Raped by the DJ

Today was Pedo’s last day Out for the winter. He almost froze to death a SECOND time, so I bought him a bigger tank to accomodate a heating lamp and, at the pet store guy’s advice, started bringing him outside every afternoon to bask a bit in the sun. The poor little guy so looks forward to it that HE SCRATCHES THE GLASS AT 3 ON THE DOT!! And, most days, its warm enough that he just snuggles next to my tummy and then stretches his neck out as much as possible then bobs a bit—everyonce in a while craning around to blink at me slowly. Today, he tried a couple of times to extend his neck only to pull it back in—all the while backing deeper and deeper under my coat. So executive decision: indoors ‘till spring.

Would you believe that I’ve only had him a week?

faithandbegorrah:mementomorrie:chicklit:stephtronic:ninbrin:(via ludonaut)

Hey, remember that time that we went to the Nosaj Thing concert and got horribly lost on an abandond part of the USC campus so Nadia had to pee in a large wooden crate we had stood up on its side while Marc and I danced infront of it so noone would see her naughty bits and then we somehow ended up in South LA and decided to explore a ghetto hotel and took tons of pictures? I miss you guys

(via byebyebutts)

Painful Self-realization #874: If I owned this? Everytime I used it, I’d mutter “NOMNOMNOM” under my breath.

longlivethequeen:goldenwolf:sugarspun:distillation:jesuisperdu:nicolazaro & gustojones, idol

You know, if I were to have a line of T-shirts? I’d probably screen-print a bunch of old photographs like this. And, like, the picture of Andy shopping for Campbells soup.

When I was in college, I use to write everything people said that would make me laugh onto post-its and put them on my wall (I thought magazine scrappings was cliche). Anyway, I once considered investing in putting all of those quotes on t-shirts but…..they kind of come off as inside jokes. For example:

• Fuck you, Toilet!!
• Loser with a Small Throat
• Thats all thats left of Anne.
• I have a vicious Grip
• We have cushioned seats up here.
• We can’t share the White Girl?
• Why do people tell me stuff after I swallow?
• You are looking straight at serious!
• Are we or are we not officially friends?

….anyway, TextsFromLastNight kind of stole the thunder on random phrases out of context. My brilliance shall remain in piles at the bottom of a box in the back of my closet—at least whomever has to pack up my shit when I die won’t be bored.

(via aymarahoppus)

You know something you guys don’t seem to realize? When we throw fits and what-not….what we’re really hoping is that you aren’t going to take our shit. If we burst into tears, we want you to tell us everything is going to be fine—even if sometimes the scenerio reaks of the Cher-Slap (“Snap Out of it!”). I once dated a guy who would lean back, cross his arms, get comfortable, and fix me with a challenging I’ve-got-all-night look. It made me want to leap on him and tear off his clothes. Just saying…