Scarface is a Singapore celebrity with a huge head, covered in numerous scars from fights with other street cats, which is how he got his name in the first place. Scarface had to be removed from the original locality where he lived due to numerous complaints from human inhabitants regarding the noise he made when indulging in his gangster activities. He was rescued and treated for the wounds on his face. Once healed, his photos were posted to Facebook, where he quickly amassed a large fan following. Fondly known as Scar, his page says his favourite activities include eating, sleeping and bullying the dog. His scars have not deterred him and he has participated in several pageants and has also been featured in several magazines.
He looks like he’s half Lion!
OMG. In a couple of those he looks like bad taxidermy brought to life. He’s ridiculous and adorable (though he could stand to shed a few pounds)
Legendary graffiti artist Lady Pink.
when somebody joins tumblr
Yesterday, I spent 60 dollars on groceries,
took the bus home,
carried both bags with two good arms back to my studio apartment
and cooked myself dinner.
You and I may have different definitions of a good day.
This week, I paid my rent and my credit card bill,
worked 60 hours between my two jobs,
only saw the sun on my cigarette breaks
and slept like a rock.
Flossed in the morning,
locked my door,
and remembered to buy eggs.
My mother is proud of me.
It is not the kind of pride she brags about at the golf course.
She doesn’t combat topics like, ”My daughter got into Yale”
with, “Oh yeah, my daughter remembered to buy eggs”
But she is proud.
See, she remembers what came before this.
The weeks where I forgot how to use my muscles,
how I would stay as silent as a thick fog for weeks.
She thought each phone call from an unknown number was the notice of my suicide.
These were the bad days.
My life was a gift that I wanted to return.
My head was a house of leaking faucets and burnt-out lightbulbs.
Depression, is a good lover.
So attentive; has this innate way of making everything about you.
And it is easy to forget that your bedroom is not the world,
That the dark shadows your pain casts is not mood-lighting.
It is easier to stay in this abusive relationship than fix the problems it has created.
Today, I slept in until 10,
cleaned every dish I own,
fought with the bank,
took care of paperwork.
You and I might have different definitions of adulthood.
I don’t work for salary, I didn’t graduate from college,
but I don’t speak for others anymore,
and I don’t regret anything I can’t genuinely apologize for.
And my mother is proud of me.
I burned down a house of depression,
I painted over murals of greyscale,
and it was hard to rewrite my life into one I wanted to live
But today, I want to live.
I didn’t salivate over sharp knives,
or envy the boy who tossed himself off the Brooklyn bridge.
I just cleaned my bathroom,
did the laundry,
called my brother.
Told him, “it was a good day.
do you ever cook something in the microwave but it’s still really cold in the middle and you just keep eating it instead of heating it longer because life is pointless and entropy is unavoidable and the universe is filled with callous and casual destruction
I can’t wait to move in with someone and cook for them and own dogs and watch movies and have a live-in-best-friend who I get to bang