Formative adolescent tongue. Have several others.
(via fuckyeah1990s)
AHAHA
(Source: weax, via emptythoughts)
Still will never figure out to reblog replies properly — I likely follow too many people so the reblogs zoom away into the ether—, yeah no api I am with you. Why contact ever. Will only be noisy recriminations about all the money I owe and how successful my sister is why didn’t I in particular get a government job and slowly let my life trickle away like them. Also beef from 2003. And 1999 will come up.
Breeders.
Show of virtual hands —
How many of you have a part or complete estrangement from one or more parent?
I know most of you are younger than me, but I actually thought these type of “disowning upwards” scenarios were more of the sixteen through twenty five school anyway.
I guess I’m just a late bloomer.
You can PM me too if you like. I’m just. Ugh. Fragile.
[video]
[video]
Don’t just fuck the police.
Take the police out on a couple dates. Take the police to the movies or a nice stroll in the park. Feed the police some delicious fondue. Make the police fall in love with you. Then, fuck the police. And then out of nowhere, stop taking calls from the police. Ignore the police. Make the police miss you. Make the police cry.
hah
(via flid)
…that I have embraced my incendiary, smarter-than-just-about-fucking-everyone, troll gene lineage. My family has more PhDs than luxury vehicle. My grandfather built bombs. My dad is a chess grandmaster. I’m thus far the only anomoly in three generations about not getting a master’s. I can count cards. I can read faces but not remember them. I’m getting to that multiply three digit numerals by other ones place again. Also: I’ve been arrested, spit at Haitian bitches, been slammed into walls, hair pulled, throw shit, walked around in New York with a rebar wrapped in caution tape, I have talked my way into private parties, clubs, afterparties, hotels, casinos, champagne rooms, the trailer of Daft Punk. Okay that one I broke into on the search for Josh Homme’s righetous junk. I snatch everything but the carpet from hotel rooms I’m invited to. I love guns. I love big fuck off steel F150s. I drink whisky, bourbon and vodka pretty much exclusively. I’ve ridden a horse through the Grand Canyon and ridden a cowboy at the top of Mount Baldy. I can give an eight day blowjob. I saw the warships on fire on Orion’s belt with Roy Batty. You know? Just I think KidsTheseDays is a very tiresome concept as everyone is actually this very homogenous IndiePerson and HipsterWhatever from literally age 13 to age 65. And dude, like I just established: no. Not only am I too smart, I like things to fucking burn just a little too much.
Oh well.