formspring.me
Yet another internet distraction. Isn’t this great? by ImAwake2
Indeed! What a way to spend winter break!
What is your favourite book?
“The Picture of Dorian Gray” by Oscar Wilde.
Though my favorite book of poetry is “The Captain Lands in Paradise” by Sarah Manguso.
formspring.me
If you could wake up as anyone tomorrow, who would it be?
Me. I don’t want to be anyone else. I might like to spend the day with someone and converse about all sorts of things, but I would never want to wake up as anything other than some form of my very own self.
Over-educated youth FAIL
When I was a little girl I thought Neapolitan Ice Cream was Napoleon Ice Cream. For years I tried to figure out the chain of associative logic that would link Napoleon to ice cream. Years. And for years I never realized I was simply misreading the text. Over-educated youth FAIL.
Neapolitan Ice Cream
Napoleon Bonaparte
Note the difference between the two.
(via theinternetaccordingtoadrian)
Oh this is just too brilliant NOT to be re-blogged! So sayeth Raptordactyl! Annnnd I’m speaking of my alterego in the third person…it’s time to go to bed.
I dare you not to coo. I DARE you.
I want one. Well really, I want a friend to have one so I can go over and play with it anytime I want but not have to clean up after it. WHAT? I’m being HONEST.
(via smokeandacoke)
Why Twitter is pretty awesome.
Dear World,
I love you. This is one of the many reasons why. Your sense of humor pwns.
Sincerely,
Raptordactyl
Pickle struggles
Me: (struggles to open a jar of pickles)
My brother: Need help?
Me: No, I got this. (five minutes later) I guess it would help if I took the plastic seal off the top, huh?
My brother: Ladies and gentlemen, a college graduate.
Me: LIBERAL ARTS
This reminded me of something. As a special addition to my post “My Mother’s Special Brand Of Wisdom” I will share with you another of her pieces of advice for me.
Mom on why boys don’t like me and how to fix it:
Mom: Sooo, any cute boys?
Me: No.
Mom: That’s because you’re scary.
Me: Pardon?
Mom: Sometimes you should let the boy open the pickle jar. Y’know, so he feels like he has some power.
Me: Great! The next time I like a boy I’ll go up to him, tap him on the shoulder, give him a jar of pickles and ask him to open it, *then* ask him out. Why didn’t I think of that before?
Mom: Beats me.
About me
Well, I did it, folks. I got myself a Tumblr. Because I'm long-winded dammit, and sometimes you just need to shoot the breeze. To yourself. Or strangers.
