May 2013
twinkletwinkleyoulittlefuck:
happybutts:
peacocks look like they speak french
apprenticenecromage:
time to beat up some dudes
Guinea pigs: YOU CLEANED MY CAGE AND IN RETURN I WILL SING YOU THE SONG OF MY PEOPLE.
Guinea pigs: WOAH, IS THAT THE FOOD BAG I HEAR? I SHALL SING YOU THE SONG OF MY PEOPLE.
Guinea pigs: YOUR REFILLING MY WATER BOTTLE? I WILL SING THE SONG OF MY PEOPLE.
Guinea pigs: DID I HEAR YOU MOVE IN BED? YOU MUST BE AWAKE AND I SHALL SING YOU THE SONG OF MY PEOPLE.
*WEEKWEEKWEEKWEEKWEEK*
earthnation:
will u still love me when im no longer young and ok looking
if you want to kill someone stab them with an icicle because the icicle will melt and then there will be no murder weapon
“She was desperate and she was choosey at the same time and, in a way, beautiful,...”
– Charles Bukowski, Factotum (via impurely)
thechronicleofshe:
I wonder if you’re allowed to make friends in Hell. Or is it kind of like silent reading time, but with more fire.
