(Source: proudtortoise, via gashcan)

(Source: twitter.com, via nerodeniro)

foie:

my ride is here

foie:

my ride is here

(Source: anothercellphoneblog, via gashcan)

"If someone were to die at the age of 63 after a lifelong battle with MS or Sickle Cell, we’d all say they were a “fighter” or an “inspiration.” But when someone dies after a lifelong battle with severe mental illness and drug addiction, we say it was a tragedy and tell everyone “don’t be like him, please seek help.” That’s bullshit. Robin Williams sought help his entire life. He saw a psychiatrist. He quit drinking. He went to rehab. He did this for decades. That’s HOW he made it to 63. For some people, 63 is a fucking miracle. I know several people who didn’t make it past 23 and I’d do anything to have 40 more years with them."

anonymous reader on The Dish (via theoryofwar)

(Source: mysweetetc, via ohsoang)

relahvant:

best-of-memes:

this man won the internet

this guy is my hero

(via gashcan)

seafolly:

“Mad was the last kid I saw and he was asleep. He was 3 months old and they put him in my arms and he stayed asleep and they put him in the bath and he stayed asleep and I thought he was narcoleptic or something. Then he opened his eyes and just stared at me for the longest time and I just stared at him and I started crying and he smiled. And it wasn’t that he smiled that he liked me, it was just that I hadn’t held children in my life and I was always considered so dark and I always had so many things that made me feel like maybe I shouldn’t be somebody’s mom because certainly the world has an opinion of me and I’m not so sure about myself and am I gonna be the best mom? So the fact that this little kid seemed at ease gave me the courage to feel like I could make him happy. And so we became a family right then.” — Angelina Jolie

seafolly:

“Mad was the last kid I saw and he was asleep. He was 3 months old and they put him in my arms and he stayed asleep and they put him in the bath and he stayed asleep and I thought he was narcoleptic or something. Then he opened his eyes and just stared at me for the longest time and I just stared at him and I started crying and he smiled. And it wasn’t that he smiled that he liked me, it was just that I hadn’t held children in my life and I was always considered so dark and I always had so many things that made me feel like maybe I shouldn’t be somebody’s mom because certainly the world has an opinion of me and I’m not so sure about myself and am I gonna be the best mom? So the fact that this little kid seemed at ease gave me the courage to feel like I could make him happy. And so we became a family right then.” — Angelina Jolie

(Source: becketts, via nerodeniro)

softgrungecersei:

The bees in Candyman were bred specifically for the movie. They needed to make sure that the bees were only 12 hours old so that they looked like mature bees, but their stinger wouldn’t be powerful enough to do any real damage. Real bees were actually put into Tony Todd’s mouth while they where shooting the climax. His only protection was a mouth guard that kept him from having the bees go down his throat. Virginia Madsen is allergic to bees, so an ambulance was always on set while filming the bee sequence.

This is the worst thing I have ever read.

(via graveyarddirt)

cashmerethoughtsss:

2001

a great year

I’m old.

(Source: liamdunbarsss, via ohsoang)

piratejazzy:

ptgreat:

nickcarragay:

petition to make young adult authors stop writing about girls whose lives change when they meet a boy

When she saw him time slowed to a stop.  He was so perfect and she knew her life would never be the same because she had finally found him.  The one.  The first boy she would ever kill.

Except that one. That one can be written.

(via ohsoang)

burning-young:

girls on their periods

I will never not reblog this.

(via nerodeniro)

jschmel:

jessicaschmelzinger:

Some pages from WNY Craft Beer Magazine

Check out some of the pages from WNY Craft Beer Magazine that I designed and is out now. Go get yo’ self a copy!

OMG THIS IS THE CUTEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN. 
DEAD NOW. 

OMG THIS IS THE CUTEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN. 

DEAD NOW. 

One of these things is not like the other.

One of these things is not like the other.

First, I seriously apologize for the amount of weird cat lady posts. Maybe I should say resurgence of cat lady posts? I know it’s ridiculous, esp since I’m all “75 pics of your kids making the same face is lame!” I’m a hypocrite. I’ll deal. 

I woke up this morning to this guy tucked between my limbs at the foot of the bed. When he realized I was awake he uncurled himself and came up to say hi. He didn’t leave my side all night. ♥ It’s been almost 24 hours since I brought him through the door and let my home become his. He eased right in. He follows me room to room. He plays like a kitten. (He might’ve been humping my leg last night though. Awkward.) He is so fun to watch. 

It’s very bittersweet. I was ready. I AM ready. But having another cat here makes me miss Trouble even more.  When Rufus crawled up to me this morning I loved it but felt a kick in the gut of sadness. The way Trouble greeted me, how well he knew me. The love he gave me every day.  I will always miss my boy. My first kitty. First best friend.

A couple nights ago I thought the lamest thing ever… I’d met some cats, people trying to give me theirs, email forwards of adoptables, etc. I cleaned a missed tuft of Trouble hair off the back of the couch and in my head thought, dammit, help me find the right one. 

And then yesterday this guy settled right into my arms. I picked him up. He purred, started kneading me, and it felt like I shouldn’t leave him. 

I romanticize. But if there is any such thing as divine intervention I think my dearly departed Trouble Fats did me a solid.  

I’m lame. So what.

First, I seriously apologize for the amount of weird cat lady posts. Maybe I should say resurgence of cat lady posts? I know it’s ridiculous, esp since I’m all “75 pics of your kids making the same face is lame!” I’m a hypocrite. I’ll deal.

I woke up this morning to this guy tucked between my limbs at the foot of the bed. When he realized I was awake he uncurled himself and came up to say hi. He didn’t leave my side all night. ♥ It’s been almost 24 hours since I brought him through the door and let my home become his. He eased right in. He follows me room to room. He plays like a kitten. (He might’ve been humping my leg last night though. Awkward.) He is so fun to watch.

It’s very bittersweet. I was ready. I AM ready. But having another cat here makes me miss Trouble even more. When Rufus crawled up to me this morning I loved it but felt a kick in the gut of sadness. The way Trouble greeted me, how well he knew me. The love he gave me every day. I will always miss my boy. My first kitty. First best friend.

A couple nights ago I thought the lamest thing ever… I’d met some cats, people trying to give me theirs, email forwards of adoptables, etc. I cleaned a missed tuft of Trouble hair off the back of the couch and in my head thought, dammit, help me find the right one.

And then yesterday this guy settled right into my arms. I picked him up. He purred, started kneading me, and it felt like I shouldn’t leave him.

I romanticize. But if there is any such thing as divine intervention I think my dearly departed Trouble Fats did me a solid.

I’m lame. So what.