swashbuckler of house cheddar

i recently had a thought. which, as you can imagine, was stressful

"never trust how you feel abt ur life after 9pm" is a spring & summer & fall rule. for winter it's never trust how u feel abt ur life after 4pm

lgbtq people are like "look at my babygirl!!!" and the babygirl is a middle-aged man who has gone through the horrors of life

shout out to the mutuals ive never spoken to. i am sitting in the same room as you doing my arts and craft while you read your book. we are vibing and chilling.

It is not enough that Elon Musk should die, nor even that he should die penniless, friendless, alone, and in pain. It is necessary, as a matter of moral certitude, that his death be utterly and completely mundane and explicable in its every particular. such clear and inarguable must it be that no true crime podcaster or history channel could ever inject it with falsified intrigue in the name of a quick buck; it must be so plain and clear that every four-year-old who heard of it would nod sagely in understanding.

someone needs to invent reverse cornflakes. i want to eat a cereal that gives me a demonic erection and inflicts upon me an insatiable lust

tell ur dogs i said hi ok?

remember my glory days of tumblr content excellence?