My girlfriend and I wanted to cuddle, but we wanted to play Diablo too. This is what happened.
you guys
are my heroes
I play Diablo and like to cuddle… ladies.
Land of and
Your name is ROB. You are a TWENTY-TWO YEAR OLD HUMAN MALE. Your interests include COMPUTER PROGRAMMING, JAPANESE ANIMES, and NOT FORGETTING TO BE AWESOME. Your room's walls are almost completely covered in VIDEO GAME POSTERS. Your TWO CATS think some of them are food. They are not. Your chumhandle is filialPails when you are on PESTERCHUM which is NOT OFTEN.
What will you do?
> Draw on this page.
> Cornify this page.
Your name is ROB. You are a TWENTY-TWO YEAR OLD HUMAN MALE. Your interests include COMPUTER PROGRAMMING, JAPANESE ANIMES, and NOT FORGETTING TO BE AWESOME. Your room's walls are almost completely covered in VIDEO GAME POSTERS. Your TWO CATS think some of them are food. They are not. Your chumhandle is filialPails when you are on PESTERCHUM which is NOT OFTEN.What will you do?
Rob Steward began pestering Maureen McAwesome at 13:16
RS: the purpose of your tumblr is to lull me into a false sense of cutekitties then terrify me
MM: The purpose of Robs tumblr is Maureen loves lesbians.
Kay Gunn began pestering Rob Steward at 20:34
KG: psst, drawing on your tumblr is fantastic.
KG: n.n
RS: Also you are fantastic. :3
RS: the purpose of your tumblr is to lull me into a false sense of cutekitties then terrify me
MM: The purpose of Robs tumblr is Maureen loves lesbians.
Kay Gunn began pestering Rob Steward at 20:34
KG: psst, drawing on your tumblr is fantastic.
KG: n.n
RS: Also you are fantastic. :3
> Cornify this page.
RSS: Adventure Updates
Me too.
"Like you, I know exactly where I was and what I was doing when I heard Amanda Palmer had been killed.
Like you, I know no more than that. Killed, yes. But by whom and how none of us ever knew. There was nothing ever said about it on the television or the radio. But we knew. We knew.
Rumors multiplied. I met a Hell’s Angel in a bar in Encino who swore blind that he knew a man who claimed to have crushed in Amanda’s skull with lead piping, on behalf of a crazed ex-boyfriend.
It became a national obsession. “Who killed Amanda Palmer?” bubble gum cards were traded and traded again in school yards across America. I still own two of them: one shows Amanda’s bullet-riddled corpse dangling from a wall; the other shows her body washed up on the shore of an unidentified lake, her face blue and puffy from the water, the claws of crustacean pushing out from between her purple lips.
I remember the candlelight vigils, and the shrines, dozens of them, in cities all over the world, spontaneous demonstrations from people who no longer had an Amanda Palmer. They lit candles, and left behind telephones, scalpels, exotic items of underwear, plastic figurines, children’s picture books, antlers, love.
“She went as she would have wanted to go.” That was what an Amanda Palmer impersonator told me in a pub off Carnaby Street. Much later that night, voice slurred by alcohol, the man confided in me that he was certain that the real Amanda Palmer had been “abducted by beings from a higher vibrational plane”, and that the pictures of Amanda’s death were not fakes, pasted-up and air-brushed in some back-alley photographic studio, but actual photographs of the deaths of “sister-selves”, creatures grown from Amanda Palmer’s own protoplasm.
Very young children made up songs about the different ways Amanda Palmer died, killing her happily at the end of every verse, too young to understand the horror. Maybe it really was how she would have wanted to go.
“If you see Amanda Palmer on the street kill her,” said the graffiti under the bridge in Boston. And beneath that somebody else wrote, “That way she’ll live forever."
Like you, I know no more than that. Killed, yes. But by whom and how none of us ever knew. There was nothing ever said about it on the television or the radio. But we knew. We knew.
Rumors multiplied. I met a Hell’s Angel in a bar in Encino who swore blind that he knew a man who claimed to have crushed in Amanda’s skull with lead piping, on behalf of a crazed ex-boyfriend.
It became a national obsession. “Who killed Amanda Palmer?” bubble gum cards were traded and traded again in school yards across America. I still own two of them: one shows Amanda’s bullet-riddled corpse dangling from a wall; the other shows her body washed up on the shore of an unidentified lake, her face blue and puffy from the water, the claws of crustacean pushing out from between her purple lips.
I remember the candlelight vigils, and the shrines, dozens of them, in cities all over the world, spontaneous demonstrations from people who no longer had an Amanda Palmer. They lit candles, and left behind telephones, scalpels, exotic items of underwear, plastic figurines, children’s picture books, antlers, love.
“She went as she would have wanted to go.” That was what an Amanda Palmer impersonator told me in a pub off Carnaby Street. Much later that night, voice slurred by alcohol, the man confided in me that he was certain that the real Amanda Palmer had been “abducted by beings from a higher vibrational plane”, and that the pictures of Amanda’s death were not fakes, pasted-up and air-brushed in some back-alley photographic studio, but actual photographs of the deaths of “sister-selves”, creatures grown from Amanda Palmer’s own protoplasm.
Very young children made up songs about the different ways Amanda Palmer died, killing her happily at the end of every verse, too young to understand the horror. Maybe it really was how she would have wanted to go.
“If you see Amanda Palmer on the street kill her,” said the graffiti under the bridge in Boston. And beneath that somebody else wrote, “That way she’ll live forever."
— Neil Gaiman (Who Killed Amanda Palmer)
Nichole: Next AN I'm probably going as a Soul Calibur character
Probably Cassandra
Rob: I don't believe you
Nichole: Har har
I get ett
Nichole: Pyrrha would be so fun to cosplay as well
Rob: yeah but at what cost?
Nichole: god dammit
Second Hand Item, Second Hand Energy
Cleansing Antiques or Used Items Before Bringing Into Your Home
Hunting for a good deal or rare find at vintage shops, antique shops, pawnshops, consignment shops, or even yard sales is addicting and helps our planet.[citation needed] However, it is imperative you ‘cleanse’ the item before bringing it into your home.[citation needed] I am not talking about taking a feathered duster and some pledge to it here; I am talking about cleansing the energy attached to your new find.
Often we are so caught up in the excitement of a great deal or a rare find, we seldom think about the energy that we are carrying home with it.[citation needed] Along with that item you purchased at the Estate sale, you might just be bringing home the energy of the deceased owner![citation needed]
Unfortunate circumstances or grief that forced someone to trade an item at the pawnshop could transpose the same unexplainable feelings to the new wearer.[citation needed] A divorce that led to a yard sale of gifts received at the wedding, a foreclosed home, or repossessed vehicle can also carry the energetic memory associated with the loss of the items.[citation needed]
Kris @ Dark Moon Tarot
* Picture taken of some of my recent finds this weekend at an Estate sale. I have a passion for antiques. The quality of craftsmanship never ceases to amaze me, especially when everything we purchase today is disposable. However, as I watched the auctioneer disperse possessions that took someone a lifetime to collect, I couldn’t help but think of the series of events lead to the sale. ~Kris
m4ge:
I’ve been watching But I’m A Cheerleader for a little over an hour and I knew I recognized one of the actors but I couldn’t put my finger on who he was and it was bugging me
Suddenly I paused it and screamed
DANTE BASCOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
at the top of my lungs
I’m very proud of myself right now
btw you should all watch But I’m A Cheerleader it’s great so far
Everything this person just said.
You read 451 words per minute.
That makes you 80% faster than the national average.*dramatic hair flip*
You read 487 words per minute.
That makes you 95% faster than the national average.\m/
You read 566 words per minute.
That makes you 126% faster than the national average.beat that, assholes
You read 593 words per minute.
That makes you 137% faster than the national average.nailed it
You read 239 words per minute.
That makes you 4% slower than the national average.
You read 646 words per minute.
That makes you 158% faster than the national average.i’ve always been able to read really fast when I want to and can retain the needed info hehe
I disabled the blur, moved the popup out of the way, and read it without hitting the button. I’m pretty sure that either comes out to infinite words per minute or a division by zero.
I’m entirely unsure as to how I’m supposed to feel about Ayn Rand
Atlas Shrugged is apparently a timeless masterpiece, but if Ayn Rand’s ideas influence libertarianism, modern American conservatism and the Tea Party in particular, then wow, her views must’ve been fucked up.
I need to read more about this, but now I remember why the term “crazy nutfuck capitalist pigmother” comes to my head whenever I see Ayn Rand’s name.
But lest we forget, without Ayn Rand there is no BioShock, and no “The Fountainhead 2: Just Kidding!” tote bag. Something to think about.
Nichole: feel good brah
it's fucking hot outside
if you wear long pants
you're going to regret it
Rob: good, feel bra
it's hot fucking outside
if you wear pants long
you're going to regret it
An event which occurs “once in a blue moon” has a frequency of approximately 1.16699016 × 10-8 hertz.
"STAY STILL MY THROBBING CLITORIS"
— Nae (via filialpails)
"STAY STILL MY THROBBING CLITORIS"
— Nae
Wow why buy my art if you don’t like it.i don’t know why this confession is hilarious but it is
top 2 are ok but bottom ones look kinda flat… lol
i really don’t like the way she draws anything. the anatomy in her manga is fucking horrible!!! i was kind of just like “um what the fuck is this trash” when i read it
Female crotch appreciation station.
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