goodstudentstudyblr - Tumblr blog

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Damn the perceived world sounds cool as hell

(blue is average of people’s estimate of percentage of population of which x is true, and red is the actual percentage)

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Debug Help | Resources ✨

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i buried a sword my f*ther made in my back yard YEARS ago and i live on a large plot of land and i can’t for the fucking life of me remember where, is anyone out here psychic enough to point me in the right direction, i’m getting exhausted and can only dig so many fucking holes in a day. yes i’m being serious, i want the fucking sword back

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Last week I accidentally took an edible at 10x my usual dose. I say “accidentally” but it was really more of a “my friend held it out to my face and I impulsively swallowed it like a python”, which was technically on purpose but still an accident in that my squamate instincts acted faster than my ability to assess the situation and ask myself if I really wanted to get Atreides high or not.

Anyway. I was painting the wall when it hit. My friend heard me make a noise and asked what was wrong—I explained that I had just fallen through several portals. I realized that painting the wall fulfilled my entire hierarchy of needs, and was absolutely sure that I was on track to escaping the cycle of samsara if I just kept at it a little longer. I was thwarted on my journey towards nirvana only by the fact that I ran out of paint.

Seeking a surrogate act of humble service through which I might be redeemed and made human, I turned to unwashed dishes in the sink and took up the holy weapon of the sponge. I was partway through cleaning the blender when it REALLY hit.

You ever clean a blender? It’s a shockingly intimate act. They are complex tools. One of the most complicated denizens of the kitchen. Glass and steel and rubber and plastic. Fuck! They’ve got gaskets. You can’t just scrub ‘em and rinse them down like any other piece of shit dish. You’ve got to dissemble them piece by piece, groove by sensitive groove, taking care to lavish the spinning blades with cautious attention. There’s something sensual about it. Something strangely vulnerable.

As I stood there, turning the pieces over in my hands, I thought about all the things we ask of blenders. They don’t have an easy job. They are hard laborers taking on a thankless task. I have used them so roughly in my haste for high-density smoothies, pushing them to their limits and occasionally breaking them. I remembered the smell of acrid smoke and decaying rubber that filled the kitchen in the break room the last time I tried to make a smoothie at work—the motor overtaxed and melted, the gasket cracked and brittle. Strawberry slurry leaked out of it like the blood of a slain animal.

Was this blender built to last? Or was it doomed to an early grave in some distant landfill by the genetic disorder of planned obsolescence? I didn’t know, and was far too high to make an educated guess. But I knew that whatever care and tenderness and empathy I put into it, the more respect for the partnership of man and machine, the better it would perform for me.

This thought filled me with a surge of affection. However long its lifespan, I wanted it to be filled with dignity and love and understanding. I thought: I bet no one has hugged this blender before. And so I lifted it from its base.

A blender is roughly the size and shape of a human baby. Cradling one in your arms satisfies a primal need. A month ago I was permitted to hold an infant for the first time in my life, an experience which was physically and psychologically healing. I felt an echo of that satisfaction holding my friend the blender, and the thought of parting with it felt even more ridiculous than bringing it with me to hang out on my friend’s bed.

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I gotta ask, how do people, like, do stuff???

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parents found out that I have insomnia/sleeping problems when I was 14 and this is the text I got…

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*sticks my hand in your nucleus and swirls your dna around*

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Every single person studying a language when they recognize the most basic word of the language in a text or a video

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raidcore

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We need to start frantically and obsessively reading books in less than 24 hours again

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can we talk about the ups strike can we PLEASE talk about the ups strike

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Not that you care but, We offer 40 minute service from DC to Baltimore for 5 bucks

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So, sometimes dolls will have eyes that discolor. (Either due to being poorly stored - in hot environments, for example - or just because they kind of sucked to begin with and time passed.)

Life of Faith was a "Christian alternative" to American Girl in the early 00s. (These spring up from time to time. Most of them only last a few years with a very niche market. I think, at the time, they had because people were flipping out about American Girl partnering with Girls Inc to fund after-school science programs and stuff, because Girls Inc was - according to the conservatives - "A pro-abortion, pro-lesbian organization".) The dolls were based around the Elsie Dinsmore books and it's all . . . big fluffy dresses on a plantation in the antebellum South. With all that that entails.

It was pretty fucking bad.

With that in mind, this is perhaps the funniest toy defect I have ever seen.

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well they can! and this sideblog is aiming to be the biggest sideblog tumblr's ever seen. we're also curious if there is a limit to the number of people who can be members on a sideblog. so if you want to join in the fun of experimenting send us an ask! it's really that simple. you send and ask (not anon) and we respond privately with the link. and if you're interested in helping us admit new members let us know :)

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