hey sorry I snapped at you, I've just had a really hard day and [remembers focusing on myself is selfish] maybe it's your fault for provoking me?

you are weak of mind and horny of spirit

and metal of body

HOLY SHIT PJACK??????

HE WAS BACK FOR THREE HOURS, RESPONDED TO MY POST, AND THEN DIED AGAIN????

you have to post bull shit online. to fulfill your amazing digital purpose

when i was a young woman on tumvlr ten years ago everybody liked american football, tigers jaw, ajj, and teen suicide. and we all had a little tin plate with a candle on it, and we needed to be careful not to let the candle go out because we needed it to read the posts. one time a mutual told me they were scared of their candle going out while their phone was charging at night. the dashboard didn't have the overhead fluorescent lights yet. and we had fan mail, and we liked that comic where the girl is a possum. and the stock market crash hadn't happened yet. i made a lot of money selling my tunblr stocks and i bought a boat. i would take the boat out to sea and lie down on the deck and go on tumbr and answer fan mail, but i had to use the candle to read the fan mail, because we didn't have lights yet. it was very dark back then, and one time i fell into the gap between two posts and twisted my ankle. and some people liked elvis depressedly, also, but i can't say that i was one of them.

“Do dishes” and “take out trash” both require the use of a spell slot, vs “use phone” is a cantrip, and brother, I am a level one wizard

all my haters become cicaders when i enter the summer of success

recently saw ppl discuss whether they put their medicines in a kitchen cabinet or a bathroom cabinet and i was shocked by the fact that many ppl said kitchen cabinet. so now i need you to reblog this and say where you keep yours

all of you people saying kitchen or bathroom, both heat AND humidity are bad for medications. that’s why i keep mine in my nightstand drawer, directly underneath my humidifier

There’s an emotion only unlocked when you live in a house with multiple stories. I call it “the stair emotion” and it’s when you realize the object you need is on the other side of yet another trip up and down those goddamn stairs. It’s the closest I get to transcending the desire for material goods. Maybe I don’t need that notebook. Maybe I don’t need anything.

Like what if it actually is poppin at the Farg tonight