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Sweater Weather


capitalistpropaganda:

The living room is filled with baskets upon baskets of Easter eggs. Thousands of beautifully decorated eggs cover the floor and furniture. There’s hardly any room to walk.

It’s 3:40 AM, Wednesday morning. I’ve been dying eggs for four days straight. My wife enters the room in her bathrobe.

"Arnold, you look pale… It’s not even Easter anymore! Don’t you think it’s time to stop?"

She’s right about one thing: I feel weak, and my Terminator haircut is falling flat. But she doesn’t understand. This is my one passion in life. How could I give that up? What’s the point?

"I… I hafta dye mah eggs!" I tell her.

She won’t listen. I see it in her eyes. Why can’t she let me do what makes me happy?

"We can’t do this anymore, Arnold. This holiday is tearing our family apart."

I look up at her. Then back down to my Easter eggs. My mouth is trembling but no words come out. My wife stares at the floor and makes a long sigh.

"If you can’t let go of this holiday…" she whispers, "then you let go of me." I knew it might come to this. I’d hoped it wouldn’t, but I knew it might.

A tear rolls down my cheek. ”I still love Easta, baby.”


Anonymous Asked:
I feel really bad for you sometimes because you seem to really hate being on tumblr and you also seem to dislike the people here. It appears that running this blog makes you really unhappy and I sometimes wonder why you continue to do so if that is the case...

My answer:

officialunitedstates:

No, I like running this blog because I’m winning.  I’m going to get more followers until the point where I can take over this site with sheer influence and determination.  Until that day, I remain ever watchful, ever ready, ever officialunitedstates. 


officialunitedstates:

I like globes that have the bumps on them for mountains.  let me feel the earth, run my fingers over your himalayas, caress your inner alps




Anonymous Asked:
will u tell me a story

My answer:

officialunitedstates:

"You can’t just ride a bear," she said.  "It’s not built for transportation."

I looked at her cowardly face.  “That’s loser talk,” I said.

She was a bit offended but I didn’t care.  I was going to ride that grizzly bear and I was going to do it today.

"Give me the lasso out of the bag," I ordered.

"No… please, don’t do this."

"That’s loser talk," I said as I ripped the backpack out of her hands. 

The rope was thick and the lasso was heavy, but I had spent every waking hour of my life preparing for this day.  A heavy rope wasn’t going to stop me.

"What if it bites you?" she protested. 

But I wouldn’t listen.  This was my destiny; this was my fate.  I slowly approached the grizzly, rope in hand, my fingers ready to strike. 

I knew it could sense I was coming.  It turned, sniffed the air, and rose up on its hind legs.  He was towering, about a foot taller than me, and had thick brown fur shielding him from the cold.  I only had my $240 North Face jacket.

"Let’s go.  You and me.  It’s game time, you dumb bear," I taunted. 

He slowly turned to face me.  Our eyes met, and he had a twinkle in his eye that looked like a diamond.  It was kind of cute for a bear. 

I readied my lasso.  The time was right.  The wind was settled and the air was clear.  It was now or never. 

But I couldn’t do it.  It was something about the way he tilted his head and stared at me—a sort of innocence and fragility that I had scarcely seen before.  I just couldn’t bring myself to tame such a wild beast.

"I can’t do it…. I can’t fight you, bear," I shouted in tears.

"That’s loser talk," said the bear.



lxxxve:

It’s almost as if it’s not his kid but it’s his suitcase so he keeps going.

This is a very serious text post with no hidden meaning.




leafcutie:

z-o-l-a:

My dad gave our 2 month old English bulldog puppy a taste of strawberry Popsicle today. This is true happiness.

THIS MAKES ME SO HAPPY

oboebandgeek99:

heckacute:

If you put a bee in the freezer, it will get cold and fall asleep. After it’s asleep, put it in your mouth, but don’t eat it. Just let it sit there. It will get warm and wake up. Now you have a bee in your mouth.

Why the fuck would I do that




jesusinc:

dennys:

*heavy breathing* we have hte bacon

dennys what the fuck




officialfrenchtoast:

Source: truthfacts

MY BODY SHOULDN’T BE SEXUALIZED BY MEN 24/7 BOOBS SHOULD ONLY BE SEXUAL WHEN I CHOOSE FOR THEM TO BE AND ACT IN A SEXUAL MANNER. IF I AM WALKING DOWN THE STREET IN A TANK TOP THAT SHOWS MY BRA I SHOULDNT HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT HOW MEN SEXUALIZE ME IN THEIR THOUGHTS BECAUSE I’M NOT BEING SEXY IM WALKING DOWN THE FUCKING STREET YOU KNOB DONT FUCKING TELL ME I HAVE TO CENSOR MY OWN BODY FOR THE SAKE OF MY SAFTEY THATS FUCKING BULLSHIT



carryonmy-assbutt:

fricklesfrackles-letsfrickackles:

domina-domina-omnimalum:

thebabbagepatch:

hereghostyghosty:

jordaamn:

johnstridur:

adriofthedead:

thesunmaid:

parents making sex jokes

image

grandparents making sex jokes

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nine-year-olds making sex jokes

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nine-year-olds

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NINE

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NEIN

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image

image

Welcome to tumblr where we go from parents making sex jokes to sassy Hitler in 0.6 seconds




islannd:

lushmilk:

nuddily:

r-iviere:

I would love a boyfriend who took a lot of pictures, even though I don’t like pictures of me. Me doing something completely random and him saying “wait, wait wait. Stay right there!”And he takes his camera and while taking the picture he mumbles “beautiful”

yeah that would be nice

can we just take a moment and look at his cute face

he is so beautiful

highschoolhottie:

Some have gained over 100+ new followers!!





Hey(: I'm Sarah and this is my blog. I have a sort of..Whatever I'm in the mood for blog. Talk to me I love meeting new people. I enjoy candles from Bath & Body Works, Gossip Girl, books, and shopping. I Love you and you're beautiful (;





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