Cosmic Funnies

Origami Around
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
DEAR READER

Kaledo Art
we're not kids anymore.


blake kathryn
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
One Nice Bug Per Day
Today's Document


❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Mike Driver
RMH

Janaina Medeiros

JBB: An Artblog!
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@talisnotgone

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they love me because I be saying shit like alas and perchance
last night I said 'how fortuitous' unironically
Nigerian Pride 🏳️🌈🇳🇬
I meant to have this out yesterday. Happy belated pride. :)
[image ID: 10 cute and joyful drawings of black people in Nigerian clothing, representing different aspects of gay pride. They are each dressed in the colours of a different pride flag.
Details: a lesbian couple hold hands and laugh. A gay couple have their hands over each others shoulders. 2 trans people dance together, bumping hips. A non binary person stands confidently holding a cane. 2 asexuals sit on the ground together, one has vitiligo. 2 bisexuals dance funkily together. 2 pansexuals are having fun, 1 has climbed up on the others shoulders. They are holding two drinks and they are spilling both of them. Lastly, an older lady poses alone with rainbow fabric draped over her.
End id]
when you take her panties off but she still has her tights on underneath
Margaret Thatcher if she was based 

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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how could you like the colour yellow
see a therapist immediately
I actually used to hate it! Like, actually despise it! Yellow was too bright, too loud, discordant, unruly, and clashed with everything. Nothing like what I wanted in my life, nothing I wanted to be.
When I first moved away from home, everything I owned was black. Jet back. As black as I could get. Smooth, cool, sleek, discrete, calm, unassuming. Flexible, cohesive, agreeable black. Fashionable black.
I had a really, really bad time. Unrelated to the decor. It was my first year out of a toxic place I'd grown used to my whole life, my first year acknowledging a mental illness I'd believed to be normal, my first year fending for myself with very little money or sleep or companionship.
I'd grown up on instant white rice and unseasoned ground beef. One day I realized that everything I'd been raised on tasted like cardboard. While out on an assignment, I passed a tent with a woman selling spices, and bought myself some turmeric. I went home and tried making curry with it. It was so yellow.
Another time, my professor took us out to a modern art gallery. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but when we got there, the whole building had been painted bright sunshine yellow.
The artist's theme was "happiness".
What it is. How we make it. How to share it.
All bright, lovely yellow.
The house I grew up in was beige. The walls were white. The appliances were post 9/11 stainless steel. My job was to be quiet, compliant, presentable and agreeable.
Black goes with everything. Black is neutral. Black is quiet, reserved, elegant and mysterious.
Yellow is warm. Yellow does what it wants. Yellow tastes sweet and spicy and hot and cool, like a summer breeze, like sunflower petals, powdery like dust on a long dirt road and soothing like well-worn linen.
I still like the look of black. I like the look of most colors. But I like the way that Yellow makes me feel.
Do you understand?
big life tips dont be neurodivergent dont be poor dont get in any sort of situation and dont let yourself need or crave
not getting good reports back on your progress with this guys
Me when the obviously doomed character doesn't get a happy ending
Imagine all of these realizations flooding into this person's brain after a slow gestation of 10 years it all bursts open all at once as one realization as every realization and suddenly everything makes sense in a moment of total perfect clarity and oneness with the earth the universe
tumblr bullshit lesson time
this means the poster added the content label herself
this means the poster did not add the content label herself (regardless of whether or not tumblr actually let her do so) and also every reblog of it will individually have the content label forcibly added to it in similar fashion regardless of whether or not tumblr actually lets you do so

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Conversations in Italian, circa 1976-1996
Should I make more of these? They're so fun XD
🥘 stillstainless following
full dishwasher kind of annoying actually. release me
🔲 tupperware follow
can we all agree that handwash onlys are attention seeking? you're using the same dish soap as the rest of us but you need a sponge bath because you're too good for a shower
🍳 cast-iron following
op some people will die if they're washed with soap at all. unlike certain plastic divas dishes that claim to be "top row only" like that makes a fucking difference.
🔲 tupperware follow
can you actually fuck off
🥣 countercandy mutuals
fav thing to hold
fruit
vegetables
keys
candy
soup
something else/not a bowl
☕ mug-shots follow
i love being on the top row like you are NOTTT using me for coffee LMAOO
🐾 dogbowl follow
dusty ass
🍴silverwarewolf following
all tucked in. in my drawer. with my polycule <3
#and these takeout chopsticks too i guess #ok
🥡 lunchb0x follow
Excited for summer break 😃 Can't wait to see what kinds of mold i'll collect this year
#ForgottenAgain #BackpackGang #LockerGang
🔁cast-iron following
anonymous asked: Why are you whining about how other dishes like to be washed when you're literally covered in spaghetti stains
tupperware answered: what if i killed myself
🥤 papercup mutuals
WASP IN ME
"it's not that deep" START DIGGING!!
DIG
DIG
DIG
DIG
OOPS TOO DEEP
Story time:
In middle school biology, we did an experiment. We were given yams, which we would sprout in cups of water. We then had to make hypotheses about how the yams would grow, based on descriptions of yam plants in our books, and make notes of our observations as they grew.
Here’s what was supposed to happen: we were supposed to see that the actual growth of the plant did not resemble our hypotheses. We were then supposed to figure out that these were, in fact, sweet potatoes.
What actually happened was that every single student in every single class lied in their notes so that their observations perfectly matched their hypotheses. See, everyone assumed the mismatch meant they had done something wrong in the process of growing the plant or that they had misunderstood the dichotomous key or the plant identification terminology. And, thanks to the wonders of a public school education, everyone assumed the wrong results would get us a failing grade. We were trying to pass. We didn’t want to get bitched out by the teacher. Curiosity, learning, science - that had nothing to do with why we were sitting in that classroom. So we all lied.
The teacher was furious. She tried to fail every student, but the administration stepped in and told her she wasn’t allowed to because a 100% fail rate is recognized as a failure of the teacher, not the class. It wasn’t even her fault, really, though her being a notorious hard-ass didn’t help. It was a failure of the entire educational system.
So whenever I see crap like Elizabeth Holmes’s blood test scam or pharmaceutical trials which are unable to be replicated or industry-funded research that reaches wildly unscientific conclusions, I just remember those fucking sweet potatoes. I remember that curiosity dies when people are just trying to give their superiors the “right” answers, so they can get the grade, get the job, get the paycheck. It’s not about truth when it’s about paying rent. There’s no scientific integrity if you can’t control for human desperation.
There's like. Millions of people who genuinely think that touching your wee wee while looking at a drawing will cause severe brain damage and they spend hours engaging in this belief and incorporating it into their politics. Their politics.

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that poll going around of the guy who thought "people only eat tofu as a bit because they're deranged vegans" or whatever really crystalizes something that i have never been able to precisely say - which is "a nonzero fraction of people who start picky-eater discourse just happen to precisely hate those foods which are not from north america and refuse to introspect on this whatsoever"
In contrast some people say "there aren't any picky eaters in Asia 🙄" but this is laughably untrue. I have a cousin in India who refused until his 20s to eat anything in a sauce. as you can imagine in India this was difficult. he basically had to pick things out of curry and wipe them dry
i'd hope to be a comfort to girls yet i cannot help but feel my own hollowness seeping through sometimes
girl with a self-value measured entirely in use to others after going 5 minutes without being useful to others: fuuuuuck surely they must hate me by now