blog
steamlord313:

babylonian:

OH MY FUCKIN GOD THE MOST AMAZING THING JUST HAPPENED TO ME. I TAKE BACK ALL THE SHIT I SAID ABOUT POKEMON X / Y THIS WEEK
aaite, so: see that cutie up there??? so i’m sittin on my bus riding to work and i’d just put my 3ds away because i don’t wanna deal with a bunch of zubats this early in the morning when i look up and see this boy with HIS 3ds out! i figured he was playin Pokemon because it’s october 2013 and every person on the fuckin planet is playing this game
so i lowkey pull mine back out and send him a “Nice!” and a couple of O-Powers and he looks around all confused like “whoa what??” (keep in mind my hands are behind the seat in front of me so he can’t actually see that i’m holding a 3DS too heh heh heh)
so i’m sittin there like “hmm what can i do next” and i decide to send him a trade request. he looks around again, pulls out his stylus kinda clumsily and then HE ACCEPTS!!! so i try to trade him my gayest Pokemon (a male Roselia named ‘Roselio’) and he gives me an Oddish and OH MAN I JUST TRADED POKEMON WITH A STRANGER ON A BUS THIS IS SO FUCKING COOL
anyways after that we keep kinda sendin each other O-powers for a while (he still doesn’t know who/where i am) and then after a couple minutes he challenges me to a BATTLE!!!! i accept ofc
we have this a quick sorta awkward battle where he only chose 3 pokemon but i chose 6 but it doesn’t matter because his Braixen is kicking the shit out of everything i toss out. after my Farfetch’d and Plusle both faint i realize that oh frick i’m like three stops away from the bus stop i get off on!
right as i realize that, he suddenly forfeits the battle. i look up at him and he’s puttin away his headphones like he’s about to get off! wahhh
i look down at my DS and it’s like “do you wanna add trainer Matt as a friend?” and i frantically scramble to hit yes but right as i do i look up and he shut his DS and is getting off the bus
before i know it he’s gone and my DS is just sittin here like this:

i am straight as hell but i’m pretty sure this is the most romantic thing that has ever happened to me. goodbye Pokemon trainer Matt i will take very good care of your Oddish and u will be in my heart forever my dude

WHAT A CUTE STORY

steamlord313:

babylonian:

OH MY FUCKIN GOD THE MOST AMAZING THING JUST HAPPENED TO ME. I TAKE BACK ALL THE SHIT I SAID ABOUT POKEMON X / Y THIS WEEK

aaite, so: see that cutie up there??? so i’m sittin on my bus riding to work and i’d just put my 3ds away because i don’t wanna deal with a bunch of zubats this early in the morning when i look up and see this boy with HIS 3ds out! i figured he was playin Pokemon because it’s october 2013 and every person on the fuckin planet is playing this game

so i lowkey pull mine back out and send him a “Nice!” and a couple of O-Powers and he looks around all confused like “whoa what??” (keep in mind my hands are behind the seat in front of me so he can’t actually see that i’m holding a 3DS too heh heh heh)

so i’m sittin there like “hmm what can i do next” and i decide to send him a trade request. he looks around again, pulls out his stylus kinda clumsily and then HE ACCEPTS!!! so i try to trade him my gayest Pokemon (a male Roselia named ‘Roselio’) and he gives me an Oddish and OH MAN I JUST TRADED POKEMON WITH A STRANGER ON A BUS THIS IS SO FUCKING COOL

anyways after that we keep kinda sendin each other O-powers for a while (he still doesn’t know who/where i am) and then after a couple minutes he challenges me to a BATTLE!!!! i accept ofc

we have this a quick sorta awkward battle where he only chose 3 pokemon but i chose 6 but it doesn’t matter because his Braixen is kicking the shit out of everything i toss out. after my Farfetch’d and Plusle both faint i realize that oh frick i’m like three stops away from the bus stop i get off on!

right as i realize that, he suddenly forfeits the battle. i look up at him and he’s puttin away his headphones like he’s about to get off! wahhh

i look down at my DS and it’s like “do you wanna add trainer Matt as a friend?” and i frantically scramble to hit yes but right as i do i look up and he shut his DS and is getting off the bus

before i know it he’s gone and my DS is just sittin here like this:

image

i am straight as hell but i’m pretty sure this is the most romantic thing that has ever happened to me. goodbye Pokemon trainer Matt i will take very good care of your Oddish and u will be in my heart forever my dude

WHAT A CUTE STORY

(via themiddleofearl)

snorlaxatives:

my school has a confessions page on facebook and 

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(via themiddleofearl)

therighteousdude:

Graphs throughout your school career

(via themiddleofearl)

posted 9 months ago with 395 notes

"

You should date an illiterate girl.

Date a girl who doesn’t read. Find her in the weary squalor of a Midwestern bar. Find her in the smoke, drunken sweat, and varicolored light of an upscale nightclub. Wherever you find her, find her smiling. Make sure that it lingers when the people that are talking to her look away. Engage her with unsentimental trivialities. Use pick-up lines and laugh inwardly. Take her outside when the night overstays its welcome. Ignore the palpable weight of fatigue. Kiss her in the rain under the weak glow of a streetlamp because you’ve seen it in a film. Remark at its lack of significance. Take her to your apartment. Dispatch with making love. Fuck her.

Let the anxious contract you’ve unwittingly written evolve slowly and uncomfortably into a relationship. Find shared interests and common ground like sushi and folk music. Build an impenetrable bastion upon that ground. Make it sacred. Retreat into it every time the air gets stale or the evenings too long. Talk about nothing of significance. Do little thinking. Let the months pass unnoticed. Ask her to move in. Let her decorate. Get into fights about inconsequential things like how the fucking shower curtain needs to be closed so that it doesn’t fucking collect mold. Let a year pass unnoticed. Begin to notice.

Figure that you should probably get married because you will have wasted a lot of time otherwise. Take her to dinner on the forty-fifth floor at a restaurant far beyond your means. Make sure there is a beautiful view of the city. Sheepishly ask a waiter to bring her a glass of champagne with a modest ring in it. When she notices, propose to her with all of the enthusiasm and sincerity you can muster. Do not be overly concerned if you feel your heart leap through a pane of sheet glass. For that matter, do not be overly concerned if you cannot feel it at all. If there is applause, let it stagnate. If she cries, smile as if you’ve never been happier. If she doesn’t, smile all the same.

Let the years pass unnoticed. Get a career, not a job. Buy a house. Have two striking children. Try to raise them well. Fail frequently. Lapse into a bored indifference. Lapse into an indifferent sadness. Have a mid-life crisis. Grow old. Wonder at your lack of achievement. Feel sometimes contented, but mostly vacant and ethereal. Feel, during walks, as if you might never return or as if you might blow away on the wind. Contract a terminal illness. Die, but only after you observe that the girl who didn’t read never made your heart oscillate with any significant passion, that no one will write the story of your lives, and that she will die, too, with only a mild and tempered regret that nothing ever came of her capacity to love.

Do those things, god damnit, because nothing sucks worse than a girl who reads. Do it, I say, because a life in purgatory is better than a life in hell. Do it, because a girl who reads possesses a vocabulary that can describe that amorphous discontent of a life unfulfilled—a vocabulary that parses the innate beauty of the world and makes it an accessible necessity instead of an alien wonder. A girl who reads lays claim to a vocabulary that distinguishes between the specious and soulless rhetoric of someone who cannot love her, and the inarticulate desperation of someone who loves her too much. A vocabulary, goddamnit, that makes my vacuous sophistry a cheap trick.

Do it, because a girl who reads understands syntax. Literature has taught her that moments of tenderness come in sporadic but knowable intervals. A girl who reads knows that life is not planar; she knows, and rightly demands, that the ebb comes along with the flow of disappointment. A girl who has read up on her syntax senses the irregular pauses—the hesitation of breath—endemic to a lie. A girl who reads perceives the difference between a parenthetical moment of anger and the entrenched habits of someone whose bitter cynicism will run on, run on well past any point of reason, or purpose, run on far after she has packed a suitcase and said a reluctant goodbye and she has decided that I am an ellipsis and not a period and run on and run on. Syntax that knows the rhythm and cadence of a life well lived.

Date a girl who doesn’t read because the girl who reads knows the importance of plot. She can trace out the demarcations of a prologue and the sharp ridges of a climax. She feels them in her skin. The girl who reads will be patient with an intermission and expedite a denouement. But of all things, the girl who reads knows most the ineluctable significance of an end. She is comfortable with them. She has bid farewell to a thousand heroes with only a twinge of sadness.

Don’t date a girl who reads because girls who read are storytellers. You with the Joyce, you with the Nabokov, you with the Woolf. You there in the library, on the platform of the metro, you in the corner of the café, you in the window of your room. You, who make my life so goddamned difficult. The girl who reads has spun out the account of her life and it is bursting with meaning. She insists that her narratives are rich, her supporting cast colorful, and her typeface bold. You, the girl who reads, make me want to be everything that I am not. But I am weak and I will fail you, because you have dreamed, properly, of someone who is better than I am. You will not accept the life of which I spoke at the beginning of this piece. You will accept nothing less than passion, and perfection, and a life worthy of being told. So out with you, girl who reads. Take the next southbound train and take your Hemingway with you. Or, perhaps, stay and save my life. *

"

- Charles Warnke (via sycopath)

(Source: jarrodis, via shi-mai)

#text

"i am a dumb piece of meat
and i rot everyday
my flesh gives a rotting smell
and people say it’s the smell of life
and they come to me
and watch me rot
and get happy and upset and annoyed and disgusted and maybe sometimes feel compasion
but they don’t realize they are rotting too."

- Daul Kim (via seacretion)

(via shi-mai)

#text

(via migeru)

posted 9 months ago with 62 notes

이젠 그만 아파도 될까?
그만 두려워도 될까?
눈물 흘린 만큼만 웃어 봐도 될까?

Can I stop suffering now?
Can I stop fearing now?
Can I laugh just as much as I cried?

(Source: i-was-born-backwards, via ten-centimeters)

#text

(Source: fcuk-them, via migeru)

valaartogeiadoun:

daisydino:

shinys-mind-palace:

I HAVE BEEN LOOKING FOR THIS PICTURE FOR SO LONG

My mom just told me I was going to Hell for laughing at this

THEY SEE ME ROLLIN, THEY PRAYIN

valaartogeiadoun:

daisydino:

shinys-mind-palace:

I HAVE BEEN LOOKING FOR THIS PICTURE FOR SO LONG

My mom just told me I was going to Hell for laughing at this

THEY SEE ME ROLLIN, THEY PRAYIN

(Source: onepartlost, via spicycurrybread)

#misc