I Love Choccy Milk

can people just fucking shut their mouths and chew. is it that difficult. one moment i'm enjoying my food and the next moment i notice that the inside of your mouth looks like a cross between roadkill and rotting seminal fluid. stop

Cherries.

ever since i was a little girl i knew i wanted to be fat london housecat named Lady who does nothing all day and sits by the fire with a bow round her neck

like as a sauce????

i love choccy milk

best food ever

this bitch be bitchin

perhaps it is because i am an irredeemable bitch

Tuesday February 7.

The Chosen One: Vanilla Extract.

The hero we need and deserve right now. Ever been making a cake, and then baking a cake, and then consuming a cake, a cake you will subsequently defecate, when you've been haunted by that strangest of feelings that something just isn't quite right? That something is missing. That within this process there has been a void beyond that of the baking process: a void that is not just culinary, but spiritual. It's good, but it's not right. You made it as instructed, and it looks good, and tastes fine too. The good people around you have also taken a fork, which they have politely, and apparently sincerely, enjoyed. One even took a picture which they will later upload on Instagram, with crude, flashing animations of cakes, and captions reading: Cake time! Yum!. The words jump merrily from side to side in neon colors and the cake rests handsomely, with several slices missing. But you know, they know it. It is evident in their expressions: the light is dimmed in their smiles somewhat. They too possess something unshakeable in this mouthful. Something here is left to be desired, and desire as Robert Hass ruminates, is full of endless distances. Hold the f*cking phone, someone says, their eyes suddenly luminous. I know what this needs: #vanilla extract. 

@catboymoments that cat will make you explode. there is no other reason as to why it is looking at you like that.

I love my kittyyyyyyyyy

My beloved hazy

im not fond of the 'all men' thing (i hate it) but when i walk alone on a street i am certainly afraid of every single man who does so much as pass by me. logically i do know that they're just people on their business, just like me, but there is always a chance.