looked down and hit by the awful realisation that i have accidentally dressed as a christmas elf.

mrw i see a ukrainian twink

you have bought a monitor, we think you'd like to buy a ... monitor. you harvested my data for this amazon? you got real lazy.

The Lurpak marketing team should bring back the trombone

I have made some absolutely dogshit life choices but congratulations to young me for noping out of both something awful and 4chan the second I laid eyes on them 🙏

when ur on a walk and there's a dog

principal skinner voice: STAN-CILLLL

EGG HEAD - “Skibadee, skibadanger! I am the rearranger!”

maybe it's because i'm a middle aged tranny, but modern political rhetoric suggests people appear to go to dinner parties far more often than i do. dinner party this, dinner party that. bitch we just put the smashing pumpkins on, drink 4 cans and order in from amigos.

sorry to be some normcore bank holiday wanker but spent the day gardening with my nbife and now it looks really nice. busted out the rotting lawnmower, throw out 400 old flower pots, tidied the shed, the whole shebang. japanese maple tree looking less dead already.

going to the incel doctor and asking for a flip top head so I can begin my reign of terror on these unaccountable dipshits

When I post, I enter a state of mushin (無心), thinking only of my duty to post, much like the 17th samurai Suzuki Shōsan who unhesitatingly decapitated a child lord at the Battle of Osaka. This is an extreme comparison, but a poster must cultivate “posting energy” and be ready to post at any time.

correctly identified member of taproom bar staff as a sad bisexual. several hours later opened a £30 bottle of barley wine and gave it to me for free. at last a use for these superpowers.

every weekend my insane yakuza boyfriend demands I get a new tattoo. I think his madness may be animated by an ancient evil. rude to say no though isn't it?

HR Giger monster but instead of making you forcibly and explosively pregnant, it makes you look really, really wet. like glinner wet.

might get into an argument on a popular deals website about the viewing angles between VA and IPS monitors, just to feel something.

(I make a "mouth" with the side of my hand and draw little eyes above it) Richard Dawkins: hmmmm (I put lipstick around the "mouth") Richard Dawkins, suavely: well hello

"le creuset" is french for "the creuset"

if I worked in a coffee shop I'd listen to so much Stereolab

my 120 year old ancient oak floorboards have some much ancient cat sick between them

MARTIN GORE <taking over lead vocals from Dave Gahan to perform a plaintive, string-laden ballad>: It's deeply unfair / That you do not care / That I am tumescent / Now I'm convalescent

two people flagging dyke on the top deck of the bus wearing the same clear glasses frames. feel like I need to step in before it gets heated.

hey Wes Streeting if you really want to increase NHS productivity maybe don't give me a laptop that takes 20 minutes to boot up and has a 10 second delay when I hit the email delete button 👍

we laughed at Brian Molko in 2013 for writing the opening couplet "My computer thinks I'm gay / I threw that piece of junk away". well who's laughing now? not you, a known homosexual computer user, that's for sure. prescient.

exactly what I do now: being the most annoying person in the monastery.

Good morning, I'm here to chew ass and kick gum and I'm all out of ass.

oh jesus. once gave a man a steadily increasing amount of loose change as he insisted the more coins I gave him the more likely I would receive some weed. after this he handed me a baggy and then immediately sprinted off going 'ahahahah". also 4 spar lagers for £2.50. rip.

it's the first day of proper sun. if this was 20 years ago i would have rung in sick, gone to the arboretum with some other wasters, and drunk 4-6 cans of lager whilst listening to the the aislers set on a portable cd player. my life is measurably worse for this no longer happening.

um, I was actually shoplifting this formula milk to train my child, an LLM, about formula milk related content. that's actually legal, so you have to let me go now officer.

it means there will be a mandatory yes/no "do you still have a dick?" field and a mandatory yes/no "will you top me?" field.

one thing they don't tell you about transition is that you will lose any desire to ever read a david peace novel.

clearly this man has had sex, but functionally he is virgin. he doesn't want to fuck or be fucked, he just wants to optimise vagina biomes.

Increasingly worried my love language is PowerPoint

me, when I'm not doing just fine

he wants the binmen to be hard again.

i knew his brother, 'El Nombre'. nasty character.

free the ukrainian twink three

No thoughts, just box

I guess you could say her ... stock has .... plummeted...

i love cryptocurrency because it allows me to move my millions of pounds around in secret. thank god for cryptocurrency.

just bought my first pair of crocs even though my inner millennial recoils at the very thought. i'm a croc wearer now. looking forward to wearing my signifiers that i have given up on looking good.

thinking about the time i went to my GP and told her i was shitting out important bits of my insides and she told me i had in fact just eaten some tomatoes. anyway i haven't pursued medical care since.

well well well, yet another cisgender woman has asked me how to remove the adhesive residue from estrogen patches. shoe is on the other foot now isn't it? sorry, i gatekeep that knowledge. ask me again in 7 years. (use baby oil)

SLIGHTLY YOUNGER TRANS WOMAN — "Is it AGP to say I would fuck my clone?" 1. - "I don't think you should worry about that typology stuff." 2. - [Esprit de Corps - Medium] "I would also fuck my clone." 3. - [Electrochemistry - Heroic] "I would also fuck your clone."

lovely day hanging out with @deeboom.bsky.social speculating about which members of the trans community are intelligence service assets ❤️

which idiot called it 'the devil wears prada 2' and not '2 prada 2 harder'

am i devastatingly sad or has it just gone cloudy.

this is how you kill a president