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new jershe/they

#AWESOME

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#goomy !!! #love him :-)

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this girl in the campus library has a bedazzled beatles handbag ??

#need

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t shirt that says "I AM AN UNREPENTANT SEXUAL PERVERT" and the back says "ASK ME ABOUT MY SOCIALLY UNACCEPTABLE FETISHES" i exclusively wear it to target

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“ambrose is really cool:)” HER NAME IS THE HARMONICA PLAYER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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#always

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torture the bisexual brunette man some more

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The straight woman is unsatisfied with straight studio porn. She wants to get off to something in which the actors actually emote and show passion beyond canned moans from the women and, at best, vacant grunts from the men. She turns to gay porn. She knows it's not "for her," but neither was the straight porn, and at least the actors look like they're enjoying themselves. And for a short while she is satiated by Sean Cody et al, but she runs into the same problems she had to begin with. She was not looking at sex but a simulacrum of sex, trapped in Plato's cave. Unsatisfied, she turned to vintage gay porn, harkening to a time when most gay bars still had darkrooms and reliably smelled of piss and Amyl Nitrite. Here was the real thing, in all its animalistic passion. But she still couldn't immerse herself in the fantasy. She wanted the media to engage with her own imagination and meet her half-way, rather than having it spoonfed to her onscreen. She turned to yaoi, with its elongated figures reminiscent of mannerist portraiture, then bara, including hardcore BDSM scenes. But the tactile sensations depicted in the pages didn't do justice to their real life counterparts. She turned deeper into her own imagination, this time reading erotica. No, not the poolside paperbacks sold at Barnes and Noble. The good shit. Why then, was she still not satisfied? She dug deeper, searching for the true meaning of eroticism. She studied the psychoanalysis of Freud, the cultural criticism of Susan Sontag, the feminist poetry of Audre Lorde. She took vacation time and flew to Europe, starting at the caves of Lascaux to explore the human urge to create, then traversed the Camino de Santiago on foot, along the way meeting a 56 year old carpenter from Burgos named Andrés, with whom she had an explosive affair. They both knew it couldn't last, which made them cherish each other's touch all the more. Upon flying home, she gave up. If her search for true eroticism never bore fruit this whole time, why would it now? It would take years before she stumbled upon the answer by pure happenstance: dubstep.

#posts i’d send to joey walker if we were friends

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when I was a kid there was something sublimely scintillating to me about the idea of being a rat stuck in a glue trap. so when me and my friend found some rubber cement at school, naturally the best thing we could think of to do with it was to stick the two of our hands together which was fun for like 5 minutes but pretty quickly after that, panic set in and when our teacher saw us blubbering and joined at the palms like the world's stupidest game of "London Bridge is Falling Down" she sighed and sent us off to the nurse's office (who was all too familiar with the sight of my face, since I left my class frequently to pay her visits for any reason ranging from "bloody nose" to "my tummy hurt[a lie, of course - I just didn't much care for the current chapter of Because of Winn-Dixie that was being read to us during Read-Aloud Time]"), who scratched her head for awhile before painstakingly chipping the glue out from between our hands with an x-acto knife. Her next course of action was to inform both of our parents of our misdeed - I don't know what kind of punishment my friend's father doled out, but for my actions, I was grounded to my room and forbidden from our trip to the movie theaters to see the hotly-anticipated rat themed movie Flushed Away (2006) which of course devastated me because of my previously stated fetish for glue traps. As I later found out when it was released on DVD later that year, Flushed Away (2006) doesn't have any glue traps in it, but i didn't know that at the time, and so I essentially viewed this as punishment for indulging my passions. so for the next 10 years or so I repressed any wandering thought of being restrained by a pad of glue that entered my mind, and it was only by the time I could be considered a young adult that I once again allowed myself to entertain the blissful notion. Now I'm a normal and well-adjusted adult who sexually enjoys the thought of being trapped in a glue trap a healthy amount, so basically, the moral of the story is never let anyone punish you for following your passions

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#*******

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god knew not to give me a dick because I would be getting hard every time I eat a cream cheese bagel

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I had a dream that there were Jerma impersonators. Like Elvis impersonators, but for Jerma. And like Elvis impersonators, a large majority of them could officiate weddings. So Jerma did a stream where he managed to hire as many as he could to officiate a wedding between himself and another Jerma impersonator. It was just a church full of Jermas all speaking over each other, while Real Jerma was trying to get them to settle down.

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Joe cast a spell of binding on amby now we can't continue the fucking record

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#through gritted teeth Dont even watch it its bad and horrible

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they call it a harmonica because they harm you if you play it, buddy

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in the club, straight up "thinkang it". and by "it", lets just say. my thouts