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Best Friend, Confused, and Dad: MAMMA, EVER SINCE I SAlV I'M ITALIAN, EVERYONE KEEP4 TEA IN ME AND AGKING IF I'M IN THE MAFIA NEXT TIME TELL THEM THEN THEY WILL FEAK YOU. 2srooky: giancarlovolpe: Based on a true story. this reminds me of a story that’s kind of an ongoing joke in my family.  I’m half German, and my father’s side of the family is full blooded German. My father owns a business that deals with a lot of international calls, and during my early tween years he got a lot of business calls at all hours of the day and night from all over the world.  Now, when i first met my best friends, I had them sleeping over at my house, and we were watching TV. Every few minutes the phone would ring, and our caller ID would project at the top of the television screen.  I was bullied a lot as a kid, so my dad told me to tell people if they asked what my father did, that he was in the German Mafia. So, naturally when my friends asked who was calling, I made the joke it was business cause my dad was in the German Mafia, and the joke stuck.  And it spread, too. Middle school was filled with jokes about my family and the mafia, but they were just jokes. That I was in the mafia, my dad was a mafia boss, etc. etc. Those jokes continued into high school, where, in my junior year I was in a big depressive spell. I wore my hair tied back from my face a lot, and in my history class, these jokes were cracked a little more often as we began our European Studies. One day, my History teacher, the most amazing teacher I had in high school, walked between me and my best friend, as our desks were right next to each other, while we had been making one of these jokes.  He paused, and reached out, tapping my right temple twice while a huge, cheeky grin spread on his face and he just went.  “Good to see you finished your induction.” and walked away. I was confused, my best friend and I were staring at each other for a solid ten minutes before we got back to work.  When I went home that night, I looked up a bunch of stuff about the German Mafia. The German Mafia would often do a tattoo of 3 dots on someone once they had finished their “trials” and were accepted. This was most often done in cases of murder, and other crimes. Where the tattoos were placed meant different things. Hands were the norm, but sometimes a tattoo would be placed on the face.  These tattoos are now mostly outdated, and are usually just prison tattoos done for years/crimes committed in prison, but some branches of Russian, Cuban, and German mafias still use the three dot tattoos.  I was flabbergasted for two reasons. One, that my teacher knew all of this about the German mafia, and, Two, that he pointed out the three freckles on my temple that make a perfect triangle.  For the rest of my Junior and Senior year, the mafia jokes dwindled less and less, because people actually believed I was in the mafia.  I never told them I wasn’t, either.
Best Friend, Confused, and Dad: MAMMA, EVER SINCE
 I SAlV I'M ITALIAN,
 EVERYONE KEEP4
 TEA IN ME AND
 AGKING IF I'M IN THE
 MAFIA

 NEXT TIME
 TELL THEM

 THEN THEY
 WILL FEAK
 YOU.
2srooky:

giancarlovolpe:

Based on a true story.

this reminds me of a story that’s kind of an ongoing joke in my family. 
I’m half German, and my father’s side of the family is full blooded German. My father owns a business that deals with a lot of international calls, and during my early tween years he got a lot of business calls at all hours of the day and night from all over the world. 
Now, when i first met my best friends, I had them sleeping over at my house, and we were watching TV. Every few minutes the phone would ring, and our caller ID would project at the top of the television screen. 
I was bullied a lot as a kid, so my dad told me to tell people if they asked what my father did, that he was in the German Mafia.
So, naturally when my friends asked who was calling, I made the joke it was business cause my dad was in the German Mafia, and the joke stuck. 
And it spread, too. Middle school was filled with jokes about my family and the mafia, but they were just jokes. That I was in the mafia, my dad was a mafia boss, etc. etc.
Those jokes continued into high school, where, in my junior year I was in a big depressive spell. I wore my hair tied back from my face a lot, and in my history class, these jokes were cracked a little more often as we began our European Studies. One day, my History teacher, the most amazing teacher I had in high school, walked between me and my best friend, as our desks were right next to each other, while we had been making one of these jokes. 
He paused, and reached out, tapping my right temple twice while a huge, cheeky grin spread on his face and he just went. 
“Good to see you finished your induction.” and walked away.
I was confused, my best friend and I were staring at each other for a solid ten minutes before we got back to work. 
When I went home that night, I looked up a bunch of stuff about the German Mafia. The German Mafia would often do a tattoo of 3 dots on someone once they had finished their “trials” and were accepted. This was most often done in cases of murder, and other crimes. Where the tattoos were placed meant different things. Hands were the norm, but sometimes a tattoo would be placed on the face. 
These tattoos are now mostly outdated, and are usually just prison tattoos done for years/crimes committed in prison, but some branches of Russian, Cuban, and German mafias still use the three dot tattoos. 
I was flabbergasted for two reasons. One, that my teacher knew all of this about the German mafia, and, Two, that he pointed out the three freckles on my temple that make a perfect triangle. 
For the rest of my Junior and Senior year, the mafia jokes dwindled less and less, because people actually believed I was in the mafia. 
I never told them I wasn’t, either.

2srooky: giancarlovolpe: Based on a true story. this reminds me of a story that’s kind of an ongoing joke in my family.  I’m half German,...

Crying, Douchebag, and Fucking: geardrops: knitmeapony: demonhamster: despotic: suicidemydarling: gigantorthemooseking: I once went to a concert with a friend (I don’t remember the band, she dragged me along) when I was 16. They were starting a wall of death and this guy who was flirting with me decides it would be funny to pull my top down, exposing my breasts, then throw me in the middle of this wall of death right as it’s about to meet. When I stumble in the middle and hit the wall someone screamed “STOP! EXPOSED GIRL!” and I thought they were all going to oggle at me. Instead, one guy quickly helped me cover up, three more helped me to my feet, and another asked who did that. When I pointed out the guy, two of them looked at him, me, each other, then nodded and punched the guy in the face before forcing him into the wall that was about to form again. Metal men are gentlemenly as shit. This fucking this^^^  I’ve always loved this. I went to my first concert a few months ago and there were these really tall men with black vest tops and tattoos and piercings surrounding us screaming loudly when the music started playing, but then we realised this kid in the crowd had lost his mum so they tried to comfort him and when he started crying they asked him his name and he shakily sobbed “Eliot” at which point they lifted him in the air onto the shoulder’s and shouted at the top of their lungs “ELIOT’S MUM, ELIOT IS LOOKING FOR YOU. EXCUSE ME HAS ANYONE SEEN ELIOT’S MUM!!!” at which point Eliot started giggling between sobs until he finally found his mum while in the air. Seriously, I have felt safer in groups of death metal dudes than in the group of the preppiest preps that ever prepped. This holds true for so many shows I’ve been to. When there’s a douchebag, there’s usually just one or two, and the crowd handles it.
Crying, Douchebag, and Fucking: geardrops:

knitmeapony:

demonhamster:

despotic:

suicidemydarling:

gigantorthemooseking:

I once went to a concert with a friend (I don’t remember the band, she dragged me along) when I was 16. They were starting a wall of death and this guy who was flirting with me decides it would be funny to pull my top down, exposing my breasts, then throw me in the middle of this wall of death right as it’s about to meet. When I stumble in the middle and hit the wall someone screamed “STOP! EXPOSED GIRL!” and I thought they were all going to oggle at me. Instead, one guy quickly helped me cover up, three more helped me to my feet, and another asked who did that. When I pointed out the guy, two of them looked at him, me, each other, then nodded and punched the guy in the face before forcing him into the wall that was about to form again.
Metal men are gentlemenly as shit.

This fucking this^^^ 

I’ve always loved this.

I went to my first concert a few months ago and there were these really tall men with black vest tops and tattoos and piercings surrounding us screaming loudly when the music started playing, but then we realised this kid in the crowd had lost his mum so they tried to comfort him and when he started crying they asked him his name and he shakily sobbed “Eliot” at which point they lifted him in the air onto the shoulder’s and shouted at the top of their lungs “ELIOT’S MUM, ELIOT IS LOOKING FOR YOU. EXCUSE ME HAS ANYONE SEEN ELIOT’S MUM!!!” at which point Eliot started giggling between sobs until he finally found his mum while in the air.

Seriously, I have felt safer in groups of death metal dudes than in the group of the preppiest preps that ever prepped.

This holds true for so many shows I’ve been to. When there’s a douchebag, there’s usually just one or two, and the crowd handles it.

geardrops: knitmeapony: demonhamster: despotic: suicidemydarling: gigantorthemooseking: I once went to a concert with a friend (I don’...

America, Bad, and Be Like: Lou Ohio I need to get my life off my chest. About me. I'm a 46 year old banker and I have been living my whole life the opposite of how I wanted. All my dreams, my passion, gone. In a steady 9-7 job. 6 days a week. For 26 years. I repeatedly chose the safe path for everything, which eventually changed who I was. Today I found out my wife has been cheating on me for the last 10 years. My son feels nothing for me. I realised I missed my father's funeral FOR NOTHING. I didn't complete my novel, travelling the world, helping the homeless. All these things I thought I knew to be a certainty about myself when i was in my late teens and early twenties. If my younger self had met me today, I would have punched myself in the face. I'll get to how those dreams were crushed soon. Let's start with a description of me when I was 20. It seemed only yesterday when I was sure I was going to change the world. People loved me, and I loved people. I was innovative, creative, spontaneous, risk taking and great with people. I had two dreams. The first, was writing a utopic/dystopic book. The second, was travelling the world and helping the poor and homeless. I had been dating my wife for four years by then. Young love. She loved my spontaneity, my energy, my ability to make people laugh and feel loved. I knew my book was going to change the world I would show the perspective of the 'bad' and the twisted', showing my viewers that everybody thinks differently, that people never think what the do is wrong. I was 70 pages through when i was 20.I am still 70 pages in, at 46. By 20, I had backpacking around New Zealand and the Philippines. I planned to do all of Asia, then Europe, then America To date, I have only been to New Zealand and the Philippines. Now, we get to where it all went wrong. My biggest regrets. I was 20. I was the only child. I needed to be stable. I needed to take that graduate job, which would dictate my whole life. To devote my entire life in a 9-7 job. What was I thinking? How could I live when the job was my life? After coming home, I would eat dinner, prepare my work for the following day, and sleep at 10pm, to wake up at 6am the following day God, I can't remember the last time I've made love to my wife Yesterday, my wife admitted to cheating on me for the last 10 years. 10 years. That seems like a long time, but i can't comprehend it. It doesn't even hurt. She says it's because I've changed. I'm not the person l was. What have I been doing in the last 10 years? Outside of work, I really can't say anything. Not being a proper husband. Not being ME. Who am 1? What happened to me? I didn't even ask for a divorce, or yell at her, or cry. I felt NOTHING. Now I can feel a tear asl write this. But not because my wife has been cheating on me, but because I am now realising I have been dying inside. What happened to that fun-loving, risk taking, energetic person that was me, hungering to change the world? I remember being asked on a date by the most popular girl in the school, but declining her for my now-wife. God, I was really popular with the girls in high school. In university/college too. But i stayed loyal. I didn't explore. I studied every day Remember all that backpacking and book-writingI told you about? That was all in the first few years of college. I worked part-time and splurged all that I had earned. Now, I save every penny. I don't remember a time I spend anything on anything fun. On anything for myself. What do I even want now? My father passed ten years ago. I remember getting calls from mom, telling me he was getting sicker and sicker. I was getting busier and busier, on the verge of a big promotion. I kept putting my visit off, hoping in my mind he would hold on. He died, and I got my promotion. I haven't seen him in 15 years. When he died, I told myself it didn't matter what I didn't see him. I rationalized that being dead, it wouldn't matter anyway. WHAT WAS I THINKING? Rationalizing everything, making excuses to put things off. Excuses Procrastination. It all leads to one thing, nothing. I rationalized that financial security was the most important thingInow know, that it definitely is not. I regret doing nothing with my energy, when I had it. My passions. My youth. I regret letting my job take over my life. I regret being an awful husband, a money- making machine. I regret not finishing my novel, not travelling the world. Not being emotionally there for my son. Being a damn emotionless wallet. If you're reading this, and you have a whole life ahead of you, please. Don't procrastinate. Don't leave your dreams for later. Relish in your energy, your passions. Don't stay on the internet with all your spare time (unless your passion needs it). Please, do something with your life while you're young. DO NOT settle down at 20. DO NOT forget your friends, your family Yourself. Do NOT waste your life. Your ambitions. Like I did mine. Do not be like me srsfunny: A Sad But Common Story
America, Bad, and Be Like: Lou
 Ohio
 I need to get my life off my chest. About me. I'm a 46
 year old banker and I have been living my whole life
 the opposite of how I wanted. All my dreams, my
 passion, gone. In a steady 9-7 job. 6 days a week. For
 26 years. I repeatedly chose the safe path for
 everything, which eventually changed who I was.
 Today I found out my wife has been cheating on me
 for the last 10 years. My son feels nothing for me. I
 realised I missed my father's funeral FOR NOTHING. I
 didn't complete my novel, travelling the world, helping
 the homeless. All these things I thought I knew to be a
 certainty about myself when i was in my late teens
 and early twenties. If my younger self had met me
 today, I would have punched myself in the face. I'll get
 to how those dreams were crushed soon.
 Let's start with a description of me when I was 20. It
 seemed only yesterday when I was sure I was going to
 change the world. People loved me, and I loved
 people. I was innovative, creative, spontaneous, risk
 taking and great with people. I had two dreams. The
 first, was writing a utopic/dystopic book. The second,
 was travelling the world and helping the poor and
 homeless. I had been dating my wife for four years by
 then. Young love. She loved my spontaneity, my
 energy, my ability to make people laugh and feel
 loved. I knew my book was going to change the world
 I would show the perspective of the 'bad' and the
 twisted', showing my viewers that everybody thinks
 differently, that people never think what the do is
 wrong. I was 70 pages through when i was 20.I am
 still 70 pages in, at 46. By 20, I had backpacking
 around New Zealand and the Philippines. I planned to
 do all of Asia, then Europe, then America
 To date, I have only been to New Zealand and the
 Philippines.
 Now, we get to where it all went wrong. My biggest
 regrets. I was 20. I was the only child. I needed to be
 stable. I needed to take that graduate job, which
 would dictate my whole life. To devote my entire life
 in a 9-7 job. What was I thinking? How could I live
 when the job was my life? After coming home, I would
 eat dinner, prepare my work for the following day, and
 sleep at 10pm, to wake up at 6am the following day
 God, I can't remember the last time I've made love to
 my wife
 Yesterday, my wife admitted to cheating on me for the
 last 10 years. 10 years. That seems like a long time,
 but i can't comprehend it. It doesn't even hurt. She
 says it's because I've changed. I'm not the person l
 was. What have I been doing in the last 10 years?
 Outside of work, I really can't say anything. Not being a
 proper husband. Not being ME. Who am 1? What
 happened to me? I didn't even ask for a divorce, or yell
 at her, or cry. I felt NOTHING. Now I can feel a tear asl
 write this. But not because my wife has been cheating
 on me, but because I am now realising I have been
 dying inside. What happened to that fun-loving, risk
 taking, energetic person that was me, hungering to
 change the world? I remember being asked on a date
 by the most popular girl in the school, but declining
 her for my now-wife. God, I was really popular with the
 girls in high school. In university/college too. But i
 stayed loyal. I didn't explore. I studied every day
 Remember all that backpacking and book-writingI
 told you about? That was all in the first few years of
 college. I worked part-time and splurged all that I had
 earned. Now, I save every penny. I don't remember a
 time I spend anything on anything fun. On anything for
 myself. What do I even want now?
 My father passed ten years ago. I remember getting
 calls from mom, telling me he was getting sicker and
 sicker. I was getting busier and busier, on the verge of
 a big promotion. I kept putting my visit off, hoping in
 my mind he would hold on. He died, and I got my
 promotion. I haven't seen him in 15 years. When he
 died, I told myself it didn't matter what I didn't see
 him. I rationalized that being dead, it wouldn't matter
 anyway. WHAT WAS I THINKING? Rationalizing
 everything, making excuses to put things off. Excuses
 Procrastination. It all leads to one thing, nothing. I
 rationalized that financial security was the most
 important thingInow know, that it definitely is not. I
 regret doing nothing with my energy, when I had it. My
 passions. My youth. I regret letting my job take over
 my life. I regret being an awful husband, a money-
 making machine. I regret not finishing my novel, not
 travelling the world. Not being emotionally there for
 my son. Being a damn emotionless wallet.
 If you're reading this, and you have a whole life ahead
 of you, please. Don't procrastinate. Don't leave your
 dreams for later. Relish in your energy, your passions.
 Don't stay on the internet with all your spare time
 (unless your passion needs it). Please, do something
 with your life while you're young. DO NOT settle down
 at 20. DO NOT forget your friends, your family
 Yourself. Do NOT waste your life. Your ambitions. Like
 I did mine. Do not be like me
srsfunny:

A Sad But Common Story

srsfunny: A Sad But Common Story

Ass, Fucking, and Monster: MONSTER ASS $6,99 Balance $6.66 theawfuledges:okay but the sheer fucking glee on the face of the person taking this photo is the best part about this
Ass, Fucking, and Monster: MONSTER ASS $6,99
 Balance
 $6.66
theawfuledges:okay but the sheer fucking glee on the face of the person taking this photo is the best part about this

theawfuledges:okay but the sheer fucking glee on the face of the person taking this photo is the best part about this