RandomFandoms

desirethepositive:

fuckyeahthespianpeacock:

saltheria:

yeffyaboyuice:

mythchief:

So there I was, ready to take a shower. I mean, I was dirty, a little greasy, a shower was not such a horrible idea. People take showers, amiright? Of course!
I get naked.
FULL naked.
REAL naked.
I’m talking the exact opposite reason why you ever went to your grandmother’s house.
No cookies. Blatant nudity.
That’s how folks take showers these days, right? Well, I pull back the curtain…
And there it was.
This…thing…sitting on the little soap/shower/pube shelf. Not a care in the world, like it’s been there for years. “What the fuck is that?” I think to myself.
Now, what follows is the exact pattern of thought that took me from rational human being to Sloth in 3.4 seconds.
“Is that a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit? Holy fuck that’s a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit. OMG why would someone leave that unattended. Those things are so delicious. I’m gonna eat the fuck out of it. Man, I can’t wait to see whoever left it’s face when they come back to find that someone ate their cheesy biscuit’s fuck. Ohhh boy.”
Then my brain sent a message to my arm that said, “Reach for that cheesy biscuit, bitch. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!?”
As you must already know, we are all contractually bound to make a dickload of mistakes throughout our lifetime. Some of those mistakes are so big that they forever hinder our world and warrant entire chapters in our children’s history books. However, most mistakes have the dubious providence of merely haunting one’s soul and festering amidst the subconscious for always and eternity.
This was, nearly, one of those.
If my adjacency to failure could be measured, the only possible unit of measurement to appropriate it would be “baby condoms”. And no, I do not mean those horrendous papoose-like titty-cribs that the slovenly carriage their spawn around in in Wal-Mart, I mean condoms that a baby would wear.
My adjacency to failure was roughly 1 and a half Kiddie Trojans.
I’m not sure what stopped me, be it cosmic or supernatural, but it gave my brain just enough time to ask itself some rather important questions regarding this little tub treasure. Questions like:
“WHO, THE FUCK, WOULD LEAVE A CHEESY BISCUIT IN MY SHOWER?!”
And inquiries such as:
“AND WHY WERE YOU GOING TO EAT IT, MORON?!”
Seriously, was I so hungry that I would wantonly disobey all the integral conditioning and survival imprinting my parents bestowed upon me like the ever important, “Um, don’t eat that biscuit, you don’t know where it’s been or whose it is and also you found it in the shower.” in order to satisfy something so benign as a munchie?
That, I’m sorry to say, was pretty much my reality.
An early morning introspective psychological evaluation of a sad, hungry, naked man who almost ate a bar of soap.

OMG ITS BACK

This shit needs to be published.

This is going in the monologue section and I’m not even sorry.

caffeinatedredhead
you needed to read this I’m crying

desirethepositive:

fuckyeahthespianpeacock:

saltheria:

yeffyaboyuice:

mythchief:

So there I was, ready to take a shower. I mean, I was dirty, a little greasy, a shower was not such a horrible idea. People take showers, amiright? Of course!

I get naked.

FULL naked.

REAL naked.

I’m talking the exact opposite reason why you ever went to your grandmother’s house.

No cookies. Blatant nudity.

That’s how folks take showers these days, right? Well, I pull back the curtain…

And there it was.

This…thing…sitting on the little soap/shower/pube shelf. Not a care in the world, like it’s been there for years. “What the fuck is that?” I think to myself.

Now, what follows is the exact pattern of thought that took me from rational human being to Sloth in 3.4 seconds.

“Is that a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit? Holy fuck that’s a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit. OMG why would someone leave that unattended. Those things are so delicious. I’m gonna eat the fuck out of it. Man, I can’t wait to see whoever left it’s face when they come back to find that someone ate their cheesy biscuit’s fuck. Ohhh boy.”

Then my brain sent a message to my arm that said, “Reach for that cheesy biscuit, bitch. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!?”

As you must already know, we are all contractually bound to make a dickload of mistakes throughout our lifetime. Some of those mistakes are so big that they forever hinder our world and warrant entire chapters in our children’s history books. However, most mistakes have the dubious providence of merely haunting one’s soul and festering amidst the subconscious for always and eternity.

This was, nearly, one of those.

If my adjacency to failure could be measured, the only possible unit of measurement to appropriate it would be “baby condoms”. And no, I do not mean those horrendous papoose-like titty-cribs that the slovenly carriage their spawn around in in Wal-Mart, I mean condoms that a baby would wear.

My adjacency to failure was roughly 1 and a half Kiddie Trojans.

I’m not sure what stopped me, be it cosmic or supernatural, but it gave my brain just enough time to ask itself some rather important questions regarding this little tub treasure. Questions like:

“WHO, THE FUCK, WOULD LEAVE A CHEESY BISCUIT IN MY SHOWER?!”

And inquiries such as:

“AND WHY WERE YOU GOING TO EAT IT, MORON?!”

Seriously, was I so hungry that I would wantonly disobey all the integral conditioning and survival imprinting my parents bestowed upon me like the ever important, “Um, don’t eat that biscuit, you don’t know where it’s been or whose it is and also you found it in the shower.” in order to satisfy something so benign as a munchie?

That, I’m sorry to say, was pretty much my reality.

An early morning introspective psychological evaluation of a sad, hungry, naked man who almost ate a bar of soap.

OMG ITS BACK

This shit needs to be published.

This is going in the monologue section and I’m not even sorry.

caffeinatedredhead
you needed to read this I’m crying

(via thefictionaffair)

gray-firearms:

jeremylawson:

scoobiesnboobies:

victran:

actanonverbaus:

winneganfake:

I HAVE FINALLY FOUND THE PAINT JOB I NEED ON MY CAR.

Drooling….

legit

Imagine the fear when people are walking hella slow in front of your car and you yell “MOVE FUCKER” at them

Normally I don’t reblog newer cars, but that paint is fucking awesome.

Id fucks with it

gray-firearms:

jeremylawson:

scoobiesnboobies:

victran:

actanonverbaus:

winneganfake:

I HAVE FINALLY FOUND THE PAINT JOB I NEED ON MY CAR.

Drooling….

legit

Imagine the fear when people are walking hella slow in front of your car and you yell “MOVE FUCKER” at them

Normally I don’t reblog newer cars, but that paint is fucking awesome.

Id fucks with it

(Source: thestroyer, via foresakentimelord)

razzledazzy:

needlekind:

sweet fuckin christ luke

truly an inspiration 

razzledazzy:

needlekind:

sweet fuckin christ luke

truly an inspiration 

(Source: needlekind, via foresakentimelord)

rockluke:

stilesinatrenchcoat:

phoenixx23:

spookyflys:


thanl:


psyducked:


romancingthelookyloos:


romancingthelookyloos:


I think we should talk about puberty…





yo imma let you finish but


I had one of the best puberty transformations of all time



yes okay but

girls can do it too


Step back, peeps, and fasten your seat-belts.  Time to bring in a puberty professional.
BEFORE PUBERTY:
After puberty:

…. wait.  That’s not right.  Hold on.
Let’s fast-forward about five more years.

Ah, yes, there we go.  Right after I sold my soul to Satan. 


fuckin

PLOT
TWIST


Naw son you can’t be hot in two genders you fucking cheated

this is my favorite post because its just people bragging about how hot they are

rockluke:

stilesinatrenchcoat:

phoenixx23:

spookyflys:

thanl:

psyducked:

romancingthelookyloos:

romancingthelookyloos:

I think we should talk about puberty…

image

yo imma let you finish but

I had one of the best puberty transformations of all time

yes okay but

girls can do it too

Step back, peeps, and fasten your seat-belts.  Time to bring in a puberty professional.

BEFORE PUBERTY:

image

After puberty:

image

…. wait.  That’s not right.  Hold on.

Let’s fast-forward about five more years.

image

Ah, yes, there we go.  Right after I sold my soul to Satan. 

fuckin

photo IMG_0998_zps8237a196.jpg

PLOT

photo 168953_175287445844057_6570840_n-1_zps737126b9.jpgTWIST

photo 537080_221894307976482_994889695_n_zps3943ffdd.jpg

Naw son you can’t be hot in two genders you fucking cheated

this is my favorite post because its just people bragging about how hot they are

(via foresakentimelord)

Kidnapper: Get in the fukin van

Me: Oh ok cool

Kidnapper: Wut

Me: This is a febreze commercial right

Kidnapper: Wut

Me: Smells pretty shitty in here to me tbh

zevransbutt:

me: *points at adult character who is taller, stronger and older than me* small child. must protect at all costs. shelter. very tiny

(via my-tardis-sense-is-tingling)

shaxaphone:

your honor, my client is innocent. like, come on. for real. come on, your honor. seriously dude

bro, you feel me? capishe?

(via thefictionaffair)

me: whats your opinion on tampons

little brother: they're little fuzzy sticks on strings

me: then you are ultimately more mature than most boys

little brother: why

me: for some reason tampons are gross and taboo just cuz they go in a vagina

little brother: well so does a penis and boys never stop talking about those

me:

little brother:

me: that is a fantastic point

overlypolitebisexual:

cat people: dogs are cool too
dog people: cats don’t feel love did you know a cat once MURDERED my MOTHER

(via thefictionaffair)