Eugene don’t know what to do with himself, y’all stop putting him on my tv

I wonder

Can fire be felt?

If I slipped away as I slept
Having just good and properly wept
It might just be nice
To put me on ice
Having realized I’d looked where I’d leapt

May wanna stop with the back patting soon in order to double fist that umbrella in the face of the shit storm ‘bout to roll in (lookin’ at anyone that ever thought they’d actually see a debate).

Also, when are we adding the fingerbone articulation via neuro implant to the wing suits?

I want to cuddle with a flying fox and I want to do it upside down.

When there are tears, accompanied by self talk like “I can’t believe I did that. I don’t know what to do,” the initial impression is one of crisis and one may reliably expect this impression to layout the lines and label the numbers by which any response may be painted.

Perhaps some kind of timeout is warranted every time bother trying to watch your coverage and fail to learn anything.

Thank you, Delicious in Dungeon episode 22

This fucking metronome is broken. It is loud. It won’t cut off. Worst bit is the goddamn thing’s been hardcoded to 60 BPM.

Like a plucked porcupine

Not long now

If you cannot seek to find something for which to birth an honest apology by sifting through the hot mess to take ownership of something uncomfortable, you will never even know you are sorry.

When you are the fucking crazy one for assuming this was a mistake and having the goddamn nerve to ask across half the house whether the Mueller Report was within recollection for the patient woman who’d already mentioned the name Mueller, once, pre-move while seeking to secure home insurance.

When she wants to kill herself but she’s scared.

Screenshot stitching for capturing scrollable content and conversations… did I just invent YAFAICGAFA?

I might’ve been cute, humorous or sophisticated but for lack of bandwidth. Instead, I’ll simply tell you, Siri, to be better. This is an accidental-meat-finger-exchange I need like I would a hole in the head… or long COVID with a penchant for neuropyrography.

Mm sawree bowt it buddee but I had ta take abreak
Myfuk kinhead iz writin’ country wisle mydykkit micturates

I will be okay
When what’s locked away today
Can come the fuck out

Christ, y’all poor f$&kers still landing on my blog out of the help center are being lured into reading that shitshow of a bio laid by yesteryear Moondeer.

When you are all “I should just die” and she is all “ yes you should it will make things easier.”

Kaiju No. 8 makes me cry

Reason #422 that I will not be your prototypical client:

Let’s say you’re my gym. You’ve been working with me for quite a while. You haven’t seen me for months (when the bottom drops out you become low priority). I finally decide to come back in today… 25 lbs lighter w/o 6.8% of my fat.

#NostalgicNuggs

Holy f$&k, forgot about this one.

Middle School ☾𐂂