(via heraldofultimateness)
Q
Anonymous asked:
California Delenda Est
A
It will become a tomb for the sun itself
It’s a little surprising that the “Monday’s child is fair of face” nursery rhyme never caught on as an arbitrary personality-assigner in the same way astrology did. It makes the same amount of sense.
Imagine people going around saying “yeah I could never date a Wednesday child, they’re wired to be miserable and emotionally draining and as a Friday child I know I’d end up doing so much emotional labour for them”
For those who don’t know (I didn’t either):
Monday’s child is fair of face,
Tuesday’s child is full of grace.
Wednesday’s child is full of woe,
Thursday’s child has far to go.
Friday’s child is loving and giving,
Saturday’s child works hard for a living.
But the child that is born on Sabbath day,
Is bonny and blithe, good and gay.So now, I ask…
illegal immigration is swag and epic and i salute everyone who does it. personally i think if you can afford to move somewhere you should be allowed to live there no questions asked. actually even if you cant afford it, it’s not like i can afford to live here either. who give a shit.
i am always urging people to think about what “safe for work” really means and why we’ve come to equate “won’t be found objectionable by your employer, who has the power to ruin your life” with “good and harmless and ‘wholesome’”
(via little-robin-h00d)
i would get out and VOTE
create a safe space for queer voices
engage in peaceful protest and boycott labubu for 1 day
probably mention it on my blog very briefly
(via adderallcrusher)
If you could change the size of your feet, would you?
No
Yeah i’d make them smaller
Yeah i’d make the bigger
I don’t have feet
✨ Shiny button ✨
(via were--ralph)
I imagine that becoming a parent was a wildly different thing in like the 70s before giving a shit was invented. Everyone just supposed that everyone’s gonna do it and you just have your first at 21 after getting married at 19, let them little shits loose outside all day while your husband is at work at the Forever Chemical Pollutant Factory and you’re sitting at home drunk as hell breastfeeding the baby. Your eldest Little Ronny Douglas runs in at 9 pm like “hey ma I was crawling through the ditches at the abandoned mine field three towns over and I caught this frog and my friend Donny caught tetanus” and you’re just like “yeah whatever that’s nice dear” and tap the ashes from your cigarette on the bald spot on top his head. You don’t know why that’s there but it’s been there a while and you’ve been using it as an ashtray for a few years and it seems fine.
(via czech-hunter-reject)
Bestie you are getting a little bold with the comments. That shit is for the tags




