I am such a dweeb that my form of self-destructive rebellion today was cleaning the house a bit more intensely than usual.

Only it got too intense and I had to lie down for a while.

I am not fucking with you.

I’m officially an adult now. My childhood is over.

It’s Saturday and I couldn’t sleep past 8:30.

My house is full of flies.

I’ve got a bit of cardboard and the hunt is fucking on.




how do you know youre asexual if you havent had sex???

how do you know you arent sexually attracted to toothpaste if youve never slathered your genitalia with it and shoved the tube up your anus????

how do you know?????

You have some shockingly good points. Just a second

Update: I am not sexually attracted to toothpaste

(via tekuates)

Honestly the hardest part about being sick all the time is not posting something along the lines of “hhhhrrrrrrrrrng I’m so siiiiick” every 5 minutes.

I’m making sacrifices here, people.

I must look just INCREDIBLY cool to people until I do or say anything at all.

Like, wow, who’s the dapper babe over there- oh no wait she’s ranting excitedly about the possibility of a door locking mechanism based on a flesh-light opened with a specific combination of biometrics and thrusting patterns. Without a hint of eroticism or sarcasm.

True Fact Backed Up By Empirical Data (i.e. me and several TV characters): walking with a cane a) makes you a smooth motherfucker and b) precludes a certain level of douche-baggery.

Maybe there are people out there who are mature enough to carry a cane and see it solely as a useful assistive device and not instinctively use it to dramatically push elevator/door/crosswalk buttons, dramatically whip it in front of your friends to make them stop walking, dramatically attempting to “put on the Ritz” before remembering that if you could high-kick you probably wouldn’t need a cane, dramatically using the handle to “play golf” with random objects on the ground, dramatically attempt to twirl the thing like a baton and hit yourself in the face, and, of course, dramatically poke anything and everything that is around three feet away. But I am not one of those people.

And furthermore may I add that steamers are delicious, cheap, and can be made in any syrup flavor anywhere that makes a latte. And if you’re so sensitive to caffeine that you feel jittery from decaf coffee (which really does have significant caffeine left after the process) and you want a warm drink other than your 1,000th herbal tea, they’re awesome.

And if you have a health condition that can be worsened by heat, or it’s just really hot out, ordering your drink “kid temp” or whatever they call it where you are gets it above room temperature but cool enough you won’t overheat. Though I assume they can only do it with things that don’t need to brew, otherwise you’d just cool it yourself.

Yes, Gilbert Starbucks, I did just order a Kid’s Temperature Pumpkin Spice Steamed Milk. Yes, I know that’s, like, the most embarrassingly childlike order ever. Yes, I know your judgmental attitude is probably imaginary and the product of my insecurities, but still, keep it to your imaginary selves.

Basically, having accepted that I’m (at least currently) not interested in really any sort of non-platonic relationship has nullified the discomfort of almost-sorta tagging along on two people’s adorable first date.

Honestly I think the main reason third-wheeling is hard is because it triggers jealousy, and I a) don’t want what they have, and b) have a somewhat overpowering personality so I’m not gonna get tucked away and ignored.

Also I’m really happy for her.

Fun fact: as it turns out, third-wheeling on your friend’s first-date trip to the movies instantly ceases to be uncomfortable when the guy pays for your ticket, too.

I will sit awkwardly by myself in a theater while you hold hands for HOURS if I get a free ticket for it.

Oh shit, a gaggle of teenagers just walked in. I shall watch this shocking development with careful eyes.

I will cope with my wretch’d loneliness by whining on the internet. Continuously.

I’ve never made this sort of request before but it’s been 45 minutes and I’m already bored out my mind so if anyone has any questions or requests, no matter how inane, I beg you bring them to my attention.

Seriously, as evidenced by recent history, I will write you a fucking sonnet, if that’s what you’re in to. I will draw your OCs. I will disclose uncomfortably personal details of my life. I will debase myself in any means you find amusing if it keeps my mind of the soul-sucking horror that is the Phoenix metro area.

Hell is a sweet new ‘do and you’re voluntarily stuck in a Starbucks in the suburbs of Phoenix for 8 hours.

I’m so cute and everyone here is 47 with 2.5 kids who just got outa soccer practice.

Hell is a sweet new ‘do and you’re voluntarily stuck in a Starbucks in the suburbs of Phoenix for 8 hours.

I’m so cute and everyone here is 47 with 2.5 kids who just got outa soccer practice.

The purpose of attempting to nap on campus (say, curled up in a musty armchair in a busy lounge) is not so much to actually get any sleep but to convince your body that sleeping is overrated and undignified, anyhow, and it might as well give up on the idea while it’s ahead.