January 2011
54 posts
Reblog this if you actually read things people...
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That awkward moment when they think you're talking...
Me: Mathilde, are you ready to rumble?
Mathilde: (seductively) Only if you are...
Me: Wha.. no I meant... the midyear. Are you ready? Did you study?
Mathilde: Oh. No.
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Away We Go
Burt: I mean, don't you just look at her and want to give her everything that she's ever wanted? It is so incredibly unfair that she can't...
Verona: Yeah, you're right. It's unfair that she can't have a baby and that bad parents still get to be parents and good parents die when their daughters are in college. So what?
Burt: I'm sorry, 'Rona.
Verona: Look, all we can do is be good for this one baby. We don't have control over much else.
Burt: Will you marry me? At least.
Verona: Never. I will never leave you.
Burt: Yeah.
Verona: I promise.
Burt: No, I know. You... You promised never to marry me because you don't want to get married without your parents there. I get that. You promise never to leave me. Do you promise to never leave this baby that we are having?
Verona: I promise. I do. Do you promise to stop talking about your ability to find or not find my vagina after I give birth?
Burt: I do. Do you promise to let me cobble...
Verona: Carve.
Burt: ...to carve in my spare time, and teach our daughter the lore of the great Mississippi?
Verona: I do. Do you promise never to develop a thing for seahorses?
Burt: I do.
Verona: Good.
Burt: Do you promise to let our daughter be fat or skinny or any weight at all? Because we want her to be happy, no matter what. Being obsessed with weight is just too cliché for our daughter.
Verona: Yes, I do.
Burt: Do you promise, when she talks, you'll listen? Like, really listen, especially when she's scared? And that her fights will be your fights?
Verona: I do.
Burt: And do you promise that if I die some embarrassing and boring death that you're gonna tell our daughter that her father was killed by Russian soldiers in this intense hand-to-hand combat in an attempt to save the lives of 850 Chechnyan orphans?
Verona: I do. Chechnyan orphans. I do. I do.
I got the feelin': Friday lessons →
eddiesuave:
Staying inside my darkened room marathoning Skins does not make me feel less shitty. I love the show but maybe I shouldn’t have done that.
I need to start doing laundry regularly again. I am now down to emergency underwear- not okay, Eddie.
I need to stop avoiding the laundry room because old…
I saw this and smiled!
I’m so glad you liked Away We Go….and...
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ghibli-gifs:
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Alliteration, Vibration, Internal Rhyme
Who is this flagrant Fire-child? This vagrant, wild, daughter-in-exile?
This sickly son, Wiry One, tasked to a fiery trial?
She sits in solemn, slender silence, smoking— choking on the pleasures of her pride, while he, the noble, loses solace in his stride.
He, unnoticed, thinks; blinks the inky smoke out from his eyes.
He, unnoticed, takes her— makes her come out from under...
unpopular opinion
superstitionsandchoices:
yourstarsand:
Read More
I agree 100% (I hope you don’t mind this being reblogged)
I feel the same way. That show is gross.
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That awkward moment when you write a parenthesis...
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downwiththekids:
hapiicacai:
rawrkasey:
-ashleyfence:
ayotiffany:
taytaygarcia:
CLICK THE SQUARES.
THE WHOLE WORLD NEEDS TO KNOW ABOUT THIS.
FOREVER REBLOG.
I played with this for two hours!
FUCKING AMAZING.
jizz.
.cool stuff x3,.
TOO COOL
THIS.
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I am from
I am from the POLAND SPRINGS CARBONATED WATER bottles.
I am from the dirt in the wagon, the water, the grass, and the bird-sounds of my backyard.
I am from the art studio and the biology classroom.
I am from Calculus and from Chemistry.
I am from dinner parties, both the families kind and the friends kind.
I am from the times I was scared and the times they made me glad.
I am from my...
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ghibli-gifs:
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Skunk Hour by Robert Lowell
Nautilus Island’s hermit heiress still lives through winter in her Spartan cottage; her sheep still graze above the sea. Her son’s a bishop. Her farmer is first selectman in our village; she’s in her dotage. Thirsting for the hierarchic privacy of Queen Victoria’s century, she buys up all the eyesores facing her shore, and lets them fall. The season’s ill—...