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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.

There’s something beautifully tragic about buying a new bra
Beautiful, because yo you got a new thing, it’s cute and fits really nice (like yeah otherwise you probably wouldn’t have bought it right)
Tragic because bras are expensive as hell like wtf this is a necessity for most people, it should be cheaper or in a perfect world free but then you get back to how good it looks and feels and you realize how maybe it was worth the 20 some bucks

meghaan92:

marissalove-me:

c-untgr4ts:

today-the-world-is-ugly:

This is absolutely terrifying. Just look at it, it is so real and astonishing. You need to reblog this. I don’t care if you’re used to reblogging orange, teenage girls with vans on. I don’t care if you’re used to reblogging vintage or photography. This is real. You can even see the fury in his eyes. The tense muscles in between his fingers. The heavy breathing. reblog this. NOW.in all seriousness thoughM..my heart just stopped… ;~;Guys, you’ve got to reblog this. It’s reality and it needs to be brought to everyone’s attention.I lost a friend to this kind of harassment. I really don’t want to remind myself of everything that happened so I won’t say a word about it. All I will say is, he was one of my best friends and the kindest person I had ever known. The pain I went through after his death was indescribable. I want you all to know that it’s not easing knowing that someone you love had such thoughts that they didn’t deserve living anymore. I’m not good with words at all so please excuse this lousy paragraph I have attempted to write to move you. I am serious though. Don’t ignore this.i’m going to reblog forever.This kills me, please stop this.it seriously hurts to know people say thishow the fuck could you possibly send someone hate, or make rude comments when you know all to well that this could be the outcome, makes me sick. somebody please stop this from happening.

ALRIGHT STOP SCROLLING RIGHT NOW. REBLOG THIS. I DON’T CARE IF YOU ARE A HIPSTER, SUMMER, PHOTOGRAPHY, BOHO, SURF, WHATEVER BLOG. REBLOG THIS. 

Oh my god

THIS MOVED ME SO MUCH GUYS REBLOG ;__; ;;;n;;;

((I DONT CARE WHAT KIND OF BLOG YOU ARE

REBLOG THIS))

This doesn’t fit my blog type, but I had to reblog this. It’s so powerful.

Reblog people🙏

Please reblog. This is actually important.

(Source: vongori)

popculturesavvyangel:

destielpudding-fallenangel:

dean-cas-love:

deansdamnation:

deanloveshisimpala:

inderlander:

"Do it." (x)

I understand how Sam feels at this moment…

Theory time, with help from cutsiecastiel

So, the blade can’t actually hurt Dean, as he is a Knight of Hell, so, what if the reason Dean is pushing for Sam to cut him, is so that demon blood gets on the blade?

What if, Sam relapsed into drinking demon blood, which is why Dean called him a monster, and the reason Dean is attacking him, is so Sam will become violent in the hopes of turning Sam into a demon?

What if Dean wants to rule Hell with Sam?

YOU’RE GROUNDED.

Nope. I can’t take this anymore. Fuck you. Fuck the writers. Fuck the show. My heart is broken by the whole thing.
Is someone a therapist here? I need some therapy

damn it I predicted this but not so that it could fucking happen

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