IT'S ME SASHA ( or Squash, She/Them) 26, AND LEGALLY 6'2". MY BODY IS WEAK, MY SPIRIT IS WEAK, MY BONES ARE LOOSE, MY TITS ARE MEDICALLY DIAGNOSED AS "MODERATE", MY COOKING IS ABOVE AVERAGE, MY FORTRESS UNVANQUISHABLE*, MY SKULL THICK AND DENSE LIKE CHALK, MY FUMES THICK AND DENSE LIKE A REALLY THICK AND DENSE SKULL, AND BABY? I DON'T HAVE ANOTHER THING TO PUT HERE *[save for sacnoth, but that's a whole fuckin thing so don't even bother]
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
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Me: *looking at a porcelain hand in the home decor aisle of a store* if I lost my hands in some kind of tragic accident, I’d decorate my entire home with hand-shaped things. Then I’d invite guests over for like, dinner parties and such and sit there expectantly just basking in their discomfort.
My boyfriend: Do you hear what you say when you talk? Do you know what you just said to me?
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Putting a bloody lace handkerchief in my back pocket to indicate that I'm into Victorian tuberculosis roleplay.
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I step into the crime scene once again, and just like last time... it's a mess. The bastard's killed again. They call him The Artist... man's sick in the head, thinks he's gonna be the next Michelangelo. His "canvas"? The human body. Maybe I'm just not "cultured" enough. But when I look at this mess of gore and body parts, all I see is... wait holy shit from this angle it looks like a fish! Ohhhh it's like a perspective trick! Oh shit that's so cool. I mean. Ahem. It's not cool enough to justify murdering twelve innocent... oh my GOD from THIS angle it looks like a MONKEY! It's like, two in one! How'd he even DO that, this guy's a genius!!
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divorced couple energy ship will always be immaculate to me. we hate each other. we've seen each other naked. I know how you take your morning coffee. I will never make you your morning coffee again. get it yourself. here you go, I gave it to you anyway. you disgust me. I will always be somewhat in love with you. I will be yours forever. you're not mine anymore. you will always be mine. fuck you. let's fuck, for old time's sake. did you steal my cd? no, no. keep it.
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making an enthusiastic, sincere jack-off motion with my hand to indicate that i agree with the present course of action and think you have thought it out well
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Party rock is¹ in the house tonight Everybody just have a good time (Yeah)²
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¹Pretty sure it’s “party rockers.”³
²LMFAO’s “Party Rock Anthem,” Sorry for Party Rocking, 2011
³It’s “party rock is.”— Ed.
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me, shaking and nauseous: i don’t feel that good
one of my medieval peasant hallucinations keeping me company: mæg ic forleten cwycgan ænne fulle mete?
me: henry i don’t think i’d be able to keep it down at this point
my other medieval peasant hallucination: henry you know how to speak modern english. stop being pretentious
henry: nē ic wile nāt
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I love the idea of a roomba topography map being the jumping on point for a liminal horror story. House of Leaves II: Roomba.
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still believe that one of the greatest bits of all time was on January 6th, 2021 when. well. you know. and twitter was understandably an echo chamber of panic and fear and Justin McElroy just tweeted a selfie with a filter that was like “have a delicious national spaghetti day” followed by 3 tweets that were like “fuck. i’m sorry. i don’t know how to delete scheduled posts” and as i type this two years later i’m laughing
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Matching your freak is beautiful and all but what you really need is a boy who's infatuated with your freak. Down bad for your freak. Deeply intrigued by your freak. Eager to see more of your freak. Supportive of your freak. Gets bricked up witnessing your freak, even.
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it would've been cooler if those animals they sent into space came back with superpowers
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moving apartments is the worst activity that exists
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