Why is there an otp button on my gps?

I wanna press it


batter-sempai:

safety-officer-barto:

fuckyeahthespianpeacock:

saltheria:

yeffyaboyuice:

mythchief:

So there I was, ready to take a shower. I mean, I was dirty, a little greasy, a shower was not such a horrible idea. People take showers, amiright? Of course!

I get naked.

FULL naked.

REAL naked.

I’m talking the exact opposite reason why you ever went to your grandmother’s house.

No cookies. Blatant nudity.

That’s how folks take showers these days, right? Well, I pull back the curtain…

And there it was.

This…thing…sitting on the little soap/shower/pube shelf. Not a care in the world, like it’s been there for years. “What the fuck is that?” I think to myself.

Now, what follows is the exact pattern of thought that took me from rational human being to Sloth in 3.4 seconds.

“Is that a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit? Holy fuck that’s a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit. OMG why would someone leave that unattended. Those things are so delicious. I’m gonna eat the fuck out of it. Man, I can’t wait to see whoever left it’s face when they come back to find that someone ate their cheesy biscuit’s fuck. Ohhh boy.”

Then my brain sent a message to my arm that said, “Reach for that cheesy biscuit, bitch. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!?”

As you must already know, we are all contractually bound to make a dickload of mistakes throughout our lifetime. Some of those mistakes are so big that they forever hinder our world and warrant entire chapters in our children’s history books. However, most mistakes have the dubious providence of merely haunting one’s soul and festering amidst the subconscious for always and eternity.

This was, nearly, one of those.

If my adjacency to failure could be measured, the only possible unit of measurement to appropriate it would be “baby condoms”. And no, I do not mean those horrendous papoose-like titty-cribs that the slovenly carriage their spawn around in in Wal-Mart, I mean condoms that a baby would wear.

My adjacency to failure was roughly 1 and a half Kiddie Trojans.

I’m not sure what stopped me, be it cosmic or supernatural, but it gave my brain just enough time to ask itself some rather important questions regarding this little tub treasure. Questions like:

“WHO, THE FUCK, WOULD LEAVE A CHEESY BISCUIT IN MY SHOWER?!”

And inquiries such as:

“AND WHY WERE YOU GOING TO EAT IT, MORON?!”

Seriously, was I so hungry that I would wantonly disobey all the integral conditioning and survival imprinting my parents bestowed upon me like the ever important, “Um, don’t eat that biscuit retard, you don’t know where it’s been or whose it is and also you found it in the shower.” in order to satisfy something so benign as a munchie?

That, I’m sorry to say, was pretty much my reality.

An early morning introspective psychological evaluation of a sad, hungry, naked man who almost ate a bar of soap.

OMG ITS BACK

This shit needs to be published.

This is going in the monologue section and I’m not even sorry.

That was a roller coaster ride from start to finish

Please write a book in this style. I would read it. :D


vaginal-diabetus:

onthelosingside:

Sherlock is as long as that couch.

Not when he’s got his legs wrapped around John’s hips he isn’t.


havetardiswilltimetravel:

Every time I go into a bar now, my mind’s automatically going to be like “where are all the graduated cylinders?”


otterly-benaddicted:

After the fall, John gets Sherlocks belongings in a plastic bag. Among his things was Sherlocks phone, but it had a passcode. John types in many combinations but they all dont work, until he half heartedly types in

5-6-4-6 

It unlocks, and John breaks down. 

Sherlocks passcode

5-6-4-6

J - O - H - N 


literallyfuckeveryone:

girldork:

being a feminist is like trying to fix a giant hole in the wall and discovering that the entire wall is rotting and filled with termites and you have a lot more work to do than you thought you did

 (x)


mattiefairchild:


ohcastielmycastiel:

sociopath-in-the-tardis:

holyfrackles:

hannibal-u-lil-shit:

holyfrackles:

OMG NO DEAN’S PATRONUS WOULD BE A TIGER

and he’d think it’s so awesome tHAT DORK

The Patronus charm can only be conjured using a happy memory.

You see the problem?

no not really

image

YOU MADE IT HAPPY YOU GO SPN FAMILY YOU GO

image


youflabbergastedme:

epic—blog:

theofficialariel:

Look at what they thought women would be wearing nowadays. 

I love this. 

I love how they predicted we’d all turn into Xena Warrior Princess.


oblyvian:

the bunny zodiac 

which one are you? i’m a gemini bunny 

edit: i put aquarius and capricorn in the wrong order sorries :~(