Tumblr Humor #137

*A common question that straight people like to ask gay people is, when they found out they were gay, or how did they find out.  I love all these snarky, horrible, answers to such an intrusive question. After all, the opposite, when did you find out when you were straight, is apparently not considered a legitimate question. I highlighted my personal favorites.


How are you lgbt?


I sent an application in and got accepted

I got in through one of those recruitment drives they keep holding

I collected the box tops and turned them in. Just paid separate shipping and handling.

I forgot to uncheck a box when I was installing something.

i found a rainbow ticket inside a chocolate bar

A bird flew up and handed me a letter.

I was the one billionth customer.

Sorting hat.

went into a home depot on Pride weekend and it was a door prize

like, weird, but okay

I forgot to install an adblocker and got a pop up on a website that congratulated me on being LGBT

I successfully forwarded a chain e-mail to ten LGBTQIA+ friends in the allotted amount of time.

It was hidden in the extra fees on my phone plan.

Scratch off tickets

Kinda got stuck on my cable bill one month

It’s one of the benefits included in salary packaging

Honestly it just followed me home? It’s not like I fed it or anything it just showed up and never left.

Found it tucked into the back of a library book.

weird contaminants in the stream, that one campout.

It was in the sauce at the Bunnings sausage sizzle.  Or maybe the onion.

I downloaded the app.

i deleted the (different) app. best mistake i ever made. 😀

I woke up one morning to find the queerfairy had visited.

A friend gave it to me as a “happy divorce” present.

Melissa Etheridge gave me a toaster.

God sent an angel and the glory of the Lord was upon me.

One of those really fancy Christmas crackers. All my sister got was a wine charm, hah.

Look, the landlord left a lot of random crap here when we moved in that he doesn’t want and that really aren’t household essentials, and the stuff I liked I’m keeping, OK?

Found mine in one of those prize packets in a box of Fruit Loops.

Tried being straight but it gave me indigestion so I decided what the hell, I’ll give bi a try.

Add your own text, if you like
*lim·i·nal space
1. relating to a transitional or initial stage of a process
2.occupying a position at, or on both sides of, a boundary or threshold.
Tumblr is full of people telling odd and frightening stories aobut the paranormal, and inexplicable. This is about people’s adventures at highway rest stops, the ultimate limnal space, which is neither here, nor there, and one its like for people for whom that space is not limnal, but their actual destination.



I’ve been thinking about liminal spaces a bit tonight. And truck/rest stops are often considered to be liminal spaces. Having family a few states over, I’m no stranger to family road trips and, by extension rest stops. There is one thing about them that I’ve thought about for years.

People work there.

There are people who are not just passing through, but show up day after day, clock in, work for hours, and then go home. Where do they live? What are they like? Are these liminal spaces no longer liminal for them? Its a set destination for them now.

What sort of weird shit do they see every day that they just sigh and return to mopping the floor? The unusual that is just another day on the job. That weird otherworldiness at 3am but whatever I’m on a break. 

Perhaps they are immune to the effects of the passing spirits mixing with the mundane, cause how can you be in a liminal space if its your job? Maybe they are special caretakers that keeps the spirits moving on their way, giving directions to things no one else is supposed to see.

Either way they aren’t paid enough to deal with this shit.

so i work at a highway servo in a small rural town and i’ve done so for about a year. and 100% the creepy shit doesn’t stop, but you do sort of become resigned to it. like in the beginning i once screamed because saw myself in the mirror behind the milk and thought it was not me. but here’s some stuff i guess:

we keep the doors locked because crime exists so they make a beep sound when someone’s waiting to enter, but the amount of times i have checked the monitor and there has been nothing and no one there is not enough to say ‘general sensory problem’ but just enough for my anxious personality to be wary of the ghosts.

occasionally i discover large strange bugs i have never seen before that apparently only exist in the dead of a hot summer night. i also watch a lot of spiders crawl across the outside cameras.

once a man came in around 2am – no car, just wandered off the highway – and took every sausage roll and walked out without paying. which okay, theft happens. but he did it, looking into my eyes, and did not say a word as i called after him. he just walked in calmly, looked into my soul, remained entirely silent, and casually robbed the place. i was shook.

a cousin of mine who had been missing for three months once showed up.

and there’s this totally dead period between 3 and 5 where i usually mop the floors. which is why its weird when i find footsteps in my clean floors after ive finished.

plus, time passes differently in the freezer room . i fill up four full fridges worth of coke and red bull and other assorted soft drinks in fifteen minutes – like i’m not trying that hard its really not possible. and i know that because when i do the three fridges that cant be filled from behind, it takes me more like forty minutes or more.

i get strange customers who come in asking for directions with out-dated melways who don’t own phones and seem misplaced in time somehow but are always so very thankful. sometimes they ask for directions to places ive never heard even tho i’ve lived in the area my entire life.

or i get the same person at the same time to get the same thing every day. they have the same greeting and we have the same conversation like we’re stuck in a time loop. these pod people always come between 4 and 5am.

and i can safely say, you will never know fear until there is a 3am power outage in a storm and you are blanketed in absolute darkness so suddenly your heart stops beating. and then you have been outside in said storm taking out the rubbish and become soaked through like a drowned rat with only the weird glow of ur phone light with a painful 3% battery life to guide you.

overall its just a strange environment: deathly silent, with flickering fluorescent lights and grime in the back store that no matter how hard i try to clean never comes away and footsteps in the newly moped floor even tho there hasn’t been a customer and this room at the back entirely empty save only for ancient promotional material for products i’ve never heard of that makes me feel uneasy.

can absolutely confirm all of this. once upon a job I worked in a subway in the back of a truck stop named ‘the general lee.’ there was a tiny civil war museum in the back, by the subway – shelves of bullets and a powder horn and such. the tables had newspaper clippings under a thick coat of ancient yellowed resin and I couldn’t tell you a single thing any of them said because every time I wiped down the tables the articles were unfamiliar.

the subway replaced a chicken restaurant. I was assured that the restaurant was terrible and the huge black piece of corrugated steel in the back room covered the grease pit. why would even an awful chicken restaurant have a grease pit in the middle of the floor?? Boss told me once that the fry cook got paid a quarter for every rat he killed and one night he got five bucks.
anyway these dudes would come in off the road and be PISSED to find a subway and zero fried chicken. I’d be like dude, chicken place been gone for years, man. y e a r s. every one of these men would snarl that they’d just been through here just the other week and had chicken. everybody that worked there had that story. i still wonder who was in the liminal space, the chicken men or the midnight shift.


*Actually this was a casting call for a black cat to star in a televsion show, but its certainly a very surreal image, that just cries out to be captioned. Were the leashes required? Andwhy are there almost no men in this picture? And why do all the cats seem so calm?



*I’m going to continue to place introvert memes here:


*This is one of those story prompts that makes your imagination run wild. I loved this. What happens if you give the demons more elaborate lunches? Do you get more and better stuff?

While putting your favorite condiment on a sandwich, you accidentally make a magical occult symbol and summon a demon.

You silently take two more slices of bread out of the package and make another sandwich. You put it on a plate with a handful of potato chips and hand it to the demon. He takes the sandwich, smiles and vanishes in a puff of demonic smoke. The next day you get that job promotion you were after. There was no contract. No words spoken. You owe nothing. But every now and then, another demon pops in for lunch. Demons don’t often get homemade sandwiches.


I do really hate that Captain Peanut commercial. I;m not entirely sure why but I think its the idea of a peanut wearing a monocle. I’m always reminded of The Rockefellers. Uhm, yeah…how are his pants legs being held up?

Image result for mr peanut


*I’m always here for Superman headcanons. Here we have Slacker Superman-Batman Slash!

Okay but hear me out…what if Clark Kent and Superman WEREN’T the same person?

What if they were twins, separated at birth. And Clark was the twin sent to Earth to survive Krypton’s destruction, found in a cornfield, raised by Ma and Pa Kent who went on to grow up, go to Metropolis, become a reporter.

And Superman was the twin sent to idk, some other alien planet to survive Krypton’s destruction, raised in a non Earth like environment or culture, who grew up to journey to Earth in search of his twin, the only family he had left in the universe, goes to Metropolis, becomes a superhero. Look, he needed something to do besides search the entire planet for his twin with superspeed, that could take all week.

I’m not entirely sure what happens next or how the initial meeting between them goes, but the point of all this is, skip to the part where his twin has nowhere else to live but some crystal castle at the North Pole. Leading farmboy raised Clark Kent to do the polite thing and invite his sibling from another star system to stay with him. Cut to Clark’s superhero twin slumming it at his place, crashing on his couch for way longer than Clark expected, and when he casually ‘suggests’ Superman get out of the house more, see what the world has to offer, like, you know….employment opportunities, Superman doesn’t get why its a problem to wear Clark’s clothes and Clark’s glasses and walk around town calling himself Clark and causing all sorts of confusion thanks to his wildly different life experiences and values.

And then, AND THEN, it gets worse, see, because of course Superman had to go and join Earth’s superhero club, the Justice League, and he still doesn’t even have his own phone so he just gives them Clark’s number for when they want to get in touch with him. So Clark’s got Green Lantern calling him at 3 am to track down Superman, and half the League is under the impression he and his brother are actually the same person and so just give him these amused, patronizing little smirks when they run into him every time Lex Luthor tries to destroy the Daily Planet and he has to explain to Flash yet again that NO SERIOUSLY, I AM NOT SUPERMAN, I AM JUST HIS TWIN BROTHER, I SWEAR.

And then one time Batman, the freaking Batman SHOWS UP AT HIS PLACE when Clark is in the shower, and after Clark’s done screaming, the Dark Knight simply hands him a towel and a flash drive and intones “Interesting. You both have the same birthmark, just in different places. Please give this to your brother, the fate of the world depends on it.”

Which begs the question, how does the Caped Crusader know what his brother’s birthmark looks like? He asks Superman, while the latter is hunched over a bowl of cereal (Clark’s cereal, he might add, since its not like Superman ever goes grocery shopping himself).

And Superman says “Oh, we’re – hmm. What’s the Earth word for enjoying the sexual behavior commonly associated with your ritual of dating, but without the emotional commitments usually expected to coincide?”

“Are you telling me that you and Batman are friends with benefits?”

Superman frowns. “No, that’s not it. I don’t think he even likes me, he just likes the sex.”

Well. That clears that up then. Clark excuses himself to go call his mom.