(Source: secretdreamlife, via landlockedmermaid)

baskinyourthoughtcrimes:

Marilyn Monroe with a sprained ankle in Banff, 1953

(Source: theshinyboogie, via girlfriendandgirlfriend)

cabinporn:

Cabin on the Olympic Peninsula, Washington, USA.  

Contributed by Bogdan.

My actual dream, right down to the location.

(via tiny-vessels)

(Source: nicecleanfight, via somethingratherclever)

anothertimesforgottenspace:

worth scrolling all the way up to reblog

(Source: carl-sagan, via peyoteseed)

lordjaysus:

sallynopants:

One night President Obama and his wife Michelle decided to do something out of routine and go for a casual dinner at a restaurant that wasn’t too luxurious. When they were seated, the owner of the restaurant asked the President’s Secret Service if he could please speak to the First Lady in private. They obliged and Michelle had a conversation with the owner. Following this conversation President Obama asked Michelle, “Why was he so interested in talking to you?” She mentioned that in her teenage years, he had been madly in love with her. President Obama then said, “So if you had married him, you would now be the owner of this lovely restaurant,” to which Michelle responded, “No. If I had married him, he would now be the President.”

get it girl

z snap

Is that true I hope it’s true

(Source: lvmrsmn, via fawkesy)

(Source: adulthoodisokay, via likeafire)

I’m sad because I love you and I have to sit next to you while you encourage me to talk to boys at bars. I’m sad because no matter what I tell myself, we probably won’t ever get back together and pretty soon I’ll either have to accept that you’ve met someone new, or cope with you leaving for the navy. I’m sad because I actually considered joining the navy with you when you suggested it because it meant you wanted me somewhere with you; it meant you wanted to share something with me; it meant we’d be inevitably connected for life. I’m sad because I’ll never ever tell you this because you’d probably suggest we see less of each other for the sake of my sanity and emotional well being. I’m sad because I know you care about me more than almost anyone else. I’m sad because when I hit the fucking space bar to start a new sentence on my kindle, the autocorrect suggests your fucking name in bold letters. I’m sad that I wake up every morning and whisper “I won’t text him today,” but then I do, or you text me, or you invite me out or in or over. I’m sad because I say yes every time, no matter who I had plans with, or how early I need to be up in the morning, or how much it fucking hurts. I’m sad because I’m as delusional about our break up as I was about our relationship. I’m sad because in my desperate attempt to keep you around I think I’m pushing you further and further away. God dammit I’m sad because I find every one who’s not you utterly boring and idiotic. I’m sad because you could read me the ingredients of paint and I’d hang on every word. You’ve ruined me. Keep fucking ruining me.

ticopolotatuado:

Jaclyn Rehe

(via pizza-party-princess)

waitinforthebus:

what a great nap, i feel totally disoriented and i’m frothing with hate 

(via unsuccessfulmetalbenders)

(Source: hjaertdjur, via baconbeernboobs)

ceruleanfantasy:

helenofdestroy:

Vintage and Antique Hearse Collection

(Source: helenofdestroy, via profoundbandit)

theskykeepr:

americangothgirl:

wanderlustingthoughts:

Look at this tree, man.

The Angel Oak Tree is estimated to be in excess of 1500 years old, stands 66.5 ft (20 m) tall, measures 28 ft (8.5 m) in circumference, and produces shade that covers 17,200 square feet (1,600 m2). From tip to tip Its longest branch distance is 187 ft.

Ancient being.

Ive been here.  It was too cool

(via happyasatree)

Robert De Niro at The Roxy Theater, 1976.

Holy moly

(Source: samuraial, via denirodaily)