My grandmother is very afraid of birds. Very afraid, not a fan at all. And, for SOME reason, I don’t know why, my brothers invested in a life sized garden ornament of an owl. We don’t even have a garden to decorate, I have no clue why this is in the house, but in any case they put it in my mum’s room because it had the most space. My grandmother nipped in to get something and lo and behold; she spies the owl.
Naturally, she FLIPS. Slams the door shut, sprints to me, and then, all at once, the fear subsided as her brain kicked back in and told her it was an ornament.
But my mum was asleep in that room. She still is.
What my grandmother did was walk in, spy what she thought was a very real bird of prey and LOCKED MY MUM IN WITH IT
BAD NEWS, MA
THE OWL IS YOUR PROBLEM; DON’T GET MAIMED
I want to hug you. You look huggable.
“?!? I-I suppose I’m… squishy, but… cute and huggable???”
Azama: Sometimes I feel bad about being a piece of shit... But then I remember our existences are temporary and meaningless!
Little is known about the origins of this practice, although there is some unfounded speculation that it is loosely derived from or perhaps inspired by ancient Aegean notions about bees’ ability to bridge the natural world with the afterlife.
I had a rude-ass dream last night. Some disembodied voice said “Hey, wanna hear a funny joke?” I’m a fan of jokes and do what voices tell me in my dreams, so I say “Yeah, sure.” Then my 8 AM alarm goes off.
Prick.
That’s a very good question, Arthur…
math was a goddamn mistake id like to sit down and have a serious talk with every mathematician ever they knew perfectly well the nature of their crimes
アサマ
They like the bath towel