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#MY BOSS#GAVE ME MORE SHIFTS THIS WEEK#I FORGOT HE KNEW I WOULD BE ON SCHOOL HOLIDAYS#I WANTED TO VALORANT FOR 4 DAYS IN A ROW#AND THE MAN GAVE ME A 7 HOUR SHIFT ON SATURDAY#7 HOURS IN THE SUN >:(
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'netizen' cutest word for internet user. It's the net and we're living here together ....
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Please excuse me but I need to rant..
One of my least favorite misconceptions about Saxton Hale is that he currently lives in Australia, and that’s Mann Co HQ is there. ITS NOT!!!!! MANN CO HQ IS IN THE UNITED STATES!!!! IN NEW MEXICO!!!!! SAXTON IS AN AUSSIE BUT HIS FAMILY HAS BEEN PRIMARILY LIVING IN THE US EVER SINCE BARNABUS!!!!
I know it’s not that big of a deal, but as THE NUMBER ONE SAXTON HALE FAN EVER!!! It kills me inside every single time 😭
Thank you for coming to my TED Talk
I CHEERS SO HARD. Yeah its unsure if they ever went back to Australia or Terra Australis if you will, if not, the lineage after Barnabus might be born in America, including Saxton (it'd be an outright insult to him). Saxton's dad Bilious Hale ran a coal mine company as another subdivision of Mann Co Munition in America in early 20th century (see Coal Town in-game map), so its not completely impossible for young baby Saxton living with his parents in USA.
While they were arguably an upper class or upper middle class family, Bilious still joins the coal mining with his laborers ...here picturing dilf working shirtless while smoking cigars . With that kind of "CEO dad training his son, building up his responsibility" attitude, I sometimes imagine Bilious bringing kid!Saxton to the mines, doing labor works with other young workers and possibly some same aged kids (well.. if Bilious hires children to work since it was the norm at that time)
#as an aussie reading this is crazy#‘their homeland’ and there’s a non zero chance it’s Perth given the mining stuff going on in WA#tf2
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I explained the concept of "blorbo from my shows" to my 71 year old immigrant grandfather because I referenced it in passing and I thought nothing of it, until today when he said "I think I'll watch peaky blinders tonight and see my blorbo from my shows" referring, of course, to Cillian Murphy playing Tommy Shelby
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i don’t care for monday’s strife
tuesday wednesday penis knife
thursday best friend fucked my wife
it’s friday i’ve been cucked
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the fact that so many ppl view slurs and oppression as cool exclusive clubs to claim access to, tells me a lot of ppl have never genuinely experienced violence before.
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If tumblr dies DM me for my full home address and we can have a barbecue
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tomboyism is so funny to me. gender non-conformity for girls is acceptable for like two minutes between the ages of 8 and 10. beyond that it’s appalling and you’re a freak but for those two years…… they could’ve had it all
#it wasn’t even accepted for me then school tried to tell me that i couldn’t wear pants and shorts to school and my mum told them to fuck off#and that they literally can’t enforce that because it’s stupid and no educational entity will back them up on that
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When I was 3 years old I went to a preschool that had this little green crocheted crocodile finger puppet that was my absolute favorite toy to play with of all time. I named her Chelsea, because Chelsea starts with C and crocodile starts with C and more often than not wild animals in fiction aimed at kids have names that start with the same first letter as their species. I played with Chelsea every day, because she was my favorite toy, and because the other kids weren't really interested in her, and also because I eventually started to hide her in a special secret spot in the room so no one else would find her before I did. She was so beloved by me that when I graduated from preschool, my teachers gave Chelsea to me permanently, because it was clear no one else would ever love that little crochet crocodile as much as me anyway (in part because I hid her). They waited a few weeks after I graduated before doing it, too, and sent Chelsea with some post cards as if the crocodile had been on a whirlwind "travel the world" vacation before deciding to come live with me.
And Chelsea remained my favorite toy all through my childhood. There were others I loved nearly as much, like my Imperial Godzilla and the big red T.rex from the first Jurassic Park toy line and my tiny knockoff plush Charmander, but Chelsea always held the place of honor in my heart. She was my absolute favorite toy.
I kept a lot of my favorite toys through adolescence, even if social pressure eventually got me to give away a lot of them (and some, y'know, broke). That's obviously not surprising to you if you've followed my blog, since I still collect toys into my adulthood. But it's important to note because while I know I made a conscious effort to never throw out Chelsea every time I pared down my collection... at some point, she went missing.
I became aware of it when I graduated from high school. I was feeling really emotional about leaving that stage of my life and, y'know, becoming an adult and shit, and in that state I decided to find Chelsea to reassure myself that I hadn't entirely left childhood behind. But Chelsea wasn't there. No matter how hard I looked, I could not find Chelsea anyway.
And that was, like, devastating, because the only explanation was that somehow, at some point, I had accidentally tossed her out with some other "childhood junk" while trying to grow up and be responsible in my teen years. I had literally thrown away my childhood in a careless attempt to be more grown up.
Of course I knew she was just a toy - nothing more than some yarn twisted together in the loose shape of a crocodile, lifeless and soul-less and more or less worthless in the objective light of day. But she was also Chelsea, my best friend since i was three, my stalwart little pal, a source of comfort for most of my life at that point, and I had just... tossed her out! Like garbage! What kind of person was I becoming if I could do that to my best friend?
I was very visibly distraught, and my mom noticed. Being very crafty, she tried to find the pattern for Chelsea so she could crochet me a new one. The problem is, she had no idea where to find said pattern. She checked all her books of crochet patterns, and when that failed she tried the internet, but no matter how hard she looked, she found nothing.
So my mom found the next best thing.

The original Chelsea was a tiny finger puppet, and I had "met" her when I was three. Well, I was eighteen now - shouldn't Chelsea have grown too? And as has been established, this crocodile was fond of whirlwind vacations. My mom found a pattern that looked as much like Chelsea as possible while also being a much bigger crocodile, and gifted her to me before I left for college - to show that while we can't stop the flow of time or how it changes us, that doesn't mean we have to leave it behind.
And yeah, I decided to believe it. That's Chelsea now. Yeah, I know that in reality it's a completely different set of yarn made by my mom rather than... whoever it was that crocheted the original Chelsea, but then, Chelsea was never really the yarn. She was the feelings I put into the yarn, you know? So that's Chelsea, all grown up, and still my most prized toy.
...
Flash forward... Jesus, eighteen years, holy shit. A few weeks ago I saw a post trying to identify a different crochet crocodile pattern, and thinking it was cute, I decided to try and look for it on ebay and etsy, just to see if maybe I could find it. I didn't, but do you know what I found instead?

A very familiar crochet crocodile finger puppet. An intensely familiar one, you might say. Of course I bought it. And of course I asked the seller if, perhaps, they might have the pattern for it or know where it came from (they did not, alas). And after a few days, she showed up at my house.

She's not Chelsea, obviously. For one thing, she's far too clean and fresh looking - Chelsea was very well loved, and looked the part, while this crocodile finger puppet has definitely not endured years upon years of a child's affection. And, more importantly, she's not Chelsea because we've already established that Chelsea grew up into a bigger crochet crocodile. This has to be Chelsea's younger sister, Cici.
And if I could find another of Chelsea's kind after all these years, then maybe, with a bit of luck, I might find the pattern for her, and be able to make more of them. Fill the world with Chelseas.
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#yes#this implies we can hear the chewing#same shit as having music or smth on in the background#ppl are talking this is like talking over them
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i actually think it's rly cool for people getting an abortion to joke about the abortion, and it's not tasteless or bad. btw. they are allowed to joke about it. and it's funny.
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This episode confirmed something for me about Mr. Bonzo that I've theorized about since Nigel Dickerson said, "He doesn't like it when people stare," and that's that Bonzo hates what he is. He went from a silly TV character made to make people laugh to a horrific symbol of fear best known for a mass murder and he's pissed about it.
#*to add onto this. bonzo does a sing song at the end of his sentences#he loves performing#he has his original theme playing day in day out#gotta love how i see this when i’m listening to where is my mind by the pixies#here’s hoping there’s a ‘final kill’ and it’s either nigel or terrance menke#tmagp
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