“People go out to look at sunrises and sunsets who do not recognize their own, quietly and happily, but know that it is foreign to them. As they do by books, so they quote the sunset and the star, and do not make them theirs. Worse yet, they live as foreigners in a world of truth, and quote thoughts, and thus disown them. Quotation confesses inferiority.”—Ralph Waldo Emerson - Letters and Social Aims 1876 (via 52books)
“She smiled at him, making sure that the smile gathered up everything inside her and directed it toward him, making him a profound promise of herself for so little, for the beat of a response, the assurance of a complimentary vibration in him.”—F. Scott Fitzgerald (via quotewhore)
I’m currently at my parent’s house and can’t sleep…no sleeping pills. Gah, it’s hell. But I couldn’t go home tonight. I am sick of being in a house alone. I’m lonely. I don’t have god, or religion to keep me company anymore. Ignorance was such bliss in that regard. I almost wish I had never reached the level of awareness I’m at right now. I miss being able to pray to someone, to have someone to pretend to listen to what I have to say. I recognize that religion can be a very incredible thing. It gives people something to believe in when they don’t have the motivation to create their own reasons to be happy. I do really wish I could believe in god, but my heart knows it’d be like trying to date someone you really don’t like. You do it because you’re lonely and it’s an easy fix, but your heart isn’t 100% there.
Really. sleep now.
I’ve always been curious as to why you have such a strong aversion towards religion? I am not asking because I want a debate or anything, I am just honestly curious. In this post, you seemed to have had a part in religion in the past. What made you turn away?
Sometimes when I am frustrated with something or someone, I create these fake fights in my head where I imagine saying all the things I would say, without actually having to put myself out there and say them. Well, in this fake fight, I insulted someone by calling them a statistic.
But you know what? That is not an insult! You wanna know why? We are all fucking statistics!
Low income? Double check
Between the ages of 21-25? Check
See? Calling someone a statistic as an insult is dumb. Instead, just call them a stupid fucking bitch/bastard or a C U Next Tuesday.
So prepositionalphrase and I are involved. Whenever one of us is panicky or feeling inadequate, we call the other to make each other feel better. Today I called her. Here are the highlights:
Me: I suck
Megan: No you don’t
Me: I suck at finances.
Megan: Oh, well yeah…
Me: I overdrew my account and I wasn’t even spending money! I am going to have to become a prostitute!
Megan: Just remember this is the poorest we will ever be. Someday we won’t have to check our account to buy coffee. Besides, we don’t want the lives of those who didn’t have to struggle financially. Deep breaths.
Traumatic insemination, also known as hypodermic insemination, is the mating practice in some species of invertebratesin which the male pierces the female’s abdomen with his penis and injects his sperm through the wound into her abdominal cavity. The sperm diffuse through the female’s hemolymph, reaching the ovaries and resulting in fertilization. The process is detrimental to the female’s health. It creates an open wound which impairs the female until it heals, and is susceptible to infection. The injection of sperm and ejaculatory fluids into the hemocoel can also trigger an immune reaction in the female. (via Shane Vigil)
I suck at matching my socks. They refuse to have mates, so I have given up spending hours matching up my socks with their appropriate mates. I have one pair that are blatantly not matching because one is brown with palm trees, and the other is white with monkies on it; I pair these socks together because they are tropical themed.
1) I had a dream last night that I stole four puppies from the pet store (I only say stole because I didn’t technically pay for them, but the woman let me walk out with them).
I didn’t know where to put them because I knew my mother would be mad, so I hid them in my sister’s room because she already had a kitten in there.
But then I forgot about them and they miraculously disappeared.
2) I had a dream that I went to an Iron and Wine concert, and both Sam Beam and I were wearing dinosaur t’s, and he called me out from the crowd and said, “hey, we have matching dinosaur t’s, so cool.” Then he let me hang out with him back stage.
Today at work, this crazy man came in, dancing around awkwardly in the lobby, trying to get to the bathroom. In retrospect, I think he was doing the pee-pee dance. When he gets out of the bathroom, he comes up to the counter, takes off his hat very dramatically, and ends up flicking a ton of what I thought was water, all over my arm and my face. I yelled, “eew!” and glared at him until he left.
BUT, he was trying to communicate something to me: “I piddled everywhere.”
I didn’t think he actually meant he peed everywhere, I thought he was just being psychotic.
BUT, another customer came out of the bathroom and said there was urine EVERYWHERE. All over the toilet seat, all over the floor, and all over the walls.
Oh my fucking God, what if what he flicked on me wasn’t water, but his fucking urine.
So today while driving home from work, I realized something:
My relationship to my sister and her new kitten is similar to a slutty teenager who has a child and her grandmother. In this situation, my sister is the slutty teenager who has a child (the kitten) and I am the grandmother. My sister is technically the mom, but she doesn’t take responsibility of her child because she’s too busy wearing baby phat and gettin’ it on with her boo, so I end up taking care of the child while she is at the clubs. The child in turn feels closer to me than he does his mother, yet he will always remember that my sister is his mom, and I am his grandma. Further, the child will never be able to fully trust his mother because she always abandons him, so even if his mother ever does get it together, he will still choose to live with his grandmother because it’s just more stable.
Brother, remember when I used to meet up with you at K.O. and get a Blue Moon and bitch at you about high maintenance customers? Well, have I got a fucking story for you.
On Saturday, an hour before my eight hour shift was over, a couple came in and ordered the following:
1. Iced decaf grande in a venti breve triple the caramel, with whip, extra ice, caramel macchiato
2. Venti extra caramel caramel macchiato
3. Iced venti breve extra caramel caramel macchiato
THEN, the worst woman I have ever met orders these drinks:
1. Two Venti two pump vanilla, one pump classic, eight scoop matcha, grande scoop of ice, extra cream base Green Tea Frappuccinos, one with whip, one without
2. Iced venti four pump vanilla, three inches caramel sauce, half iced coffee, half milk, with whip and caramel drizzle, iced coffee
2. iced decaf grande three pump vanilla, two inches caramel sauce, half ice, half coffee, with whip and caramel drizzle, americano.
3. Grande kids temp hot chocolate
All of these drinks combined, plus the normal orders of lattes, smoothies and frappuccinos took over 30 minutes to make. I gave away 10 customer recovery free drink coupons.
OH, also, the woman who ordered the GTF’s is obese and has three obnoxious obese children that try and get her attention while she’s ordering by saying “mom, Mom, MOM!” Thinking if they just repeat themselves and speak louder each time she will miraculously hear them and acknowledge them. They also run around, terrorizing all of our merchandise, while she yells at them from across the store. I hope this woman and her family get into their crappy car, crash into a truck full of gas, and explode and die by flames.
“She missed him the days when some pretext served to take him away from her, just as one misses the sun on a cloudy day without having thought much about the sun when it was shining.”—Kate Choplin The Awakening (via quotewhore) <——— What the FUCK?! Choplin? Does Janis have a sister? People come on, Chopin!
You are a very social individual. You must be able to talk to your sex partner before making love. You want the object of your affection to be socially acceptable and good looking. You see your lover as a friend and companion. You are very sexual and sensual, needing someone to appreciate and almost worship you. When this cannot be achieved, you have the ability to go for long periods without sexual activity. You are an expert at controlling your desires and doing without.
You are secretive, self-contained, and shy. You are very sexy, sensual, and passionate, but you do not let on to this. Only in intimate privacy will this part of your nature reveal itself. When it gets down to the nitty-gritty, you are an expert. You know all the little tricks of the trade, can play any role or any game, and take your love life very seriously. You don’t fool around. You have the patience to wait for the right person to come along.
You give off vibes of lazy sensuality. You enjoy being romanced, wined, and dined. You are very happy to receive gifts as an expression of the affection of your lover. You want to be pampered and know how to pamper your mate. You are private in your expression of endearments and particularly when it comes to lovemaking. You will hold off until everything meets with your approval. You can control your appetite and abstain from sex if need be. You Require new sensations and experiences. You are willing to experiment.
that keeps you from getting too sloshed when you know you’re headed for an evening of binge drinking. It’s a little gross, but you’re supposed to eat a tablespoon of olive oil. Apparently the oil coats the inside of your stomach, forming a sort of barrier that keeps you from soaking up the booze too quickly. I’ve never tried it before, but I’m headed to a flip cup tournament tonight and I need to be productive tomorrow. In addition to eating three large and rather carby meals today (oatmeal for breakfast, sandwich for lunch, scalloped potatoes for dinner), I am going to test out this trick. I’ll let you know how it goes when I get home.
“I met in the street a very poor young man who was in love. His hat was old, his coat worn, his cloak was out at the elbows, the water passed through his shoes — and the stars through his soul.”—Victor Hugo (via lizrhodes)