languageoclock:

scottish-polyglot:

kaiju-squidling:

blagdogs-tveiter-tot:

wunderhorntanz:

gothhabiba:

ah yes, my favourite foreign language feel, “I know what all of those words mean individually but not together like that”

not to forget its twin “i know (roughly) what you’re saying, but what are those words?”

Plus the secret triplet “I managed to get your drift but I don’t know how to answer you”.

and the bastard cousin “I understand exactly what you mean, but how the hell do i respond?”

as well as the annoying uncle “I completely understand what you said, but how would I translate that for someone who doesn’t?”

not to forget the drunk aunt, “I have no idea what you said but I can tell it was supposed to be a joke so I’m going to laugh.”

(via str-heat)

ejaculot:

when ya see your crush at the public pool

(via naginivevo)

tinderventure:

So before I got with my current boyfriend, I did some swiping on Tinder with no real intention of ever meeting up with anyone. Lo and behold, I wound up matching with this guy who was kind of cute, but no one I would immediately let into my pants without getting to know them first. Within the first five minutes of talking to him, he informs me that he’s a submissive in bed and wants a dominant woman. Uhm. Okay. The rest of the conversation goes pretty well, and I kind of forget about him saying that. After a few days, he asks if we can meet up and I say yes. We met at Starbucks and talked for a bit. He was really polite and confident, and I was definitely attracted to him. It started to get a little late, so I brought him back to my place to hang out some more. I’d been holding in my bladder since we were at Starbucks, so I excused myself to go to the bathroom when we got to my apartment. I walk out five minutes later to find him in my room with no pants on and my pink dildo up his ass. All I could do was stare at him until he got the message and left. I deleted Tinder after that.

(Source: tinderventure, via laughing-llama)

pettyrevenge:

My stepdad was a massive control freak with a ridiculous temper.

He controlled every aspect of our lives, but he was especially bad about the TV. He always had to have his chair and always had the remote, no matter what. Not even my mom was allowed to use the chair or the remote when he wanted them. The whole rest of the family could have been 10 minutes from the end of a movie and he’d still change the channel on us. Everyone also had to be completely silent when he was watching something (especially Judge Judy or COPS). If he could hear us make any noise at all, he would go ballistic.

When I was about 12, I got Mission: Impossible for the Gameboy Color. It was a terrible game, but had one really neat feature: you could point any remote at the Gameboy’s infrared port and it would record the signals generated by the remote and then map them to the Gameboy’s buttons. This effectively made the Gameboy a universal remote.

I was never without my Gameboy in those days, and I would often lie on the living room floor and play it on silent while my family watched TV. Once a month or so, I put in Mission: Impossible and just went nuts. Watching him go berserk with no one to aim it at was one of the most satisfying experiences of my childhood. I was never caught.

(Source: redd.it, via naginivevo)

(Source: travelinfolkie, via lubricates)

petty-revenge-stories:

Years ago in my high school AP economics class I was assigned to sit in the corner of the room where I was flanked by a handful of very popular, very lazy kids. After every exam the teacher would announce (much to my chagrin) my “high score” to the class.

After a particularly challenging exam where I only scored 93%, the teacher announced that the guy to my right (let’s call him Matt) had ALSO scored 93%, his friend behind him 90%, and the friend behind HIM 90%! Needless to say I vacillated between self-doubt and suspicion for a few days before I finally “congratulated” one of the 90%‘ers on his score. With an impish grin he admitted that his friend Matt had been cheating off me for months and “thanked” me for helping “so many people do so well” in the class. The petty revenge gears started turning in my head for what seemed like ages before I replied “no problem, I’m just glad to help!”

At the next exam I put my my paper in very clear view of Matt. He had been told that I was now willing to “help” him and his friends. I circled all wrong answers while making a special mark for the correct ones. Just before the time was up, I quickly changed my answers back when nobody was looking, turned in my exam, and smugly walked back to my seat.

What I didn’t know at the time was that the cheating conspiracy didn’t just involve the kids sitting next to me, but that my answers were written down and forwarded to the next 4 periods, all of which took an identical test.

One week later a record 22 people failed the exam. Matt empathetically remarked “Oh man, did you fail too!?” I flipped over my sheet: 100%.

Nobody ever cheated off me in that class again.

Petty Revenge: Your daily dose of the best petty revenge stories. | credit

(via pikachu-potter)