I hate it when you just randomly get hit with crippling embarrassment over something you did years ago and you’re writhing with your hands over your face trying to tell the memory to go away omg shut the fuck up
June 2012
“Sarcasm: the last refuge of modest and chaste-souled people when the privacy of their soul is coarsely and intrusively invaded.”
—Fyodor Dostoevsky (via wordpainting) (via philosofish)
“I don’t know if proud is the right word, but I am somebody who does not, on the whole, have the highest regard for my own stuff in that when I look all I get to see are the flaws.”
—Neil Gaiman (via wordpainting) (via philosofish)
So I had no voice at work today, and since I work at the Disney Store
I had a little note pad, in which I wrote, “Can’t speak, Ursula the Sea Witch stole my voice! But I’m happy to assist you!”
And a little girl came up to me, read my notepad, grabbed my hand, and dragged me all around the store,
asking random guys if they’d like to be my “true love” so I can get my voice back and stay human.
…it was the most adorable, awkward situation I had ever been in.
Everyone else got a kick out of my reference too.
