(via topherchris) I usually have to close a dozen or so of these notifications whenever I check my dashboard. Even when I just go back after posting. Sigh. update: that doesn’t mean I want you to stop, gentlemen. and ladies. ladies and gentlemen.

(via topherchris)

I usually have to close a dozen or so of these notifications whenever I check my dashboard.

Even when I just go back after posting.

Sigh.

update: that doesn’t mean I want you to stop, gentlemen. and ladies. ladies and gentlemen.

(this post was reblogged from topherchris)

OMGZ

Did you know that the word ‘blog’ is just short for ‘blowjog’?

Oh, neologisms.

Seriously though, is it a turn-on to put “blogger” in your CL ad?

Seriously though, is it a turn-on to put “blogger” in your CL ad?

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[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

nightmarebrunette:

Is that what we secretly all want when we walk around with our music—for a stranger to ask what we’re listening to? I thought I was the only one.

melissa: Erik Satie, Gnossienne #3. (Pascal Rogé)

Also, for the rain. And for being sixteen and walking around with this on the Henry and June soundtrack on my headphones and hoping someone would ask.

(after Nikola.)

obvi!

PS FUCK OFF SWPL ETC

(this post was reblogged from nightmarebrunette)
Q: AREN’T WE JUST ADORBS, YOU GUYS? A: Yes kthx Wondering why the new tumblr merch is so expensive? It’s because a portion of the proceeds from each sale go to the Make-Meaghan-Taller Foundation. With your support, the Foundation can make this blogger’s dream come true. JUST KIDDING, the money’s for buying me a boyfriend. Hah/weep…

Q: AREN’T WE JUST ADORBS, YOU GUYS?

A: Yes kthx

Wondering why the new tumblr merch is so expensive? It’s because a portion of the proceeds from each sale go to the Make-Meaghan-Taller Foundation. With your support, the Foundation can make this blogger’s dream come true.

JUST KIDDING, the money’s for buying me a boyfriend. Hah/weep…

Oh. My. God. Do you realize how many people are going to unfollow me when they realize how fucking SHORT I am? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO COMMAND ANY INTERNET RESPECT AT THIS HEIGHT? (I would make a pun about david giving me a raise, but wait, no I wouldn’t, because ND would revoke my english degree.)

Oh. My. God.

Do you realize how many people are going to unfollow me when they realize how fucking SHORT I am? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO COMMAND ANY INTERNET RESPECT AT THIS HEIGHT?

(I would make a pun about david giving me a raise, but wait, no I wouldn’t, because ND would revoke my english degree.)

“
One day I read in a scientific journal:
there are no penguins at one pole, no bears
on the other. These two, who were so long intimates
in my mind, began to drift apart, each on his own floe,
far out into the glacial seas. I realized I was becoming
impossible, more and more impossible,
and that one day it really would be true.
Mary Ruefle, How I Became Impossible

I ADMIT IT, YOU GUYS. Whenever some coffee shop person on their computer laughs, I wonder if they just read about how a bird shat in my cleavage.

I smiled at a street vendor today, because, well-why-the-fuck-not, but mostly because he caught me looking at him and not the other way around, and, well what else is there to do in that situation (JESUS CHRIST IS THIS EVEN A SITUATION? in my mind it was a situation.) So this guy—what was he even selling, flowers? hot dogs? NEW YORK HATS, PEOPLE?—thought it would be HILARIOUS to play coy or whatever and says “You can look but don’t touch, ma’am” to which I offered a tired HAH.

I crossed the street behind him and he turned to follow up with a “stay classy sweetie” or something to that effect, and as I pulled out my phone a bracelet decided to come out, too—how’d that get there?—and of course it clinked its way back towards flower/hot dog/hat guy. I pretended not to notice, half embarrassed and half worried he’d chat me up some more and half I’m-in-a-hurry-here-folks (AND THREE HALVES ISN’T EVEN ENOUGH OKAY?)

So anyway, I’m debating whether to take a different route now; I don’t know if I’m more afraid that he picked it up until he spots me again or that the damn thing is gone forever. *FOREVER*