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Hey! My name is Aurora, I'm 18 and from Canada. This is my crappy blog.

deadlycollision:

takshammy:

feferilyoddparents:

but mUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUum

can someone translate this i dont know british

I’ll do my best
*ahem* AY YO MA

I can’t breathe

41st:

i feel bad for 5’11 boys like u were so close. u almost made it.

(Source: lawngreen)

If this gets 100,000 notes my older brother will name his kid Hermione

joyfulserenade:

smurflewis:

You don’t understand;

My brother and his wife are both dentists. They just found out the sex of their baby is a girl.

I’m trying to convince them to name the baby Hermione.

My brother said if I get 100,000 notes he’ll make it her middle name.

Help me have the coolest niece EVER

If this doesn’t happen I will be thoroughly displeased.

gifak-net:

Everyone knows once you make it upstairs youre safe

gifak-net:

Everyone knows once you make it upstairs youre safe

blue-eyed-hanji:

thelifeofnachos:

These shows taught me all about animals, science, math, geography, reading, grammar, kindness and friendship. 

This will always be golden 

aww yissss

I can feel the nostalgia ooze into my bloodstream

spiritguide:

WHOA THERE COOL IT THAT’S WAAAAY TOO MUCH FROSTING FOR ONE DUNKAROO YOU GOTTA RATION THAT SHIT

spiritguide:

WHOA THERE COOL IT THAT’S WAAAAY TOO MUCH FROSTING FOR ONE DUNKAROO YOU GOTTA RATION THAT SHIT

tf2crazy:

advils:

plantie:

nosdrinker:

advils:

Looking in my parents closet I’m going to throw up

this is hell

Whaaaat, parents have a sexual life? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooo
…
seriously, grow up please.

if accepting the fact that my mom uses nipple tassels is part of growing up then i don’t want to grow up

what if it’s not your mom who uses them

tf2crazy:

advils:

plantie:

nosdrinker:

advils:

Looking in my parents closet I’m going to throw up

this is hell

Whaaaat, parents have a sexual life? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooo

seriously, grow up please.

if accepting the fact that my mom uses nipple tassels is part of growing up then i don’t want to grow up

what if it’s not your mom who uses them

(Source: ancestor)

castlestark:

I can’t wait until our generation becomes teachers that actually know how to make a video full screen and get the god damn cursor out of the way

narcisisst:

they met 2 minutes ago i just

(Source: narcisisst)

fuckyeahthespianpeacock:

saltheria:

yeffyaboyuice:

mythchief:

So there I was, ready to take a shower. I mean, I was dirty, a little greasy, a shower was not such a horrible idea. People take showers, amiright? Of course!
I get naked.
FULL naked.
REAL naked.
I’m talking the exact opposite reason why you ever went to your grandmother’s house.
No cookies. Blatant nudity.
That’s how folks take showers these days, right? Well, I pull back the curtain…
And there it was.
This…thing…sitting on the little soap/shower/pube shelf. Not a care in the world, like it’s been there for years. “What the fuck is that?” I think to myself.
Now, what follows is the exact pattern of thought that took me from rational human being to Sloth in 3.4 seconds.
“Is that a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit? Holy fuck that’s a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit. OMG why would someone leave that unattended. Those things are so delicious. I’m gonna eat the fuck out of it. Man, I can’t wait to see whoever left it’s face when they come back to find that someone ate their cheesy biscuit’s fuck. Ohhh boy.”
Then my brain sent a message to my arm that said, “Reach for that cheesy biscuit, bitch. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!?”
As you must already know, we are all contractually bound to make a dickload of mistakes throughout our lifetime. Some of those mistakes are so big that they forever hinder our world and warrant entire chapters in our children’s history books. However, most mistakes have the dubious providence of merely haunting one’s soul and festering amidst the subconscious for always and eternity.
This was, nearly, one of those.
If my adjacency to failure could be measured, the only possible unit of measurement to appropriate it would be “baby condoms”. And no, I do not mean those horrendous papoose-like titty-cribs that the slovenly carriage their spawn around in in Wal-Mart, I mean condoms that a baby would wear.
My adjacency to failure was roughly 1 and a half Kiddie Trojans.
I’m not sure what stopped me, be it cosmic or supernatural, but it gave my brain just enough time to ask itself some rather important questions regarding this little tub treasure. Questions like:
“WHO, THE FUCK, WOULD LEAVE A CHEESY BISCUIT IN MY SHOWER?!”
And inquiries such as:
“AND WHY WERE YOU GOING TO EAT IT, MORON?!”
Seriously, was I so hungry that I would wantonly disobey all the integral conditioning and survival imprinting my parents bestowed upon me like the ever important, “Um, don’t eat that biscuit retard, you don’t know where it’s been or whose it is and also you found it in the shower.” in order to satisfy something so benign as a munchie?
That, I’m sorry to say, was pretty much my reality.
An early morning introspective psychological evaluation of a sad, hungry, naked man who almost ate a bar of soap.

OMG ITS BACK

This shit needs to be published.

This is going in the monologue section and I’m not even sorry.

fuckyeahthespianpeacock:

saltheria:

yeffyaboyuice:

mythchief:

So there I was, ready to take a shower. I mean, I was dirty, a little greasy, a shower was not such a horrible idea. People take showers, amiright? Of course!

I get naked.

FULL naked.

REAL naked.

I’m talking the exact opposite reason why you ever went to your grandmother’s house.

No cookies. Blatant nudity.

That’s how folks take showers these days, right? Well, I pull back the curtain…

And there it was.

This…thing…sitting on the little soap/shower/pube shelf. Not a care in the world, like it’s been there for years. “What the fuck is that?” I think to myself.

Now, what follows is the exact pattern of thought that took me from rational human being to Sloth in 3.4 seconds.

“Is that a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit? Holy fuck that’s a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit. OMG why would someone leave that unattended. Those things are so delicious. I’m gonna eat the fuck out of it. Man, I can’t wait to see whoever left it’s face when they come back to find that someone ate their cheesy biscuit’s fuck. Ohhh boy.”

Then my brain sent a message to my arm that said, “Reach for that cheesy biscuit, bitch. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!?”

As you must already know, we are all contractually bound to make a dickload of mistakes throughout our lifetime. Some of those mistakes are so big that they forever hinder our world and warrant entire chapters in our children’s history books. However, most mistakes have the dubious providence of merely haunting one’s soul and festering amidst the subconscious for always and eternity.

This was, nearly, one of those.

If my adjacency to failure could be measured, the only possible unit of measurement to appropriate it would be “baby condoms”. And no, I do not mean those horrendous papoose-like titty-cribs that the slovenly carriage their spawn around in in Wal-Mart, I mean condoms that a baby would wear.

My adjacency to failure was roughly 1 and a half Kiddie Trojans.

I’m not sure what stopped me, be it cosmic or supernatural, but it gave my brain just enough time to ask itself some rather important questions regarding this little tub treasure. Questions like:

“WHO, THE FUCK, WOULD LEAVE A CHEESY BISCUIT IN MY SHOWER?!”

And inquiries such as:

“AND WHY WERE YOU GOING TO EAT IT, MORON?!”

Seriously, was I so hungry that I would wantonly disobey all the integral conditioning and survival imprinting my parents bestowed upon me like the ever important, “Um, don’t eat that biscuit retard, you don’t know where it’s been or whose it is and also you found it in the shower.” in order to satisfy something so benign as a munchie?

That, I’m sorry to say, was pretty much my reality.

An early morning introspective psychological evaluation of a sad, hungry, naked man who almost ate a bar of soap.

OMG ITS BACK

This shit needs to be published.

This is going in the monologue section and I’m not even sorry.