Category: Conversations

Talking, teasing, manipulating, debating, and delighting

dumbbigtittedslut:

bedtimestoriesforbrokengirls:

dumbbigtittedslut:

All y’all pineapple pizza lovers can go straight to hell

Looking at you, @bedtimestoriesforbrokengirls. You want some mango for your steak? Strawberries for your cheeseburger?

Fucking-A I’ll eat mango with steak! Are you kidding? Marinated flank, grilled, sliced on the bias, served on tortillas with cilantro, green onion, and a mango salsa… that shit *kills*.

And now I’m hungry. Bitch.

The only time sweet fruit belongs on hot meat is if you’re watching twink porn, old man.

I’m going to overlook your deranged culinary myopia because that made me laugh.

dumbbigtittedslut:

All y’all pineapple pizza lovers can go straight to hell

Looking at you, @bedtimestoriesforbrokengirls. You want some mango for your steak? Strawberries for your cheeseburger?

Fucking-A I’ll eat mango with steak! Are you kidding? Marinated flank, grilled, sliced on the bias, served on tortillas with cilantro, green onion, and a mango salsa… that shit *kills*.

And now I’m hungry. Bitch.

greedyagain:

anewsubstory:

bedtimestoriesforbrokengirls:

Makes sense to me; it’s a waste of time, kissing a girl who needs to be handled.

Because yeah, if I’m brushing my lips over the whole of your body, I’m probably doing something gross like “thinking of your feelings” or “caring about your pleasure.” I’m using my mouth, after all, which is part of my face, which is me.

But my hands? I dig around in the trash with my hands. I pick scabs with my hands. I scoop dog shit with my hands. They’re seemingly always dirty, and need routine scrubbing and diligent sanitizing. They exist to manipulate the world’s filth from a safe distance.

So of course you get uncomfortable when a man wants to ”kiss you all over”: he clearly doesn’t understand his tools… or you.

‘I dig around in the trash with my hands.’

‘They exist to manipulate the world’s filth from a safe distance.’

😳😩

Bedtime stories is such a good friend to you Monkey

I feel it’s important to support a young woman’s agenda.

Oh, and while I’m here, can I just mention:

Y’all have no idea how pleased I am to have inspired someone to ask that question of herself.

young-dumb-cum:

MEN: what’s the appeal of cumming on a girl’s face?

She sits in front of a mirror for hours on end, obsessing over every hint of asymmetry and every errant hair. She takes selfies and then zooms into them so she can map her pores like an explorer surveying the terrain of an alien world. She spends more money and time than she can spare on the paintjob she needs to feel armored and accepted in a world that wants her to run and hide.

And I can render it all pointless with a grunt and a grin.

Makes sense to me; it’s a waste of time, kissing a girl who needs to be handled.
Because yeah, if I’m brushing my lips over the whole of your body, I’m probably doing something gross like “thinking of your feelings” or “caring about your pleasure.” I’m using my mouth, after all, which is part of my face, which is me.

But my hands? I dig around in the trash with my hands. I pick scabs with my hands. I scoop dog shit with my hands. They’re seemingly always dirty, and need routine scrubbing and diligent sanitizing. They exist to manipulate the world’s filth from a safe distance.

So of course you get uncomfortable when a man wants to ”kiss you all over”: he clearly doesn’t understand his tools… or you.

domestic–doll:

bedtimestoriesforbrokengirls:

So Kevin Smith had a heart attack —fair warning: if he dies, expect me to go from zero to mid-life crisis in under 24 hours— and Heather Locklear tried to beat up a cop.

My youth had a rough weekend.

I don’t know either of those people but I hope you’ll be okay!

You are a very kindly giraffe. I should try to remember the international nature of my audience.

Heather Locklear wore a bikini and smiled at me from the poster over my bed when I was fourteen. She was on a show called *Dynasty* that I hated but my parents loved, and later, a show called *Melrose Place* that I hated but *everyone* loved. She was the pre-eminent rockstar marrier of her time —landing both Tommy Lee (Motley Crue) and Richie Sambora (Bon Jovi) in the space of ten years— and is currently mother to an Instagram thot. Looks like she may have some anger issues, too.

Kevin Smith is a short, lumpy wearer of hockey jerseys, who made a black-and-white movie in the convenience store where he worked in ‘92. The characters in *Clerks* were hyper-verbal vulgarians who engaged in bitter arguments about irrelevant things; bored wage-slave nobodies who were simultaneously fascinated by and disgusted with sexual depravity… he basically invented Tumblr. Then a few years later, he invented Ben Affleck, for which he has yet to atone. Despite the fact that his peer group is a bit of a #MeToo All-Star Team —I remind myself that if I’d known those people at that age, I would have been right there with him— he’s still something approximating a hero to me.

And thus concludes this installment of Bedtime’s Incredibly Inappropriate Wikipedia Edits.

Henry V – Act 4 Scene 1

littleshakespeareanbaby:

bedtimestoriesforbrokengirls:

Every time I see @littleshakespeareanbaby pop up on my dash, I think of this scene. It’s fun, knowing the greatest writer in the English language worked so hard to gaslight society into believing life was always tougher for the bosses.

IM SCREAMING. IS THIS YOU??? ARE YOU JEREMY IRONS????? CAN I DEDICATE MY LIFE TO YOU IN EXCHANGE FOR YOU READING EVERY SHAKESPEAREAN PLAY TO ME????

I’m not Jeremy Irons. (I’m assuming Jeremy Irons long ago took out a restraining order on all of Tumblr.) I was just trying to *not* do my Branagh impression, which still slips through in places.

Your offer of lifetime dedication is being taken under advisement. Every cul— ahem, tax-free organization of like-minded individuals needs early adopters to provide a strong base for proselytization… spiritual bottom-bitches, if you will. I’m actually concerned you might be too silly and giggly to handle my affairs for me, but time will tell.

Time will tell.

slightlysenssual:

bedtimestoriesforbrokengirls:

Pillow Talk

You’re educated, but kind of stupid. You’re grown, but an infantile mess. You’re overflowing with the future, and yet studiously fixated on an ever-shrinking sliver of the past. The only truly volitional, defining acts of your life have been your squandering of opportunities and refusal of responsibilities. You’re a laughable sham of an adult, a makeshift assemblage of ruinous instincts, warped ideas, and recursive anxieties that somehow looks fetching in a skirt.

But sure, I guess I love you. Why do you ask?

Fuck you, but also…yeah. Guess you’re right.

But fuck you.

It’s like one half of every argument I’ve ever had.

And almost every courtship, come to think of it.

Love is but a debate twixt fools, after all.

What’s the biggest thing you’ve put in your ass?

dumbest-baby:

A dick. And ya know what? If I’m not drunk this is usually how it feels.

Once, while still young and alive with ambition, I was deep-dicking a girl on her back with her knees around her ears, and one of us lost the rhythm. (Probably me.) Next thing you know, I was balls-deep in her asshole.

And yes, it was a lot like the GIF. Except that in our version, the skateboard breaks in half and a splinter takes out someone’s eye.