I walk into the club.
It's a dark setting.
As I'm making my way to the bar, I make eye contact with an attractive man.
We hit it off.
I'm laughing.
He's laughing.
A date is surely in the cards.
As we walk out the door into the street light, arm in arm, I suggest a date option.
It's hot wings.
I turn to my soon to be future husband.
He has worry plastered all over his face.
Then I realise.
His name is Icarus.
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It's okay, guys. Don't be alarmed. I drink my dumb bitch juice with a METAL STRAW. #savethe馃悽
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Yeah, heartbreak hurts, but there's something about making your favourite meal when you're sick, and your tastebuds distorting the flavour, that hurts more.
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I have concluded that the eyes really are the windows to the soul.
My evidence: Jake Gyllenhaal.
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I found out where my priorities come from. My grandfather missed something on tv, so my grandma told him to rewind it. And he goes "I can't. I have a biscuit in one hand and a cup of tea in the other."
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Throwback to when ad breaks would come on, and even if you ran to the bathroom and back, you'd here a chorus of "ITS BACK ON!!" and still miss a part of your show? But now you could take a 2 week vacation to Spain during the ad break and come home to ads still playing.
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The more I grow older, the more I want to be a lone witch, living in a forest cottage.
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Sometimes I remember back in 6th grade when this kid Mark came to my school. He was there for 3 days. On the third day, just after lunch, his dad came to the door, said that he just bought a house, and that they need to leave now. They grabbed all his stuff and basically ran out the door so quick that the teacher didn't even notice. Then she just opens the door, yells out "Goodbye, Mark!" to an empty hall, and continued on with the lesson like nothing happened. None of us have mentioned it since, and I'm still confused to this day. Sometimes I'm convinced it was a fever dream. I wonder how he's doing.
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*My 11yo sister talking to our 6yo cousin*
Sis: What do you wanna be when you're older?
Cousin: I wanna be a haircut!
Me: You mean a hairdresser?
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I always wonder why I try to be quiet when sneaking out to the kitchen late at night, because my grandparents didn't even wake up from the smoke alarm after drunk me tried to make toast at 3am.
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I have always wondered why kids make such a mess eating cereal. Then I dropped a giant ass sultana off my spoon, and my life flashed before my eyes. It was like washing a spoon under a tap. All I wanted was a snack, not a bath.
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You know what else grinds my gears? Instead of the Staff actually doing their fucking jobs, they're taking the easy way out and just banning everything that remotely seems "NSFW".
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You know what really grinds my gears? I have been an adult for MONTHS, and Tumblr hasn't done anything so that I can see "sensitive media". I even emailed them, and they're like "You have to be over 18", so I hit them back with an "I am, in fact, over 18", and they're like "But you have to be over 18". Like, if you ever so kindly paid attention to the date of my birth, IM OVER 18, YOU ABSOLUTE BUFFOONS!!
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*Mum driving in an 80km zone*
Next speed sign: 110km
Mum: ALRIGHT! 120 HERE WE COME!
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One time, my friend was gonna pick me up, but she forgot I moved, and I get a text saying "I'm here" and then I get a "OH SHIT. WRONG HOUSE"
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Meghan Trainor is the Amy Schumer of music.
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You know you're an adult when you get invited to a linen party.
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