i made your favorite, eat up

If you stayed the age of your birth DAY forever, how old you would be?

all advertising needs to be destroyed im sick of ads on the free apps that *came with the computer i bought*.. on MY computer! im sick of 15 seconds of advertising before i watch a video made by a zillenial then paid to recite how much they love the new mocoa cocoa drink mix im sick of brands pretending to be my friend im sick of urban space used only to sell you products (later, somewhere else) im sick of subscription services im sick of copyright im sick of new roads for new customers for our new walmart im SICK!!!! burn it all down i can't live like this!!!!

the pope, or as i like to call him, the hokage of the catholic church

mike's hard carapace

mike's terrible mandibles

mike's beating wings and fatal venom

friendly reminder that moments like sitting in the sun, waking up well-rested, discovering a song that makes you feel your heart and laughing with someone will find you again. clouds will dissipate and the sun will sink and rise and the moon will be full and bright outside of your window, and life will stop feeling this heavy. in the meantime, we’ll try. sometimes that’ll feel like enough and sometimes it won’t, but that’s okay. you’re here and that’s an achievement and that’s good and it matters.

FUCK. honestly just FUCK. We missed a very important day yesterday.

what was yesterday, cat?

I’m not missing it this year.

fedex trying to say my package will be here by the end of the day when the package is still like 4 states away. that driver must be doing like 150 all the way here

I'm okay with being observed and perceived, but being interpreted is where I draw the fucking line

imagining a world full of flowers, grass, trees, ducks, owls, wind and clouds. disgusted at the thought, i begin gagging, coughing, and retching. i can't help it, but I'm really making a scene at Olive Garden, which makes you scowl at me and look away. you are embarassed to be seen with me in public. i begin yelling and shaking, and you cup my face in your palms. you whisper those beautiful words, and calm me down the way you have many times before. you pet my hair, and say, "all the flowers are grey and wilted. all the grass is dead, and so are the trees. you have killed and eaten all the ducks and owls, and the wind and clouds are full of soot". a vacant smile appears on my face, and my eyes close. blissfully, my head lowers into a thick bowl of chicken gnocci, and i fall asleep. you decide not to raise my nose and mouth out of the soup this time, instead choosing to let me suffocate.

artists fuck better because we turn sex into art, masterpieces, mattresses become canvases where we can paint our love to someone with bodies.

its like, impossible to come up with anything funnier than the experience of seeing this post

pharoahs fuck better because they ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh put the pussy in a scarmophogoghs

world heritage post