hey!! the name's mitch and i cry over everything (ashton irwin mostly). enjoy your stay. also what the fuck even is my background

don’t you just love it when you’re having a massive argument with your parents and the conversation ends with each of them simultaneously reminding you of each and every single one of your flaws and reasons why you’re worthless even though you and them know that you’re depressed enough and don’t need this and silently insinuating that you’re actually a useless human being and that they’re ashamed to have such a child?

yeah, me too

professorfangirl:

prokopetz:

This is the one time of year that I love wasps.
Not because the wasps themselves get any nicer. They’re horrid little creatures year round. No, it’s because I have a couple of big apple trees out back, and late August, early September is when the apples start ripening.
Now, if you don’t harvest your own fruit, there are two things you need to know about apples.
The first thing you need to know about apples is that, when apples get ripe, they tend to fall from the tree at the slightest breeze.
I often work late at the office; by the time I get home, there are piles of apples scattered everywhere - and sure enough, the wasps are out in force, gorging themselves on the fruit. When I go to clean up the windfallen apples, the wasps naturally do the “rawr, I’ma fuck you up!” routine for which wasps are known.
The second thing you need to know about apples is that they ferment very rapidly in the late August heat.
So: the wasps try to come at me, but they’re too drunk to fly. They get about an inch off the ground, then faceplant directly into the turf, flip over onto their backs, and lay there, legs twitching in the air as they try in vain to find something to sting.
Perhaps I’m a man of simple pleasures, but I bust up laughing every. single. time.
Fucking wasps.

I tried to reblog this with a witty tag, but Tumblr took it as serious advice:

professorfangirl:

prokopetz:

This is the one time of year that I love wasps.

Not because the wasps themselves get any nicer. They’re horrid little creatures year round. No, it’s because I have a couple of big apple trees out back, and late August, early September is when the apples start ripening.

Now, if you don’t harvest your own fruit, there are two things you need to know about apples.

The first thing you need to know about apples is that, when apples get ripe, they tend to fall from the tree at the slightest breeze.

I often work late at the office; by the time I get home, there are piles of apples scattered everywhere - and sure enough, the wasps are out in force, gorging themselves on the fruit. When I go to clean up the windfallen apples, the wasps naturally do the “rawr, I’ma fuck you up!” routine for which wasps are known.

The second thing you need to know about apples is that they ferment very rapidly in the late August heat.

So: the wasps try to come at me, but they’re too drunk to fly. They get about an inch off the ground, then faceplant directly into the turf, flip over onto their backs, and lay there, legs twitching in the air as they try in vain to find something to sting.

Perhaps I’m a man of simple pleasures, but I bust up laughing every. single. time.

Fucking wasps.

I tried to reblog this with a witty tag, but Tumblr took it as serious advice:

image

420calum:

So at work yesterday we only had pink spoons to hand out for the frozen yogurt and every male asked if we had a different color spoon because they did not like pink and it’s femininity and lemme tell u that this proves boys are weak and a fuckjng pink spoon proved that