Ok, So I’m in college about 10 years back and roomed with this guy named Joe. Dude is Steve Urkel levels of clumsy. Except life isn’t a sitcom. Dude broke his arm twice in the year I knew him. I was about to get married at this point in time when he walks in on she and I kissing, he didn’t expect us there and wound up tripping, falling into a glass top coffee table. Doctors couldn’t save his eye. He’s having to wear a sterile cotton thing on his eye during the healing process.
Well, fiancee feels guilty because we startled him to begin with. She basically nurses him back to health. During this time, I had realized that I knew absolutely nothing about the guy. Anytime I’d ask where his home town was, she’d tell me “not now” or something similar.
Anyway, he gets healed up and she fell for him. Nightingale syndrome hard. They get up, pack everything and leave. No note, no nothing, no phone calls. Not even a “fuck you go to hell.” Haven’t heard from them since.
In short.
If it weren’t for cotton eyed Joe, I’d been married a long time ago. Where did you come from where did you go? Where did you come from Cotton Eyed Joe.
This is the only picture on my computer that can adequately express the rage I’m feeling right now
You know which casino no one from tumblr would be allowed to enter?
They might be allowed in The Sierra Madre. Most people on tumblr are already used to a toxic environment surrounded by shambling weirdos, loud annoying noises, AI’s following you for some reason, having like 4 followers total, living on a diet of junk food and booze, knowing someone there who has a superiority complex (this could apply to 3 of the Dead Money characters), and never truly leaving the place or letting it go.
It’s The Tops. The joke was The Tops. Because tumblr only has bottoms. It was a dumb little joke. It’s The Tops.
sparksoffandommagic 