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Me: In a library, finding a potentially whumpy book, flipping to the middle to see: "He initiated a complicated physical engagement when he calibrated the entry point with the dagger strictly horizontally aligned on the muscular tissue of the person in front of him and applied a consistent linear force until the hilt achieved full contact the surface of their body."
Also me: "HE STABBED HIM. PERIOD." shutting the book and placing it back to the shelf.
kassymalone
the art looks good, but remind me to never let you hammer in any nails if that's how you do it
@kassymalone
But thats how I do everything!
Could you imagine? 😂
a guy in my german class just called our teacher “master”
our world is doomed
It's three am. You get up due to a random tumblr notif waking you from the myst of a food coma. You, groggy as all hell, sit up and check the phone to a lot of notifications and you think 'damn, i guess that's just how it be then'. You reply to some messages and lay back down in the dark of your room. But you cannot sleep, for your stomach howls in agony at not having food since 6 pm. You try to ignore the sensation, only to sit up again with a scoff. The cat runs- she knows what is up. You throw the blanket off of you and walk into the kitchen, put away the leftovers from dinner that weren't put away for whatever reason, then grab a paper plate of the highest quality. You get out the taco supplies-- meat, cheese, sour cream, lettuce, tomatoes, but no refried beans because your fatass ate them all in one night.
You start to carefully make your taco. You first spread sour cream on the crunchy shell of the Taco Bell brand, while you wait for the meat to warm. You spread the meat out, carefully pasting it down with your spoon to make more room. Next is the lettuce, a painful process since you're 99% sure the lettuce is now going bad but whatever, it's taco time. After the lettuce, you fucking throw a hell of a lot of cheese on the thing- it is not complete if there isn't a mountain of cheese. You look down to your wonderful 3 am snack, proud like a mother grizzly bear.
You grab a bottle of sweet tea of highest quality, then your paper plate with the taco and head back to your room. You sit down at your desk, ravenous as you patiently get the taco ready to eat. But you see it out of the corner of your eye. You see the four-legged, domesticated mammal friend called your cat. She's spotted the taco too. You scream, for she clamps her jaws onto the delectable taco, cracking the shell and spilling the insides onto the paper plate. 'No,' you ponder, 'my hard work..' It is too late. The cat starts to eat your taco instead. You start to sob, stomach screaming in terror. You wanted to eat that.. You were going to eat that...
And you'd be fucking DAMNED if you let this tiny kitten get away with it. You pick the cat up, oh so carefully taking her out of the room. You remember oh so delicately the memory of your former friend teaching you how to dropkick, and you do just that.. You punt the cat across the room. How dare she eat YOUR taco. You return to your room with a spoon, devouring the remains of the taco like a pack of hungry 16 year old thots when they're thirsty as fuck for some jock. You sob in victory. Your stomach has met it's quota. You are happy. Your stomach has been satisfied, but not too much to enter a food coma again. You're so excited for this new world of your stomach being full, you completely forgot to drink your bottle of sweet tea.
Oh the joy.. The joy of being a person of a full belly.. How glorious it is to be you right now.. And that's what you do. You take your glory and start writing something of to much description and sending it to a friend. It's 3:37 am. It's witching hour, and you'd be damned if you're going to do shit on an empty belly. But you're so glorious... So.. Glorious....
*something happens that doesn't really matter* Tumblr: WE NEED TO START A PETITION AND GET 69,000 SIGNATURES TO STOP THIS EVIL AND HORRIBLE OUTBREAK OF ABSOLUTE DISASTERS THAT IF WE LET SLIP BY WILL MELT THE ICE CAPS AND MURDER ALL HUMAN BEINGS.
She's throwing a fit because she has a knot in her hair and says... no cries and yells... that she CANT do it herself. I try to explain how to work the tip of the brush from the bottom of the knot little by little, but I get maybe two words out and she's interrupting me and *shock* not listening She's now screaming and crying and YELLING at me and that she can't. She just wants someone else to do it. Crying like she's dying that it hurts and she can't.
I got in trouble for saying over exaggerated in my English class.
