so like, basically

i once ate a pizza this big

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I never understood what music producers were for until I realized that SOMEONE has to prevent every artist from starting every song with “fuck all you hoes…get a grip, motherfucka” cos it’s super hard to not do that but it’s already been done before

(Source: gwyon)

played 613 times

dangagliardi:

here’s me singing Mariska Hargitay’s name operatically

olivianight:

TRUTH

olivianight:

TRUTH

onlybloodypeepshow:

Series 4, Episode 2: ‘Conference’

WHAT THE FUCK WERE WE EXPECTING AT BEAR TRAP RANCH?

Falling in love with you is like taking your hand as you lead me through a veil of fireflies to the woods behind your grandparents’ house so we can go fool around and then stepping in a rusty old bear trap that your grandfather set out here 60 years ago, and as I’m bleeding to death, you’re covering your eyes and screaming, “I can’t believe that my old Grandpappy ‘Bear Traps’ had bear traps out here, too! I thought Bear Trap Ranch was a safe place! For real though like I can’t look at you like this, I’m sorry but blood seriously freaks me out”

Your love is a 60 year old bear trap that neither of us knew about but like, what the fuck were we expecting at Bear Trap Ranch? The fireflies swarm together to form your shape after you leave, which would actually be super fucking beautiful if I wasn’t bleeding to death alone in the woods or whatever.

Down goes boom

Be prepared to never mention the fact that you love him ferociously, almost absurdly, hilariously; with a love that pops and bubbles and melts plastic and fights crime. A love that can sharpen knives, speak to animals, and lift objects up to 100 pounds from any surface and rotate it one hundred and eighty degrees around. A love that is maybe probably definitely a poltergeist, stacking five chairs on top of each other, sucking children into television sets. Be prepared to leave that part out.

Instead you will pet him and bite his lip and hide your face in his chest, in his arms. You will tell him a joke and he will laugh and you will be sated. You will forget where you are like waking up still drunk at a friend’s house, wondering how you got here and if you are on a boat because oh god the walls are moving and the ceiling fan is closing in on you, but the bed, the bed is the only sure thing and you can just hold onto it and wake up later. You will let him be the bed, because you’re probably drunk anyway.

Don’t drink so much that you tell him how you think the idea of one fucked-up-person trying to “save” another fucked-up-person is NOT total bullshit, because he overlooked the part where compassion and empathy swarm into that empty cannon-ball-hole in your chest and all of a sudden your ability to give a shit about another human being completely changes and you feel new things and believe new things, you are stronger, more efficient, you see colors only birds can. Just because another person understands your pain does not mean they can or will or want to make it better, make YOU better, you know that, it’s just that they fucking get it when nobody else does.

Like strangers who experience traumatic events together, you could be pulled out of a shark’s mouth at the knees & look up expecting to see that the arm dragging you to shore was his. You imagine that you’re both escaping from the same burning building, both outwitting and overcoming the evil villain taking you hostage, assembling your flotation devices and oxygen masks seconds before all the other passengers and being the only survivors. Only he did all of those things, in the same order, five years earlier than you did, and you never met each other until after. You were mistaken; he was not there with you. Your pain is your own.

Just tell him that he is handsome, smile at him when you can, observe enough to build a memory on. Stuff everything you wanted to say back into yourself like you do to your suitcase when you leave and when you’re finally alone again, catch your reflection in the cabin window. Tell yourself that crashing into the ocean alone doesn’t mean it’s not a plane crash. It’s still a plane crash, and it’s all yours.

“Except you can’t show a topless woman on TV - and you can’t defibrillate a woman in a bra. So victims of heart attacks on TV are *always* male. Did you know that a woman having a heart attack is more likely to have back or jaw pain than chest or left arm pain? I didn’t - because I’ve never seen a woman having a heart attack. I’ve been trained in CPR and Advanced First Aid by the Red Cross over 15 times in my life, the videos and booklets always have a guy and say the same thing about clutching his chest and/or bicep.

And people laugh when I tell them women are still invisible in this world.”

distractedbyshinyobjects

re: feministing - for women, heart attacks look different

Things I did not know, but should.

(via elfgrove)

This is a post that might save a life. 

(via str8nochaser)

My mom worked for 25 years as an ER nurse and is convinced that a lot of women die simply because folks only know heart attack symptoms that occur in males. 

(via darkjez)

Society thinks our bodies are so scandalous that it’s better to put our lives at risk than to show us how to stay safe

(via callingoutsexists)

Basically

(Source: sterjo86)

Episode 3 of “Robot reads my OKCupid inbox”. This Nice Guy Gamer sweeps me off of my fat feet with his heightened sense of observation, which is probably so powerful because of all those video games. Can’t even imagine how strong his dick-hand coordination is.

OKCupid is the best part 2! Here’s my OKCupid inbox being dictated by a robot again.

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