I got an owl costume for my birthday and now my life is complete. Bury me in this when I die.
I’m so so close to cutting all ties with Facebook because these fucked people are just everywhere I look now, I don’t want to be in the same place as them anymore. Also, please stop breeding.
I think I’ve managed to drink, smoke, repress and frighten any personality I used to have out of myself.
Here’s a photoshop of a dunnart (Australian rat thing) looking like Fonzie. It’s dedicated to my kangaboo, Liz, who is the only girl in the world I’d ever photoshop a leather jacket onto a rat for. That’s easily the most broken compliment I’ve ever gave a person. Sorry Liz.
2012 will now be the year I take a 17 hour flight to this kids hood because who the fuck else would have ever actually agreed to do this for me? Amazing.
I am dying right now.
Anonymous asked: how old was your mum when she had you?
19 when she fell pregnant, barely 20 by the time I was born. Still to this day she is the most responsible and mature young parent I’ve ever met; I will be forever indebted to her for that.
Probably the best thing my Mum didn’t do as a teen parent was name me after an alcoholic beverage or a sports car.
I don’t know if it’s emotionally responsible to run off to a different city every time someone makes me sad, but I can tell you I’ll keep doing it until the day it stops making me happy.
I quit smoking cigarettes a month ago. I don’t know the exact date because I didn’t mean to quit at first but it’s been about a month. I assumed that I’d be able to run for miles and sweat less while walking and maybe just be a less gross person. Unfortunately, no dice bro. I don’t think cigarettes can even kill you in your twenties. And if you can quit within ten years of starting, you can probably escape death’s clutches.
After the month of being smoke free, all those feeling of weakness and fatigue and knees hurting when I walk and all may hair falling out and my teeth feeling more crooked than usual and whoops, sometimes I can’t open doors on the first try; I’m beginning to realize that it isn’t my diet or alcohol or cigarettes or weed to blame. It’s just you. Your twenties are the first time you decline in an unfixable way and there’s nothing to be done because your body isn’t doing any cool new things anymore and it’s just old and failing even though you still shop at Zumiez and Forever 21.
Growing up, parents and teachers would tell my class that it was our world to shape. Not 2007. Not 2005. 2006. The class of 2006 mattered and we will build things that last forever and the only reason to not be a doctor was because we’d be doing cooler shit like lazers and pizza sandwiches. We all could totally be doctors, though. Up until the very last day, the high school graduation, we waited for the moment where the gates would open and we could flood out into the welcoming world ready to move mountains and change the world.
You never hear it ever again. You’re never made to feel special or important ever again. Maybe you will but you’ll never believe it again. Not truly. College takes you an extra year or you can’t afford your apartment or one bad thing happens and you slowly stop believing all those privilege fairy tales your whole mental psyche was built on.
It gets worse, though. You’ll eventually meet a baby. It could be a nephew or a cousin or your own baby or a baby you just met and you realize that you’re expected to tell that baby that all the doors of the world are open for them. That it’s their world. That they will be important. And I think you’re supposed to mean it, too. I wouldn’t know. Every time I see a baby, I tell it to scram.
There are probably a few things you disagree with here and probably a few things that are wrong because I’m a really unreliable source of information but I can’t help but think of time as a giant vice squeezing my temples until my eyes pop out. In your twenties, you’ll start worrying about your teeth enamel. In your twenties, you’ll start worrying about cholesterol, and how your blood has to put it through your shitty, congested veins. In your twenties, you’re sweat will start smelling like acid and it probably is acid because we start to die too young.
No, no I didn’t just start crying a little on my lunch break.
Anonymous asked: Are you an alcoholic? You seem to talk about drinking a lot :-S
Nah, I’m just Australian. Same thing though really, except calling yourself an Australian will still get you laid.
this somehow works
(via iguessiam)
ahahahaha
(via thisisnotmyfairytaleendingg)
I wish I liked people as much as I like cheese.