fistful of sparklers.

oh my goddddddd TONY. let’s get hitched.

tktktktktk:

theslyestfox:

This is what life does. It lets you walk up to 
the store to buy breakfast and the paper, on a 
stiff knee. It lets you choose the way you have 
your eggs, your coffee. Then it sits a fisherman 
down beside you at the counter who say, Last night, 
the channel was full of starfish. And you wonder,
is this a message, finally, or just another day?

Life lets you take the dog for a walk down to the
pond, where whole generations of biological 
processes are boiling beneath the mud. Reeds
speak to you of the natural world: they whisper,
they sing. And herons pass by. Are you old 
enough to appreciate the moment? Too old?
There is movement beneath the water, but it 
may be nothing. There may be nothing going on.

And then life suggests that you remember the 
years you ran around, the years you developed
a shocking lifestyle, advocated careless abandon,
owned a chilly heart. Upon reflection, you are
genuinely surprised to find how quiet you have
become. And then life lets you go home to think
about all this. Which you do, for quite a long time.

Later, you wake up beside your old love, the one
who never had any conditions, the one who waited
you out. This is life’s way of letting you know that
you are lucky. (It won’t give you smart or brave,
so you’ll have to settle for lucky.) Because you 
were born at a good time. Because you were able 
to listen when people spoke to you. Because you
stopped when you should have and started again.

So life lets you have a sandwich, and pie for your
late night dessert. (Pie for the dog, as well.) And 
then life sends you back to bed, to dreamland, 
while outside, the starfish drift through the channel, 
with smiles on their starry faces as they head
out to deep water, to the far and boundless sea.

(via psychotherapy)

Retconning this story due to the following issues regarding starfish:

1. Fairly sedentary. Prefer grazing in patches along rocky intertidal zones to migrations to deep water.

2. Lack faces, but do have a stomach that they extrude on prey.  Ejection-stomach lacks musculature required for smiles.

So life lets you have a sandwich, and pie for your
late night dessert. (Pie for the dog, as well.) And 
then life sends you back to bed, to dreamland, 
while outside, the starfish kind of mill about the intertidal zone extruding their stomachs on molluscs.

This is what life does. It lets you walk up to 
the store to buy breakfast and the paper, on a 
stiff knee. It lets you choose the way you have 
your eggs, your coffee. Then it sits a fisherman 
down beside you at the counter who say, Last night, 
the channel was full of starfish. And you wonder,
is this a message, finally, or just another day?

Life lets you take the dog for a walk down to the
pond, where whole generations of biological 
processes are boiling beneath the mud. Reeds
speak to you of the natural world: they whisper,
they sing. And herons pass by. Are you old 
enough to appreciate the moment? Too old?
There is movement beneath the water, but it 
may be nothing. There may be nothing going on.

And then life suggests that you remember the 
years you ran around, the years you developed
a shocking lifestyle, advocated careless abandon,
owned a chilly heart. Upon reflection, you are
genuinely surprised to find how quiet you have
become. And then life lets you go home to think
about all this. Which you do, for quite a long time.

Later, you wake up beside your old love, the one
who never had any conditions, the one who waited
you out. This is life’s way of letting you know that
you are lucky. (It won’t give you smart or brave,
so you’ll have to settle for lucky.) Because you 
were born at a good time. Because you were able 
to listen when people spoke to you. Because you
stopped when you should have and started again.

So life lets you have a sandwich, and pie for your
late night dessert. (Pie for the dog, as well.) And 
then life sends you back to bed, to dreamland, 
while outside, the starfish drift through the channel, 
with smiles on their starry faces as they head
out to deep water, to the far and boundless sea.

(via psychotherapy)

Uhmmm so next week we should have a Trapped in the Closet drinking game-a-thon. Who’s in?

blownspeakers:

I don’t like posting links to my own blog, but since Kells is almost ready to unleash the next 15 chapters of Trapped in the Closet, I think this is an appropriate time for a refresher on this.

hahaha what? If you watch porn you then want to try what’s in the porn so you end up raping and murdering women? What kind of fucked-up porn are you WATCHING!?

not to mention there are probably millions and billions of people that do watch rape fantasy porn and never ever do it in real life. Sillyness.

bearslair:

“Other men aren’t so lucky. I realize now that with just a little push, I could have gone over the edge. I could have raped that woman and then killed her to cover my tracks. That’s how Ted Bundy got started. When the porn he was addicted to wasn’t enough anymore, he tried the real thing — rape, and then murder. When he succeeded, he did it again. And again. Pornography addiction is very serious.”

This article is so ridiculous.  Of course it doesn’t mention that in a recent study in Montreal where they tried to find out the differences between men that watched porn and men that don’t, they couldn’t find any men that DIDN’T look at porn.  So, they couldn’t even study it.

I hate Focus on the Family so much.

third greatest animated cat .gif of all time?

(first greatest always forever)

(second greatest)

(via robotindisguise)

This is actually really fun, though you need to have a scrolling mouse, or laptop with double finger scroll options on your trackpad.

(RB:naaners/OP:tinaathena:very cute and clever game!)

you are/this is the besssssst! It’s about time!

skinnyghost:

Live in Canada?  Wish we had Hulu?  Use TVGorge instead.

So many shows.