sassykardashian:

YOU KNOW WHEN YOU HAVE A LIL CRUSH ON SOMEONE BUT THEN AFTER A FEW DAYS YOU CATCH YOURSELF THINKING ABOUT THEM A LOT AND THAT LIL CRUSH IS NO LONGER A LIL CRUSH IT’S AN ADULT CRUSH AND IT RUINS YOUR LIFE LIKE WTF I DIDN’T SIGN ON FOR THIS

(Source: versacesquad, via thatstupidamerican)

asmilinggoddess:

asmilinggoddess:

now that im in the space mood i’d like to remind each and every one of you that NASA drew a dick on mars. we drew a dick on another planet.  that is mankind’s legacy.

image

THIS IS AN ACTUAL PHOTO OF THE SURFACE OF MARS. PLEASE NEVER FORGET THIS.

(via drunk-doctor)

maghrabiyya:

raw-r-evolution:

chocolatefitspo:

ayeeeeeeeeeeebohp:

Take 5 minutes out of your morning/night to educate yourself on this young man LL. The brother was LYNCHED. “Crackertown”, North Carolina. Been gone since the morning of Aug. 29th. Day of his first football game of his senior year. All that hard work in the summer for nothin’. #JusticeForLennonLacy

This needs more light..

racism needs to hurry up and DIE

http://globalgrind.com/2014/10/14/lennon-lacys-death-hanging-killed-about-list
So he was found hanging, the morning of his first big game that he had been preparing for all year, wearing somebody else’s shoes, with his brand new shoes missing. he had a white girlfriend, openly racist neighbours, confederate flags everywhere, marks on his face indicating he was in a fight just minutes before..
This was not a suicide, no way in hell. This was a modern day lynching.
I hope they get answers soon. Poor boy.

maghrabiyya:

raw-r-evolution:

chocolatefitspo:

ayeeeeeeeeeeebohp:

Take 5 minutes out of your morning/night to educate yourself on this young man LL. The brother was LYNCHED. “Crackertown”, North Carolina. Been gone since the morning of Aug. 29th. Day of his first football game of his senior year. All that hard work in the summer for nothin’. #JusticeForLennonLacy

This needs more light..

racism needs to hurry up and DIE

http://globalgrind.com/2014/10/14/lennon-lacys-death-hanging-killed-about-list

So he was found hanging, the morning of his first big game that he had been preparing for all year, wearing somebody else’s shoes, with his brand new shoes missing. he had a white girlfriend, openly racist neighbours, confederate flags everywhere, marks on his face indicating he was in a fight just minutes before..

This was not a suicide, no way in hell. This was a modern day lynching.

I hope they get answers soon. Poor boy.

(via joey-smith-universe)

thisiscasey7:

forgott-en:

nedhepburn:

This one time I painted a living room with a girl.
This was a handful of years back. It was about eight months before the huge, flame-out of a breakup. That day, though? That day we painted the living room? It was pretty uneventful. We painted my parents living room for $50 between us and a pizza. That was it. I think we watched Anchorman or something after that.
But it still holds as on of the most indelible memories I have. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not still in love, it happened, it was good, it ended, and we’ve both moved on. But I’ll never forget that day. Because it’s never, in the long run, about the grand gestures. You can fly across the world and show up on her doorstep with a rose in your teeth and a ring in a little velvet box but I can guarantee you that - more often than not - she’s going to remember the time you built the birdhouse in the back yard, or what have you, a whole lot more.
Life wasn’t meant to be taken in large movements. The next day will inevitably arrive, you’ll sleep, and the moment will have passed. But when you have a hundred thousand small moments, you can step back and appreciate the picture a lot more than metaphorically blowing your load on some grand moment that, in all honesty, look, you’re not Bruce Fucking Springsteen, you’re not going to be able to blow everyone’s mind every single night. You’re not Romeo and/or Juliet. There’s no reason to drink the poison together in some flame-out gesture. So that leaves us with the small stuff. It’s all about the detail.
That’s what love is. Attention to detail.
And the moment will end. And then things will get boring. And it might get a little quiet. And it might all end horribly. And you might hate eachother at the end. And you might walk away from eachother one day and never speak again. But that’s just how it goes.
But she’ll remember the time you held the door open for her on your first date.She’ll remember the time you laughed at her impression of the landlady.She’ll remember the time you stayed up all night that first time. She’ll remember the small things a lot longer than the big ones.
But everything ends. And I’ll tell you why you have to make the small things, the small moments count so much more:
One day, probably a while longer from now, when old age takes ahold of someone, she might just only remember your smile. Everything you ever did together, every second, every moment, every beat, every morning spent in bed, every evening spent together on the sofa, all of that - gone. Everything you ever did will be reduced to the head of a pin. She won’t remember your name. She’ll just remember your smile, and she’ll smile. She won’t know why. It’s a base, gut reaction. But she’ll smile, uncontrollably, and it will come from somewhere so deep as to know that you touched her on a primal, honest, and true level that no scientist, scholar, or savant could ever begin to explain. There is no more. There is nothing else. There is just this: She’ll remember your smile, and she’ll smile.
And you know what? That’s all that really matters in the end.


I just cried at this

thisiscasey7:

forgott-en:

nedhepburn:

This one time I painted a living room with a girl.

This was a handful of years back. It was about eight months before the huge, flame-out of a breakup. That day, though? That day we painted the living room? It was pretty uneventful. We painted my parents living room for $50 between us and a pizza. That was it. I think we watched Anchorman or something after that.

But it still holds as on of the most indelible memories I have. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not still in love, it happened, it was good, it ended, and we’ve both moved on. But I’ll never forget that day. Because it’s never, in the long run, about the grand gestures. You can fly across the world and show up on her doorstep with a rose in your teeth and a ring in a little velvet box but I can guarantee you that - more often than not - she’s going to remember the time you built the birdhouse in the back yard, or what have you, a whole lot more.

Life wasn’t meant to be taken in large movements. The next day will inevitably arrive, you’ll sleep, and the moment will have passed. But when you have a hundred thousand small moments, you can step back and appreciate the picture a lot more than metaphorically blowing your load on some grand moment that, in all honesty, look, you’re not Bruce Fucking Springsteen, you’re not going to be able to blow everyone’s mind every single night. You’re not Romeo and/or Juliet. There’s no reason to drink the poison together in some flame-out gesture. So that leaves us with the small stuff. It’s all about the detail.

That’s what love is. Attention to detail.

And the moment will end. And then things will get boring. And it might get a little quiet. And it might all end horribly. And you might hate eachother at the end. And you might walk away from eachother one day and never speak again. But that’s just how it goes.

But she’ll remember the time you held the door open for her on your first date.
She’ll remember the time you laughed at her impression of the landlady.
She’ll remember the time you stayed up all night that first time.
She’ll remember the small things a lot longer than the big ones.

But everything ends. And I’ll tell you why you have to make the small things, the small moments count so much more:

One day, probably a while longer from now, when old age takes ahold of someone, she might just only remember your smile. Everything you ever did together, every second, every moment, every beat, every morning spent in bed, every evening spent together on the sofa, all of that - gone. Everything you ever did will be reduced to the head of a pin. She won’t remember your name. She’ll just remember your smile, and she’ll smile. She won’t know why. It’s a base, gut reaction. But she’ll smile, uncontrollably, and it will come from somewhere so deep as to know that you touched her on a primal, honest, and true level that no scientist, scholar, or savant could ever begin to explain. There is no more. There is nothing else. There is just this: She’ll remember your smile, and she’ll smile.

And you know what? That’s all that really matters in the end.

I just cried at this

(via alterred)

Teaching kids to give handjobs since the 90s

sam-shuts-his-cakehole:

itskaleena:

whyiseveryonefalling:

scotchcarousel:

the-funkiest-penguin:

friendly-pedophile:

bellamyyoung:

yourgayfriend:

emisummerful:

image

You know you’re a lesbian when: You put your finger in it instead.

image

OH GOD, I ONLY EVER PUT MY FINGERS IN THEM. 

I did both…image

i did both. i also bent it, what does that tell me now

You kinky son of a bitch.

I used to step on mine until they exploded.

image

i fucking hated those things

Found the asexual

(Source: manda, via fangirlingninja)