I Swear Im Not Weaboo Shit

DeviantArt and the USPS partner to make physical DeviantStamps that are valid postage stamps

please tell me im not the only one who remembers that photoset/gif that went around where it has the final scenes of death note where light is trying to defend himself but someone replaced the text so it was him teaching them how to swim

devil may happy :)

Wouldn’t it’ve made more sense to to say devil may smile?

critique my post ever again and devil may angry

any attractive girl can be a milf you just have to play the long game

You can’t fool me 57th PM of Japan Shinzo Abe i know it’s you

Pleas e fuck…..

@yarharr

Then I fidge my spinnit

the I spin your girl

OKAY BUT HOLY SHIT THAT ANIMATION IS SO FUCKING FLUID

This is so cute and it’s so gorgeous omg

white person: *eats chicken tikka masala once* i just…. i feel so connected… to indian culture …. I’m learning to speak islam…. check out my third eye….. chakra

Every time I see this. Every damn time. I’m immediately sucked back into my fuckin. Fuckin English lit class with Mr. Fuckass McShit. Mr. “Hit the gong to begin class”, “Namaste, Children”, “I wanna go backpacking in India to find my spiritual awakening and also my left burkinstock that I lost during a cedar sauna drum circle” ass bastard. “Do you want to share your poetry with the class to get in touch with your emotions” ass fucker. Mr. “Here’s a photograph of a tribal shaman, describe him using nature words” asshole. Pretentious-ass, condescending motherfucker. “Do you want to tell us about your saddest memory?” “I dunno, sir. Are you giving me an option?” “No.” “Then why are you asking” Every goddamn day. Fuck. “You seem tense.” Oh, I seem tense? I seem tense. Well fuck, Professor Pillsbury, maybe I ‘seem tense’ because I walk into a room on five hours of sleep to the sound of a goddamn brass gong drilling through my brain and your seven-foot-nine, socks-and-sandals-wearing, patchouli-smelling ass immediately gravitates in my direction with some shit like “a tree……… Is a Poem” and I gotta sit here and politely tell you that No I’m Not Comfortable Telling The Class About A Time I Was Emotionally Vulnerable With A Loved One using words that sound like the way the color yellow smells. Maybe I don’t wanna sit in a circle and hold hands with Brittney from Computer Sciences to “align our auras” or some shit. Fuck. Fuuuuuuck. I swear to God, if I wanted to sing ‘kumbaya’ with a smelly old guy with gross facial hair who writes bad porn on the side, I’d go out to the parking lot and share a Hookah with Crazy Dan, the disgraced electrician. What, I don’t wanna do an interpretive dance to represent the spiritual experience of eating Quinoa in a room full of ambivalent preteens and suddenly I’m the ‘troubled youth’ you need to Robin Williams “O Captain My Captain” your way into having a Paternal Bonding Moment powerful enough to Expand My Impressionable Young Mind and Turn My Life Around, you goddamn saint, you? Jesus Fucking Christ. You insufferable jackass. You’re not “Enlightened”, you rolled out of bed and ate half a pot brownie, wrote a sad song about a leaf, and strolled into class to ramble about your Spirit Animal for six hours straight before calling it a day. Holy Jesus goddamned Christ. Fucking Balls, sir. Holy Fucking Balls