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Just finished watching Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency

Oh my god bless these children these perfect creatures let them all be happy for longer than 2 minutes

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This Gremlin has something to say.

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Hey all, I'm liveblogging a shitty horror movie, come on by!

This is now a liveblogging experience because oh my god that drill scene. What even.

We’re only ten minutes into this fucker!

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good news: I made a last minute chel cosplay

bad news: I can’t get a decent pic I like, curse you bad lighting!!! (ig: kieraplease)

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I animated a fake theme song for my ridiculous bunny concept! Fuwa Fuwa Foof, a show about a sweet little bunny who used to be a vicious gang leader. Her old accomplices Giri Giri and Kiri Kiri constantly try to lure her back to a life of debauchery while Foof struggles to resist the good ol’ days of punching in some teeth. This is just for fun, it’s not a real show haha! Song is ‘Chu Chu Lovely’ by Maximum the Hormone

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in the name of science what are the junkers built of (answer: Nasty)

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Boss makes a dollar I make a dime That's why I poop On company time

Pooping while on break = liberal cowardice

Waiting to poop after clocking in = anticapitalist radical action

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my ferret has anime eyes

#beautiful alien creature

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Just finished watching Star Wars Rebels

I honestly wasn’t expecting to like it as much as Clone Wars, but I actually ended up enjoying it more, in some aspects. It seems to run much more smoothly than CW did, and I’m enjoying all the characters and their arcs. It’s nice getting to see some returning faces too however brief. My only complaint is needs moar old clone shenanigans but I do have a clone kink particular interest.

#reblogged from personal

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04. Don’t

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I’m an angry person and I want to let it out and be an asshole but I’m also a nice person and I don’t want to actually hurt anyone’s feelings

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southern memes:

•having literal pastures next to your school •“there’s a half inch of snow we must close schools” •dinky snowmen built out of said half inch of snow •those shirts that girls wear with leggings and boots that say things like “tea drinkin’, jesus lovin’ southern girl” •texas •"what accent? i don’t have an accent" •cicadas •high school football •people getting mugged at rivaling high school football games •monogrammed EVERYTHING •those small town boutiques where everything is pink and green polka dots or chevron print with letters on it •going to smaller towns and people acting like they’ve never seen unnaturally dyed hair before reblog with other Southern Memes

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tl;dr

i believe that i was overpraised as a child, not that i’m complaining; it was very helpful at the time. i had a pretty awesome childhood in a lot of the ways that count and my folks did their best with me. my family are not imaginative or creative people: they are good and hardworking and smart and possess (or did possess) the amazing array of practical skills that are often found in working-class immigrants. my mom and dad were the first generation in their families to go to college and from there into the professional class. they had better opportunities because that’s what their families worked for.

so then there was me. i wasn’t really very good at anything except reading and making stuff up, plus i’m ADD and oppositional and that was hard on them. now being good at reading and making stuff up were not skills common in my family so it was (and still is, amusingly) very confusing for them. they heard me praised by my english teachers (who also knew i was bad at everything that DIDN’T involve reading and making stuff up) and decided that even if they didn’t get it, i must be gifted, which was some compensation for all my weird behavior and could be used to fend off criticism from other family members etc. so i was indulged in that and i think they appreciated anything that kept me quiet and where they could see me *laughing* i was pretty awful.

the thing about precocity is that you grow out of it, and i know most people who would read this know what i’m talking about. i’m not gifted, i just read a lot of books and retain huge quantities of trivia, and all that reading has given me a sense of language and its structure and vocabulary and development and made me an obsessively careful writer. that’s not a gift, it’s a craft, or a skill. now i’m an adult and supposed to be functioning as one, reading and making stuff up are practically useless. what was valued in me as a kid growing up is now valueless. i do believe i’m a good writer; if i didn’t believe that my life would be utterly without meaning or purpose of any kind, and that is not hyperbole. i believe i can help others with this skill, but that won’t replace the clothes that wear out or a replacement laptop or pay rent. it’s a waste of time now, except that it’s the only thing i value about myself.

luckily, i was also partly raised by my blue-collar grandparents, so that and necessity (also i like working with my hands) have taught me to repair and clean and do laundry and cook and sew and knit and i’m reasonably strong and that’s what i do for food and shelter. and that’s what’s become of a gifted child. i’m not complaining, exactly, it’s just that sometimes i wonder. i believe i am wholly responsible for the person i’ve become, and that person is not a bad person. but sometimes i wonder.

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the hat is not a toy

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The cereal is forcefully ejected from my mouth

someone think of a funny current caption for this 2006 era joke

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The first time I met my boyfriend’s grandparents, I was terrified. First, I really wanted them to like me, and second, he told me they were pretty religious. They’re Roman Catholic, but I’m Jewish, and I didn’t get the impression from the rest of his family that that would upset them, but I wasn’t sure they’d be chill with us dating, and I’m always afraid of those unconscious, anti-semitic micro-aggressions. 

Sure enough, within an hour of meeting me they asked if I was religious, in a way that was obviously asking if I had a religion, and which one it was. I calmly told them I was Jewish, and my boyfriend’s grandmother lit up. Her mother was a Syrian who moved to Brooklyn in the early 1900′s and she grew up in a Syrian and Jewish community in Brooklyn and boy wasn’t it nice to have someone around who could help her with her Jewish pastry. It was really pleasant. His grandfather was mostly quiet. 

After lunch, he and I shared a cup of coffee and some cookies and I told him about my brothers. He asked if my mom was ok with me dating a gentile. And then he looked around, saw we were alone for a sec, and asked me to follow him out to the garage. In the garage he asked me to take an old picnic basket down from off a cabinet. And then he told me to open it. The moment the lid came off I knew. I knew that shade of red. He told me to take it out and lay it across the floor. It was a Nazi flag. Not just a Nazi flag, but one that was big enough to fly outside a government office, like a massive one. I laid it out, ice in my veins, trying to figure out what was about to happen next. And then he told me to take my shoes off and stand on it. 

He told me his vision wasn’t good enough to get into the army, so he snuck on a ship and figured that they’d have to deal with him when he was in Europe, and that’s what happened. He told me he went because they all knew it was bad, and he wanted to help. He told me he took the flag off of some dead Nazis. He told me to go home and tell my mother that I was safe with these goyim she’d never met, that I was loved and welcome and that they’d fight for me. He told me “Never Again”.

He passed away a few years ago, and only after his death, cleaning out his closets did we find his old patches and look up his division. This quiet man who said very little but always shared a cup of coffee with me after lunch was in an anti-tank division, and he and his division liberated camps in Poland. He saw the horrors, first hand. 

Today is Holocaust Remembrance Day. Today is a day to reaffirm our promise of “Never Again”. Today is a day to remember that the only way for things to get better is to fight. Today is a good day to punch a Nazi. Do it for me. Do it for Grandpa Rocco. Do it for the world.