memery and shenanigans

i……..

had……

the slime of my life

and I’ve never felt this way before

and I swear

It’s the truth

5001 being divisible by 3 doesnt feel right

we all got that one homie with a job thats weirder than everyone else in the group and when you’re all complaining about customer service he’s like “yeah i hate when they bleed on the chain and it gets all stickyyy” and you’re like huh?? and he just keeps going like “and they always scream when you bring out the rack” and you’re like hey do you work in a medieval dungeon what do you do? “oh i just do maintenance” and dodges the question every time but one time you were driving near his apartment and you saw him getting out of his car and he still had the executioner hood on and he was dragging a morningstar behind him across the pavement and it was making this horrible grinding sound loud as fuckkkkkk

the tension between the genuine cleverness of the joke and the incompetence implied by putting it on two-sentence horror is what makes this for me

"incurious" still GOAT insult. You could be better but you're not. You could learn but you won't, and for no good reason, just a base dispositional apathy. Get fucked

free use is kind of a funny kink bc it relies on the idea that everybody wants to touch you and have sex with you but what if they don't. what if you tell everybody at the party you're free use but they all ignore you and mind their own business

there seems to be a fundamental disagreement between microwave oven manufacturers and the producers of microwave meals over whether the customer should know the wattage of their microwave or if such details should be abstracted away from them

the microwave rice demands 800 watts of power for 2 minutes, but all the microwave can offer me three settings: one low, one high, and one somewhere in the middle. I turn it to the one in the middle as I happen to know 800W is the average power of most microwaves. the light comes on and the bag of rice starts slowly turning, but rather than hearing the usual rumble of the microwave, I instead start hearing short snippets of conversation - words snatched from the ether. the lights flicker and a chill runs up my spine. the voices remind me of those "spirit boxes" ghost hunters use. I double check the setting on the microwave. "ah," I say, remembering that I had set it to medium,

"Whimsy" is truly a wretched term. What maketh thee so carefree?

thy mother

Art thou for fucking real

god calls me on the payphone, tells me there aren't enough magnolia trees in the garden. asks me a question. i spend my whole life answering it.