kumbala-mar

[kumbala-mar]

the signs as "drunk types"

Aries: the fighting drunk (always wants to fight everyone)

Taurus: the comical drunk (not actually funny, but they sure think they are)

Gemini: the lovey drunk (everyone either becomes their bestfriend or the love of their life)

Cancer: the dumb drunk (literally forgets everything and everyone)

Leo: the tired/cuddly drunk (always tryna sleep on people and shit)

Virgo: the giggly drunk (thinks everything is a jOKE)

Libra: the bitchy drunk (pointing out things wrong with everyone)

Scorpio: the emotional drunk (either incredibly happy/flirty/ or sad. //might start crying)

Sagittarius: the flirty drunk (everyone becomes attractive somehow. even a 2 becomes a 10 )

Capricorn: the wild drunk (constantly suggesting crazy shit, like how they should chop off someone's toe)

Aquarius: the fun drunk (basically the life of the party)

Pisces: the reminiscent drunk ( bringing up past stories that everyone has heard a million times)

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Oops

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HOW COME IVE SEEN MULTIPLE POSTS ABOUT THIS RATCHET ASS OUIJI BOARD SUMMONING A “MEXICAN DEMON” NAMED CHARLIE CHARLIE? CHARLIE AINT EVEN A MEXICAN NAME? WHAT SAD ASS MILKY ASS WHITE PERSON MADE THIS UP? YOU KNOW WHO WILL COME FOR YOU?? LA LLORONA WITH HER SIDE HOMEBOY EL CUCUY.

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Latinx pple are so beautiful. Like the gods blessed us. Our women r curvy, and our men are handsome.

[kumbala-mar]

love words in spanish are the loveliest: hermosa, querida, linda, bonita, preciosa, chiquita, bella, mi amor, mi cariño, mi corazón

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tfw the truth is out there

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Money Won't You Come My WaaaaAAAaaay !

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NorCal Gothic

Cowritten with coloredink

You wake up to the sound of rain.  Excellent, you think.  You roll over and go back to sleep with the sound of water pattering against the window echoing in your ears.  In the morning, you step outside to sunny blue skies.  The pavement is dry.  Did you dream it?  Did it happen? 

You walk past an apartment with a FOR RENT sign advertising $1800 a month.  When you walk past it going the other direction, 20 minutes later, the sign reads $2000.  When you go back the next day, it’s gone.

You pass a vacant lot with a sign advertising a high-rise, mixed office use and luxury condos.  You can’t remember what used to be there before.  If anything used to be there before.

“I thought I was visiting California,” says the tourist, shivering, his pink knees exposed to the wind.  "I didn’t think I’d need a jacket.“  You pity him.  He doesn’t know about the fog.  He doesn’t know to stay away from the fog.  What lies in it.

Their speech is patterned with strange words.  Everything is “hella chill.”  You think that might be the case when hell freezes over.  Then, one day, you start saying it too.

The bus announcements are in a language you don’t understand.  To clarify meaning, the bus repeats its announcements in several more languages you don’t understand. 

The bulk bins are all filled with quinoa.  Pearl quinoa, black quinoa, red quinoa, tri-color quinoa.  "I love quinoa,“ says the glassy-eyed white woman in the aisle beside you.  "It’s so good for you.”  She scoops herself two pounds.  Everything in your shopping basket has turned into quinoa. 

Diversity Day is held at the local high school.  Every act is from Asia.  You are not sure what diversity means.  You clap anyway. 

You are waiting for the bus.  Google arrives.  Google leaves.  You are still waiting for your bus. 

Apple makes an announcement: they are selling the iThing.  Your coworker makes an announcement: they are selling their stock options. 

BART is, in fact, not a person. 

You are circling.  You are looking for parking.  You are circling.  You are looking for parking.  You are circling. 

“We’re just coming up on the Maze here,” the news helicopter says.  "It looks like there’s been an accident over on the right shoulder.” You don’t know where to look.  There are so many shoulders.

You buy pesto from Trader Giotto’s and ma po tofu sauce from Trader Ming’s and frozen tamales from Trader Jose’s.  Boy, that Trader Joe guy sure gets around.  You wonder where he’ll go next.

The Prius in front of you slams on its brakes, and you slam on yours.  The Prius behind you barely stops in time.  A Prius rolls up on your right.  A Prius rolls up on your left.  Their windows are all tinted.  They all have COEXIST stickers.  You hold your breath and wait for the light to change.

You go to the supermarket.  The fish stare at you.  You stare back.  In the background, you hear the sound of heavy knives chopping.

The Giants are victorious.  There is a parade.  Tall people do not feature in abundance.  The city goes up in flames that night.

“I don’t know how I ended up here,” he says.  He clutches his $4.50 fair trade organic artisan coffee.  "I swore I’d never live in the Mission.  But now my jeans are skinny, I own a collection of vintage records, and I’m hosting a bread-baking party next Saturday.“  He leans forward.  His eyes are desperate, and his beard is magnificent.  "You have to help me.”

The tea contains mostly milk, sugar, honey, and little round brown things.  You are assured that the little round things are boba, not something else.

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[kumbala-mar]

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anxiety: OK BUT WHAT IF -

me: homie we went over this like 100 times yesterday and we totally resolved it

anxiety: yeah but i’ve looked at it from a new angle and there’s like 20 more reasons why u should be worried about it

me:

me: …..go on

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I kinda like my rolls in black and white…

[kumbala-mar]

[kumbala-mar]

Nicki minaj For Cosmopolitan magazine / July edition.

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when ur trying to get right with god but your slut jam comes on

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i always pretend to be such a coldhearted bitch but in reality i cry about everything, all the time. literally, always crying.

[kumbala-mar]

When you’ve got class at 9am