do you have any idea how hard it is to have to walk right by a tattoo shop every day before and after work and not walk in?
i walked into the kitchen and said “i really want something sweet” and my dad said “wanna touch my hand?” in this weird, girly voice
this really just happened
alone in my room, supposed to be sleeping, housemates upstairs watching movies, laughing my ass off about this
“where’d you find that weird picture of that guy in the tigger costume?”
“i am that guy in the tigger costume”
A REASON TO FUCKING STOP PARTYING