so many things!!

Done in oil, acrylic, and pastel on canvas, this painting ominously titled “That’s Not How We Do Things Here.” It’s made by Gillian Iles an dis currently estimated to be worth over 4k at OCAD’s ‘Project 31′ silent Auction. 

Idk if it’s the creepy title, the dramatic clouds, the completely idiosyncratic blue whatthefuckchamacallit but this painting is. just. it’s so beautiful. look at that damn majestic beast. look at al the vague ass figure s just fcking standing around like “gee whiz that sure is a horse alrighty’. Like I know htis probably has some deep meaning about capitalism or society or “ the existence of social ideas, social orders and idealized lifestyles especially as they pertain to Western culture” (yes that’s an actual quote) but all I see is this fucking dramatic ass horse. like it is a damn good horse and i commend her for that but godamn. so fucking dramatic. But you know what?

One of these just opened by my school and?? Holy fuck??? Is this store run by demons?? Are fucking Wolfram and Hart backing this shit??? Is this Paint Shop run by fucking vampires?? I don’t fuckinh know!!! But you know what I do know?

I’m not saying i’m any likelier to enter an establishment just because someone can draw an amusing drawing, but I will say I def appreciate the time and effort that goes in to them. Also they’re just cute. Lookit pouty little Wednesday. She’s probably going to throw hot coffee in your face. And you know what?

Because fuck ship wars dude. Let them all be happy. Let everyone just cuddle in a big pile, and get along like they used to in middle school. Let them bake a cake filled with rainbows and smiles and then eat it and be happy. Even if they don’t go there. You know why?

Mashion Bakery is basically my #1 form of sustenance during the school year tbh. It’s an awesome little shop right on the edge of Kensington market and China Town. They have the best damn pork buns, literally ever, and they’re really friendly and cheap. If you are a student living in downtown Toronto, and even just a person who happens to be in downtown Toronto for whatever reason you should definately go and just. buy everything. just go buy everything in there it is all delicious. And you know what?

k so my family has a wee bit of a problem concerning mugs. Meaning: we are drowning in them. We have shelves of mugs. We have boxes of mugs. I would not be surprised to find a mug hiding in the shadows, waiting to mug me. Over the years we have acquired so many novelty mugs, Starbucks mugs, hand made mugs, and Christmas mugs that we have actually had to set up a rotation, because we do not have room in the kitchen for all these goddamned mugs. but do we, I dont know, get rid of them??? Nooooooooooooooo,  ‘cause you know what?

Also known as Lesser Pandas, Red Bear-Cats, and Fire Ferrets, Red Pandas are scientifically speaking the cutest animals in the entire world. I know this for a fact, because several years ago I spent about four hours trying to find out what the cutest animal in the world was, and this ‘lil dude topped pretty much every “cutest animal ever” list ever shit out by a clickbait news site.

 While they are objectively adorable, they’re has been a but-ton of controversy over what they actually are. Is it a cat? A bear? Some kind of raccoon??? It is, as it happens, none of these things. It is it’s own thing, more specifically an Ailurus, which actually does mean cat but whatevs it’s all greek to me (buh-dum-tsss). It’s closest relatives are skunks, weasels, and yes, raccoon's. It has abso-fucking-lutely nothing to do with Pandas. But you know what?

lol it’s like 1:30 and I’ve had way to much sugar and I got shit to do tommorrow but am I going to bed??? nooooooope im gonna stay up eVEEN DAMN LATER CAUSE YOU KNOW EWHWTAT???

SO imagine this. You are a member of an proud and violent warrior race. You are the handmaiden to the less violent, but probably still p proud Princess of the intergalactic empire that most of your race belongs to. One day, your Princess, whom you have served loyally for many years, gets into some bullshit star-crossed lover biz with a man who is 1) a member of the race your race has been fighting since basically forever, B) A member of the organization that has consistently opposed your empire, and Lastly) who lives on a different planet and is therefore not gonna be around when she predictably finds out she is having his goddamn baby, because of course she is. 

So your Princess has this illegitimate half alien baby now, and her Dad (your Emperor) is like “wow, no” and tries to have it executed on the grounds of he doesn’t like it and he’s in goddamned charge. And the Princess is looking at you, and her eyes are doing that thing were they’re really big and sad, and her lips all pout-y, and if you had the frame of reference you would totally call her out on doing the puppy eye thing but you don’t. So what do you do?

You take the weird hybrid baby to his baby daddy, effectively exiling yourself from your home planet, to go live on a planet were Everyone Actually Really Totally Hates You, also known as Earth(y). 

Sadly, when you get to earth, were you expect to find help from the legendary super-powered princess impregnating warrior hero guy and his buds, you find that the guy has quite rudely kicked the bucket. So here you are, on a hostile alien planet, with no one to help your exiled self or your exiled prince who is half a species you have almost no experience with and also has a price on his head despite the fact he is not yet strong enough to lift said head without help. So again, what do you do?

You become a realtor.  

Yeah, that’s right. You get a fucking job. You settle the fuck down. You take a fucking Pilates class. You raise the weird fucking hybrid baby. In fact, you do not just raise the weird fucking hybrid baby; You love and cherish the weird fucking hybrid baby. You teach the exiled heir to your proud, violent, warrior race to be a sweet ‘lil nerd, who loves pokemon, and comic books, and tries to talk through confrontations, and occasionally hits you with those puppy-dog eyes that got you into this mess in the first place. You don’t complain though. You don’t complain when you’re Prince gets sick and there is literally no one on earth to turn to (because who on earth has ever seen a skrull/kree hybrid, much less treated one?). You don’t complain when you hear Galactus destroys your homeworld and everyone on it (how can you explain to your Prince that you’re grieving for his mother when you’re right there?). You don’t complain when the Super-Skrull burst through the wall of you adopted son’s friend-who-is-totally-not-his-boyfriend-mom-oh-my-god’s apartment and demands your baby go with him. Because you are not someone who backs down from a challenge. 

You pull out a gun and you challenge the greatest warrior of your proud, violent warrior race.

You lose. 

You die. 

But it’s all right. Your son’s not-boyfriend will save him. Your weird alien hybrid baby will become a weird alien hybrid hero, and later, a weird alien hybrid King. Somewhere, your Princess and her bullshit star-crossed lover are very proud. Somewhere else, the galaxies worst Grandfather is very furious. But you, well. Who even are you?

I don’t know. Because the writers never bothered giving you a name. It’s all right though. You know why?

Magic Bag!! The magic bag is literally the comfiest thing ever! That is literally basically their slogan!! It is honestly so great, for cramps and muscle tension and really just basic comfort. Ya pop it in the microwave and then bam! It is just so warm and cozy. It comes in a variety of shapes and sizes, so you can be comfy in a variety of ways! Lavender scented! Bunny shaped!! Slipper formed!!! If you have a chance, please try the magic bag, it is 100% natural (it’s filled with oats or smthin), approved by Health Canada, and the company donates part of their profits to charity! And you know what?

And no, before you ask, I am not Narcissus/a YA protagonist with a lazy writer. I just think there is something really fascinating about watching myself move and emote. Like “Woah! look at that! I am in fact a human being! With a face!!!” and man that just never gets old to me! I love being human and having a face. I am not a robot. And you know what?

You know how sometimes you really wanna know something. and its something thing you maybe really don t need to know?? About?? Ya know that??? That time??? You know what I love about that???

Walking the other damn way. mindING. yOUR own. fucking. bius. ness. 

hot fuckity damn lookit those things. If you have never encountered a marshmallow bananner basically all you need to know is they are everything good and pure about banana flavouring condensed into a friendly yellow tidbit of pure fucking delight. All of my hoe town friends (i was gonna type ‘home town’ but yannowut that typos better) think I’m weird for liking them. They say “you like those things?? Wow, that is weird and also your weird, you weird weird-y weirdo ” to which I say “Uh???? no. You.” Thankfully my college friends are more on board the marshallow-banana-band-wagon, so I have at least sOMe people who appreciate the juxtapositions of my love of both mallow nanners and sharing. Cause you know what?

The concept of sharing is probably one of the first things you learned as you started socializing like the happy, healthy human being you hopefully are. And yet it is also sort of frowned upon by a surprising number of people. Seriously, people are really bad about this. They don’t like other people liking he same things or having the same things, not to mention giving people things when they need them. It kinda sucks, but thankfully many people still remember their kindergarten lessons well enough to function like a grown ass adult. Cause you know what?

Being on the internet, and more specifically tumblr, you have probably heard of the word ‘smol’. You may, in fact, already be incredible fucking tired of the word ‘smol’, as well as it’s less popular companion ‘tol’ due to their excessive pervasiveness. And while that is completely understandable and I am sympathetic to your plight, I am under no circumstances ever going to stop using the word ‘smol’. Even when it goes out of style and tumblr/the interwebs find a new mangled phrase to help describe the characters they have adopted/woobified I will be sitting here, pointing at the biggest, strongest, most stoic of burly manly man character people and I will say “him smol”. You know why?

I know what you are probably thinking: “wow! that is the most boring ass kind of pop corn conceivable. I cannot believe you are such a bland, tasteless individual.” but you know what? Nothing you are totally right, but also fuck you, cause damn i love this stuff. It may have something to do with my incredible whiteness, but I don’t really like strong flavors. What I do like is vaguely healthy-ish, non greasy/buttery/other things that make your hands all gross-y snacks that I can make enough of to be semi-filling. And plain, unbuttered, unsalted, un-weird-powdered-flavour-shit-you-buy-in-a-shaker-that’ll-prolly-still-be-fresh-when-your-rotten-corpse-is-decaying fits all a that criteria, so you know what?