similator

anonymous asked:

Ho scoperto da pochissimo che hai un rapporto speciale con @ragazzosarcastico, ti va (anche se l'hai già fatto ma ho letto di sfuggita e solo una volta) il vostro rapporto? Sono curiosa <3 (PS: bel blog)

In un post di qualche settimana fa ho scritto questo:

Per me è un amico, forse anche di più.
Ma non nel senso che credete voi.
Ma nel senso che lui per me c'è e c'è sempre. C'è stato un periodo che ci siamo sentiti poco, ma è bastato uno dei nostri vocali logorroici per far tornare tutto come prima.
Lui è lo scemo che mi fa ridere quando sono triste, che mi fa la predica quando sbaglio e che mi supporta quando ho bisogno di un sostegno.
Lui è quell'amico che aspettavo da tempo e che non avevo mai avuto la fortuna di avere
.“

Ormai è da più di un anno che lo conosco, legati da una triste storia molto simile che probabilmente ha fatto sì che andassimo d’accordo sin da subito. Mi sopporta (nonostante i miei innumerevoli sbalzi d’umore), ma soprattutto lo sopporto io 😝. So che anche se non ci sentiamo ogni giorno, lui c’è. Ci riempiamo sempre di vocali lunghissimi (lui canta pure, mi dedica le canzoniii 😍 😏). Spesso gli racconto quello che mi succede e ha sempre buoni consigli (anche se a suo dire dovrei lasciar perdere tutta la popolazione maschile, ma quella è solo gelosia 😏). Mi controlla, ha sempre una parola buona per me e mi difende se qualcuno mi tratta male.
L’unica pecca è che ancora non è venuto a trovarmi lo stronzo, pff 🙁 🙁 ma a quello scemo voglio un gran bene lo stesso 💙 💙
( @ragazzosarcastico )

P.S. graziee 💙

anonymous asked:

Come sfuggire alla friendzone che ti fanno per non fare figuracce?

“Ti amo”
“Mi dispiace, ma ti vedo solo come un'amica”

“No ma tranquillo, anche io… la mia era solo una prova per vedere come dovrò comportarmi con il mio futuro ragazzo che attualmente è emigrato in Alaska per combattere lo sciogliemento dei ghiacciai, ti pare che lo dicevo a te, tu sei brutto proprio, non verrei mai a dirti una cosa simile, lo schifo in persona sei, non mi metterei con te neanche se mi supplicassi *risata psicopatica*”

E poi verrei sgamata. Questo è quello che accadrebbe a me.

#mainagioia

UPDATED TRUMP DOCTOR LETTER

To Whom It May Concern:

A lot of people have expressed a desire for an update on President Donald J. Trump’s health since his inauguration. I have been the personal physician of President Donald J. Trump since 1980 and I am here to say that Mr. Trump’s health is absolutely better than ever.

Since being sworn in, Donald Trump has lost 50 pounds and gained 17 inches of height. He’s the longest president who has ever lived. His livers are both functioning flawlessly. His blood sets an all-time record for the state of New York for “most” and his blood pressure was rated “excellent” by seven different Fox News Twitter polls. He doesn’t even have one cholesterol.

I can say this unequivocally: Donald Trump has the most bones. Scientists estimate that he now has around 900 bones in his body and more are being discovered every day. Some of those bones have never been seen before. They allow him to be really good at presidential things like signing executive orders and making love nightly to his wife who wants him to.

Mr. Trump’s test results have been astonishingly excellent. He actually has a blood type we’ve never seen before: “All.” It’s both the universal donor and universal recipient, and sprinkling it on your penis makes your penis bigger. Mr. Trump’s blood is gorgeous. It has a rich color that’s hard to describe, but if I had to put it into words, I might call it “red.”

President Donald Trump has no family history of cancer, diabetes, or death. The president’s family members are immortal beings that walk the earth without end, craving the sweet release of death that will never come unless they make a deal with a cool witch. Donald Trump will never die, he will just keep growing vertically forever until he lives in space. It’s really astonishing.

His physical strength is extraordinary. He can lift as much as a mother whose child is trapped under a car, but he’s more attractive than that mother and he hasn’t let himself go like she has. Have you seen the way she dresses lately? The hypothetical mother in this simile is a total chunk. 4 at best. As the famous doctor Hippocrates once said, “Would not hit.”

Since the Inauguration, Mr. Trump has kept an extremely active lifestyle. He starts every morning by walking straight up into the sky and then walking down again. He also visits me regularly for checkups. Mr. Trump doesn’t let me touch him because of gay, so I just eyeball it and give him a once over. I can usually tell just by looking how much blood is in him that day or which liver has taken the lead, so it’s not a super intensive process.

Mr. Trump is not only the healthiest president that has ever served, but also the most handsome. I usually want to kiss President Trump when I see him, but I would never break the doctor-patient trust, so instead I kiss the portrait of him I drew on my little note pad. There have been no presidents that even come close to President Trump in terms of overall health and hotness. Franklin Pierce was pretty hot, but his body wasn’t great. James Garfield was more cute than hot. President Trump is the total package. I know this because of my stethoscope.

Just to give a little more background on me, I’ve been a doctor for years. I got into medicine the same way a lot of doctors do: I once took an unmarked pill that I found under a toilet in a public restroom, and the next thing I knew, I was blacked out doing surgery on a man on a Benihana table with the big knives they got over there. I flipped this guy’s appendix right into my hat. And that’s when I caught the bug, for surgery and for tetanus!

Now, I want to address some of the slanderous things that have been said about me. It’s just like these coastal elites to say I’m not qualified as a physician. They think you need fancy things, like a diploma from Harvard Med School or a diploma from a med school or a GED or a car or medicine or clean hands. You don’t need those to be a doctor! All you need is the right attitude and a good sense of humor and to be Jewish and a blank death certificate just in case!

This is America. We’re not “fancy” here. You’re supposed to be able to pull yourself up by your bootstraps and put a bunch of clamps in a guy and see what tubes you can clamp up without making him sleep forever. My grandfather was a blue-collar worker, and so was my father. I am a red-collar worker because my collar is always covered in spurting blood. I may not know art or science or what a “lung” is, but I do know that I love America and am a lung-doctor!

Because of my love of America and Donald Trump, it is an honor to be his physician. Donald Trump could teach us all a thing or two about health. Not only is he the healthiest human ever, but also the healthiest dog, house and Faberge Egg. I wish him luck as he continues on his endless journey.

Love,

“Doctor” Harold N. Bornstein, M.D. (Mostly Doctor)

On Ke$ha’s hit 2010 song, Blah Blah Blah, she says “zip your lip like a padlock”. I never even questioned this 7 years ago but I’ve been thinking about it lately. It makes no sense. Padlocks don’t zip. 

You are an all knowing entity, the third eye. A child asks you where babies come from, and you must use a metaphor or simile they can use to understand. (Other than the birds and the bees)

Gravestones

Dedicated to my angst king, @bunny-yams. You aren’t just dude. You’re my dude.


Soft sunlight flowed through the air, a stillness falling over the graveyard as the steady grey rows of tombstones were interrupted every few steps by a bouquet of flowers. The color popped out from behind a grave, resting on another one, being all that was left of the memory that someone loved a person now gone. Sighing softly, Thomas reached his destination and sat down in front of the grave he had come to see. The soft dirt snuck under the corners of his fingernails and blades of grass bent gently as he rested, closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath before opening them once more.

A small bouquet of wilted flowers caught his eye. They were daisies- well, they had been daisies. Bright white shining in the sunlight reduced to nothing more than a dull yellowed brown, like tea-soaked parchment. Thomas brushed the dying flowers aside and placed a pink rose on the grass where the daisies had been laying. Alexander had never been particularly fond of daisies, anyways.

He could almost hear Alexander now, berating him for thinking that daisies, of all things, would be an acceptable thing to place on his grave. And Thomas would laugh softly before reminding Alexander that the dead have no choice whether or not daisies get placed on their graves. Then maybe he would hear Alexander mumble a soft thanks for the rose. If Thomas closed his eyes, he could almost imagine the soft breeze passing by was Alexander pressing a kiss to his forehead. Almost.

“I miss you,” Thomas stated, not opening his eyes as he spoke to the gravestone in front of him. “I know that you don’t expect me to, and I know that I don’t want to, but I miss you.” Thomas could feel the world turning back time around him, and played with the idea of days and weeks and months passing by in a flash, leaves floating back up to trees and returning to a vibrant green instead of a bold scarlet.

He could feel the grass beneath him like the way it had when he’d rushed over to Alexander after the shorter man had fallen from a tree. ‘I don’t need you to help me up,’ Alexander had said, cheeks blushing a soft pink, and Thomas had chuckled and extended his arm anyways, which Alexander gladly took. Steadying himself, he’d flashed Thomas a shy smile and held his hand tighter. Thomas reached his hand down and tightly gripped the grass beneath him, desperate to remember the feeling of Alexander’s hand in his.

Thomas took in another deep breath, the cool air sharp on his tongue like the taste of that awful mint bubblegum Alexander had liked to chew while he worked. Thomas couldn’t even attempt to count how many times Alexander had blown a bubble only for it to pop in his face and get in his hair. He could barely even keep track of the creative swears Alexander would use. After all, you never truly attempt to memorize something if you don’t know you’ll never fully experience it again.

He could still hear Alexander yelling, if he let his mind wander far enough. Yelling at him in meetings and arguments about small issues- big ones, too. Things only one of them did that both of them regretted for entirely different reasons. Alexander would always punctuate his words during arguments by throwing his arms up into the air, showing off the many scars he’d received over the years. He knew every scar on Alexander’s skin, each story behind them more hazy in his mind than the last.

Sitting at Alexander’s grave in the mid-September sunlight, Thomas came to a conclusion. Life was like studying for a test. You read and review the major parts, let them chase through your mind like Alexander chased through the halls of the office when he had a startling idea. But the small details? The specific flavor of mint gum, or the exact words spoken in your last conversation to a loved one? Those were the things you overlooked. Those were the things you wished more than anything you could remember. Wish that you could somehow go back in time and tell your past self that this, this is important, this is the thing you need. Because soon enough you’ll wish you were able to remember it. And you won’t.

Thomas opened his eyes and smiled sadly at the inscription of the gravestone before standing and turning, walking away. Life was a test. And death was simply realizing you didn’t remember quite enough of the memories you’d taken for granted.