Photoset with 3 notes
This card is a parody of the series of problems a young male is supposed to go through when living on their own for the first time. Young females, conversely, can easily manage housework alone. This is, of course, due to vindictive mind moulding by the patriarchy and not an inherent biological trait.
As always, I find myself out of sorts with the television personifications of my sex and age bracket; I find no toil in maintaining myself or my premises. When I get round to it I actively enjoy cleaning and I also like cooking meal so square as to have ninety degree edges. It is an odd experience to be an example of the straight male community whilst simultaneously displaying little-to-no masculine qualities. If I were a character on a television program I’m sure the writers would have me sailing the ferry to Twophallus peninsula in the very first episode; lest the common folk grown uneasy with my questionable lack of stereotypical behaviour.
Oh heavens, I wrote ‘purchases’ in place of ‘purchase’. The egg on my face.
Photoset with 3,922 notes
Regrettably I drew the pictures without much consideration for where I’d put the text. Most noticeably in the sixth image where I practically ended up with a collage.
(And a happy birthday to weaver.)
Post with 3 notes
And now before my words have spun
And now before I turn to run
Afore I go
Before I leave
Afore I grant you this reprieve
Why must you cause a soul to grieve?
I ask of you to ruminate
On why you harbour all this hate
to simply sit and think and ponder
I dearly hope you stop to wonder
What tears us apart and you a sunder
Why should you curse?
Why do you care?
Are you afraid that if you share my air
A love for cock will manifest
And you’ll tear your grizzled heart from your macho chest
Because a broken man you’d surely be
If you’d rather death than my so called: faggotry
Photoset with 16 notes
Gregory and George suffer corse racism at the hands of uneducated yobo’s.
Post with 6 notes
Ho I am the menstrual man
The mean old menstrual man I am
Once a month I will descend
To make you suffer sorely
Your period you can’t suspend
So prepare to feel quite poorly
And he stamps his little feet
with two picks tied neat
And his chubby little shoes
Beat a merry little tune
You ovum dose quiver
and you feel a shiver
Your smile flips to a frown
as the pain takes you down
Bugger my britches
The pain in these bitches!
My ovaries burn
why the hells it my turn?
It was over a month ago
whys my bodyclock so slow
So crippled and week
I’ll just lay here and weep
Oh woe the menstrual man
stomps on your ovaries you know
a satisfied grunt with every blow
And I know he’ll never stop
he stomps every period
But for three weeks and glad to say
The menstrual man has gone away