melons-cool-thoughts

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devastating that i, a grown woman, need help opening a childproof pill bottle

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respect nature. give trees compliments when you walk by

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"second place is just the first loser" well it soubds like im winning. awesome

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im gonna do it..... awaaawaaawawawawawa a awawa...... *turns into a lemur*

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for today's Throwback Thursday we are gonna throw back to a real classic The Hanging Gardens of Babylon

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we have just enough time in our lives to walk to the shore and let the waves run over our feet a few times. to wonder how far the horizon stretches, but not enough time to swim and find out.

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the fish in the pond are singing their pond songs. effervescent

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uh oh! looks like someone hasnt admired the Cube today

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calling in sick to work. bit my tongue. may never recover

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whats up with tapirs btw theyre so cool

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actually...... its going towards evil scientists making freeze rays 😬

why does everything gotta cost $20

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i go outside -> i have a nice time listening to birds -> i get one mosquito bite per minute

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yes my actions have consequences but all im saying is they shouldnt

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SANDWICH RECIPE

when i was but of eight years of age, my grandmother introduced me to bread. naturally, i recoiled in horror at the obscene creation. as i aged i learned a lot of life lessons. like how to identify mold spores by smell (a family secret). i also was in a horse race. i was the horse.

beimg a horse in a horse race is a challenging experience. your legs do not have rocks on the end (called "hooves") unless you are a real horse (i am not). this put me at a disadvantage. combine this with the fact that i didnt train for this in the slightest and you can see how this was a disheartening experience.

anyway, while i was on the horse track, lost and bewildered in the sound of the crowd, i became acutely aware of something; there must be more to life. i decided to discuss with the most lived person i know, my granmother, who is old.

she had died a year prior from inhaling mold spores. my brother has her urn. he lived in another country (kyrgyzstan). this is what i had not trained for. i galloped my way to kyrgyzstan to speak to my grandmother.

when i arrived at my brother's house, he was not home. eager to speak with my grandmother (cremated), i broke a window and snuck in. it was only after tracking mud in the kitchen (from galloping) that i realized i had broken into the wrong house. there was a flag on the kitchen counter. i had made a grave error, i was in kazakhstan, not kyrgyzstan.

but i did find an urn, and decided hey, a dead person's a dead person. i opened the urn, it smelled of acremonium spores. i spoke to the ashes "what is the meaning of life?".

i heard the spirit of the mold sniffer speak to me. unfortunately i do not speak kazakh so i just nodded and pretended to understand. as i galloped back through the kitchen, i cringed in horror. on the counter was bread.

what an apalling creation, bread. but i was curious, i had never seen kazakh bread before.

a wave of inspiration overcame me (it may have been the mold). and in that moment, in a kazakh stranger's house, i developed this recipe.

1 bread slice

1 peanut butter scoop

1 jelly lump

1 bread slice

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whenever i am hit by incredible sadness i watch the noodles going down the stairs video

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i wanna go to iceland and listen to ghost stories and see glaciers and fjords and GEYSERS and the phallic museum and leave my bra on a fence and see PUFFINS

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my aroace ass drinking a love potion: this taste like shit. wheres my fuckin orabge juice