I met this girl who loved amusement parks and carnivals, we talked about different ones that we had been to before we met. So me being me I thought to myself, what would be a perfect date for her? I knew we wouldn’t have time to travel to an amusement park for this date and there was no carnivals in town. So I did the next best thing, I brought the carnival home. The weekend before our date I put together a k-nex Ferris wheel and roller coaster in my living room, I made a sign reading “Hartly’s Town Fair.” I purchased some balloons and all the carnival foods I could think of. I bought corn dogs, and popcorn, I made some candy apples, I bought Krispy Kreem donut mix to make a funnel cake. I knew this was going to blow her away. The time came for her to see how much attention to detail I have, and how I can turn a limited time day into an amazing evening. When she arrived at my house I plugged in the chaser white Christmas lights I have to add to the feel of the environment. I was right her face said it all, she was blown away! We enjoyed the delectables as we played with the toy roller coaster and Ferris wheel that I spent countless hours fabricating. As the evening wore on I decided to reveal my t-shirt by removing the button down shirt I had on. When she saw it she busted out laughing as it read “you must be this tall to ride this ride” with a line just under the writing for the measurement! She was impressed exclaiming “WOW, you thought of everything!” “Indeed I did!” I replied. After some more banter, I told her “hey it’s getting late, why don’t you go ahead and get on top of me so I can guess your weight!” And that’s when she left!

Omg it's some satanic mash-up of my hero from foo fighters and californication

"Little girls from sweden dream of silver screen quotations

if you want these kinds of dreams, it's californication"

*riff for the beginning of the screaming part for my hero*

KUDOS MY HERO

LEAVING ALL THE BEST"

Plus there's You're Gonna Go Far, Kid by The offspring

it's literally just the three chords then "SO COME ON DANCE, F***CKER DANCE, NEVER HAD A CHANCE, SHOOT HIM RIGHT BETWEEN THE EYES, SHOOT HIM RIGHT BETWEEN THE EYES!

WITH A THOUSAND LIES AND A GREAT DISGUISE! NO ONE EVER KNEW

IT WAS REALLY ONLY YOU!"

Print “This sentence will run on forever and ”;

x==0;

Do While x>=0 {Print “ever and ”;

x==x+1;}.

[Editor Note: This sentence is written in pseudo computer code. It will run with minor modifications of syntax on any basic programming language.

The program creates an infinite sentence that reads: “This sentence will run on forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever....” Since x starts at ‘0’ and increments up as x+1, the condition ”Do While x is greater than or equal to zero” will always be true. This means the output will be infinite, and by definition, no longer sentence can ever be written (though other infinite sentences can be written, though they’d be of equally infinite length).]

I saw this in tumblr like last week:

Do you ever just want to gently place your hands on somebody's cheeks and sharply turn their head on a 75 degree angle and snap their neck?

Reader: Well that took an unexpected turn

Op: So did their neck

Reader: Im dying

Op: So are they

Lol just thorught I'd share

You eat blueberries on the strip of balcony they listed as a “terrace” and watch the cars pulse through the railings. Car--railing--car--railing. You are entranced by cars, but I worry that you think they are alive. You pet the bumper of each car affectionately when we move down neat parking lot rows. You tuck your plastic miniatures beneath blankets and murmur “shh, shh, shh” to them before bed. I worry that this means you are antisocial, or that he has broken your sense of reality, of affection, but the social workers tell me that I am ‘projecting’. This is the thing that mothers do when they are fearful of cars--of gravel beneath tires, the rhythmic and ponderous crunch before the door opens, and shuts, and the footsteps begin.

You get blueberries stuck in your tiny baby teeth; a swath of blue skin covers one and you are a pirate. I grin at your pirate tooth until it is a drug addict tooth, a rotting body tooth, and I duck behind you to slide my index finger into your mouth.

“I’m just getting it off,” I say, but you’re already crying. I lift you in my arms, and am amazed at your tiny hands clenched in my sweater, your chubby legs warm and strong against my waist, all instinct, like a clinging primate. I marvel at myself; the cause and the comfort. “You had blueberry stuck in your teeth,” I say into your hair and inhale, deep, the sour-sweet smell of your scalp. ‘They could lead me blindfolded down a line of kids and I could sniff your hair, and I would know it was you,’ my mother used to tell me, and it drives me to memorize you now.

I ask the social workers if you’ll remember him, how much, how long, and they say you won’t, not at all, but there’s always projection. I should be careful not to project. And when I ask them whether he’ll stay in, whether they’ll let him out, and when, the social workers smile with their big, big grown up teeth.

“It’s just blueberry skin,” I say, very softly, to your hair, but you hear a fire truck scream by and you use me as a fulcrum to crane your entire body toward the sound. Close, and close, and CLOSE and away, away, away it goes--shh, shh, shh. You love cars. I once watched the lights of a police car flicker red, and blue, and red, and blue and it made me think of you.