Second Star To The Right

I'm me and that's all I can be, just a perfect little imperfection xP
101,239 plays
The Cure,
Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me

youmeatpurgatory:

Why won’t you ever know that I’m in love with you?

(via mahngoejews)

nicoleohoh:

im in one of those ‘cuddle up with someone and watch a lame movie while i kiss their neck and casually take off their pants’ mood

(via baringitallforlove)

salamandersalsa:

farrahtales:

Might’ve found the greatest table in the world

i need it

(via sassy-brain)

dunrath:


Fall Out Boy - Alone Together [x]

dunrath:

Fall Out Boy - Alone Together [x]

(via breaddcake)

sage-kun:

juxtapiration:

is every time my friend gets stop to be told off by some white person, very rudely, how his tattoo of a dreamcatcher is racist and insensitive to the Native American people and should removed/apologize/be ashamed.

He is Native American and they confuse him for Mexican every time, and he just states “But I got this at the reservation I lived in for 15 YEARS.” and proceeds to falsely place a curse of his ancestors on them.

image

(via thisisastrangeworld)

advanse:

aries: angry bitch
taurus: hungry bitch
gemini: loud bitch
cancer: weird bitch
leo: bITCH
virgo: quiet bitch
libra: indecisive bitch
scorpio: bitchy bitch
sagittarius: funny bitch
capricorn: ambitious bitch
aquarius: crazy bitch
pisces: sensitive bitch

(via breakableheat)

29,201 plays
SWV,
It's About Time

ablazinq:

Weak // SWV

'Cause my heart starts beating triple time,
With thoughts of loving you on my mind.
I can’t figure out just what to do,
When the cause and cure is you.

(via sometimes-briana)

Spencer Reid + snapchat

(via im-actually-serious-okay)

phuckindope:

Grab her booty everyday so she knows who owns that shit.

(via baringitallforlove)

baringitallforlove:

itsraininbritishmen:

fuckyeahthespianpeacock:

saltheria:

yeffyaboyuice:

mythchief:

So there I was, ready to take a shower. I mean, I was dirty, a little greasy, a shower was not such a horrible idea. People take showers, amiright? Of course!
I get naked.
FULL naked.
REAL naked.
I’m talking the exact opposite reason why you ever went to your grandmother’s house.
No cookies. Blatant nudity.
That’s how folks take showers these days, right? Well, I pull back the curtain…
And there it was.
This…thing…sitting on the little soap/shower/pube shelf. Not a care in the world, like it’s been there for years. “What the fuck is that?” I think to myself.
Now, what follows is the exact pattern of thought that took me from rational human being to Sloth in 3.4 seconds.
“Is that a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit? Holy fuck that’s a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit. OMG why would someone leave that unattended. Those things are so delicious. I’m gonna eat the fuck out of it. Man, I can’t wait to see whoever left it’s face when they come back to find that someone ate their cheesy biscuit’s fuck. Ohhh boy.”
Then my brain sent a message to my arm that said, “Reach for that cheesy biscuit, bitch. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!?”
As you must already know, we are all contractually bound to make a dickload of mistakes throughout our lifetime. Some of those mistakes are so big that they forever hinder our world and warrant entire chapters in our children’s history books. However, most mistakes have the dubious providence of merely haunting one’s soul and festering amidst the subconscious for always and eternity.
This was, nearly, one of those.
If my adjacency to failure could be measured, the only possible unit of measurement to appropriate it would be “baby condoms”. And no, I do not mean those horrendous papoose-like titty-cribs that the slovenly carriage their spawn around in in Wal-Mart, I mean condoms that a baby would wear.
My adjacency to failure was roughly 1 and a half Kiddie Trojans.
I’m not sure what stopped me, be it cosmic or supernatural, but it gave my brain just enough time to ask itself some rather important questions regarding this little tub treasure. Questions like:
“WHO, THE FUCK, WOULD LEAVE A CHEESY BISCUIT IN MY SHOWER?!”
And inquiries such as:
“AND WHY WERE YOU GOING TO EAT IT, MORON?!”
Seriously, was I so hungry that I would wantonly disobey all the integral conditioning and survival imprinting my parents bestowed upon me like the ever important, “Um, don’t eat that biscuit, you don’t know where it’s been or whose it is and also you found it in the shower.” in order to satisfy something so benign as a munchie?
That, I’m sorry to say, was pretty much my reality.
An early morning introspective psychological evaluation of a sad, hungry, naked man who almost ate a bar of soap.

OMG ITS BACK

This shit needs to be published.

This is going in the monologue section and I’m not even sorry.

My adjacency to failure was roughly 1 and a half Kiddie Trojans.

“What the fuck is that?” I think to myself. i cant stop laughing… my eyes began to tear up during the first paragraph.. by the third i was crying… i cant… who is this genius? please write a book… a part 2 on how the fck the soap even got like that

baringitallforlove:

itsraininbritishmen:

fuckyeahthespianpeacock:

saltheria:

yeffyaboyuice:

mythchief:

So there I was, ready to take a shower. I mean, I was dirty, a little greasy, a shower was not such a horrible idea. People take showers, amiright? Of course!

I get naked.

FULL naked.

REAL naked.

I’m talking the exact opposite reason why you ever went to your grandmother’s house.

No cookies. Blatant nudity.

That’s how folks take showers these days, right? Well, I pull back the curtain…

And there it was.

This…thing…sitting on the little soap/shower/pube shelf. Not a care in the world, like it’s been there for years. “What the fuck is that?” I think to myself.

Now, what follows is the exact pattern of thought that took me from rational human being to Sloth in 3.4 seconds.

“Is that a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit? Holy fuck that’s a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit. OMG why would someone leave that unattended. Those things are so delicious. I’m gonna eat the fuck out of it. Man, I can’t wait to see whoever left it’s face when they come back to find that someone ate their cheesy biscuit’s fuck. Ohhh boy.”

Then my brain sent a message to my arm that said, “Reach for that cheesy biscuit, bitch. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!?”

As you must already know, we are all contractually bound to make a dickload of mistakes throughout our lifetime. Some of those mistakes are so big that they forever hinder our world and warrant entire chapters in our children’s history books. However, most mistakes have the dubious providence of merely haunting one’s soul and festering amidst the subconscious for always and eternity.

This was, nearly, one of those.

If my adjacency to failure could be measured, the only possible unit of measurement to appropriate it would be “baby condoms”. And no, I do not mean those horrendous papoose-like titty-cribs that the slovenly carriage their spawn around in in Wal-Mart, I mean condoms that a baby would wear.

My adjacency to failure was roughly 1 and a half Kiddie Trojans.

I’m not sure what stopped me, be it cosmic or supernatural, but it gave my brain just enough time to ask itself some rather important questions regarding this little tub treasure. Questions like:

“WHO, THE FUCK, WOULD LEAVE A CHEESY BISCUIT IN MY SHOWER?!”

And inquiries such as:

“AND WHY WERE YOU GOING TO EAT IT, MORON?!”

Seriously, was I so hungry that I would wantonly disobey all the integral conditioning and survival imprinting my parents bestowed upon me like the ever important, “Um, don’t eat that biscuit, you don’t know where it’s been or whose it is and also you found it in the shower.” in order to satisfy something so benign as a munchie?

That, I’m sorry to say, was pretty much my reality.

An early morning introspective psychological evaluation of a sad, hungry, naked man who almost ate a bar of soap.

OMG ITS BACK

This shit needs to be published.

This is going in the monologue section and I’m not even sorry.

My adjacency to failure was roughly 1 and a half Kiddie Trojans.

“What the fuck is that?” I think to myself. i cant stop laughing… my eyes began to tear up during the first paragraph.. by the third i was crying… i cant… who is this genius? please write a book… a part 2 on how the fck the soap even got like that