So… Fate’s mother is kind of a bitch… And by “kind of a bitch” I mean, she’s the worst mother ever and should not have ever had children.

Thats right, blame it on the parents.

(Source: flutterjedi)

I can thread a camel through a needle. With God’s help, I’m sure I could squeeze through an elephant.

You know what’s kind of beautiful?

qwexly:

In French, you don’t really say “I miss you.” You say “tu me manques,” which is closer to “you are missing from me.”

I love that. “You are missing from me.” You are a part of me, you are essential to my being. You are like a limb, or an organ, or blood. I cannot function without you.

in American we say “do fries come with that shake” when someone with a cute patootie walks by

I love the French thing. Its such a lovely language.

(Source: timorleste, via people-always-leave)

The Drinking Anecdote.

You’ve been to that party where you’ve drunk a little bit too much. Most people go to a few in their teenage years. Its inevitable if you make it to your student years. The early sign of drinking too much usually goes a little like this:

A: What are you guys talking about?
J: Uhh
Me: J has a girlfriend in Romania. She’s called Auschwitza. J doesn’t know what to do because shes madly in love but she doesn’t want to be associated with the holocaust.

You then begin to meet an array of people that you haven’t met before, and take to them for an array of strange reasons. You ignore the boring people, and go for the interesting people. What makes them interesting is usually an odd array of trivial things. For instance, last night I decided ‘No Homo’ guy was pretty cool.

Me: I was pretty infamous as the CH gay kid.
R: Im not homophobic or anything. Like no homo and stuff, and Im not gay, but Im not homophobic.
Me: Okay.
R: Im not homophobic at all. For fucks sake, Im wearing loftas. Just no homo.

Noting that us gays had an alliance with loftas, I felt I was safe to embarrass myself around him. You make ‘friendships’ like this, and soon you have a comfortable spot to sit down and drink a little more. Or a lot more. After that, you become rather disorientated. You seem to move by wishing, rather than actually walking. People stop minding if you walk into them.

Me: I feel a bit funny. I was on that banister. Now I’m leaning against this wall. I don’t remember moving, its strange.
S: Okay.

The next stage is probably the most awkward one. You start to spurt compliments with every breathe to everyone. If they aren’t bald, their hair is gorgeous. Even if they have braces, they know how to wear them with style. If they don’t wear any make-up, they have balls of steel. What you think is a compliment most likely isn’t.

Me: You know, you’re not as much of a wanker as everyone says you are. You’re actually pretty cool.
R: No homo.
Me: Your loftas are awesome too.
R: No homo.

This irritates people, who are often in the middle of trying to pull. Theyre giving you subtle hints to leave like:

L: Not gonna lie, I think I have a semi right now.

You end up finding refuge in some sort of childish novelty. Except, the alcohol gets to your head and leaves you a little challenged. Realising you’re failing at a menial task, you look for anything or anyone else to blame.

Me: The bubbles are broken!
S2: Okay Danny.
Me: No they are! You have a go.
S2: Okay Danny.
Me: Oh my god you got one. Bubble!

Luckily, I am easily amused. You usually don’t find yourself in a pit of misery yourself, but usually end up comforting someone else. In your state, you can find inspiration for wonderful metaphors to help advise or cheer up your intoxicated companion.

K: She’ll never love me, will she?
Me: Its like trying to have sex with a hurricane.

I need to change the description bar on the side of my tumblr page. As much as people seem to be charmed by it for some foolish reason, it just doesn’t work for me any more.