ordered so much indian last night that there’s enough left for breakfast. good times.

can’t seem to go to my dash without seeing crappy edits or uncredited reposts of my gifs. luckily it’s happy hour and my friend is working at the bar. obliteration looms.

everytime i dip a mcdonald’s chip in my strawberry thickshake, a star explodes… but it’s worth it.

i like how people on my facebook are checking into the gym right now… and i’m cracking a beer.

they all sound dirty somehow…

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octopi or octopuses?

one great big festering neon distraction…