
oozey mess
noise dept.
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
NASA
trying on a metaphor

if i look back, i am lost

Kiana Khansmith
Not today Justin
No title available
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
KIROKAZE
Show & Tell
Misplaced Lens Cap
sheepfilms
No title available
Mike Driver
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

Andulka
🪼
wallacepolsom
seen from United States

seen from United States
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seen from Malaysia
seen from T1
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seen from Canada

seen from T1
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seen from United States
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@thisdudejohn
Another weirdly amazing piece of nature: the llareta shrubs in the Atacama Desert / Source
Yeah you look good but ya soul dont
Art of Yoda on Dagobah, by famed Star Wars artist Ralph McQuarrie. One of my favorites.
when u put on a song u like at a party that no one knows
“I began using coke in high school, and I never really stopped. But it was under control. I’d use it maybe once a month. I was successful. I worked as a commercial real estate broker. But at the age of 42 I started drinking again. At first I was just entertaining clients, but I began to flood into bad habits. I was attracted to the underbelly of the city. One night a prostitute in Brooklyn offered me a hit of crack, and I accepted. Immediately I began to use against my will. That year a $250,000 bonus was dumped into my bank account. I did manage to pay the bills for the house, but all the rest went to smoking. I became a horrible employee. My family thought I was going to work every day, but I spent all my time bouncing between hotels and crack houses in Brooklyn. My teenage son would leave me voicemail after voicemail, begging me to come home. It was an ugly, dark, scary place. I hit rock bottom in 2013. One night I was having an orgy with two girls and a dealer, and my heart seized up. I just kept hitting the crack, hoping for a heart attack. I went to rehab on Christmas Day that year. I had a few relapses, but I’ve been clean for four years now. Recently I was taking some clients to a restaurant in Brooklyn, and as soon as I got out of the car, I noticed a woman coming toward me. It was the girl who’d gotten me started. She looked like Rihanna when I met her. But now she looked horrible. Her body had shrunk down to nothing. Instantly I told her: ‘T, I have no money.’ But she spent fifteen minutes begging me and offering sex. I told her that I couldn’t help her. I felt horrible, but I couldn’t risk my own recovery by getting involved. I remember that when we used to smoke, she’d always say: ‘Someday I’ll get clean, someday.’ But she never had a chance. At the end of every night I could drive away. I could go back to my phony fucking life in suburbia. I could disconnect. And when I decided to get clean, my neighbors and friends from the good side of life circled the wagons to help me. But she had nowhere to go. She had no one to help. She lived in the insanity.”
I actually genuinely love dealing with angry and aggressive customers because it’s SO funny. They always come in with a specific level of energy and they expect whoever they deal with to be scared of them and then when I’m clearly not physically or emotionally intimidated they get SO flustered and start doing the weirdest shit to regain power in the situation. Like there’s absolutely nothing you could do to me in this coffee shop that would ever even make my Top 10 Scariest Interactions With People but by all means, keep faking that phone call to your boss who apparently knows the Starbucks mermaid personally.
I also love doing it because I know all my coworkers can get really upset when people treat them like that, which is totally understandable. So instead because they know I don’t mind they’ll just call me in and then gather round to watch like it’s a boxing match
I hope they bought it.
Light a candle directly in front of your automatic Glade spray air freshener that way every 9 minutes a fireball shoots across your living room table, intimidating your house guests, asserting your dominance in your domain
Imagine doing this in front of a 14th century peasant
me when i find out a game has object physics
Link / Link
@ourpoetryishaunted