Maybe I could backcomb?

These kinds of things give me hope

Dan and I bought a thing called “long ziti” from the local Weird Bargain Store, largely as a joke, but…. I have never had a more unsettling pasta experience in my life. They wouldn’t bend enough to cook from top to bottom simultaneously, and while they were cooking boiling water kept spouting out from the tops of them out of the pot, like a boiling pipe organ. Then they were so long and floppy and hoselike that we couldn’t pick them up with anything other than tongs, and then they were so long and unwieldy that it was basically impossible to sauce them without them all slithering out of the bowl like wet snakes. They then proceeded to cool down almost completely within the the seconds it took to walk to the living room. Eating them was like eating a bowl full half melted drinking straws.

Bringing back Long Ziti for another round because it’s just too funny

real life creepypasta

tumblr should have a little clippy guy, a tumblrweed or something, that pops up and says "hey it looks like you posted this exact joke 15 months ago, are you sure you want to do yhis"

mycroft in asib sitting at his full length expensive oak table in his mansion surrounded by knight armor and big stained glass windows with his head in his hands is the epitome of diva down

why are dudes in fanfic always getting hit with freight train orgasms. why not an orient express orgasm, classy and romantic. where are the shinkansen train orgasms? his orgasm hit him like the TGV atlantique breaking the passenger rail speed record. like the shanghai maglev, his orgasm was a feat of engineering but something of a commercial disappointment.

Don’t tell me delayed orgasms aren’t a thing

learning new things about the german rail system today

cleared so hard

"if tumblr dies you can find me on bluesky" "if tumblr dies you can find me on Instagram" if tumblr dies you cannot find me. It's over. I'm free.

Fuck. Those fuckers at the store sold me No Purpose Flour again. What the fuck do I do with this

you laugh. my flour is bereft of purpose and you mock me. hell upon you, fool

you have to really care about someone’s love life if you’re willing to kidnap a tiny angry bisexual army doctor approximately 32 hours after he loans his alcoholic lesbian sister’s phone to your nerdy sad gay little brother so he can send a text about green ladders to a silver fox copper whom you’ve resolutely decided is not a goldfish

Two fishermen knit their winter woolies in Ramsgate, Kent, England, 1940s - Visual Studies Workshop/Getty Images