if tumblr was bought out for $1.1B and there are 60 million blogs that means each blog is worth $18.3
my blog is worth more than i am
Well actually it would cost anywhere between $5,000 - $250,000 to hire an assassin to kill you so chin up hun, you are worth so much more than $18.30
first the body parts comparison now the assassins thank you tumblr
Mandi and I always say that we have that best two dogs in the world and we honestly believe that. There is only one downfall, sex. Having sex in our house is almost impossible without having dog issues. They cry/bark on the other side of the door and if the door is open they just stare and wag their tails. (imagine how distracting that is?!) Two ways around this is to wait till they fall asleep or drown out their barking with music. Geez and to think we don’t even have human children yet!
I NEVER KNEW THIS
I NEVER KNEW THAT WAS WHAT AMERICANS MEANT WHEN THEY SAID “QUITE”
WHY DIDN’T ANYBODY TELL ME
SUDDENLY THAT ONE SONG THAT GOES “HELLO I MISS YOU QUITE TERRIBLY” MAKES LIKE A MILLION TIMES MORE SENSE
are you serious british people
i feel like this means i’ve been overestimating your enthusiasm about things for my entire life
do you ever look around at the big crowds of people around you and realize everyone has a story and memories and family and troubles and achievements and a first kiss and a broken heart but you’ll never know any of it and every human life is really intricate and expansive but oh they’ve walked into a shop and you’ll never see them again and you’ll never know just what they were thinking
I’ve seen a lot of people make really cool pokemon fusions. I, on the other hand……
I can’t take anything seriously…
CALL LIFE ALERT
IS SEASEA LIKE THE FRINKIN MOON MOON OF POKEMON
I swear, I will do this every single time one of my little brothers graduates from somewhere.
you are my new favorite person
im Sorry but you two cant get the marriage. the bible said Adam and Eve not matthew and ashley. come back when youve legally changed your names
I say, ‘I am fat.’
He says ‘No, you are beautiful.’
I wonder why I cannot be both.
He kisses me
My college theater professor once told me
that despite my talent,
I would never be cast as a romantic lead.
We do plays that involve singing animals
and children with the ability to fly,
but apparently no one
has enough willing suspension of disbelief
to go with anyone loving a fat girl.
I daydream regularly
about fucking my boyfriend vigorously on his front lawn.
On the mornings I do not feel pretty,
while he is still asleep,
I sit on the floor and check the pockets of his skinny jeans for motive,
for a punchline,
for other girls’ phone numbers.
When we hold hands in public,
I wonder if he notices the looks —
like he is handling a parade balloon on a crowded sidewalk;
if he notices that my hands are now made of rope.
Dear Cosmo: Fuck you.
I will not take sex tips from you
on how to please a man you think I do not deserve.
He tells me he loves me with the lights on.
I can cup his hip bone in my hand,
feel his ribs without pressing very hard at all.
He does not believe me when I tell him he is beautiful.
Sometimes I fear the day he does will be the day he leaves.
The cute hipster girl at the coffee shop
assumes we are just friends
and flirts over the counter.
I spend the next two weeks
mentally replacing myself with her
in all of our photographs.
When I admit this to him
we spend the evening taking new photos together.
He will not let me delete a single one of them.
The phrase “Big girls need love too” can die in a fire.
Fucking me does not require an asterisk.
Loving me is not a fetish.
Finding me beautiful is not a novelty.
I am not a fucking novelty.
I say, ‘I am fat.’
He says, ‘No. You are so much more’,
and kisses me