beans motherfucker

Weirdness from a weird girl (Whom you may or may not love, it's not up to me dude. Whatever floats your boat.)

305,821 notes

fredweasley:

"you have little boobs!" “wow you look really tired!" “you look sick" “you’re look mad" “i don’t like your outfit, you looked better in that other shirt" “your hair is really messy!" “wow you sure are eating a ton!" “did you just wake up?" “i liked your hair before you cut it!"

  • stop
  • pointing
  • stuff
  • like
  • this
  • out

(via ishidonk)

7,570 notes

I’ve been thinking about something lately.

Imagine this:

You’re on an airplane, sleeping with your head against the window, your heart set on being home this time three hours from now. All of a sudden, something goes very wrong. The plane stops moving across the air and instead starts falling through it. The lights are flickering and the movie is skipping. The plane dips hundreds of feet in seconds, and the yellow cups fall from the ceiling. They’re a brighter shade of yellow than you remember, because unlike the demonstration, these cups have never been handled before. “Flight attendants take your seats now”, you hear, the pilot’s voice trembling over a cacophony of alert tones. You get that smell in the bridge of your nose like you’ve just been hit with a football. That’s what the fear smells like. The plane is going down.

Four more drastic drops in under a minute. People are crying. For all the folklore about how your life flashes before your eyes, you’re remarkably fixed on one vision – your parents. They’re sleeping at this very moment, in a bedroom so quiet they can hear the clock in the kitchen. And you can see them, clear as can be. You wish you could see a playground or a first kiss, but all you can see is your parents sleeping. Huh. Well, that’s that.

Several long minutes go by. Then, all at once, the lights come back on and the plane somehow rights itself. Some people cheer, but most people cry harder. The plane lands about an hour later, and as soon as you feel that touch down – hell, even when you were within 50 feet of the ground and could still technically survive a fall – you realize that however you brokered the deal between you and God worked; you’ve just been granted life in overtime.

Here’s the question: what do you change? Whom do you call that you haven’t spoken to in years? Whom do you realize has been toxic to your heart and drop with surprising ease? What trips do you cancel, and what trips do you book? What can’t you be bothered with anymore? What’s the new you like?

Think about that, and then ask one more question. Why not just change it all right now?

John Mayer (via contrafuckingband)

(via fallintolight)

71,093 notes

rexuality:

I hate being told to do something I was already planning on doing

like I was all about doing this task, and then you told me to do it and now i am annoyed and this task is now 300x less likely to be completed

(via chamiryokuroi)

2,707 notes

Anonymous asked: What has caused you to hate men so much?

claudiaboleyn:

Funny you should ask! I’ll let you in on my origin story if you like?

Well, once upon a time I was your average, man-loving, non-opinionated, quiet, submissive, totally sexually available young woman. I loved the dudes. I can’t tell you how much I worshipped those blokes. I couldn’t even open a jar back then. Ah, the memories. I shied from the colour blue. I refused to step into a room that contained power tools. Football frightened me into week long seclusions. Don’t get me started on the horror beer brought on. 

And then, one night, I left my window open. It was hot, y’know? I probably shouldn’t have done it. 

But in flew the Misandry Fairy. She was magnificent. As she fluttered into my room she left a trail of glittering misogynist tears that sparkled like diamonds. She wore blood red especially smeary lipstick, the type that scares guys and makes them afraid of kissing you, to ward them off. She had beautifully hairy legs, hairy arms, and wore high waisted shorts (which we all know is the 2014 trend men hate). It wasn’t 2014 at the time, you understand, but she’s a fairy so I assume she looked into the future to find inspiration for her particular misandric look. She was also a lesbian. Because we all know how those lesbians hate men, right? 

"Claudia," she said to me. "It’s time to face your destiny. Inside of you is a burning misandric rage unlike anything the world has ever seen. When you wake up tomorrow, I want you opening jars left right and centre. Open so many jars that the men get jealous. Open so many jars that you and everyone around you are in danger of drowning in the contents. Keep on opening them. No matter what. Never give up." 

I was so shocked that I did not answer. It was the middle of the night and I was unaccustomed to being visited by such wise and noble beings. 

Before she left, she turned around in the air, her fluttering rainbow wings shining in the moonlight, and whispered: “Also, you’re queer. The Coming Out fairy was busy so I took his shift. Have a nice day.” 

The next morning I awoke and began to carry out my purpose. From that day on, men have trembled to see me. Occasionally they whimper “don’t let her near any jars for the love of God”, but most of the time they merely scatter as I enter any vicinity I please. 

I owe her everything. Without her, I would not be the woman I am today. 

This story is 100% true. You can quote me on it and everything. Never let anyone tell you fairies don’t exist. They do. And they’re raging misandrists. 

xxx