It’s 70 and sunny outside, listening to Trevor Hall, and going to yoga in a little. I have a plan for...
Ruben. This is what I want. Or a Husky.
But no ugly dogs.
Was the ultimate shitshow. And I loved every minute of it.
This is why I love my brotherhood. It’s the drunken bonding and laughing that...
I am drunk and horny as hell. But Im not going to act on this sexual frustration because I’d rather be a classy moral lady and...
I actually liked this movie a lot. Remember when we watched this hayden?! «— your first dedication on tumblr.
Group 2a:
BE a MaGic CAt or like StRipper BAbe RAchel
Group 5b:
Vicodin is NoBig deal, it’s...
I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.
(Source: you-must-always-be-brave, via ruto)
(Source: lesbianese, via katycoco)
woah I didn’t know this :O
THE WORLD MUST KNOW!
WHAT
OMFG. MY MIND. FUCMJDOVK
Holy shit!!!!!
(via belulaahhhh)
You want a physicist to speak at your funeral. You want the physicist to talk to your grieving family about the conservation of energy, so they will understand that your energy has not died. You want the physicist to remind your sobbing mother about the first law of thermodynamics; that no energy gets created in the universe, and none is destroyed. You want your mother to know that all your energy, every vibration, every Btu of heat, every wave of every particle that was her beloved child remains with her in this world. You want the physicist to tell your weeping father that amid energies of the cosmos, you gave as good as you got.
And at one point you’d hope that the physicist would step down from the pulpit and walk to your brokenhearted spouse there in the pew and tell him that all the photons that ever bounced off your face, all the particles whose paths were interrupted by your smile, by the touch of your hair, hundreds of trillions of particles, have raced off like children, their ways forever changed by you. And as your widow rocks in the arms of a loving family, may the physicist let her know that all the photons that bounced from you were gathered in the particle detectors that are her eyes, that those photons created within her constellations of electromagnetically charged neurons whose energy will go on forever.
And the physicist will remind the congregation of how much of all our energy is given off as heat. There may be a few fanning themselves with their programs as he says it. And he will tell them that the warmth that flowed through you in life is still here, still part of all that we are, even as we who mourn continue the heat of our own lives.
And you’ll want the physicist to explain to those who loved you that they need not have faith; indeed, they should not have faith. Let them know that they can measure, that scientists have measured precisely the conservation of energy and found it accurate, verifiable and consistent across space and time. You can hope your family will examine the evidence and satisfy themselves that the science is sound and that they’ll be comforted to know your energy’s still around. According to the law of the conservation of energy, not a bit of you is gone; you’re just less orderly. Amen.
ruto:
LOL
I’m making everyone do this.
Loving this song
(Source: incinerati0n, via maritabarger)
“Heterosexual relationships seem to lead only to marriage, and for most poor dumb brainwashed women marriage is the climactic experience. For men, marriage is a matter of efficient logistics: the male gets his food, bed, laundry, TV, pussy, offspring and creature comforts all under one roof, where he doesn’t have to dissipate his psychic energy thinking about them too much - then he is free to go out and fight the battles of life, which is what existence is all about.
But for a woman, marriage is surrender. Marriage is when a girl gives up the fight, walks off the battlefield and from then on leaves the truly interesting and significant action to her husband, who has bargained to ‘take care’ of her. What a sad bum deal.
Women live longer than men because they really haven’t been living. Better blue-in-the-face dead of a heart attack at fifty than a healthy seventy-year old widow who hasn’t had a piece of life’s action since girlhood.”
― Tom Robbins, Even Cowgirls Get the Blues
(Source: ucsdproblems)
(Source: raindropsnroses, via raindropsnroses)
Excuse me
too busy you’re writing your tradgedy
…
so let go let go
jump in
well what you waiting for?
its alright
cause there’s beauty in the breakdown