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the nlo outlet

@nlolnlolnlo-outlet

last-chance posts priced to move - - main: tumblr.com/nlolnlolnlo

might just be that i havent ate in a while but this picture's making me feel sick how can an actual human being live in a space like this??? your home looks like the before part of an infomercial. it looks like the start of pleasantville. waterworks ass house WHERE IS THE COLOR WHY IS IT LIT LIKE A FUCKING SITCOM SET

❤️

[ID: A handwritten memo. It reads, "IF YOU ARE READING THIS, YOU HAVE SURVIVED YOUR ENTIRE LIFE UP UNTIL THIS POINT. YOU HAVE SURVIVED TRAUMAS, HEARTBREAK, DEVASTATION, THE DIFFERENT PHASES OF LIFE. AND HERE YOU ARE. YOU GO, MOTHERFUCKER. YOU ARE AWESOME." End ID.]

What’s the point of grinding to the bone your whole life for money if you aren’t even gonna be there to spend it…

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"The less you eat, drink and buy books; the less you go to the theatre, the dance hall, the public house; the less you think, love, theorise, sing, paint, fence, etc., the more you save – the greater becomes your treasure which neither moths nor rust will devour – your capital. The less you are, the less you express your own life, the more you have, i.e., the greater is your alienated life, the greater is the store of your estranged being." -Karl Marx, Economic and Philosophical Manuscripts of 1844

“The thing about money is, we can always make more, so let’s go out to eat tonight!” —My dad, after being laid-off, working odd and probably demeaning jobs so we could have dinner.

“Ah, baby, I want to buy this for you, it’s not like I can take the money with me when I go.” —My mom, when she bought me new clothes while I was between jobs.

“There’ll always be a job out there you can work, but we’d prefer you happy instead.” —Both my parents on jobs (“I can always get ya a job ditch diggin! They’ll always need ditch diggers. Hard work, but no college necessary. I can talk to the Hall.”—My proud, union dad, enthused, three seconds later.)

“It doesn’t matter what they do with the money after you give it to them. Drugs, beer, it doesn’t matter, maybe that’s what they need? How do you know?” —My dad on giving money to the homeless.

“Nah, we’ll never make any money, my husband has morals.” —My mom’s friend, fondly reflecting on the fact her lawyer husband isn’t working for a big money firm.

“Don’t worry! I’ve got this!” My equally poor friend buying me dinner when my debt card declined.

“I know we didn’t have furniture in the living room when you were growing up, but—ha!—remember Balloon Ball?” —My dad reflecting on the made up, mock-volleyball game we’d play in the open living room, using balloons. He had used electrical tape to make the court.

“I’m sorry we could never take you anywhere greater growing up,” —My mom, reflecting on our “stay-cations.” (“Why?” I asked, reflecting on all our trips to the park, zoo, public swimming pools, libraries, free theater, two dollar movie days, and her and my dad right there with me and my brothers.)

Bring poor is hard and it’s not right that it happens, but I prefer it to the hustle because at the very least, poor taught me what love is and I won’t let a shitty job deny me that.

comedies that turn into tragedies when the fucked up stuff played for jokes suddenly gets treated with the severity and realness that it would get in real life are genuinely my weakness and hit so much harder than tragedies that start off with the sad stuff.

like not only is the audience caught in the whole "boiling the frog" thing with the comedy slowly become a tragedy but it reveals that the characters are as well; that the previous comedy was only perceived as a comedy because the characters had no clue that what they were going through was not normal and just lighthearted fun. the audience realizes it as the characters do, making them both more sympathetic and their arcs all the more tragic as you look back on what previously happened.

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i love turning off reblogs on popular posts it’s like i’m chasing everyone out of the venue with a broom

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did the eggs hatch?

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yeah and every white celebrity on the planet emerged from them, as predicted

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i hate mental illness diagnosis. what happened to just being quirky and misunderstood

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h0ggtied

being quirky don’t get u tht Addy scrip !!

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wait period i’m obsessed with you.

i really like looking at google image searches for “firemen rescuing cats” or something because you get super cute pictures like

AND THEN THERE’S THIS ONE

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mufasamonsta

“THAT’S RIGHT TWAS I that set the house ablaze!!!”

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Dying.

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Every fucking time I know what’s at the bottom and every time I still lose my shit.

I’m so happy this post is back again asdlkfjsa

HAPPY TEN YEARS TO “TWAS I THAT SET THE HOUSE ABLAZE”

From another article i read today 😭

he wasn’t even there to be a contestant he joined the crew as a CHINESE TEACHER but the directors noticed his good looks and begged him to compete. poor guy made it to the finals and if he had been one of the winners he would have been contractually forced to be in a boy band whether he wanted to or not

this is the closest any human being has ever come to actually being sold to One Direction

at the rave and theyre literally just playing thru huey lewis and the news' disography with a sidechain and a four on the floor beat. whrt the fuck

Wow! Here’s something incredibly personal.

This is Good Bi Gender. A comic I made to express some feelings I have about my gender. I don’t really have that much else to say about it. Here it is.