cruelgirls:

It is not my job to make others comfortable with my body. It is my job to practice radical self love.

I am the worst kind of person.

I just thought of the world’s worst couples’ Halloween costume: the girl tapes a bunch of plastic flowers to her arms, hugs the Hawaiian-shirt-clad guy around his neck, and they walk around all night with the guy saying, “She’s my lei!”

You can hate me, you guys, it’s okay.  I hate myself.

Dear every manufacturer of women’s clothing, ever:

thankyousirmayihaveanother:

lord-kitschener:

gothiccharmschool:

Faux pockets are an abomination. If you’re going to bother putting pocket flaps on something, add the G-d damn pockets. 

No love, 

Jilli

And make the pockets deeper, you soulless bastards. 

JESUS CHRIST THIS

JESUS

CHRIST

THIS

I owned a pair of guy’s jeans in middle school, and GOOD GOD, the pockets!  I fell in love.

Why didn’t anyone warn me?

Man, I am not nearly dainty enough to maintain this nail polish business for extended periods of time. Less than 24 hours have passed, and they’re already ruined. Never doing that again.

I was supposed to read 6 chapters of organic chemistry and write a practice essay tonight.  Instead, I’ve spent all night painting my nails teal, listening to Coldplay, and playing with my hair.

Put it on the flow chart.

So there’s this kid who I used to go to school with years ago, and all I really hear from him these days are Facebook statuses in Swedish and some Instagram photos, but I never really looked into it until today.  Turns out that since he graduated high school, he grew a beard, bought a unicycle, did a year of university in Sweden, learned how to weld/forge metal, and is now going to spend the next two years learning how build traditional Nordic boats by hand.

I WANT TO DO THAT.  I WANT TO DO ALL OF THOSE THINGS.  I mean, I don’t want to grow a scruffy fisherman-beard, BUT EVERYTHING ELSE.  Swedes get to have all the fun…