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shitbath dreambabe trying to be relevant on the internet

my best precious friend person is out traveling and finally getting to do what she wants to do and i am truly stoked for her but also feel so damn lost without her

i don’t want to be selfish but sometimes it feels like some of the best parts of myself went away with her

He lit a cigarette. His glass of whiskey lit a cigarette. “I can only truly love my dead best friend,” he said, “but not in a gay way. Women wouldn’t understand. They’re too gay.” Both of the cigarettes agreed.

from Mallory Ortberg’s hilarious “Male Novelist Jokes.” (via coketalk)

(via citizenion)

i can’t imagine how ridiculous it must look to passerbys to see me smoking on our front stoop with my whole “accidental resting scowling face syndrome” thing while three of my housemates play really lively old timey tunes right behind me

this-disgusting-ribbon:

LOOKS LIKE MEAT’S BACK ON THE MENU, BOYS" bellows the Orc to his Orc friends. Orcs know what menus are. Orcs know what restaurants are. are there bistros in Mordor? these are the questions i need answering

(via traffichaze)

i mean if you need to know anything about me it’s that i love & care about dark n crushing doom metalz and the mountain goats equally

Title: White Cedar Artist: The Mountain Goats 797 plays

 

"White Cedar," the Mountain Goats

I don’t have to be afraid.
Speed that day on it’s way.
And you can’t tell me what my spirit tells me isn’t true, can you?

foie:

foie:

Used to date someone who straight up shamed me for shaving and not having much armpit hair so that was “fun”

men think they’re allies until you piss them off by just existing

#real  
via foie

living in a punx-y house means locking your door a lot b4 you go to bed cause some touring band shmuck will always think yer room is the bathroom

my housemate brought home six crates of heirloom tomatoes from their work for eatinz I think imma cry cause man, I fucking love ripe tomatoes

I could eat a bucket of those fuckers with just salt and olive oil, damn

electric-cereal:

John Mortara is the editor of Voicemail Poems. Their writing has been published in Big Lucks, The Bohemyth, and Potluck Mag. They can also be found on Twitter.

They have two poems in Electric Cereal today. Here is one:

TEXTS FROM VERIZON

VZW FREE MSG: soon you and everyone you have ever loved will be dead

VZW FREE MSG: you aren’t over your text message limit but you are certainly over your vapid bullshit limit

VZW FREE MSG: soon your children will blame you for the entire world drowning

VZW FREE MSG: we are giggling at your dick pix

VZW FREE MSG: booty calls count double against your minutes / well / they aren’t even really your minutes per say / you share with your mom

VZW FREE MSG: go outside

VZW FREE MSG: it’s contagious

VZW FREE MSG: every time he reads your texts he laughs and shows it to his friend

VZW FREE MSG: dunk your head into the eternal fire

VZW FREE MSG: those sounds in the walls aren’t real

VZW FREE MSG: you are a skeleton with meat on it

VZW FREE MSG: we don’t know who’s blood it is either

VZW FREE MSG: the world burns. can you hear me now?

VZW FREE MSG: it’s not true that ‘we all die alone.’ sometimes we die together. screaming.

VZW FREE MSG: the first rule of VZW FREE MSG is YOU DO NOT TALK ABOUT VZW FREE MSG

VZW FREE MSG: no really, maybe you should stop drinking for a little while

VZW FREE MSG: this message isn’t actually free, we built the operations cost into your bill lol

VZW FREE MSG: you are hotter than the surface of the sun / and just as gaseous

VZW FREE MSG: nope, just us again

VZW FREE MSG: do you ever feel like your skin is screaming?

http://www.electriccereal.com/author/john-mortara/

(via johnisdead)

 
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