learned today (after googling it upon seeing the "Sadomasochism Brothers" post) that masochism was named by a psychiatrist who had read Leopold von Sacher-Masoch's erotic writing and was like "I feel safe in concluding that this man had Fucked-Up Freak Sex Disorder, which now until forever will bear his name", while von Sacher-Masoch was still alive. there are accounts of von Sacher-Masoch being like "bro what the fuck" about this
I hear the words "bichon frise" and my brain spends an uncountably long moment frantically overturning every memory I have, desperately trying to remember what foreign luxury car brand I have to pretend to care about in order for this conversation to go favorably. After my every mote of knowledge about cars has been thoroughly ransacked and I am on the verge of failing this social interaction, a smudged sticky note flutters into view that simply says "small white dog."
It is RAINING and it'll rain ALL DAY. I should NOT be forced to go work for capitalist PIGS I should be allowed to STAY HOME in my COMFY COZY BED drinking HOT CHOCOLATE and SNUGGLING MY BLAHAJ
that beautiful tall dommy ukrainian cosplayer lady who's big with the chinese lesbians is so awesome because she probably drowned her abusive husband in the indonesian ocean and no one cares
i would've fucked so hard as a court jester in ye olde i would've jangled my balls and done a little dance and sang my silly tunes i'd be so good at my job. alas i have to be on tumblr instead which is like a poor imitation of it
Imagine if you had a neighbour who keeps performing songs from Phantom of the Opera in his apartment every night, by himself but accompanied by a parrot, which he has taught to sing Christine's part. Admittedly it's kind of obnoxious but you are far too baffled to even be properly annoyed. And also you don't want to confront someone with that kind of power and determination. So every once in a while you just hear this guy dramatically bellow