bitch

bugshroom:

they hate me because im an effeminate man and a masculine woman

(via wes-report)

dyllpiccle:

My final for class - Creation of Adam

Prints

(via hatingongodot)

one-weird-mammal-a-day:

Cape golden mole (Chrysochloris asiatica)

@ bniland

(via hatingongodot)

seat-safety-switch:

Without the power of television, we’d all be living perfectly normal lives. Sure, some of us would read novels about moving to Australia and having cool adventures or something, but on the whole our aspiration would be a little lower. TV makes things happen. They make an exotic, dreamland lifestyle seem attainable. You can make your house beautiful. You can make your ass bounce pennies off it. And you can have an exotic sports car.

For years, the Porsche dealership has been doing a little test-drive event in my neck of the woods. They’ll bring all of the latest beetle-shaped sports cars around and send the community’s richest folks a little invitation to show up to a secret location. At that point, they let the rich folks bag on the cars a bit, shake some hands, serve some barbecue and booze, and it’s a good weekend for everyone. The idea is that they sell extra cars the next week, to folks who just hadn’t considered buying a new Porsche until they got all these nice gifts. They never counted on me.

While I’m not especially rich, I have managed to leverage my friend Letter-Carrier Louise’s connections at the post office into knowing when and where this event is. It’s not legal for me to open someone else’s mail, but it is perfectly okay if I stand next to her while she sorts postcards, and read the words that say “hey rich guys come drive a Porsche at Boonies’ Country Club and Horse Embalmatorium.” Sometimes she has to go a little slow on the ol’ letter sorting, because she knows I don’t read very quickly anymore, not since the electroshock therapy.

You might be surprised that, although I’m not moneyed, I do own rich men’s clothes. My secret? Estate sales, or to be more accurate, the thrift store closest to the rich part of town where they have the estate sales. Sure, they’re not the latest fashions, but that means the salesmen will think that I’m an eccentric hyper-richo, and not, say, some degenerate who is only there to scare the shit out of a golf course owner by four-wheel-drifting a 600-horsepower electric hypercar around the bar until the tires explode. And they’re right. I’m also there for the free barbecue, and as many cans of beer as I can stuff into the trunk of my 1978 Volare, which has been tactically parked in the groundskeeper’s shed, ready to make good my escape.

Was this ethical? Absolutely not, but the acquisition of obscene wealth rarely is. They say you have to fake it until you make it, and I’m sure once that second part hits I’ll swing by the dealer to make it up to them.

toskarin:

toskarin:

I actually like that all media is now created to be thoughtlessly consumed within a single alloted month before it’s destroyed by business guys whose stated favourite book is a dingy unread copy of The Art of War they left on their bedside to “reference”. it’s cool that everything is just one middling budget twelve episode season and half of it is dropped all at once directly onto streaming services so you have to sit down for six miserable hours to watch it in the most antisocial way possible. this is probably how art was meant to be consumed. this is how humans best process things, like death.

I let it all pass over me like a limp breeze. did I see the new show? oh no, and I suppose I will not, but that’s okay because I don’t feel much of anything at all about it. [pleasantly] I don’t feel much of anything at all.

(via despazito)

homeboygirl:

homeboygirl:

if you had the choice would you make yourself

taller

smaller

stay the same size / results

everyone keeps applying this to their current height to go up or down a few inches but i should clarify this applies in a extreme sense too, like if you could be 50’ tall or 2" tall which would u pick

dear-ao3:

dear-ao3:

are there spider crickets living in your basement

yes

no

i don’t have a basement

i don’t know what spider crickets are (do not google them youve been warned)

everyone saying that these are cute have never seen them jump seven fucking feet or accidentally washed one with their clothes

ivecarvedawoodenheart:

like there comes a point where you think something is fundamentally wrong with you. and then it turns out it’s just Friday and you haven’t washed your hair in three days and maybe you’re also just a little lonely and the combination of all three of those things is whittling a hole into your chest every time you breathe. but also the sun’s up. and you’ve survived everything so far, so you’ll survive this too, even if it hurts, even if you have to survive it many times.

(via teenyjellyfishy)

daily-wecht: