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Anonymous asked:

What's the most illegal thing you ever did?

almanzapedia:

At Stanford there was this Professor who was a total bitch and she taught British Literature, which was cool. Except she taught only her opinions of the books and it didn’t help me as a writer. I went to school to learn new things to improve my craft, not have someone else’s opinions carved onto my forehead.

So anyway, for our final project, she asked us to write a ten page paper on why the color symbolism in Othello was so significant. I did some research and it turned out that she did her entire graduate thesis on this very subject. I was mad. This wasn’t teaching, this was boosting her ego. SO I wrote a ten page essay on why color symbolism in Othello wasn’t significant, satirizing it to the point of no return, saying that her opinion was an opinion and shouldn’t be taken seriously.

SHe failed me, needless to say. So in retaliation, I responded by baking a batch of brownies laced with weed and laxatives and delivered them myself to the professor hours before her big graduation speech. I told her that it was a peace offering, my way of apologizing and asking if I could do anything to fix my grade.

She refused to fix my grade.

In the end, she shit herself on stage.

I didn’t regret it.

marielovesgroban:

In the wake of the passing of Robin Williams, I challenge everybody on Tumblr to reblog this photo. 

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. 

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. 

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

—WH Auden, Funeral Blues

Let’s all reblog this in memory of a broken soul who is no longer with us. May he find the peace in death that he struggled with in life. 

(Source: silenceintosound)

So I’m starting my period once again.

AND MY STOMACH IS KILLING ME!!!

It’s freaken hot in my room but I’m cold. I want some ice cream but I want some fruits,

I want to talk to someone about my life problems but I don’t want anyone near me.

I want to feel loved but if you say one word to me I will cuss you out…

Im in pain…

that-decadent-voice:

confessionsofadirectioner:

On Easter, we had this tradition where an old man down the road would paint little ‘bunny’ prints along the sidewalk, as well as up to the door of every house where a child lives…and he’s done this every year, without fail, since before I was born.
Over the summer, that old man passed away, so no one in their right mind expected to see the tracks this year.  However, when I woke up- there they were!  
Turns out that his eighteen year old grandson (who happens to be known as the badass of our school) got up at three this morning and spent four hours- by himself -painting the prints; just to make sure that the neighborhood kids wouldn’t be disappointed.
My faith in our generation = restored. 

Marry him.
Zoom Info
that-decadent-voice:

confessionsofadirectioner:

On Easter, we had this tradition where an old man down the road would paint little ‘bunny’ prints along the sidewalk, as well as up to the door of every house where a child lives…and he’s done this every year, without fail, since before I was born.
Over the summer, that old man passed away, so no one in their right mind expected to see the tracks this year.  However, when I woke up- there they were!  
Turns out that his eighteen year old grandson (who happens to be known as the badass of our school) got up at three this morning and spent four hours- by himself -painting the prints; just to make sure that the neighborhood kids wouldn’t be disappointed.
My faith in our generation = restored. 

Marry him.
Zoom Info

that-decadent-voice:

confessionsofadirectioner:

On Easter, we had this tradition where an old man down the road would paint little ‘bunny’ prints along the sidewalk, as well as up to the door of every house where a child lives…and he’s done this every year, without fail, since before I was born.

Over the summer, that old man passed away, so no one in their right mind expected to see the tracks this year.  However, when I woke up- there they were!  

Turns out that his eighteen year old grandson (who happens to be known as the badass of our school) got up at three this morning and spent four hours- by himself -painting the prints; just to make sure that the neighborhood kids wouldn’t be disappointed.

My faith in our generation = restored. 

Marry him.

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