Kit

Just a heads up right now: on the day when Trump dies, I’m going to be extremely tasteless about it. It’s going to get ugly. You are going to see a side of me I am not proud of. I don’t want any call-outs in my inbox, I’m stating right now that lines will be crossed.

Anyways all of y’all AND the evil that literally lives inside of you are invited to the sick ass house party I’m throwing when lord dampnut kicks the bucket

I feel like all you Americans need to take a look at what happened here in the UK after Maggie Thatcher died. Because when it comes to tasteless celebrations fuelled by anger and the death of a hated political leader, we REALLY pushed the boat out. We had street parties. We had burning effigies. We pushed “Ding Dong the Witch is Dead” to the top of the charts out of sheer hatred. Bone up kiddos, and I really hope you manage to do that truly American thing, of dramatically outdoing us with your celebrations.

Reblogging for last comment.

With the way this year is going, the sooner it happens the better.

*this can be reblogged every year

I’m going to make cake. There’s going to be fireworks. There WILL be a burnt effigy.

Look, I’m gonna level with you americans for a second. When old wrinkly and orange kicks the bucket, for once in my life, possibly the only time, I’ll actually want to be able to see the fireworks from across the Atlantic. And I daresay I won’t be the only one. So listen to me and listen closely, cause I’ll only say it once: When the moldy Cheeto bites it, it’s the one and only chance you’ll likely have at being loudly, unbearably, obnoxiously American in your celebration and for once, the rest of the world won’t complain. 

…I know I just reblogged this, but that last comment 👌👨🏻‍🍳

Listen I’m already designing the cake I’m gonna order from Publix.

I want to see the fireworks from AUSTRALIA, guys. Make it happen.

Just a heads up right now: on the day when Trump dies, I’m going to be extremely tasteless about it. It’s going to get ugly. You are going to see a side of me I am not proud of. I don’t want any call-outs in my inbox, I’m stating right now that lines will be crossed.

Anyways all of y’all AND the evil that literally lives inside of you are invited to the sick ass house party I’m throwing when lord dampnut kicks the bucket

I feel like all you Americans need to take a look at what happened here in the UK after Maggie Thatcher died. Because when it comes to tasteless celebrations fuelled by anger and the death of a hated political leader, we REALLY pushed the boat out. We had street parties. We had burning effigies. We pushed “Ding Dong the Witch is Dead” to the top of the charts out of sheer hatred. Bone up kiddos, and I really hope you manage to do that truly American thing, of dramatically outdoing us with your celebrations.

Reblogging for last comment.

With the way this year is going, the sooner it happens the better.

*this can be reblogged every year

I’m going to make cake. There’s going to be fireworks. There WILL be a burnt effigy.

Look, I’m gonna level with you americans for a second. When old wrinkly and orange kicks the bucket, for once in my life, possibly the only time, I’ll actually want to be able to see the fireworks from across the Atlantic. And I daresay I won’t be the only one. So listen to me and listen closely, cause I’ll only say it once: When the moldy Cheeto bites it, it’s the one and only chance you’ll likely have at being loudly, unbearably, obnoxiously American in your celebration and for once, the rest of the world won’t complain. 

…I know I just reblogged this, but that last comment 👌👨🏻‍🍳

Listen I’m already designing the cake I’m gonna order from Publix.

I want to see the fireworks from AUSTRALIA, guys. Make it happen.

Just a heads up right now: on the day when Trump dies, I’m going to be extremely tasteless about it. It’s going to get ugly. You are going to see a side of me I am not proud of. I don’t want any call-outs in my inbox, I’m stating right now that lines will be crossed.

Anyways all of y’all AND the evil that literally lives inside of you are invited to the sick ass house party I’m throwing when lord dampnut kicks the bucket

I feel like all you Americans need to take a look at what happened here in the UK after Maggie Thatcher died. Because when it comes to tasteless celebrations fuelled by anger and the death of a hated political leader, we REALLY pushed the boat out. We had street parties. We had burning effigies. We pushed “Ding Dong the Witch is Dead” to the top of the charts out of sheer hatred. Bone up kiddos, and I really hope you manage to do that truly American thing, of dramatically outdoing us with your celebrations.

Reblogging for last comment.

With the way this year is going, the sooner it happens the better.

*this can be reblogged every year

I’m going to make cake. There’s going to be fireworks. There WILL be a burnt effigy.

Look, I’m gonna level with you americans for a second. When old wrinkly and orange kicks the bucket, for once in my life, possibly the only time, I’ll actually want to be able to see the fireworks from across the Atlantic. And I daresay I won’t be the only one. So listen to me and listen closely, cause I’ll only say it once: When the moldy Cheeto bites it, it’s the one and only chance you’ll likely have at being loudly, unbearably, obnoxiously American in your celebration and for once, the rest of the world won’t complain. 

…I know I just reblogged this, but that last comment 👌👨🏻‍🍳

Listen I’m already designing the cake I’m gonna order from Publix.

I want to see the fireworks from AUSTRALIA, guys. Make it happen.

when people say sea creatures are aliens that pisses me right off. no man that’s your cousin. usually not even that far back. that thing’s still an animal. it’s not even like, a plant or a fungus or anything 90% of the time. and never a 🦠. thats cousin octopus. auntie fish. uncle sea cucumber. you know them.

I'm still thinking about the guy who saw me realize my wheelchair wouldn't fit in the elevator because he (also a wheelchair user) was already inside it and immediately quipped, "This elevator ain't accessible enough for the both of us."

"He wouldn't say that" has a beautiful cousin, and her name is "That's Not What This Story is About".

This isn't a cake this is a giant cube of cookie

That's fucking bonkers. Who invented this thing.

Cake seems to have cooked all the way through, which surprises me given how wet the batter is, but I'm scared to taste it. It smells like an imminent hospital visit.

only If your chickens are unvaccinated and/or you've improperly stored their eggs for WEEKS.

The best part of getting older is aging out of the demographic that gets killed in horror movies. I am now the age of the kooky local at the gas station who warns the band of college kids not to go to Camp Murderblood

Tucker and Dale VS Evil winning once again

the word 'swim' is doing a lot of heavy work here

Not half as much as the audio is

Salmons have utter disrespect for anything that stands in the way of their suicide mission to have Sex.

I think they might possibly be lost.

The water IS coming from SOMEWHERE. Whether that somewhere is a stable enough Body-of-wather that is makes sense to fuck and die there, is a different Matter, but the Power that built the upstream instincts into these animals, must have assumed that it must come from a sustainable Stream more often than Not.

Shrine on my bookshelf specifically saying how much I hate the book. Big bold lettering, arrows pointing at different bits, detailed description about why it sucks, constantly lit with pleasant lighting to draw attention to it

Can I destroy it? If yes, hamster bedding.

mulch

I would grind it up to make new paper, then use it to write strongly-worded letters to my representatives.

so nothing of "her stuff", including electronics and jewellery, ever actually belonged to her, it was only given to her to play with for as Long as she kept herself available to be Married Off to a husband chosen by her Dad.

I spent the afternoon arranging our books by size and color (and it’s so satisfying and looks amazing) and my partner came home and stared in shock at the bookcase and then said “i’m a librarian, you can’t do this.”

You’re a monster

As a former bookstore employee, this hurts my soul. I mean, sure it looks nice, but how do you find anything?

OP your brain is neat and I love you for it you funky little color-coded cupcake. But you’re still a monster.