Post reblogged from The Physics Guy with 17 notes
These are usually my go-to sites for hilarity. Why does all of the shit need to get real at once??
No kidding. Also a surprising amount of the things that have happened to Marten have happened to me…it’s starting to freak me out a little.
Source: mnkyman663
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Watch? Like? Reblog? It’s two minutes and it’s for a class project if you want to help me get a good grade.
I love you all.
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On Friday, Frank the dolphin trainer ran by in a fluffy hurry. He was late for a very sexy training session with the dolphins. His dildo was messy and he was wearing mismatched referees! He looked awfully thick. The tour guide, Miss Chyna, said “Bonjour!” to him, he only waved and licked as he rushed past. Frank doesn’t like to be late! 1965 seconds later, Frank arrived at the dolphin tank. He was out of breath and hard with embarrassment. The dolphins giggled behind their flippers and gave him a wet look. Frank looked down to see he had forgotten to put on his XXL shirt. He froze! After a second, though, he shrugged and said, “Toot it and boot it!” They all had a friendly laugh and got started with training.
(And you thought I’d forgotten.)
Quote with 1 note
The nights are long but the years are short when you’re alive.
This song is shocking beautiful.
It’s the simplicity of it: the melody is the kind of melody you could hum to yourself without anything backing it (and, in fact, barely has any backing), and the lyrics are a sublime example of minimalist writing. In just a few lines, Paul paints a remarkable picture with a gorgeous melody to go with it.
Triumphs like these are the reason I love studying music, and why I constantly hope one day something this stunning will occur to me.
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Good: Attractive people.
Better: Attractive people who can deal with being attractive.
Bad: Attractive people who think, because they’re attractive, they own the world or something.
Worse: People who act like this and are ugly as sin.
(Worst: Ugly tits just kidding don’t kill me Megan oh god)
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I would have totally forgotten, except that Facebook is the ultimate reminder of everything. And since I a) haven’t posted anything in a while and b) would guess that you don’t read this anymore, I figured I’d reflect a little.
It’s been quite some time since we last talked. Hell, it’s been some time since I’ve even really heard your name. Everything just sort of got…erased. Or forgotten. Except you’re still around in the tiniest of ways. The other day I was sorting through some of my stuff from the apartment and came across my drawer of random personal items. Some pictures, a drawing of a raptor doing math that you’ve probably forgotten signed with a heart, and at the very bottom of the pile—a ring. Almost overlooked but still there. It gave me pause.
And then I moved it all into a new box, one where I’m storing that kind of thing. Have I moved on? That’s a funny way of putting it. I’ve moved on in the sense that my attraction towards you, my desire to have you as my girlfriend has all but disappeared. I catch myself every now and then missing it, but I realize that’s exactly what I’m missing—it, not you. Yeah, every now and then I wish I had someone there, someone to talk to about stuff, someone to cuddle with, someone to depend on and whatever other romantic things you want to throw in there. But it’s not your face there anymore. Putting you there would be believing in a person who, quite frankly, doesn’t exist anymore. So in that sense, I have “moved on.”
But to pretend you haven’t affected my life is, well, silly. I often wonder if we sat down and talked now if you would even recognize the person you used to know. My priorities, my goals, my feelings on life—they’ve all just slowly shifted ever since you left. They say people change in college; I guess I’m just a late bloomer. And hell, I probably wouldn’t recognize you either. Though to be fair, that was already true long before we split.
There’s a part of me that wishes we could’ve stayed better friends, but I realized pretty quickly that no matter what you said, it would always be my responsibility and my burden. So I let it go, and we moved apart. And knowing you, and knowing me, it’ll probably just stay that way. We’re kind of out of things to say to each other.
But hey. Happy birthday. I really mean that. Because on the off chance that you do still read this, it’ll probably mean a lot more than a random post on a Facebook wall.
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