Remember when Shark saw an actual alien descend from the sky and try to kill an eighteen year old with a giant dragon and his first response was “I’m gonna bite him.”
I run dnd for a bunch of teenagers at the public library twice a month, and I created a character for them to like, and my teens are so obsessed with this rat that speaks common that they paid for him to go to college, and about once a week one of them comes in to the library to show me a cute picture of a rat that reminded them of him.
I know everybodys talking about the article but its this tweet itself that makes me lose my shit
tinder link in bio.
the replies:
*tapes scissors to my dick* why won’t anyone fuck me, edward scissordick?
I’m sobbing
I love going trough the notes every time bc there’s always someone in the notes insisting we’re all mean and that you can just wear thick dish gloves over your fake nails as if I wouldn’t assume you’re going to Patrick Bateman my ass if you walked into the bedroom with claws and yellow rubber gloves
ordered pizza from a small local place and they didnt actually cut it so i’ve chosen to revert to a wild animal and begin ripping it apart instead of just using a knife to portion slices
absolutely visceral experience. food is so much more satisfying when you have to fight it. i may be feral
i am not proud to say this but that pizza lasted fifteen minutes. i normally am not that gluttonous, but this goes beyond glutton. there was gluttony and wrath. a whirlwind of sauce, cheese, and pepperoni, all atop a flatbread that was shred apart by my own hands due to the neglect of another
in that moment i was wild. i was free. i understood the simplest joys in life. the joy of eating and manifesting my own destiny
been reflecting on this all day and the unsliced pizza experience honestly ruled. i think everyone should try it sometime or another. you have not truly lived until you just absolutely obliterated a pizza in such a feral manner
is this you
yes
run
My best friend and I have this tradition we call “chicken dinner” where we get a rotisserie chicken, lay it on a tarp, start on opposite ends of the tarp, and on the count of three we both run at the chicken and start ripping into it with our bear hands. We will be on our knees fighting for the best pieces of meat, ripping into the chicken with our faces, and it is the most viscerally delicious chicken I have ever had in my life. Grease gets everywhere. We have to do this outside. We have to tie our hair in buns beforehand.
You have never known the joy of food until you are lunging at your friend to rip the best part of the chicken out of their hand, rolling around on the tarp, stuffing it in your face before they can retaliate, and you realize “holy shit did I just growl?” And then you realize they are doing it too.
The chicken gets decimated. It’s absolutely destroyed. We aren’t allowed back inside until we have been hosed down. It’s the best.
Oh ye of little faith.
People across the street looking through the blinds, “Harold! Harold come quick, they’re doing the chicken thing again!”
“A ship can never truly love an anchor.” dude shut up. a ship without an anchor gets dashed against the rocks. it’s useless, completely at the whim of the currents. a ship loves an anchor so much it carries it everywhere it goes. the anchor gives the ship the world to love. dude.
ALT
