Monday, August 25, 2014

plaidandredlipstick:

the reason male comic book fans work themselves into a frenzied rage over “fake geek girls" is because they think they can’t get a girlfriend because of their love for comic books (a.k.a nerdiness). if they accept that geek girls genuinely love comic books, then they’re left with the cold harsh reality that it’s not their nerdiness that makes them unattractive to women, but the fact that they are misogynistic condescending dickbags who need to be avoided AT ALL COSTS

Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Failing in the future is a huge daunting prospect that weighs heavily on me. As such, I like to prepare for it by failing in small increments along the way, so when the inevitable happens at least I now have a reason for it.

Saturday, August 16, 2014
aquirkysoul:

Why don’t I want to see this? It’s too painful, Facebook, that’s why. Have you ever fallen for someone at first sight? Not merely a crush on them, or simply finding them attractive, but pure love?
Have you felt the trepidation of walking up, saying hello, exchanging jokes, shy glances, phone numbers? The seconds dragging by so you don’t look like you are too needy?
Caving in, worrying that it’s too soon, stumbling over your words. You have a good conversation, it gives you hope, but then you contact them too soon, too fast. You feel them start to pull away, and all the things you wanted to show them, to tell them, start to pile up in the back of your mind like wraiths, gnawing at your soul and your sanity.
It ends. You’ve lost the spark, you’ve fucked up, like you have before, but this time it’s different. You’ve lost them, you’ve lost them. You feel disgusted at yourself, you eventually recover. Chin up, you are moving on.
But then you see a new photo they’ve uploaded, and all the pain comes crashing back. Again and again, like you are being tossed around in an emotional hurricane. The ones that hurt the most are photos and statuses of them enjoying their life without you, but you hate yourself more for feeling entitled to their time, they don’t owe you a thing. Finally you realise that you can’t be Facebook friends with them any more, though truthfully you had stopped speaking long before.
Have you ever felt that, Facebook? Of course not, you are just a script, a piece of metadata designed to customise and regulate my News Feed in an attempt to market me to advertisers. Fuck you, Facebook. Fuck you.

Never mind, misclicked on a picture of my friend’s cat. Please undo my last action, Facebook.

aquirkysoul:

Why don’t I want to see this? It’s too painful, Facebook, that’s why. Have you ever fallen for someone at first sight? Not merely a crush on them, or simply finding them attractive, but pure love?

Have you felt the trepidation of walking up, saying hello, exchanging jokes, shy glances, phone numbers? The seconds dragging by so you don’t look like you are too needy?

Caving in, worrying that it’s too soon, stumbling over your words. You have a good conversation, it gives you hope, but then you contact them too soon, too fast. You feel them start to pull away, and all the things you wanted to show them, to tell them, start to pile up in the back of your mind like wraiths, gnawing at your soul and your sanity.

It ends. You’ve lost the spark, you’ve fucked up, like you have before, but this time it’s different. You’ve lost them, you’ve lost them. You feel disgusted at yourself, you eventually recover. Chin up, you are moving on.

But then you see a new photo they’ve uploaded, and all the pain comes crashing back. Again and again, like you are being tossed around in an emotional hurricane. The ones that hurt the most are photos and statuses of them enjoying their life without you, but you hate yourself more for feeling entitled to their time, they don’t owe you a thing. Finally you realise that you can’t be Facebook friends with them any more, though truthfully you had stopped speaking long before.

Have you ever felt that, Facebook? Of course not, you are just a script, a piece of metadata designed to customise and regulate my News Feed in an attempt to market me to advertisers. Fuck you, Facebook. Fuck you.

Never mind, misclicked on a picture of my friend’s cat. Please undo my last action, Facebook.

Why don’t I want to see this? It’s too painful, Facebook, that’s why. Have you ever fallen for someone at first sight? Not merely a crush on them, or simply finding them attractive, but pure love?
Have you felt the trepidation of walking up, saying hello, exchanging jokes, shy glances, phone numbers? The seconds dragging by so you don’t look like you are too needy?
Caving in, worrying that it’s too soon, stumbling over your words. You have a good conversation, it gives you hope, but then you contact them too soon, too fast. You feel them start to pull away, and all the things you wanted to show them, to tell them, start to pile up in the back of your mind like wraiths, gnawing at your soul and your sanity.
It ends. You’ve lost the spark, you’ve fucked up, like you have before, but this time it’s different. You’ve lost them, you’ve lost them. You feel disgusted at yourself, you eventually recover. Chin up, you are moving on.
But then you see a new photo they’ve uploaded, and all the pain comes crashing back. Again and again, like you are being tossed around in an emotional hurricane. The ones that hurt the most are photos and statuses of them enjoying their life without you, but you hate yourself more for feeling entitled to their time, they don’t owe you a thing. Finally you realise that you can’t be Facebook friends with them any more, though truthfully you had stopped speaking long before.
Have you ever felt that, Facebook? Of course not, you are just a script, a piece of metadata designed to customise and regulate my News Feed in an attempt to market me to advertisers. Fuck you, Facebook. Fuck you.

Why don’t I want to see this? It’s too painful, Facebook, that’s why. Have you ever fallen for someone at first sight? Not merely a crush on them, or simply finding them attractive, but pure love?

Have you felt the trepidation of walking up, saying hello, exchanging jokes, shy glances, phone numbers? The seconds dragging by so you don’t look like you are too needy?

Caving in, worrying that it’s too soon, stumbling over your words. You have a good conversation, it gives you hope, but then you contact them too soon, too fast. You feel them start to pull away, and all the things you wanted to show them, to tell them, start to pile up in the back of your mind like wraiths, gnawing at your soul and your sanity.

It ends. You’ve lost the spark, you’ve fucked up, like you have before, but this time it’s different. You’ve lost them, you’ve lost them. You feel disgusted at yourself, you eventually recover. Chin up, you are moving on.

But then you see a new photo they’ve uploaded, and all the pain comes crashing back. Again and again, like you are being tossed around in an emotional hurricane. The ones that hurt the most are photos and statuses of them enjoying their life without you, but you hate yourself more for feeling entitled to their time, they don’t owe you a thing. Finally you realise that you can’t be Facebook friends with them any more, though truthfully you had stopped speaking long before.

Have you ever felt that, Facebook? Of course not, you are just a script, a piece of metadata designed to customise and regulate my News Feed in an attempt to market me to advertisers. Fuck you, Facebook. Fuck you.

Friday, August 15, 2014

tastefullyoffensive:

[blaine gibson]

Oh lord that last one had me laughing.

Thursday, August 14, 2014

courtnog:

okay so if harry potter was born in 1980, and went to hogwarts in like 91, that means he was in his sixth year in 1996
do you think he knew about the spice girls? i mean.. i know he had shit going on with horcruxes that year but wannabe isn’t something that happens without you taking note of it

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

seanbonner:

Photo: Ferguson, MO. The Now.

"There’s a reason you separate military and the police. One fights the enemies of the state, the other serves and protects the people. When the military becomes both, then the enemies of the state tend to become the people."

– Bill Adama, Battlestar Galactica

And vice versa, apparently.

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

Social Media - Flash Fiction

Logging on again. The room has darkened, the sun has set, the night awaits. I check my messages, and the two words burn themselves into my brain. Photos of friends and good times, the ships that sailed past each other in the night.

Tick. Seen: two days ago.

Those two words again. Better check my events. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. Not attending. Sorry! Work! Forgot! Guess I’ll just throw the food in the fridge, it’ll keep for a day or two.

Those two words again.

A notification; she wrote back.
‘K’

I log out. Maybe this will be the last time.

The Seven Deadly Sins - Short Fiction

Lust entered the sub-sub-basement, his fedora tilted at a suitably rakish angle. He hadn’t showered, and his beard was starting to grow in, but he’d been busy this decade watching hentai, and decided to skip it. It was time for another meeting of the Seven Deadly Sins, a name that Pride had shyly whispered before Envy announced it as his own idea.

Greed was presiding, his suit looking even more ragged than last time. “Look, can we get this going? I’ve got to get back to the gym.” Sloth demanded. He still hadn’t figured out that his vice was a practical joke, but then, steroids do odd things to the brain.

"Yes, we should-" Pride mumbled quietly, before getting cut off by Greed. "Right, we are all here. Let’s kick this off, shall we?"

Lust was busy looking at his phone, his best friend Lilith had a new boyfriend again. *Damn that Belial, why don’t succubi ever go for a nice demon like me?* His last message to Lilith on Fiendbook had been seen by her last month, according to the message bar. He fired off a quick guilt trip, trying to win her attention back. He threatened to kill himself, that she was the only demon for him, referenced all the souls he’d given her. That was sure to bring her back to him.

"Lust? Lust?" Wrath’s voice brought his attention back to the gathering. Wrath had adopted the ‘black trenchcoat’ look after the Matrix came out, claiming to be inspired by school shootings. No one believed him.

"Right, ah. My plans involve the increasing proliferation of pornography around the world." The other demons rolled their eyes. This was the same plan he’d presented over the last three decades.

"Pornography again?" Gluttony interjected. "Why?" He slurred a little, obviously drunk. He really couldn’t hold his liquor.

Lust suddenly became very interested in the Mountain Dew stain on his shirt, before being lifted bodily by Sloth. “Gluttony asked you a question, geek.”

"Sloth, put him down. There’s no need for violence." Wrath complained. "Go on, Lust."

Lust cleared his throat. “Well, I figure that if everyone in the world is having sex, I will be able to…” He broke off, mumbling.

"You’ll be able to what?"

"Get a girlfriend." The other demons roared with laughter.

Greed rapped his knuckles on the table, bringing the meeting back to order. “Lucifer’s staff, Lust! You know what mortal kind thinks of you? They imagine this seductive vixen, the ultimate portrayal of carnality. Yet you, the master of the Succubi, can’t even get a lay from demons who will sleep with anyone on the planet!”

"Oh yeah? Well look at you, Greed." Lust yelled, tears streaming down his face. "When’s the last time your investments paid off? I hear you are living on food stamps. Fuck this, I’m out of here, Lilith is messaging me. She’s probably realised that I’m the demon for her.

The catcalls followed him out of the room. He checked the message from Lilith.

"K."

Monday, August 11, 2014

It’s amazing how seeing a certain person can completely kill your mood, even if you don’t actually talk to them.