An all-out emotional circus

REBLOGGING SO HARD.

Muscle memory fighting so hard not to like and Reblog and ONLY REBLOG OMG

must reblog only its so annoying nto liking but ill do it

Nothing shuts down a bougie conversation like "well, when I was homeless—" Nothing. It's one and done. They are fucking taken out. The conversation is dead. Done.

not media and i think i posted about this before but last autumn i was chaperoning a bunch of kids on a tour at a dairy farm and they had time to pet some of the baby goats (aka 'kids') so when we had to go i said "all kids who are human need to make their way to the pasture gate" and one of the girls said "what if I'm a therian?" clearly expecting to stump me but I said "okay, do you identify as a goat?" and she went " : O ! no!" and i said "then out of the pasture" and she skedaddled

this is one of the really funny things about teaching middle school. last year at one point a kid I didn't really know came up and asked me a silly zany question obviously with the attempt to like. befuddle and frustrate me, as an """"Old Person""""". but they gravely miscalculated. because the question they asked was, "What are your Homestuck headcannons"

if you're a morally dubious man on tv what you're going to want to do is go look at your kids while they're sleeping. then drive your car somewhere

I do wholeheartedly believe Wes Anderson is a sick sick freak. I like his movies but I definitely think this guy has like a hidden room in his spacious french apartment that he slips into quietly each night and it is just filled with tiny little doll replicas of all the actors he's ever used in any of his movies and he puppets them around and mimicks their voices and shit. and sometimes he'll text Owen Wilson pictures of his little doll with a comb or something from an untraceable number and pair it with like "see how I take care of you Owen?" and then the following day Owen Wilson will find him at the service table and go, "Geez Wes look at this," and Wes will pretend to be all concerned and horrified but there is this calculating almost eager look in his eyes that unsettles Owen Wilson. and the next time Wes is having a little soiree with all his actors, his beloved beloved actors, maybe Owen Wilson will accidentally get lost on his way to the beautiful bathroom and find that little room and see all those dolls and his throat will hitch with horror. And before he can call Bill Murray or Adrian Brody to look a dark silhouette will appear in the doorway and Wes looks sort of resigned when he says, "I see you finally found my secret, Owen," and Owen Wilson will try and pretend that he's fine with it but they both know better. and Wes will go (the look in his eyes back again) "We both know this can't get out, right?" and he'll grin very suddenly and Owen Wilson will laugh along very nervously and leave the room and eat some brioche and when the evening is over he will rush over to his Prius and frantically click his keys but over the cobbles on the beautiful beautiful street there is the sound of footsteps. and tears are running down Owen Wilson's cheeks but he can't say a word and Wes, emerging from the shadows, will gently touch him on the shoulder and say, "look, I'll drive you to the airport, huh?" and Owen Wilson will try to refuse but they both know it's futile. and, halfway through the drive, Wes Anderson will smile and say, "I'll miss working with you" and then perfectly jump and roll out of the car, wiping off his corduroy pants, while Owen Wilson's Prius swerves into a local patisserie, bursting into flames

what

whats not to get here