A CROW TRIED TO GO IN OUR CLASSROOM AND HE HAD A PEN
yes hello i am here to learn geometries
That crow is more prepared than some of my students.
You’ve all just like, completely skipped over the possibility that this crow has seen people using pens in this room, found one, and is trying to return it. There’s been videos of crows picking up sweet wrappers and stuff and placing them in bins after seeing humans put their litter in bins. I really do believe that this crow is trying to return the pen and that is ADORABLE AS HELL.
THEY ARE SO SMART I LOVE THEM
Whoa. The MLA has officially devised a standard format to cite tweets in an academic paper. Sign of the times.
ebooks, Horse. (horse_ebooks). “Leg Butt” 18 Nov 2011, 12:38 PM. Tweet.
I’m both appalled and intrigued.
*blinks* What? What? When would you need to cite a… Oh…
Oh you bloody communication/media theory academics…
I’m now trying to remember a citeworthy tweet now. Will Endnote and Mendeley put them in for you?
I’m half bemused, half disposed to swearing.
a girl’s feet will tangle yours under sheets you just bought for a night like this. the price tag is still glued to the plastic wrapping stuffed underneath the bed. her feet are frigid and feel like frostbite against your legs when you fall asleep, but they’re like mittens roasted over a fire when the sun blinks through the curtains.
a girl’s legs are taut and thick. they’re flexible and enclose you in a straightjacket at 2 am when they knot around your waist and pull you just a little closer. if she’s still sleeping, it’s even better.
her thighs will make you forget about your calculus homework and your french exam. they will make you forget about your father’s affair or your best friend’s disorders. they will make you forget your name and they will make you forget who you are without them. hold them as tight as you can. i promise, she loves it.
when you were in fourth grade, they taught you stop, drop, and roll at the sign of a fire. when you’re in her bedroom on the second floor, her quivering hips will trick-start a similar fire in your teeth, and you’re going to want to listen to your fourth grade teacher, but don’t. if you stop, whatever it may be that you’re doing, she might kill you.
so in health class, they’re supposed to teach you that your hands will never fit somewhere like they will on a girl’s waist. it doesn’t matter if it’s wide and soft, or small and hard. your hands will adapt to her waist like the heart to your blood. they’ll feel as natural as fingers on an instrument.
sometimes you can see her ribs; sometimes you can’t. they flicker like an old grainy movie under her skin, and they feel like sharp magma in your palms. they’re structure — they protect her. hold her there if you want her to feel like this house isn’t caving in on herself.
her chest. promise her you’d never want anything more or anything less. if you don’t mean it, stop reading, and find someone else.
taste her collarbone. dip in the crevices and valleys and plant trees at the bottom. root down, cherish the nature, and never ever underestimate a girl’s collarbones. they’re a place to sleep when its -11 outside. write scripts on her collarbone. they are forever.
if you don’t know blueprints to her neck with your eyes closed from tracing it with your mouth, you’re doing it wrong. learn it. memorize it. you better know her pulse like counting with your dominant hand. kiss it like it’s her mouth. her neck will change over time, yes. but make sure you can change with it.
kiss her before she brushes her teeth. make fun of her morning breath. kiss her after, and make fun of the flavor of her toothpaste. kiss her when she’s angry and throwing the vase your mother bought her, and kiss her when she can’t stand and she bubbles over with tears like hot water. kiss her if she’s laughing and tell her it’s because she makes you happy. kiss her if she won’t stop talking because you want to taste her voice. kiss her when she isn’t talking because you miss it. kiss her in the shower and kiss her everywhere. if it’s raining, kiss her, and kiss her again when she calls you a cliche. kiss her in public because you want them all to know, and kiss her in private because you don’t need them to either. god, just kiss her on the mouth. nothing else matters. just fucking kiss her.
Notice how all of humanity has just gone downhill since they declared that Pluto was not a planet anymore
#wrath of Pluto
Actually, Pluto was the Roman’s name for Hades. They named a planet after a god of the dead then revoked its planetary status and thought everything would be okay. You fools
in 1930 the average wages were $27,481*
in 2012 the average wages were $44,321
in 1930 the average home cost $53,635*
in 2013 the average home cost $289,500
in 1930 the average car cost $8,369*
in 2013 the average car cost $31,352
but no you are probably right, it’s just twenty-somethings being lazy.
Half a lifetime ago the words “a/s/l” meant something to me – the start of a conversation with someone halfway across the world with whom perhaps you shared a desire for escapism.
But that was half a lifetime ago in the first iteration of the MSN chatrooms with its first attempts at keeping teens like me safe. It was the time of xanga, of dreamwave accounts, of thousands of girls learning to code…
There is a jar on one of my bookshelves. It smells vaguely of tomato sauce and in it are little twists of paper. The twists of paper hold words – reminders of things that have happened that made me happy – memories, experiences, ideas, facts.
I got the idea from a blog post I came across while surfing the internet. A few days after I started it, I got a book in the mail: Samantha Tidy’s The…