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.

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.

loki-tripped-thor-then-ran-and:

mydivision:

What is she?

 There we go.

loki-tripped-thor-then-ran-and:

mydivision:

What is she?

image 
There we go.

mycroftrh:

Great Dane is Stuck in the Tub

My St. Bernards do this too. It’s ridiculous. They’re twice its height. For some reason big dogs can’t comprehend bathtubs.

(Source: im-cool-like-that)

get-my-corset-holmes:

Attractive people who wear blue knitwear

(Source: tonyloki)

(Source: lydiasgotstiles)

geekygallifreyan:

Wait why is Georgia backwards

(Source: thelandofmaps)

louisgoddamntomlinson:

softoogami:

found a Nice Guy? dont friendzone him. end zone him. throw him on the ground like an effing football. touchdown

nice guy finally scores

(Source: mangacartaholygrail)

"Dude, you just ran like 13 miles in 30 minutes."

(Source: mysnarkasm)

doodlesaresketcheswithnoodles:

Daily doodle #391 - Nick Fury’s new eye
I’m sorry I’m not sorry
doodlesaresketcheswithnoodles:

Daily doodle #391 - Nick Fury’s new eye
I’m sorry I’m not sorry
doodlesaresketcheswithnoodles:

Daily doodle #391 - Nick Fury’s new eye
I’m sorry I’m not sorry
doodlesaresketcheswithnoodles:

Daily doodle #391 - Nick Fury’s new eye
I’m sorry I’m not sorry
doodlesaresketcheswithnoodles:

Daily doodle #391 - Nick Fury’s new eye
I’m sorry I’m not sorry

doodlesaresketcheswithnoodles:

Daily doodle #391 - Nick Fury’s new eye

I’m sorry I’m not sorry

fandomsandcountriesinthetardis:

xekstrin:

theonewhosawitall:

fairyspork:

i-am-momo-senpai:

That is a horror that may never again be recreated.

Holy shit

photobomb from beyond the grave

okay but when you flip it you get

HAYYYYY GURLLLL WHERE THE PARTY AT

this website i swear

fandomsandcountriesinthetardis:

xekstrin:

theonewhosawitall:

fairyspork:

i-am-momo-senpai:

That is a horror that may never again be recreated.

Holy shit

photobomb from beyond the grave

okay but when you flip it you get

HAYYYYY GURLLLL WHERE THE PARTY AT

this website i swear

(Source: needtostayawake)

cheriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii:

ellendegeneres:

Ellen had to do a huge favor for a good friend of hers during the show today. We’d like to thank Michelle’s husband for taking the time to talk with us!

Michelle’s husband.

(Source: geekyhatter)

whiskeyprincess08:

I wish they made light up shoes for adults.

narrrnian:

pierce-the-tony:

wish-iwerent-here:

rawrawrawrimmahobo:

watchtheskytonight:

wicked-literature:

REBLOG this to prove you are not a Muggle.

image

my reblog button fucked up and i almost had a heart attack

I did it in the first try.

OH YEAH

OH MY GOD.

MY COMPUTER BROWSER FROZE AND I DIDN’T REALIZE IT. I COULDN’T BREATHE.

JESUS.

But the lack of notes truly worries me

Bam.

J

My mouse accidently slid off of the button and I was like, “dkfsafsa”

IM NOT A MUGGLE