Gods Weakest Soldier I Need 3-5 Business Days To Process The Even Tiniest Of Slip-ups I Made In Social

there's a new hobby in town, nothing forever

i get into a horrific car accident while carrying a crock pot full of meatballs in the passenger seat. at the hospital, the surgeons cannot sort out which chunks of meat are me and which are not, so I end up with several meatballs sewn into my guts. despite this I make a full recovery, and they elect not to remove the meatballs because quote 'they seem comfy in there.' i go on the talk show circuit and become moderately famous as The Meatballs Woman. when i die i am buried under a gravestone with meatballs carved on it. in the year 2438, a grad student from what is now Cambodia who is studying the late pre-collapse American Empire writes her thesis on this, concluding that I probably never existed and was a conflation of several real stories and urban legends. years later, a pop-history book wildly misinterprets this and several other things, arguing for the existence of a historic American religious pantheon including figures like The Meatballs Woman, Florida Man, Emperor Norton, etc. this book sells bizarrely well and inspires a new neo-pagan movement, which in turn leads to a weird shipping community, resulting in a small but vibrant scene of ABO fics featuring me and MrBeast (who in this context has been interpreted as a god of excess and trickery)

this chilling scenario is only one of the multiple reasons I am going to attempt to not crash my car today

for whatever reason tumblr has flagged this post from a deleted blog as explicit so I can't even reblog it anymore which is a shame because it's one of my absolute favorites

i hate people who know highways. “i’m heading south on I-65” okay man. i’m moving my rook to c2

thinking abt the food critic that wrote abt a michelin star restaurant that served him 12 different kinds of foam and rancid ricotta and olive ice cream…

profound trifold of human experience