I think it’s worth talking about that he couldn’t get another job between filming the movie and it coming out and lost his health insurance because of it. It’s shameful.
I feel like the legal institution of adoption is unreasonably limited by restricting it to parent-child relationships. If me and some random asshole want to legally be second cousins, I think we should just be able to do that.
This concept is hilarious. Yes we’re now cousins but there’s no aunts/uncles/parents connecting us. Cut out the middle man completely. We’re just family but not directly related ya know?
You understand me precisely.
For everybody saying “well ACTUALLY you can just decide to call whoever you want your uncle/cousin/whatever”, this isn’t about kinship – it’s about bureaucracy. I want to cause problems on purpose.
When you think of all the late nights, lame fights, over the phone Wake up in the morning with someone, feeling alone A heart is drawn around your name in someone’s handwriting, not mine We’re sneaking out into town, holding hands, just killing time
Your past and mine Are parallel lines The stars all aligned They intertwined And taught you The way you call me baby Treat me like a lady All that I can say is
[Chorus] All of the girls you’ve loved before Made you the one I’ve fallen for Every dead-end street Led you straight to me Now you’re all I need I’m so thankful for all of the girls you’ve loved before But I love you more
When I think of all the makeup, fake love out on the town (ooh) Crying in the bathroom for some dude whose name I cannot remember now Secret jokes, all alone, no one’s home, sixteen and wild Breaking up, making up, leave without saying goodbye
Just know that It’s everything that made me Now I call you baby That’s why you’re so amazing
[Chorus]
Your mother brought you up loyal and kind Teenage love taught you there’s good in goodbye Every woman that you knew brought you here I wanna teach you how forever feels
brown works so hard and does so much and everyone is so mean to her. coffee chocolate hair leather tea wood eyes broth a warm coat autumn leaves caramelized onions the crust on a loaf of bread. all things good and warm and kind are brown. bitch!
Since this post blew up and people have asked for this villain’s record, here are some of Stinky Bastard Man’s more heinous crimes:
Screamed so loudly with such unbridled fury the one time he wasn’t sedated at the vet that he caused a little girl in the waiting room to burst into tears
Ripped an escape hole in the patio screen door in a single night
Snuck into the garage overnight where he managed to pull down his massive food bag from the top shelves, ripped it open and ate so much he couldn’t/wouldn’t move when we found him in the morning
Learned how to open the laundry cabinet to sleep on the clean towels
Learned how to open doors, thus allowing the dog to follow in after who then eats from the trash
Bats off anything on our windowsills that gets in the way of his sitting. Current succulent casualty count: 4
Thankfully cannot open the bedroom door due to rusty mechanisms, but managed to slip in one night when it wasn’t fully closed. Jumped down from my windowsill squarely onto my stomach, leaving me to bolt awake screaming from the blow and convinced I was under attack
Tricked me into loving him forever anyway
Ripped an escape hole
in the patio screen door
in a single night
Beep boop! I look for accidental haiku posts. Sometimes I mess up.
oh my god he’s THIS Stinky Bastard Man!!!!
the stinky bastard man, the stinky bastard myth, the stinky bastard legend
i had to watch this like 5 times because of no captions but lmao if someone makes a transcript for this it would be bomb
transcript: “So we have these Santas at work, right, okay? We have black and we have white Santas. And they’re like creepy, five-foot tall, lifelike animatronic… like, Santas that hold plates of cookies and milk, and they kinda look like they could wake up and come to life and murder you in your sleep– and they don’t include batteries, but we have these Santas. Like nothing screams ‘festive holiday cheer’ like a big, hulking Santa. Um. Nothin’ will jingle your jangles more. So, um, this woman comes in and she’s like, “Do you have these?” and I’m like, “Oh my god, yeah!” So a couple weeks ago we sold out of our white Santas, and we are down to like, three black Santas. And so, I take her to the aisle, I show her the Santas, and the first thing out of her mouth is, “I’m not racist, but…” and I’m like, well, I can’t– I’m not in the position to decide if you are or not, but if like– if I could use context clues and infer, uh, I would say maybe that you might be. And three, we’re talking about Santa. Like– (stuttering) did we switch subjects? And so, um, I’m in like, I– the next thing that pops out of her mouth is like, “This is not right.” and I’m like, okay, I’m sorry, but this is what the picture was. And she’s like, “No. Santa is white.” And I’m like, oh no, okay. Okay. So I’m in– I’m about to tell her, I’m like, mid-sentence, like, “I’m sorry, do you want me to go call another store, do you need me to, like, write you a raincheck just in case we we get any more.” And she’s like, “This is wrong, I want them taken down.” She interrupts me, says that, and I’m like, (pause). I like, look around, and I’m like, is she talking to me? Is this, like, my own, like, personal hell? But like, of course it is. So, um, I’m like, “I can’t take these Santas down.” And she’s like, “Why not?!” And I’m like, “You either have to buy them, or take them down yourself.” And that was like, the stupidest thing I could have ever said, because– (sighs) she takes this bag, with like, Jesus’s face, like, slammed right in the middle as a design– it’s big– she takes it off her shoulder, and starts beating these black Santas! She starts beating these Santas down, they were like, falling down… and I’m like, oh my god! What– what is happening? So like, I step in the middle of her and these Santas and I’m like, “Ma’am, ma’am, you need to leave, you need to stop, or I’m going to have to call someone.” So she like, stops, and she’s like, beet red, and like, huffin’ and puffin’, and she like, looks at me and I can tell she’s just trying to get like, a one-liner in, and she’s like, “The Santa I know is white.” And then she walks away. And I’m like, well– I’m processing what’s happening, while also thinking, like, the Santa you know? Santa’s not real. So unless you’re using an ouija board to contact good old Kris Kringle, um, from like, B.C. or whenever, I’m like, that’s pretty impressive, but how ya doin’ that. And, um, I– the last thought that ran through my mind is that, I’m like, I would hate to be in the room with her when she finds out that Jesus is not white.”
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