my therapist: Cats (2019) can’t hurt you.
Cats (2019):
me, sobbing in a corner: WTF
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@acatnamedfish
my therapist: Cats (2019) can’t hurt you.
Cats (2019):
me, sobbing in a corner: WTF

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it’s ninety-nine degrees outside, four fuck-thousand percent humidity, and my husband was like, “i’m gonna go for a bike ride.” and i was like “why. no. why. don’t put us on the news like that. local fool collapses on unnecessary journey. don’t do it.” so he says he doesn’t want to “hide in the house” because the sun is shining. bruh. honeybruh. “the sun is shining” does not cover it. its hot outside. its motherfucking hot as fuck outside. our outdoor plants have been crying into their hands all week. whole cars are melting into the sewer. our fucking patio umbrella developed sentience to ask me for lemonade this morning
@robotmango, you need to work for the weather forecast - this was both hilarious and so vivid it made me stand up and get some iced tea.
this is a great idea, thank you. here goes. my audition tape for the weather channel. dearly beloved. we are gathered here today to have a fucking funeral for the outdoors. it had a good run, with all its creeks and clouds and shit. pretty great. now it’s ten-thirty at night but still ninety-two asshole-sweating degrees and humid as fuck. everything is hot and slimy, like being a “borrower” that got trapped inside a bottle of shampoo and then accidentally microwaved. you can see on my doppler radar that nothing is moving around out there because everything is probably dead. the only alive thing is the mosquito currently trying to drill a hole in my leg. no surprise that all the shitbag mosquitos are fine, since the thermostat of hell is always at the devil’s preferred temperature. this forecast has gotten away from me a little, but in conclusion fuck the sun
I think I’ve reblogged this before, but “the thermostat of hell is always at the devil’s preferred temperature” is fucking poetry
ninety nine???? thats IT????????? buddy here in the 7th circle of h*ck, California, we get up to at LEAST 110 degrees every single gosh darned summer. the bugs seek revenge. the sun wreaks havoc on the mere mortals it surveys. every plant has turned brown in its thirst for water. the very air itself has been sucked dry of every drip of moisture it ever had.
ninety nine degrees. you weak fool.
well since you asked so politely, let’s talk about something very important vis a vis weather-hotness that you clearly ain’t ever heard of, called
humidity
oh alas, you say. oh papa, whatever shall i do, it is ever so hotte and drye in california. the very air hath been sucked of all its moisturey droplets and whatnot.* one hundredy and tennith desiccated degrees!
*(yo, drought is serious. i am pretty obviously not making fun of that.)
alright. let’s check it out. here’s a random california city, right about now:
thirty-two percent. and here’s a random mid-atlantic city located somewhere in the wet fleshy crease behind a demon’s knee*:
*(confession: i do not live in dc, but several years ago i spent three weeks steaming like a tinned ham in arlington in august. none of the pants i took with me could ever keep a crease again.)
huh! funny thing! “see, dc’s actually seven degrees COOLER,” you say, because you’ve obviously never gone outside and taken a deep lungful of wet sock trash air in your life. and now for added bliss, here’s what early wednesday morning’s gonna be like for these poor clowns:
that’s right! eighty-two percent humidity! the point at which showers no longer matter, because you’re all caught in God’s grease trap! just stressed human eels miserably slip slidin’ their way through a damp melty bathwater-flavored hellscape that feels like it’s actively sous viding their top layer of skin! a hundred thousand people packed into public transit breathing air that feels like deepthroating swamp thing! and you wanna talk to me about fuckin california!
[cue science voice]: human bodies cool through evaporation, a process by which the body sweats and sweet invisible angels towel us off, whisking away our unwanted moisture into the air and literally chilling us out. (it’s also why air conditioned air feels so fucking deliciously refreshing: it’s not just being cooled, it’s being conditioned, aka, dehumidified. it’s cool dry air.) but. if the air is already made out of fucking chowder and can’t absorb shit then guess what the fuck our bodies can’t do.
so is this weak fool gonna remain indoors and hydrated through this only medium-hot but fuckoff-humid season? you bet your dried out ass.
the gasp is what sent
The gasps HKHJGJGJ
in sixth grade you were either a cucumber melon bitch or a warm vanilla sugar bitch
the fuck does this mean
this is japanese cherry blossom erasure
Hey y'all I still don’t know wtf this means
Umm I was kinda mature for my age? I was a moonlight path bitch
this post is also sweet pea erasure
hawaiian ginger reporting for duty asking wtf we’re not included

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When you’re daydreaming a scenario and then suddenly come up with something that would work way better
This is art
If I caption this “I can haz cheezburger?” do you think the fabric of time and space will rip and we’ll be flung violently back into our own past?
At this point being flung back that far might well be worth it.
but it only works if 4 people are having sex lol
how many hands you got
two? don’t see how that’s relevant
allow me illustrate you
that’s still four people
i truly can’t make this any clearer
will smith isn’t gay. he has a wife and three beautiful, talented children
don’t know what you’re on about. will smith and slightly wider blue will smith have been married for years. they’re a hollywood love story
I can’t believe this post predicted the live action Aladdin genie
Thank you, Boaty McBoatface.
imagine thinking you can just call people a slur
Kiddo…. Dick Van Dyke….. is his name
I don’t have context for this and I hope I never get any

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cranky because you haven’t had any prophetic dreams to aid you on your quest aren’t you
When women used to be depressed or were not “taking care of their men” properly their husbands could send them to the psych ward for attitude adjustments. This was part of conditioning them to always wear a smile. They believed that if a woman saw herself smiling that it would become natural practice and that she would be “cured”. This often went along with shock therapies.
This gives a whole new level of creepiness to when random men tell you to smile.
People who talk about the 50s like they were this golden Era frighten me
do you ever see your sibling and just have this overwhelming urge to smack them for no reason? like my brother will walk into the room and i’m like “oh man i guess i have to end you”
You don’t understand how much this post has ruined my life. My older sister won’t stop mentioning the Cain Instinct. Every time I hear the name Cain I run in fear, It’s not funny anymore. She’ll literally say “im feeling the Cain Instinct” just before she attacks. But all I’m feeling is the Abel Instinct. Someone save me. I am a sacrificial lamb and God is my sister with a pillow.
Roll 1d8 on this list during character creation do determine your characters backstory
hey Disney i got a great idea for seven Tarzan sequels you’re not gonna believe

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Isn’t it crazy how women are supposed to be in their 20s their whole life.
walk walk fashion baby