Random Nonsense

I'm 19 going on 20, if my mind was an animal it would be a hamster running in its wheel. Gotta love life and all its randomness
gridbugs:

cakeisnotpie:

agitatorswaltz:

lana-del-rey-mysterio:

johnnynemesis:

adolfziggler:

johnnynemesis:

youknowyourebritishwhen:

American gravy!
what region of hell is that from that looks like mushroom soup that is not gravy why

lol that’s not what our gravy looks like someone done lied to you

Wait, you’ve never had this kind of gravy? or are you just saying this particular gravy looks off?

i meant to say that’s not what all our gravy looks like but now i’m seeing as i reblog you that that’s not what i said :’( :’( :’( :’(

Okay, okay, okay, hold up.

This is white gravy. Also known as “country gravy.” Also known as “flour gravy.” Also known as “sawmill gravy.” And let me tell you, it is the best fucking thing you will ever have, brother.
Sure it looks gross. Hell, down here, the meal you’re looking at is often called “S.O.S.”— short for “shit on a shingle” because when you put it on toast, it kinda looks like bird poop on a roof. But that’s beside the point because no matter what it looks like, once you put it in your mouth there’s no going back. 
So say you’re hungry one morning. But you’re broke. Or there’s not a whole lot in the house. Well lemme ask you this? You got a loaf of bread or a can of biscuits? You do? Alright, we’re off to a good start. Now check your cabinets for these things: flour, vegetable oil, salt, black pepper, and milk. You got those things? I’m sure you do because they’re pretty basic— just like your punk-ass self who’s insulting sawmill gravy without know jack about it.  
Now here’s what you do next. You whip together all those things in a skillet (not the bread foods, you dingus, but I’m assuming that—even though you’re enough of a moron to insult sawmill gravy, you’re not enough of a moron to put bread in a skillet) while it’s on medium heat.  Just keep stirring that shit until it’s browned and nice and thick.
Now lemme ask you this. You got some sort of meat hanging around in your house? Doesn’t matter what: it can be ground beef, steak, pork sausage— whatever. You do? Well goddamn you’re about to be in for a real treat. 
Brown that shit up in another skillet and toss that shit in there.  You won’t regret it.  Then when it’s all mixed together nice and good, set you up a plate with your toast or biscuits and drown those puppies in this ambrosia of the Southern gods.
Eat that shit and enjoy it because, brother, you just made yourself the best damn breakfast-for-any-meal-of-the-day meal imaginable for cheap.  And while you’re eating it, try to reassess why you ever decided to look upon sawmill gravy with disgust and dismay and judgement.  
And you apologize. You apologize to the gravy. Because it deserves your atonement. You need to recognize that you are not worth of this delicious meal because you doubted it.
Now get out of my sight.

Thank you for schooling these punk-ass bitches on the magic of Our Lord of Meal Time white gravy.

White gravy, flour gravy, sawmill gravy is the fucking best thing ever to come out of an iron skillet. Spicy assed southern homemade sausage, a homemade, cut into a circle with a glass, fluffy as hell biscuit, and this gravy? Nirvana. Manna. Best fucking shit your tongue will ever have spread on it. Only thing better would be gravy, sausage and biscuit on (fill-in-the-name-of-your-favorite-celebrity)’s bare skin.

In my neck of the woods, we call it White Pepper Gravy, and you bet your butt it’s the best thing ever. 
Strictly for breakfast OR for eating on chicken-fried-steak. “Regular” brown gravy can be used for everything else. 

gridbugs:

cakeisnotpie:

agitatorswaltz:

lana-del-rey-mysterio:

johnnynemesis:

adolfziggler:

johnnynemesis:

youknowyourebritishwhen:

American gravy!

what region of hell is that from that looks like mushroom soup that is not gravy why

lol that’s not what our gravy looks like someone done lied to you

Wait, you’ve never had this kind of gravy? or are you just saying this particular gravy looks off?

i meant to say that’s not what all our gravy looks like but now i’m seeing as i reblog you that that’s not what i said :’( :’( :’( :’(

Okay, okay, okay, hold up.

This is white gravy. Also known as “country gravy.” Also known as “flour gravy.” Also known as “sawmill gravy.” And let me tell you, it is the best fucking thing you will ever have, brother.

Sure it looks gross. Hell, down here, the meal you’re looking at is often called “S.O.S.”— short for “shit on a shingle” because when you put it on toast, it kinda looks like bird poop on a roof. But that’s beside the point because no matter what it looks like, once you put it in your mouth there’s no going back. 

So say you’re hungry one morning. But you’re broke. Or there’s not a whole lot in the house. Well lemme ask you this? You got a loaf of bread or a can of biscuits? You do? Alright, we’re off to a good start. Now check your cabinets for these things: flour, vegetable oil, salt, black pepper, and milk. You got those things? I’m sure you do because they’re pretty basic— just like your punk-ass self who’s insulting sawmill gravy without know jack about it.  

Now here’s what you do next. You whip together all those things in a skillet (not the bread foods, you dingus, but I’m assuming that—even though you’re enough of a moron to insult sawmill gravy, you’re not enough of a moron to put bread in a skillet) while it’s on medium heat.  Just keep stirring that shit until it’s browned and nice and thick.

Now lemme ask you this. You got some sort of meat hanging around in your house? Doesn’t matter what: it can be ground beef, steak, pork sausage— whatever. You do? Well goddamn you’re about to be in for a real treat. 

Brown that shit up in another skillet and toss that shit in there.  You won’t regret it.  Then when it’s all mixed together nice and good, set you up a plate with your toast or biscuits and drown those puppies in this ambrosia of the Southern gods.

Eat that shit and enjoy it because, brother, you just made yourself the best damn breakfast-for-any-meal-of-the-day meal imaginable for cheap.  And while you’re eating it, try to reassess why you ever decided to look upon sawmill gravy with disgust and dismay and judgement.  

And you apologize. You apologize to the gravy. Because it deserves your atonement. You need to recognize that you are not worth of this delicious meal because you doubted it.

Now get out of my sight.

Thank you for schooling these punk-ass bitches on the magic of Our Lord of Meal Time white gravy.

White gravy, flour gravy, sawmill gravy is the fucking best thing ever to come out of an iron skillet. Spicy assed southern homemade sausage, a homemade, cut into a circle with a glass, fluffy as hell biscuit, and this gravy? Nirvana. Manna. Best fucking shit your tongue will ever have spread on it. Only thing better would be gravy, sausage and biscuit on (fill-in-the-name-of-your-favorite-celebrity)’s bare skin.

In my neck of the woods, we call it White Pepper Gravy, and you bet your butt it’s the best thing ever. 

Strictly for breakfast OR for eating on chicken-fried-steak. “Regular” brown gravy can be used for everything else. 

(Source: youknowyourebritishwhen, via saturns-queen)

I once dated a writer and

dostthou:

Writers are forgetful,

but they remember everything.
They forget appointments and anniversaries,
but remember what you wore,
how you smelled,
on your first date…
They remember every story you’ve ever told them -
like ever,
but forget what you’ve just said.
They don’t remember to water the plants
or take out the trash,
but they don’t forget how
to make you laugh.

Writers are forgetful
because
they’re busy
remembering
the important things.

Oh, my heart is melting.

(Source: ofheightsandhollows, via saturns-queen)

cas-hellodean:

poeticdarkbeauty:

youngblackandvegan:

eclecticdreamer:

pussyyliquor:

I AM ACTUALLY CRYING OVER THIS

So am I

and that’s why you don’t go around fixing people

and that’s why you don’t give up pieces of yourself to make someone else whole

We do this more than we think. Sometimes we reject those who have helped us the most. Other times, we help those who allow their egos to hide their humilities.

someONE FUCKING MAKE THAT TEDDY BEAR HAPPY BEFORE I CHOKE BECAUSE I HAVE TEARS BRIMMING MY EYES HELP ME

(Source: sigi0, via saturns-queen)

ttender:

Everyone who terrifies you is sixty-five percent water.
And everyone you love is made of stardust, and I know sometimes
you cannot even breathe deeply, and
the night sky is no home, and
you have cried yourself to sleep enough times
that you are down to your last two percent, but

nothing is infinite,
not even loss.

You are made of the sea and the stars, and one day
you are going to find yourself again.  

(Source: finnualabutler, via saturns-queen)

super-tr4mp:

How to love a woman.
“You may not be her first, her last, or her only. She loved before she may love again. But if she loves you now, what else matters? She’s not perfect - you aren’t either, and the two of you may never be perfect together but if she can make you laugh, cause you to think twice, and admit to being human and making mistakes, hold onto her and give her the most you can. She may not be thinking about you every second of the day, but she will give you a part of her that she knows you can break - her heart. So don’t hurt her, don’t change her, don’t analyze and don’t expect more than she can give. Smile when she makes you happy, let her know when she makes you mad, and miss her when she’s not there. -Bob Marley

super-tr4mp:

How to love a woman.

“You may not be her first, her last, or her only. She loved before she may love again. But if she loves you now, what else matters? She’s not perfect - you aren’t either, and the two of you may never be perfect together but if she can make you laugh, cause you to think twice, and admit to being human and making mistakes, hold onto her and give her the most you can. She may not be thinking about you every second of the day, but she will give you a part of her that she knows you can break - her heart. So don’t hurt her, don’t change her, don’t analyze and don’t expect more than she can give. Smile when she makes you happy, let her know when she makes you mad, and miss her when she’s not there. -Bob Marley

(via saturns-queen)

You will fall in love with someone who annoys you, whose orgasm face looks and feels pathetic. Despite all of this, there’s something keeping you drawn to them, something that makes you want to protect them from the harsh world. What you fail to realize, however, is that you are the harsh world. You aren’t their noble protector — you are someone to be protected from but it takes a lot of dates, a lot of nights where you question whether or not you are actually a good person, for this to ever resonate with you. When it’s over and whatever love is left is put back in the fridge like a sad plate of leftovers, you will finally understand that you have the power to hurt someone. You can either hurt them or love them and it’s up to you to decide what kind of role you would like to take on in future relationships. What feels more comfortable — being the one who loves more or being the one who’s loved less?

You will fall in love with someone who’s cold and always seemingly pushing you away. When all is said and done, they will be forever known as the one person you couldn’t get to love you. Unfortunately, it will hurt and sting worse than the good ones, the ones that chopped up your meat for you and picked out an eyelash from your eye and were nice to your mother, because love often feels like a game we need to win. And when we lose, when we realize we couldn’t get what we ultimately desired from a person, it makes us feel like a failure and erases all the memories of those who loved us in the past. It’s a permanent smudge on your love resume.

You will fall in love with someone for one night and one night only. They’ll come to you when you need them and be gone in the morning when you don’t. At first, this will make you feel empty and you’ll try to convince yourself that you could’ve loved this person for longer than a night, but you can’t. Some people are just meant to make cameo appearances, some are destined to be a pithy footnote. That’s okay though. Not every person we love has to stick around. Sometimes it’s better to leave while you’re still ahead. Sometimes it’s better to leave before you get unloved.

You will fall in love with the old couple down the street because to you they represent the impossible: a stable, long-lasting love. You’re trying to get someone to like you for more than ten minutes. A monogamous “never get sick of ya” love seems unfathomable. “What’s your secret, sir? Do you just say yes a lot?”

You will fall in love with smells, the good and the bad kind. You will want to wear your lovers shirt because it makes you feel close to them and you’re okay with being that PSYCHO who is legitimately sniffing their shirt in public. You will fall in love with sweat, certain perfumes, the smell of the season in which you fell in love. This particular love smells like fall. It smells like Halloween and a roaring fire and leaves and fog and mist and candy and food and family and whiskey and sex and the lint that collects on sweaters. When it ends, if it ends, you will never experience another fall without thinking of him, her, it. The memories will stick to the ground like a mound of leaves and will only dissipate when the weather drops.

You will fall in love with your friends. Deep, passionate love. You will create a second family with them, a kind of tribe that makes you feel less vulnerable. Sometimes our families can’t love us all the time. Sometimes we’re born into families who don’t know how to love us properly. They do as much as they can but the rest is up to our friends. They can love you all the time, without judgement. At least the good ones can.

This is where I’m supposed to tell you that you will fall in love with The One, a person who isn’t too cold or too nice. Their “O” face is perfectly fine and they’re not afraid to show how much they love you. This person is supposed to wait for us at the end of the twentysomething road as some kind of reward for all the heartache and loneliness. We deserve them. We’ve earned this kind of love.

So fine. You’re going to fall in love with The One. You’re going to fall in love with someone who will make sense beyond college or a job or a particular season. They’ll make sense forever and won’t ever want to leave you behind. I’m telling you this not because it’s true but because it NEEDS to be true. Everyone is entitled to this kind of love, so why not? Have it. It’s yours. Blow out the candles on your 30th birthday, holding their hand, and let out an exhale that’s been waiting for ten years. Do it. Now