wanna hear a wild story? my brother’s history professor is closing in on 80 and basically lives at the university. one night my brother visited him for a meeting, and it came up that my brother was gonna be performing as a court jester at the castle the following day. and his professor busts out: “ah, that reminds me of my youth!”
he then proceeded to tell the tale of when he and his friends went backpacking to greece back in their early 20s. then one day they found themselves completely penniless. so they decided that the only reasonable thing to do was to set up acrobatic shows in skimpy outfits on the beach at day, and then drink up the money at night.
after a week or so they gained some traction, and a gang of young greek men walked up to them like “hey y’all are cool as hell, can we join y’all for drinks tonight?” and my brother’s professor was like “of course! y’all have to wear these revealing outfits and do somersaults with us tho” and the greek gang said “sounds dope. y’all are invited to live with us for however long y’all want.”
anyhow, they proceeded to live like this for the better part of 3 months, doing shows, drinking, and sleeping at the greek gang’s apartment. but after a while they decided enough was enough, and said thank you for everything, but we’re going back to sweden now. and the greeks said “sure! love y’all have a safe trip xx”
half a year later my brother’s professor gets contacted by the greek police. they ask him about the months they spent in greece, and then informs him that their greek friends have been convicted of serial homicide and robbery. that the group of young greek men had joined up with several tourist groups for several years “for drinks”, and then killed and robbed them all, terrorising the beach city for several years. with one exception, of course, because “this one group of swedish acrobats in slutty strongman suits were just ‘so damn nice’”.
and that’s the story of how one swedish history university professor survived sharing a flat with a group of serial killers for several months by performing acrobatics in slutty outfits on the beach. moral of the story? be kind of heart, thicc of ass.
by the way i’m the reason why they send weathermen into hurricanes and shit. “it’s needless and dangerous!!!!!” i don’t care. every day i call into CNN and demand they send their most pathetic newscaster into a storm to watch them be knocked down by wave and wind and they sigh and say yes ma'am. and i do this all for nasty, sexual purposes, if you were wondering.
my favorite part of this post is people started tagging it with names of characters i’ve never heard of so i got curious and googled them and like a third are just tagging it as their local weatherman. very funny.
i hate you shein. i hate you wish. i hate you temu. i hate you aliexpress. i hate you fast fashion. i hate you consumerism. i hate you planned obsolescence. i hate you plastics.
albatrosses will wipe the floor with any species of bird you choose to compare them to. they’re the Most, or at least Extremely, by almost every metric
wingspan. lifespan. intricacy of mating dances. devotion to monogamy. investment in offspring. ability to circumnavigate the globe. literary symbolism that is flexible but not to the point of meaninglessness. eyeliner quality. I could go on
happy summer to dykes in tank tops and basketball shorts, goths who’s makeup is melting, little kids catching frogs and fireflies, guys who just bring their guitar everywhere now, 13 yr olds very obviously in their emo phase during a family vacation, gas station employees, old people sitting on porches, and dogs swimming at the beach
around when I first started dating my boyfriend i bought myself this novelty blanket that looks like a photorealistic tortilla because I am SUCH A SUCKER for novelty shit. when he saw it in person for the first time his eyes lit up, which should have been a warning sign for the indignities to come.
so he’s a first responder and his day shifts start obnoxiously early as far as I, a pampered corporate asshole, am concerned. almost invariably when he’s at my place there will be an alarm at an hour that is downright unconscionable that will make him wake up and roll out of bed to get ready and will simultaneously make me burrow under the pillows grumbling about how surely nobody actually NEEDS their lives saved this early in the morning, after which I will promptly attempt to go back to sleep
he is a clever man and he knows this is when i am most vulnerable to attack.
every single time we do this dance, he quietly dresses, packs up, goes about getting ready to leave, and then when i have juuuust fallen back asleep, he returns with the tortilla blanket. He finds it no matter where I have hidden it.
He then creeps silently up to my side of the bed and uses his superior speed, strength, and reflexes to wrap me up in it incredibly tightly while i am still dazed and sputtering, so that i cannot move my legs or arms and am reduced to humiliating halfhearted magikarp flops that do not deter him from at least attempting to kiss my forehead.
then he goes to my bedroom door, opens it, then pauses, turns around, looks at me, the soft human filling of the facsimile of an enormous burrito he has just constructed, and says in his best romantic lead voice “I’ll see you soon, beans.”
you cannot understand how devastating it is to my ego that i am beans.
ALT
