dry macaroni while smiling incomprehensibly and periodically blacking out like ??????????

witcheshaven

rude-and-still-ginger

Omg someone FINALLY put it into WORDS

going2hell4everythingbutbeingbi

just started watching house and I thought yall were exaggerating but no. every episode is just like three wrong diagnoses that almost kill the patient and then house is like "he has underwater skunk herpes" and they give the guy a new butthole and he's cured. and then house chugs vicodin while talking about wanting to rail wilson.

nick-nellson

The Sound of Music (1965) dir. Robert Wise

yodaprod

“Try walking in my shoes” Sony Walkman ads (1983)

movie-gifs

The Mummy dir. Stephen Sommers | 1999

sophsun1

The Simpsons – 8.19: Grade School Confidential

bob-belcher

The O.C. (2003-2007)

theerakits-archive

BROOKLYN NINE NINE — S.04 E.15

aquilaofarkham

“I am Andrew Ryan, and I am here to ask you a question. Is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow? ‘No,’ says the man in Washington, ‘it belongs to the poor.’ ‘No,’ says the man in the Vatican, ‘it belongs to God.’ ‘No,’ says the man in Moscow, ‘it belongs to everyone.’ I rejected those answers. Instead, I chose something different. I chose the impossible. I chose… Rapture. A city where the artist would not fear the censor. Where the scientist would not be bound by petty morality. Where the great would not be constrained by the small. And with the sweat of your brow, Rapture can become your city as well.”