jerkidiot:

no except all about that bass literally only says “I’m bringing booty back, no go and tell those skinny bitches that, nah I’m just playin” like she says it was a joke while nicki says “fuck you if you’re skinny”

wolvensnothere:

sodomquake:

robowolves:

trimcoast:

orangemuses:

I love this post so much

image

my hand slipped

with their new hit song, “Randomly Searching 4 U”

I am re-reblogging just because that was so good

I think this one’s an Always Reblog, because the picture, the illustration, and the song title are just too damn perfect together.

(Source: tardismetotomorrowworld, via fragilespectre)

lezzgettotheharto:

jointhecactusrebellion:

twitch-the-tiny:

kingkeenanthegreat:

dash-of-dark:

JUST FUCKING LISTEN. 

THIS IS HALLOWEEN BUT NOT LIKE YOU KNOW IT

reblog so others can hear it!

Where the hell are the Victorian Goths they should be all over this.

*SMASHES REBLOG BUTTON*

love me some good vitamin string quartet

*SMASHES REBLOG BUTTON MULTIPLE TIMES*

(via thatthugginunicornqueen)

svveden:

brngrmln:

there he is

is this cat ok he mustve seen some shit

(Source: braingremlin, via cuttingismycope)

thecarvingwitch:

prokopetz:

sixsaltysweets:

I’M DEAD

Fun fact: if you know your feline body language, you’ll notice that the lynx is deferring to the housecat. As far as these two are concerned, the housecat is the higher-ranking cat.

OH MY GOD

(Source: 4gifs, via sociableskeletons)

barryfuckle:

SING IT FOR THAT ONE TIME GERARD WAS REJECTED BY THAT GIRL OH MY GOD

image

(Source: eleanro, via gerardwayjacketslut)

neatpotatoes:

is that john green

(Source: fortscrotum, via fragilespectre)

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, 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.

(via wayward-demigod-of-marleybone)