milk crate

I can’t believe this is my life at 26 years of age. It’s not bad but I just thought things would be different. I thought I would be different. For some reason I thought by my “late 20s” I would be organised and efficient, financially stable and not constantly forgetting to pay my electricity bill. I thought I would stop shoplifting underwear from H&M. I thought I would wake up every morning and walk to the shops, buy newspaper and bread. Then I’d make coffee and eat Vegemite toast in the kitchen before I caught the train to work. I thought I’d take up swimming or something and move into my own studio apartment and get a cat, but I’m no where near that life. I still have tables made out of milk crates and my car is a cigarette stained rubbish tip on wheels. I wonder if I’ll ever be one of those people who goes to the gym and buys furniture from IKEA. I wonder if i want to be one of those people. I’m gonna die in a sea of second hand Persian rugs that smell like other people’s dogs and patchouli, I just know it.

also yeah it’s annoying when people continue to throw taylor’s name out there at any given moment but is it /really/ annoying when her sales go up and y'all have something to talk/stand on your milk crate about? let’s look at the big picture here: this cycle of mention, anger, silence from taylor, relevance stays #fresh is business fam. it’s a win/win on both sides because everyone seems to forget any press is good press. have you ever in your entire life seen taylor’s sales go down? no. lmao. y'all keep victimizing taylor though, i’m sleep. i only woke up to make myself a hot cup of Lipton.

Sufjan Stevens was found in a milk crate on the doorstep of Mr. and Mrs. Stevens, in Detroit, MI, on Canada Day, July 1, 1975. He was wrapped in cellophane, and tagged on the wrist with the mysterious note: “I love you.” Mr. and Mrs. Stevens had three other children: Jo-Jo, Zukey-Dukey, and Jam-Jam. Mrs. Stevens crocheted afghans for the flea market. Mr. Stevens was the custodian at the hospital. They had very little money, but very big hearts. They decided to keep the baby (using the milk crate to hold their National Geographics). They named him Sufjan Stevens, after Abu Sufjan Muhammad, the great Armenian Sufi warrior who slew ten thousand dragons to save the Fairy Princess. Despite his despondent looks, Sufjan was a good kid. Mr. and Mrs. Stevens did the best they could. They fed him carrots, they read him parts of the Bhagavad Gita, they combed his hair, they sang songs and tap-danced in the living room. Things were looking good!

Dex is working on The Old Truck™ (a baby blue F150) at home and it’s a hopeless mess that’s been in the family since it was new (Back in 85) and it’s killing him because he’s replaced the thermostat twice and the damn thing keeps overheating. Nursey is there asking questions (and taking mental snapshots of Dex being hot with little grease smudges on his face. Though Dex is the type who never really gets dirty while working.) which is cool by Dex, he likes to teach. but damn if this isn’t frustrating and when he lets down the hood after tightening the breaks and cleaning out the carburetor he’s wiping off his hands and he gestures for Nursey to move his milk crate out of the way because they’re going to give it a shot.
They get going and the clutch isn’t being such a pain in the ass, so that’s a good thing, but at a stop sign twenty minutes down the road the damn thing is too hot again. So Dex pulls over and waves people around him while he lets the hood up and he’s grumbling and cussing and Nursey is all “Dude, chill” because he doesn’t really care if it takes them a while to get going again, but Dex has had it up to the bright red tips of his ears, so he pulls out a wrench and proceeds to RIP OUT THE DAMN THERMOSTAT and he chucks it over the cab and into the bed of the truck.
Hoses are reconnected a moment later and Dex tells Nursey to get back in the truck and they’re under way in a hot second and the truck is now FINE with no ailments to speak of and Nursey just thinks it’s a damn good thing he’s sitting in the truck because that might have been the hottest thing he’d seen all day (or maybe his whole life, but who’s keeping track at this point?). 

omg and now i’m stuck on “deano hoardes vhs tapes” headcanon

like he just has milk crates and cardboard boxes full of vhs tapes - ones he snagged at yard sales for a nickel with the cover faded and torn, stuff he’s taped off tv with peeling handwritten labels, a bunch of cheesy scifi he grabbed at a blockbuster closing

in other news i was brushing my fucking cat and she was rolling around blissfully, as one does, and she ROLLED RIGHT OFF THE FUCKING BED and landed on my bedside table (which is a milk crate) and knocked over my alarm clock AND my water bottle AND my beer and i had to catch her before she hit the floor and the beer got EVERYWHERE and anyway now shes off somewhere hiding from the evil milk crate of death and i have like 80% less of this beer than i started out with and i haven’t even had any yet

Awkwardness Ensues || Georgia & Carl


[🐎] — Having arrived at the Chamomile Tearoom to drop off her daily delivery, Georgia pulls the crate of milk from her cart and turns toward the building, only to get a gust of cold winter wind straight to the face. Scrunching up said face in discomfort, the redhead grumbles to herself as she approaches the cafe.

Thankfully one of the workers had been waiting out front for her and was holding the door open. At the sight of them, she covers up her earlier annoyance with a gracious smile as she passes them and enters the building. Craning her head back, she asks, “I need to drop it off in the back like always, yeah?”

When the worker gives her an affirmative nod, Georgia returns the gesture, and turns back around–

–only to come face to face with Carl.

“…!” She backs away, startled at his sudden appearance, and nearly loses her grip on the crate. “Goodness, you scared the bejeebers out of me! W-where’d you come from, anyway…!?”

While she’s speaking, Georgia can’t help but avert her gaze from the man, still bothered by what had happened in their first meeting. She couldn’t believe she mistook him for a girl, all because he had been wearing a dress… she had apologized for it countless times, but it still didn’t stop her from feeling bad about it.


Photos from yesterday’s #BruinsGameShowLive featuring Marchy on a milk crate, Pasta’s huge smile, dreamy Patrice, Dougie whispering something into Pasta’s ear and focused Krejci.

Photo credit: Steve Babineau