As a 90′s kid, it blows my mind that origami youtube videos exist. You can look up any model and watch a pair of manicured hands assemble the thing in real time, in full color, in 3D, with cheerful flute music in the background. When I was little, you had a library book with no words and these esoteric little dotted lines and arrows and it was just you, your hands, your paper, and the cruel, uncaring eyes of God.
[Image description: tweet by Oktoberfest Hero @Palle_Hoffstein: A whole lot of folks on here believe society doesn’t owe anyone a job or health care but somehow believe women owe them a date.]
i still have hella VHS tapes. no one even cares, i should just throw them in the trash.
Hell, if you don’t want them, I’ll take them.
they’ve been in my closet for a year just taking up space… i seriously want to get rid of them now
why do you have so many copies of the same videos
….more???
i literally have like 200 copies of Forrest Gump on VHS
BUT WHY DO YOU HAVE SO MANY
WE WANT ANSWERS
ok… fine… last year, like in the fall/winter. i was driving around to every thrift store in my city, like, probably 30 thrift stores, and i would buy every VHS copy of Forrest Gump, Jurassic Park, Sister Act, Men In Black, Star Wars Episode 1, The Matrix, Space Jam, Speed, and Twister i could find… i have like 100 copies of each at least, 200 of some…whatevs…
like i was going through a lot of heartbreak, this girl totally broke my heart, and it was so comforting, driving around the entire city, listening to Apples In Stereo and Guided By Voices, and chillin, buying VHS tapes. It gave me something meaningless and ridiculous to occupy my time with opposed to just being in my room depressed.
But I’m over the girl that broke my heart, its been awhile, and I do have a new girlfriend, and shes amazing and I was like
“So I own over 200 copies of Forrest Gump on VHS, I mean I really like you and I can see us going somewhere, and I think its important to be honest, I have an absurd amount of VHS, and thats not going to change. I mean ever. Like I’m going to own these VHS tapes until I’m dead. Ok, fine, if the tapes do bother you, like I’ll get rid of them… but like you’ll have to explain to my followers why… im doing it for you. I know we don’t know each other that well, this is crazy, but like you’re so cool and you’re so great, that i would give up my VHS tapes for you.”
and she was like “90s, relax, having that many VHS tapes is kind of sketch but I’d never tell you to get rid of them.”.. then one night we were in my room watching Game of Thrones on HBOGo, and we start making out until shes like “90s I can’t do anything in here, the VHS tapes sketch me out.” and I was like “Are u serious?” and she was all “Dead serious.” and I was like “Like 2 girls on tumblr have said they’d want me to fuck them on top of a pile of Forrest Gump VHS tapes, like you should be so turned on.” and she was all “90s this is real life not your tumblr ask box, literally no one in the world would want to be fucked on top of a pile of Forrest Gump VHS tapes.” and I was like “I don’t want to fuck on top of Forrest Gump tapes anyway, like do you feel this mattress right now, its like a Serta, its so comfortable. This is a premium deluxe mattress.”
cursed: the spn fandom and how it used to add a gif to every single post
ultra cursed: bloggers who add gifs from community or glee or something to serious social justice posts explaining the idea of the post in the form of a sitcom joke that’s you can nearly always tell has been watered down to cater to a predominantly white audience and not to offend any right wing viewers
every time i fuck up plugging in the USB to charge my iphone and scratch it against the underside of the phone i think about that scene at the start of sherlock where sherlock assumes that john watson’s sister is an alcoholic because of the scratches around the charging port of the iphone she gave to him as a gift and i think to myself “man sherlock is a fucking idiot”
“Samuel Vimes dreamed about Clues. He had a jaundiced view of Clues. He instinctively distrusted them. They got in the way. And he distrusted the kind of person who’d take one look at another man and say in a lordly voice to his companion, “Ah, my dear sir, I can tell you nothing except that he is a left-handed stonemason who has spent some years in the merchant navy and has recently fallen on hard times,” and then unroll a lot of supercilious commentary about calluses and stance and the state of a man’s boots, when exactly the same comments could apply to a man who was wearing his old clothes because he’d been doing a spot of home bricklaying for a new barbecue pit, and had been tattooed once when he was drunk and seventeen* and in fact got seasick on a wet pavement. What arrogance! What an insult to the rich and chaotic variety of the human experience!” (Terry Pratchett, Feet of Clay)
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