boringoldraphael:

We will be close on Friday 18 July.
We will be so close on Friday 18 July. For one night only I will hold your face in my hands and I will kiss you quickly and then slowly and then quickly and we will feel this incredible connection and we will tell each other everything.
On Friday 18 July, we will feed each other berries, and we will sing-mumble-slur old half-remembered camp songs, and we will laugh about how there was a time, not even that long ago, when we hadn’t even met, and what were we doing not meeting, who were we fooling, whose time were we wasting?
Sitting on my bed, recalling the origin of your knee’s crescent moon scar, you’ll gesticulate wildly and I’ll watch the cigarette sparks like evaporating fireflies, dizzy for a home in your discarded black blouse.
"I want to know you completely," I’ll whisper into every crevice of your body. We’ll make up constellations out of the freckles on our thighs, rich mythologies of ancient long-dead civilizations.
"Did you know I can juggle?" you’ll say, and I’ll say, "Show me."
Every other night will have been rehearsal for Friday 18 July — we had to be ready. Everything was pushing us imperceptibly toward this moment — if I hadn’t missed that train, if you hadn’t moved for the job, just imagine.
"I don’t want it to be tomorrow," you’ll say, a single tear escaping as you bitterly laugh at the futility of the sentiment. "I want it to be Friday 18 July forever."
And when the morning comes, our love, like bugs, will scatter in the light. We will dress ourselves while facing the wall, we will scramble for our phones, we will be strangers.
And we will realize that Friday 18 July, like every day in history before it, was a moment, a twenty-four-hour trick of the light, a thing that happened once and never again.
And that sad truth will just about swallow us whole.
Sorry for any inconvinience.

boringoldraphael:

We will be close on Friday 18 July.

We will be so close on Friday 18 July. For one night only I will hold your face in my hands and I will kiss you quickly and then slowly and then quickly and we will feel this incredible connection and we will tell each other everything.

On Friday 18 July, we will feed each other berries, and we will sing-mumble-slur old half-remembered camp songs, and we will laugh about how there was a time, not even that long ago, when we hadn’t even met, and what were we doing not meeting, who were we fooling, whose time were we wasting?

Sitting on my bed, recalling the origin of your knee’s crescent moon scar, you’ll gesticulate wildly and I’ll watch the cigarette sparks like evaporating fireflies, dizzy for a home in your discarded black blouse.

"I want to know you completely," I’ll whisper into every crevice of your body. We’ll make up constellations out of the freckles on our thighs, rich mythologies of ancient long-dead civilizations.

"Did you know I can juggle?" you’ll say, and I’ll say, "Show me."

Every other night will have been rehearsal for Friday 18 July — we had to be ready. Everything was pushing us imperceptibly toward this moment — if I hadn’t missed that train, if you hadn’t moved for the job, just imagine.

"I don’t want it to be tomorrow," you’ll say, a single tear escaping as you bitterly laugh at the futility of the sentiment. "I want it to be Friday 18 July forever."

And when the morning comes, our love, like bugs, will scatter in the light. We will dress ourselves while facing the wall, we will scramble for our phones, we will be strangers.

And we will realize that Friday 18 July, like every day in history before it, was a moment, a twenty-four-hour trick of the light, a thing that happened once and never again.

And that sad truth will just about swallow us whole.

Sorry for any inconvinience.

Reblogged from boringoldraphael

Hello Kitty, Goodbye Logical World Order

A few weeks ago, the LA Times caused global outrage with information from Hello Kitty’s parent company Sanrino that Hello Kitty is not a kitty at all. 

“How silly you all have been to believe the tiny, white creature with pointed ears and whiskers was a cat,” said a representative from Sanrino at the start of an hour-long press conference. “You must all be stupid idiots.” The representative then spent the remaining 59 minutes flipping the bird to the journalists in attendance (“This isn’t really a bird, you morons.”)

Even though Sanrino and the Hello Kitty website were pretty clear that Hello Kitty is in fact, a little girl and not a cat, I found it necessary to examine the evidence myself. 

Is Hello Kitty a Human?

YES: She walks upright on two legs.

NO: She’s as tall as five apples.  Let’s assume that apples are about four inches. That would make Hello Kitty less than two feet tall. That’s way too small for a human. Even if she’s not a cat, evidence suggests she’d be more of a pixie or something. 

YES: She plays the piano, and dreams of becoming a pianist one day.

NO: Have you ever seen “The Aristocats”? Those lovable scamps play piano all damn day.

 Even in real life, cats play piano so often on the Internet that it’s not even impressive anymore.

YES: She has her own pet cat, named Charmmy Kitty.

NO: First, dumbest cat name ever. Only another cat would name her cat something as dumb as “Charmmy Kitty.” Second, have you seen Charmmy Kitty? Here’s a picture:

Notice anything? Oh, right. She and Hello Kitty have the exact same face. For reference, here’s what happens when you face-swap a human and a cat:

I’ll wait here while you clean the shit out of your pants.

Also, just having a pet cat doesn’t make you a human. Just because Pluto has to wear a collar and pee outside doesn’t mean Goofy’s not a dog too.

YES: She’s from London. A town where people live.

NO: I can think of some cats from London.

Just like Hello Kitty, they stand on their hind legs. Do you know what else they do? Call themselves cats.

YES: She likes to bake cookies. Cats don’t have opposable thumbs and lack the small-motor control to crack eggs.

NO:  If you weight as much as three apples, something tells me you’re not eating cookies all that often. Do you know how much three apples weigh? Not a lot. Even at her most waifish, Kate Moss bottomed out at seven and a half apples. 

So if Hello Kitty is human after all, thank you Sanrino for making it even more difficult for young women to achieve body acceptance. Because you might be skinny, but you’ll never be three apple skinny.

Will Arnett

doppelradar:

Will Arnett won our hearts in “Arrested Devlopment” and Devon Banks on 30 Rock. Then stomped on those hearts when he divorced Amy Poehler. 

You probably know Patrick Wilson from his for-some-reason-controversial episode on “Girls.”  He was also in The Phantom of the Opera movie, which earned him the distinction of being the only person to ever make the name “Raoul” sexy.

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Pictured: Working. It.

Will Arnett and Patrick Wilson are pretty much twins. 

Here’s that picture from above once again, with a picture of Will Arnett from comparison.

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TWINS.

If they coincidentally went to the same summer camp, they could have switched places coming home and their inexplicably rich parents wouldn’t have noticed. 

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Here they are looking like they’re submitting head shots to get on The Bachelorette:

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Will and Patrick enjoy smooth jazz, girls who are good listeners, faux-hawks, and spray tans. 

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They both like old-timey suits… 

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…and scarves.

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That picture on the left is shaking me up a bit so I’m going to leave this post here while I wash the dust out of my eyes.

Pete Holmes

doppelradar:

Let me take this opportunity to say that I am a huge Pete Holmes fan. I’ve YouTube binged all of his show monologues, and I laughed so hard watching his Ex-Men series (featuring Silicon Valley’s Thomas Middleditch!) that I’m pretty sure my roommate thought I was having a nervous breakdown. 

When I say Pete Holmes looks like Jonathan Taylor Thomas I don’t mean that they look like each other now.  Pete Holmes’ doppelganger is  Jonathan Taylor Thomas as a child, only stretched out to adult size. He is JTT through police age-progression software. He is the ghost of Home Improvement future. 

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Is it the squinting blue eyes? The guileless smile?

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Something about the lips?

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Maybe the shape of the head?

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It’s probably because they both like to pose with flowers

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And pretend they’re trapped in the walls of the picture.

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Tell me this doesn’t look like a 20 year before and after picture.

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Wait. Figured it out. 

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MUTHER

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FUCKING

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MIDDLE PART.

For your consideration, I’ve crudely photoshopped a classic JTT ‘do on Pete Holmes’ head:

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Doesn’t it somehow look right? In another life, Pete Holmes would have always played the hapless teenager in 90’s Disney Channel Original Movies who couldn’t get his homework in on time because he was too busy investigating the ghoul at the local pool.