popitdontdropit: I’m going to allow my blog to look like a 12 year old’s for a few days because this boy deserves it. Start kegeling…now. Unless you’re in the privacy of your own room, in which case, what are you waiting for? Get on with your bad self. I bet I know someone who could appreciate this too. Happy birthday Mateus! Thank you, Giao! Best tumblr dedication ever. [Anecdotal time: When Giao and I were wee high school kids, (I don’t think) either of us really knew what we were up to or had any idea what the meaning of life was—all that good stuff you’re supposed to figure out in college. We both practically splurged on ridiculous class choices (AP Chem, what the what now?) with, I think, some hope to find “our place,” or whatever. Senior year, we had a nice block of free time which, along with Miss Molly and Stegosauruby, we often spent doing [nothing productive], possibly the best use of my time throughout those four years. Giao and I developed a ten-year plan involving Caesar (the Oprah-associate dog-whisperer), domination of Africa, and canine cosmetics, all of which would allow us to take over the world. And this is really the point of this little paragraph: Never would I have gotten through those times without Giao’s promise of eventual world domination and daily praise of my corduroy pants, Mollo’s collaborative writing projects (AP Lit assignments we’d leave for the last minute, improvised papers composed in 40 haikus and the such), and Ruby’s crossword puzzles and incredible wordsearches. And although these people no longer “are” “with” me anymore, they’re still part of the reason for why I do what I do: live. So here’s to another year, y’all.]

popitdontdropit:

I’m going to allow my blog to look like a 12 year old’s for a few days because this boy deserves it. Start kegeling…now. Unless you’re in the privacy of your own room, in which case, what are you waiting for? Get on with your bad self. I bet I know someone who could appreciate this too. Happy birthday Mateus!

Thank you, Giao! Best tumblr dedication ever.

[Anecdotal time: When Giao and I were wee high school kids, (I don’t think) either of us really knew what we were up to or had any idea what the meaning of life was—all that good stuff you’re supposed to figure out in college. We both practically splurged on ridiculous class choices (AP Chem, what the what now?) with, I think, some hope to find “our place,” or whatever. Senior year, we had a nice block of free time which, along with Miss Molly and Stegosauruby, we often spent doing [nothing productive], possibly the best use of my time throughout those four years. Giao and I developed a ten-year plan involving Caesar (the Oprah-associate dog-whisperer), domination of Africa, and canine cosmetics, all of which would allow us to take over the world. And this is really the point of this little paragraph: Never would I have gotten through those times without Giao’s promise of eventual world domination and daily praise of my corduroy pants, Mollo’s collaborative writing projects (AP Lit assignments we’d leave for the last minute, improvised papers composed in 40 haikus and the such), and Ruby’s crossword puzzles and incredible wordsearches. And although these people no longer “are” “with” me anymore, they’re still part of the reason for why I do what I do: live. So here’s to another year, y’all.]

(Source: astudyinvictoria)