Ugh, worst song ever.
if we’re being honest, this was the moment that Emma Stone arrived.
My grandfather got suspended from Catholic school for referring to Jesus Christ and the twelve apostles as J.C. and the Boys.
WHAT’S MY GRANDSON’S NAME
ARE THEY A BOY OR A GIRL
PLEASE DO HELP ME
WHY MUST MY HAIR BE GREY
WHICH START POKEMON ARE THEY GOING TO CHOOSE
WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO USE YOUR BIKE INDOORS
WHY WOULD YOU FISH ON GRASS
HOW DO I KNOW YOU’RE GOING TO USE SOMETHING YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE USING
WHY CAN’T THE POKEMART JUST DELIVER THE POKEDEXES TO MY LAB?
WHY DID I CONGRATULATE THE NEW KID ON BEATING THE ELITE 4 AND CHAMPION MORE THAN MY OWN GRANDSON?
WHY DO I KEEP IN TOUCH WITH HIM SO OFTEN?
WHY DO I NEVER DRAW ILLUSTRATIONS ANY MORE? I WAS REALLY GOOD AT THAT.
OH GOD I JUST REMEMBERED THAT ASH WENT BACK IN TIME AND MET ME WHEN I WAS A CHILD SO IT’S HIGHLY PROBABLE THAT ALL MODERN CREATIONS IN POKEMON DATA COLLECTION ARE BASED OFF OF DESIGNS FROM THE FUTURE THAT ASH BROUGHT BACK WITH HIM TO THE PAST WHICH I THEN IMPLEMENTED AND DESIGNED IN THE FUTURE, NOT TO MENTION THE OBVIOUS IMPLICATIONS OF ME MEETING ASH FOR THE FIRST TIME IN THE PAST AND THEN STARTING HIM ON HIS QUEST TO BECOME A POKEMON MASTER WHICH LEAD TO HIM GOING BACK INTO THE PAST TO EVEN MAKE ANY OF THIS POSSIBLE
HOW DO YOU EVEN CATCH 30 GOD DAMN TAUROS AND WHY WOULD YOU LEAVE THEM AT MY HOUSE YOU ASSHOLE?!
WHY AM I ENCOURAGING MY CHARGES TO RECKLESSLY CHASE AFTER EVERY SPECIES OF POKéMON IN EXISTENCE, NO MATTER HOW RARE THEY ARE, EVEN WHEN DOING SO WOULD WRECK ALL THE SHIT ON THE PLANET SINCE THE TASK INCLUDES CATCHING LEGENDS THAT HOLD THE EARTH IN A PRECARIOUS BALANCE?
AND WHY DO I KEEP DOING SO WHEN THE NUMBER OF NEWLY DISCOVERED POKéMON KEEPS RISING SEEMINGLY INFINITELY?
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.
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.
my favourite thing about tumblr is there is not one mention of sports
you sure about that? lemme just check one thing.
there ya go
a brony called me unattractive
because i have hair on my legs
did you just self promote on my selfies
65:Last time I cried: Umm probably recently. my memory is awful but I’m thinking within the month.
66:People that make you happy: Oh, gosh. A LOT of people. But most of all I’d have to say my family and my kids at work.
67:The person that makes me cry the most is: hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha me.
82. I have gotten a speeding ticket: erm… technically…. yes.
BEST ASSASSINATION PLOT.
I HAVE BEEN WAITING MY WHOLE LIFE FOR THIS GIF
i’d make a penis.
That’s exactly what I expected to see when I scrolled to the bottom
No matter what anybody tells you, words and ideas can change the world.
We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.
(Dead Poets Society, 1989)