new favorite youtube comment
oh my god?
OH MY GOD????
god really took his dick
w hat
this post is my legacy and if it gets deleted after tumblrs new sfw policy ill have nothing left to my name

roma★

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pixel skylines
sheepfilms
Mike Driver
styofa doing anything
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will byers stan first human second

ellievsbear

izzy's playlists!
hello vonnie
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
YOU ARE THE REASON

Kiana Khansmith

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Today's Document
DEAR READER
almost home
RMH
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@le-nana
new favorite youtube comment
oh my god?
OH MY GOD????
god really took his dick
w hat
this post is my legacy and if it gets deleted after tumblrs new sfw policy ill have nothing left to my name
Blush Repair by cosmetic_doctor
I thought this may be some kind of ASMR thing and it COULD be if it didn’t kill me dead with the little air puffer thing
WOOBWOOBWHOOBWHOOB
I was not prepared for that sound 🤣🤣🤣
It is entirely unfair that cleaning is an act that must be repeated, I am not a god so why should I be expected to fight against entropy
i would be unstoppable if not for the tired sleepy
girl sitting in bed surrounded by small meaningful objects that offer some joy and peace but mostly do not matter , that is life
Work in retail long enough, and you’ll eventually realize the rules for dealing with Customers are exactly the same as for dealing with the Fae:
- Avoid eye contact.
- Never reveal your full name.
- Accept nothing They offer to you.
- Never verbally agree or disagree with anything They might happen to say.
- To apologize is to acknowledge a debt owed.
- Under no circumstances are you ever to thank Them.
- Remember that They are incapable of reading signs in human languages.
you come to me, on the day of my ovulation,
That’s a deep… dock.
by Penzilla
Tumblr: @pennypenzilla
so that’s where spongebob lives
Do you like the color of the ocean?
Spongebob, wat the fuck are you up to
This doesn’t include the best bit of the whole thing - she found the Twitter thread!
I love this
patiently waiting for someone to fall in love with me. i refuse 2 date. i refuse 2 flirt or make a move. how could this go wrong.
TRANSCRIPT:
(Phone rings)
TERRY: Uh, mom? Bonnie’s calling.
GAYLE: Don’t answer it.
TERRY: Mom, I can see you’re stressed. You’re just pouring milk into the dehumidifier.
GAYLE: Ah, shit.
BONNIE (on the answering machine): Hey, Gayle! You must be so excited about your lunch this afternoon. You must also be exhausted with all the cooking that I know you’ve been doing. I thought to save you a little time, I’d swing by with a store-bought pie so you don’t have to worry about doing dessert.
GAYLE: A STORE-BOUGHT pie? What am I, from Les Mis? I BET you would like me to serve a store-bought pie at my pristine luncheon, Bonnie, I bet you would—oh, I bet—oh, I bet—oh, oh, I BET you’d like that, Bonnie.
TERRY: Why don’t you just use a store-bought pie?
GAYLE: The same reason your father and I didn’t have our wedding at CHUCK E. CHEESE, Terry. Because we’re not SLOBS in this house. It’s just tacky! “Oh, yeah, please come over! Enjoy the store-bought pie! And afterwards, let’s have a CHICKEN NUGGET FIGHT.” What you do when you serve a store-bought dessert, is you’re basically climbing out of the trenches, and you’re waving the white flag in the air. It’s a sign of weakness! It’s a lazy dessert. If I were to serve a store-bought pie, I would essentially be Robert E. Lee to Bonnie’s Ulysses S. Grant, riding into the Appomattox Court House, handing over my womanhood and passing in my Cuisinshart. Can’t you see what’s happening here? Bonnie’s trying to Shanghai me. Bonnie’s trying to make me look like a dried-up Baba Yaga woman by leaving me with the store-bought. Terry, when you serve a store-bought dessert, it says: “I wanted to have a party, but I didn’t wanna actually cook anything, because I was too busy watching The Drew Carey Show in the nude.”
TERRY: Dees-gusting.
GAYLE: I’ve got news for you, BINNIE. I’m serving the freshest Redwall pie you’ve ever goddamn heard of. Golden brown. Crispy crust. Look at the navel, Bonnie. You think you’re gonna find that sh*t in store-bought pie? I cut the umbilical myself. This is a grandmama’s puppet (?? not actually sure what she says here). This thing would make Ina Garten sh*t himself. We can’t cook this baby until ten minutes before company arrives, because I’m serving this thing PIPING HOT!
TERRY: That’s cutting it a little close, isn’t it?
GAYLE: I’m an adrenaline junkie, Terry. I need the rush. But I’ll admit, these are stressful times.
my dad–also a writer–came to visit, and i mentioned that the best thing to come out of the layoff is that i’m writing again. he asked what i was writing about, and i said what i always do: “oh, just fanfic,” which is code for “let’s not look at this too deeply because i’m basically just making action figures kiss in text form” and “this awkward follow-up question is exactly why i don’t call myself a writer in public.”
he said, “you have to stop doing that.”
“i know, i know,” because it’s even more embarrassing to be embarrassed about writing fanfic, considering how many posts i’ve reblogged in its defense.
but i misunderstood his original question: “fanfic is just the genre. i asked what you’re writing about.”
i did the conversational equivalent of a spinning wheel cursor for at least a minute. i started peeling back the setting and the characters, the fic challenge and the specific episode the story jumps off from, and it was one of those slow-dawning light bulb moments. “i’m writing about loneliness, and who we are in the absence of purpose.”
as, i imagine, are a lot of people right now, who probably also don’t realize they’re writing an existential diary in the guise of getting television characters to fuck.
“that’s what you’re writing. the rest is just how you get there, and how you get it out into the world. was richard iii really about richard the third? would shakespeare have gotten as many people to see it if it wasn’t a story they knew?”
so, my friends: what are you writing about?
Well….. fuck…now that you put it that way….
i almost finished 300,000 words before i realized i was essentially writing about how hard it is to make friends after age 35. and how much i need to.
Imagine if someone handed you a box full of all the items you have lost throughout your life
#it would be nice to get my sense of purpose back
“Oh wow my childhood innocence! Thank you for finding this,”
“my will to live! i haven’t seen this in 15 years!”
“I knew I lost that potential somewhere!”
“Mental stability, my old friend!”
OH THIS IS HEAVEN LOOK AT THEM
Caption: [Okay so the other day at Target the girl in front of me in line was like "Hey, oh my gosh, how are you? Its been so long". And I panicked 'cause I was like, "Should I know this girl?". So I channeled my inner Meryl Streep and was like "Hey oh my gosh. Its been forever!". And then I realized she was on the phone.
So I skeeve off the awkward and went back to Pokémon GO 'cause gotta catch them all. And she took her earbuds out and was like "Did you say something?". And because I was playing the game I didn't realize that she was talking to me and when I did and said "Hey, I didn't know you were on the phone, I thought you were talking to me" she had already put her earbuds back in. So now I'm a repeat offender.
And she takes them out, looks me up and down, and goes "Ugh I have a boyfriend". And I couldn't stop myself so I was like "Uhh me too and I bet he is hotter than yours". How she thought I was a predatory straight man while standing like Michelangelo's the David and sounding as if I snuck into a Michaels to huff ALL of the glitter, I will never know.
But once she realized that I was like "GBF" material, she was like "Wait, no, hey". And I was like "Nuh uh! You just molly whopped me with the shovel of sass after I gave an Oscar worthy best friends performance having never met you. This friendship doesn't just get to happen".]
not to problematically gay code my own life but each and every day a new straight person says something that could easily be part of my villain origin story