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facejob.bsky.social
Facejob
@facejob.bsky.social
33 followers 37 following 1.1K posts
When I fart, you'll feel it
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poondonkus.bsky.social
🥺
Oneteh @ thankgoodnessforthegoodones.blogspot.com
December 26, 2025 at 10:59 PM
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poondonkus.bsky.social
tag urself im festive
Moods of the world's oldest ham
December 26, 2025 at 11:06 PM
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rizunm.bsky.social
December 26, 2025 at 9:32 PM
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evanonline.bsky.social
this is the only act of kindness that kazuya mishima has ever received, and the only act of kindness that dr. mario has ever done.
smash ultimate screenshot. on wii fit studio, dr. mario sweetly & nicely tucks kazuya mishima in on a minecraft bed with his sheet.
December 26, 2025 at 9:29 AM
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bulborb7.bsky.social
December 26, 2025 at 6:44 PM
facejob.bsky.social
m.youtube.com/watch?v=CccH...
cheese with everything
YouTube video by gvaumisc
m.youtube.com
December 26, 2025 at 7:02 PM
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ldekol.bsky.social
Black Zero
#MegaManX
December 5, 2025 at 3:40 PM
facejob.bsky.social
Conductor Obama: My cello Americans
poondonkus.bsky.social poondonkus @poondonkus.bsky.social · 1d
dessert Obama: my Jell-O americans
crazylexi9.bsky.social lexi 🙀 @crazylexi9.bsky.social · 1d
superficial obama: my shallow americans
December 26, 2025 at 1:29 AM
facejob.bsky.social
a christmas card with santa claus and a snowman
ALT: a christmas card with santa claus and a snowman
media.tenor.com
December 26, 2025 at 12:10 AM
facejob.bsky.social
a cartoon of snoopy standing next to a christmas tree with a candy cane
ALT: a cartoon of snoopy standing next to a christmas tree with a candy cane
media.tenor.com
December 26, 2025 at 12:10 AM
facejob.bsky.social
a frog wearing glasses and a santa hat with the words christmas eve hanging above it
ALT: a frog wearing glasses and a santa hat with the words christmas eve hanging above it
media.tenor.com
December 26, 2025 at 12:10 AM
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saturn-illus.bsky.social
Merry Christmas 🎄 to my westerners!
I present SnOguri Cap 😝
#umamusume
December 25, 2025 at 6:30 PM
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padder.bsky.social
doodle
He looks at you, and he knows you've been naughty.
December 25, 2025 at 5:55 PM
facejob.bsky.social
Get out of here wolf
December 25, 2025 at 11:48 PM
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kabewski.bsky.social
Christmas Ballistic Lunar Witch
December 25, 2025 at 10:33 PM
facejob.bsky.social
Social media cheapens the human experience but please enjoy these anime girls and call me pretty
December 25, 2025 at 11:40 PM
facejob.bsky.social
When the ass be fartin’
esfio.bsky.social Every SpongeBob Frame In Order @esfio.bsky.social · 2d
Season 2 Episode 30 - Frame 870 out of 2703
Season 2 Episode 30 - Frame 870 out of 2703
December 25, 2025 at 2:52 AM
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drewtoothpaste.bsky.social
today, on Christmas Eve, i am pleased to share with you my short story which won the local paper's holiday writing contest. alt text spread across two images. i didn't choose celeste age 6's illustration to go with this, but it's perfect. may all of you have long food and a merry christmas
"It's the longest food." That's what my father always said about spaghetti, and where we lived, it was true. These days, even in the sticks, you can get foods from all corners of the globe that are as long as December nights, but back then, spaghetti was the king of long. And for my father, its length represented his dearest wish, which was to celebrate the holidays as long as possible. The day after Thanksgiving, my siblings and I would push the garbage cart up to the back door, and with ceremonial flair, our father would pull Thanksgiving leftovers one by one from the icebox. "Yams!" he'd announce, as if taking roll call in a classroom. He'd hold the dish of orange mush up for the whole family to see, and toss it through the back door into the cart with a measured arc. We didn't know how long he had done this, but as kids, we assumed it was forever, and that our father was a mystical being whose existence pre-dated time itself. "Cranberry sauce!" we'd imagine him announcing to a bewildered pack of neanderthals, right before tossing the world's first canned food out of the cave entrance at the feet of a woolly mammoth. The dishes went in order from least to most important, with the turkey being the last to go. This was always more of a heave-ho than a delicate toss, but we still never saw him miss the cart with his final chuck of the season. He'd turn back around with the word "Turkey!" having barely finished escaping his face, and grin in a way I'd only seen elsewhere on toddlers and murderers. "It's time to get long." We'd pile into the sleigh, and he would call our tiny horses' names one by one, before we dashed through late November's snow to the market. It was our tradition that each child should pick a box of spaghetti, and though we didn't have enough money for luxuries, there was never a year we couldn't pay our Long Friday pasta bill. On the way home, someone would invariably ask our father about the suddenly and suspiciously full sack of rattling boxes under the sleigh's bench seat. He'd laugh, a great, big belly laugh that we never heard in summer, and refuse to tell us. Of course, he'd gone shopping while we were distracted in the market, examining the spaghetti through the boxes' windows, trading them back and forth while the shopkeeper looked on, and attempting to weigh them in our hands with our eyes closed. Once home, we'd line up in order by age, and starting with my eldest sister, we'd open and dump our boxes of spaghetti into the iron pot my mother already had heating by the fire. Some years, with a fresh baby in the house, we'd have to wait several minutes, or sometimes even an hour for our youngest sibling to make their way to the boiling pot, finally cheering when the last box of spaghetti went in. "You're in the final stretch!" was something my mother and father would say during this time, to encourage us at dinner, as we ate bowls of ever-softening spaghetti from the family pot. To make their point, they'd take a noodle out and pull it by its ends, and the closer we were to Christmas, the further the spaghetti would stretch. This is also how Hanukkah works but with oil instead of spaghetti. Finally, on Christmas Day, we'd all run downstairs in our sock feet to sit by the tree, and watch our mother open the brand new set of ceramic servingware our father bought every year to replace the dishes and bowls he'd thrown out a month prior. She would take them into the kitchen, and the siblings would each open their Christmas present. By the time we'd each done that, our mother would have reappeared by the tree, this time holding an exquisitely wrapped and ribboned package, bearing a name tag addressed to my father. Not addressed to Mr., not addressed to Father, but his full name, the one we dare never spoke aloud, not even while alone. My father's name? Santa Claus... The Third.
December 24, 2025 at 10:08 PM
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quest64official.bsky.social
It's Snoopy and Woodstock but as Dark Souls/Elden Ring/ George RR Martin whatever characters with the text: My loyal blade, my promised consort At long last you have returned
December 24, 2025 at 1:48 AM
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ivathehuman.bsky.social
December 22, 2025 at 11:27 PM
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nimadj.bsky.social
#digimon
December 23, 2025 at 11:04 AM
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nutshellgulag.bsky.social
From the 1966 Sunset Magazine “Sunset Cook Book of Breads”
A black and white photo from an old baking cookbook which shows how to shape the dough for a crown brioche. It looks suspiciously like a certain obscene meme picture (goatse) that Bluesky just banned.
December 23, 2025 at 1:05 AM
facejob.bsky.social
Tweet 2
December 23, 2025 at 12:39 AM
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gumbyscreens.bsky.social
Frame #10404 from E86 The Knight Mare
December 22, 2025 at 1:00 AM
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10amlunch.bsky.social
December 21, 2025 at 6:02 PM