deanwasneversafe:

The fuck to do you mean for six year olds

deanwasneversafe:

The fuck to do you mean for six year olds

monobeartheater:

djsais:

arceeofficial:

june-and-the-ocean:

egberts:

if you try to tell me cold doesnt have a smell you’re wrong

when its really cold you can literally smell how cold it is

SWEET JESUS

SOMEONE UNDERSTANDS

OH MY GOD.

I TELL PEOPLE THAT IT SMELLS “SHARP” WHEN IT’S COLD AND PEOPLE THINK I’M FUCKING INSANE.

DEAR CHRIST

COLD SMELLS THE SAME WAY SOME METALS SMELL

Rain smells round, cold smells sharp, and spring in general smells curly.

and heat smells fat and heavy

yahooanswerswtf:

This is why we need sex education

yahooanswerswtf:

This is why we need sex education

edens-blog:

heartbeatofatimelord:

physcoaustin:

tardisol:

IF YOU HAD ROOM WITH ABSOLUTELY NOTHING IN IT AND THE WALLS CEILING AND FLOOR WERE MADE OF MIRROR WHAT WOULD IT LOOK LIKE IN THE MIRRORS

No.

Holy shit I asked my dad who’s a physics teacher and he just looked at me, looked at the table, looked at me, tried not to smile, looked angry, and started to look up where you can buy big mirrors.

image

this is an actual room of mirrors.

as you can see, it leads to glitches in the matrix

harryedward:

A windows phone could literally predict the future and I would still want an iPhone

guy:

dinosaurs didn’t follow my blog and now they’re extinct

coincidence??? i think not

carbonbasedfangirl:

fuzzykitty01:

davusignavus:

rudimentree:

davusignavus:

i liked the page for my school’s lgbt* center on facebook and my mom just sent me a message that said

image

“now all of china knows you’re queer”

please deliver this reply to your mother:

image“perfect”
image

she laughed so hard i think she exploded

It’s back and still beautiful!

oh my god

mooncleric:

milesmorale:

Infamous 3rd year “My father will hear about this” Draco refusing to participate in Lupin’s class on boggarts because the whole thing is ridiculous but when it’s his turn he walks up to the wardrobe and Lucius Malfoy steps out

THIS UPSETS ME

fuckyeahthespianpeacock:

saltheria:

yeffyaboyuice:

mythchief:

So there I was, ready to take a shower. I mean, I was dirty, a little greasy, a shower was not such a horrible idea. People take showers, amiright? Of course!
I get naked.
FULL naked.
REAL naked.
I’m talking the exact opposite reason why you ever went to your grandmother’s house.
No cookies. Blatant nudity.
That’s how folks take showers these days, right? Well, I pull back the curtain…
And there it was.
This…thing…sitting on the little soap/shower/pube shelf. Not a care in the world, like it’s been there for years. “What the fuck is that?” I think to myself.
Now, what follows is the exact pattern of thought that took me from rational human being to Sloth in 3.4 seconds.
“Is that a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit? Holy fuck that’s a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit. OMG why would someone leave that unattended. Those things are so delicious. I’m gonna eat the fuck out of it. Man, I can’t wait to see whoever left it’s face when they come back to find that someone ate their cheesy biscuit’s fuck. Ohhh boy.”
Then my brain sent a message to my arm that said, “Reach for that cheesy biscuit, bitch. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!?”
As you must already know, we are all contractually bound to make a dickload of mistakes throughout our lifetime. Some of those mistakes are so big that they forever hinder our world and warrant entire chapters in our children’s history books. However, most mistakes have the dubious providence of merely haunting one’s soul and festering amidst the subconscious for always and eternity.
This was, nearly, one of those.
If my adjacency to failure could be measured, the only possible unit of measurement to appropriate it would be “baby condoms”. And no, I do not mean those horrendous papoose-like titty-cribs that the slovenly carriage their spawn around in in Wal-Mart, I mean condoms that a baby would wear.
My adjacency to failure was roughly 1 and a half Kiddie Trojans.
I’m not sure what stopped me, be it cosmic or supernatural, but it gave my brain just enough time to ask itself some rather important questions regarding this little tub treasure. Questions like:
“WHO, THE FUCK, WOULD LEAVE A CHEESY BISCUIT IN MY SHOWER?!”
And inquiries such as:
“AND WHY WERE YOU GOING TO EAT IT, MORON?!”
Seriously, was I so hungry that I would wantonly disobey all the integral conditioning and survival imprinting my parents bestowed upon me like the ever important, “Um, don’t eat that biscuit, you don’t know where it’s been or whose it is and also you found it in the shower.” in order to satisfy something so benign as a munchie?
That, I’m sorry to say, was pretty much my reality.
An early morning introspective psychological evaluation of a sad, hungry, naked man who almost ate a bar of soap.

OMG ITS BACK

This shit needs to be published.

This is going in the monologue section and I’m not even sorry.

fuckyeahthespianpeacock:

saltheria:

yeffyaboyuice:

mythchief:

So there I was, ready to take a shower. I mean, I was dirty, a little greasy, a shower was not such a horrible idea. People take showers, amiright? Of course!

I get naked.

FULL naked.

REAL naked.

I’m talking the exact opposite reason why you ever went to your grandmother’s house.

No cookies. Blatant nudity.

That’s how folks take showers these days, right? Well, I pull back the curtain…

And there it was.

This…thing…sitting on the little soap/shower/pube shelf. Not a care in the world, like it’s been there for years. “What the fuck is that?” I think to myself.

Now, what follows is the exact pattern of thought that took me from rational human being to Sloth in 3.4 seconds.

“Is that a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit? Holy fuck that’s a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit. OMG why would someone leave that unattended. Those things are so delicious. I’m gonna eat the fuck out of it. Man, I can’t wait to see whoever left it’s face when they come back to find that someone ate their cheesy biscuit’s fuck. Ohhh boy.”

Then my brain sent a message to my arm that said, “Reach for that cheesy biscuit, bitch. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!?”

As you must already know, we are all contractually bound to make a dickload of mistakes throughout our lifetime. Some of those mistakes are so big that they forever hinder our world and warrant entire chapters in our children’s history books. However, most mistakes have the dubious providence of merely haunting one’s soul and festering amidst the subconscious for always and eternity.

This was, nearly, one of those.

If my adjacency to failure could be measured, the only possible unit of measurement to appropriate it would be “baby condoms”. And no, I do not mean those horrendous papoose-like titty-cribs that the slovenly carriage their spawn around in in Wal-Mart, I mean condoms that a baby would wear.

My adjacency to failure was roughly 1 and a half Kiddie Trojans.

I’m not sure what stopped me, be it cosmic or supernatural, but it gave my brain just enough time to ask itself some rather important questions regarding this little tub treasure. Questions like:

“WHO, THE FUCK, WOULD LEAVE A CHEESY BISCUIT IN MY SHOWER?!”

And inquiries such as:

“AND WHY WERE YOU GOING TO EAT IT, MORON?!”

Seriously, was I so hungry that I would wantonly disobey all the integral conditioning and survival imprinting my parents bestowed upon me like the ever important, “Um, don’t eat that biscuit, you don’t know where it’s been or whose it is and also you found it in the shower.” in order to satisfy something so benign as a munchie?

That, I’m sorry to say, was pretty much my reality.

An early morning introspective psychological evaluation of a sad, hungry, naked man who almost ate a bar of soap.

OMG ITS BACK

This shit needs to be published.

This is going in the monologue section and I’m not even sorry.

snopchat:

mom what THE FUCK do you mean youre not a virgin

Anonymous asked:
you need to lay off the eyeliner...

whatcoloristheworld:

good luck to everyone who has school soon but your sleeping schedule is wrecked beyond repair