sirfrogsworth:

Kids can’t have a drag queen read near them but a lung full of NO2 is perfectly fine.

ceevee5:

frog-dad-real:

tiredkitten123:

headspace-hotel:

undeadentropy:

prokopetz:

New rule: for every dick that’s removed from a depiction of a classic work of art so as to render it palatable for public consumption, a different classic work of art must gain one in order to balance the scales. No dick on Michaelangelo’s David? Now there’s a dick on Edvard Munch’s The Scream. This is what you have wrought.

Add the dick to female artwork to really piss them off, and make our day

Is there rules about where the dick needs to go

impling:

throwtime:

throwtime:

I’m about to have a fun afternoon.

So my trainer’s bf cheated on her. She broke up with him. He’s holding her stuff hostage until she agrees to talk with him. Which she refuses.

She trains; for free mind you; three college linebackers, a college wrestler, two martial artists, a body builder, and… wait for it…. a Navy seal. We’re gonna go get her shit for her.

This should make for an interesting story.

So everyone who commented on this being like the avengers, you are absolutely right. That’s what all of us had in our heads as we were rolling over to dude’s house. But I’m very proud to say, this ended without violence.

Arrival:

So the super friends all jumped into one of the linebacker’s explorer and headed over to dude’s house. Ok the squad: you all know me, but the other martial artist is a little wirey hapkido guy, the linebackers are all giants (an estimated combined weight of I’d say 750-800lbs), the wrestler looks like an escaped gorilla, then the navy seal looks like your average guy but something about him is unsettling. Really unsettling. Unfortunately, the body builder had to work. Anyway, we send the Hapkido guy and the wrestler to the door first and dude answers, screams at them, and then slams the door in their face. Then the giant linebackers head over and they ring the door bell again. Lo and behold, he was much more polite, but still denied access. Finally, me and the seal join the fray. I casually make my way towards the front of the group, but the seal decides to CLIMB THE BANISTER. We all just turned and started at him completely shocked when dude answers the door. He looks at this weird mismatched group of relatively threatening individuals and one guy perched on his banister like batman. He was like “FINE. Go take what you’re looking for.”

Retrieval:

So we’re all walking through the house gathering what we think are her things and putting them into two boxes. Mind you. We are completely guessing. We didn’t even tell her we were coming, therefore we had no list of items.The only one really being productive was Hapkido, who was legitimately looking for stuff. The linebackers were just randomly picking up furniture, turning it over, and putting it back down. Just showing off how strong they were. In case the numbers game wasn’t enough, I guess they were letting him know they could break him if they wanted to. The seal was just shadowing dude in his own house. Walking behind him, not saying much, just being creepy. Then there’s me. Who was causing general mischief…. He said to take what I was looking for, that’s what I was looking for. Ahaha and the wrestler made a fricken sandwich. Because “you guys look like you have it under control, and I’m a sucker for egg salad.” We were in and out in 15 minutes.

Delivery:

So the autobots rolled out and headed towards homegirl’s spot. She was conveniently outside when we rolled up. We got out and she was like, how do you all even know each other. The truth is, we don’t. She sent us all an email once and didn’t blind copy us all. She vented to all of us about dude holding onto her stuff and we started emailing and that was that. We told her that we went to see her ex. “OMG what did you say to him?” Nothing. We’re not messenger boys. We’re delivery boys. And we gave her her boxes of stuff. She went through the first box and said that was most of her stuff. Then she got to my box and asked “Wtf is all that shit.” So I explained that I took all the batteries out of his remote controls, his deodorant, the light bulb out of his master closet, every pair of dress socks that I could find, the laces out of his running shoes, and all the toilet paper in the house. The guys just looked at me and kind of nodded like they were impressed. She then unexpectedly started CRYING and thanked us. So you have this group of meat heads all standing awkwardly with this weeping trainer. It was quiet for a second when the seal was like “So…. chipoltle?” And we all got burrito bowls.

What a great day.

I was thinking about this story for no reason and decided I should grace you all with it again.

witch-without-gender:

thedaddycomplex:

So, okay, fun fact. When I was a freshman in high school… let me preface by saying my dad sent me to a private school and, like a bad organ transplant, it didn’t take. I was miserable, the student body hated me, I hated them, it was awful.

Okay, so, freshman year, I’m deep in my “everything sucks and I’m stuck with these assholes” mentality. My English teacher was a notorious hard-ass, let’s call him Mr. Hargrove. He was the guy every student prayed they didn’t get. And, on top of ALL OF THE SHIT I WAS ALREADY DEALING WITH, I had him for English.

One of the laborious assignments he gave us was to keep a daily journal. Daily! Not monthly or weekly. Fucking daily. Handwritten. And we had to turn it in every quarter and he fucking graded us. He graded us on a fucking journal.

All of my classmates wrote shit like what they did that day or whatever. But, I did not. No, sir. I decided to give the ol’ middle finger to the assignment and do my own shit.

So, for my daily journal entries, over the course of an entire year, I wrote a serialized story about a horde of man-eating slugs that invaded a small mining town. It was graphic, it was ridiculous, it was an epic feat of rebellion.

And Mr. Hargrove loved it.

It wasn’t just the journal. Every assignment he gave us, I tried to shit all over it. Every reading assignment, everyone gushed about how good it was, but I always had a negative take. Every writing assignment, people wrote boring prose, but I wrote cheesy limericks or pulp horror stories.

Then, one day, he read one of my essays to the class as an example of good writing. When a fellow student asked who wrote it, he said, “Some pipsqueak.”

And that’s when I had a revelation. He wanted to fight. And since all the other students were trying to kiss his ass, I was his only challenger.

Mr. Hargrove and I went head-to-head on every assignment, every conversation, every fucking thing. And he ate it up. And so did I.

One day, he read us a column from the Washington Post and asked the class what was wrong with it. Everyone chimed in with their dumbass takes, but I was the one who landed on Mr. Hargrove’s complaint: The reporter had BRAZENLY added the suffix “ize” to a verb.

That night I wrote a jokey letter to the reporter calling him out on the offense in which I added “ize” to every single verb. I gave it to Mr. Hargrove, who by then had become a friendly adversary, for a chuckle and he SENT IT TO THE REPORTER.

And, people… The reporter wrote back. And he said I was an exceptional student. Mr. Hargrove and I had a giggle about that because we both knew I was just being an asshole, but he and the reporter acknowledged I had a point.

And that was it. That was the moment. Not THAT EXACT moment, but that year with Mr. Hargrove taught me I had a knack for writing. And that knack was based in saying “fuck you” to authority. (The irony that someone in a position of authority helped me realize that is not lost on me.)

So, I can say without qualification that Mr. Hargrove is the reason I am now a professional writer. Yes, I do it for a living. And most of my stuff takes authorities of one kind or another to task.

Mr. Hargrove showed me my dissent was valid, my rebellion was righteous, and that killer slugs could bring a city to its knees. Someone just needs to write it.

This is the first time I’ve seen this post but I know I’m gonna love reading it every time it shows up on my dash

malewifecombat:

malewifecombat:

And when we finally kill the gods neither hell nor heaven will be waiting for them because they created those to imprison us

burned my eggs and got mad sorry lol

kaity–did:

kaity–did:

kaity–did:

kaity–did:

kaity–did:

kaity–did:

kaity–did:

Tonight on My Husband Doesn’t Know How to Baby Talk

“Ma’am, are you aware that these, right here are your hands? They belong to you. And you get to decide what happens with them. So when you use these hands to pull your binky out of your mouth that is not necessarily a dad problem. I’ll fix it obviously i just want you to acknowledge it’s not my fault”

Husband: ma’am it has been reported lately that you do in fact have tiny little toes and a little button nose, do you care to comment?

Penny Rose: Babbles in Baby

Husband: RIVETING!

Penny Rose: Does that High Pitched Baby Yell ™️

Husband: Let it out friend! Feel your feelings!

Me: Hehehe silly husband doesn’t know how to do baby talk

All of tumblr collectively at my husband:

Penny Rose: does a sad baby scream

Husband: you don’t even have to understand taxes yet! I can explain them but you’ve got several years before that’s relevant!

Penny Rose: wide eyes, staring at her father, almost intrigued

Husband: I lied to you Penny your mother does our taxes. Do you want to know about arbitration? I know all about arbitration.

THE MAN THE MYTH THE LEGEND

yes he just walks around the house and talks to her like this

Penny Rose: Cooing as twinkle twinkle little star plays

Husband: Now Penny there is a lot of misinformation out there in the world and I hate to tell you this but the moon is in fact not made of cheese. That is a conspiracy theory pushed by Big Dairy.

????