Bjork tells you how a TV operates. oh! and there’s some valuable life advice in here, as well:
- the inside of a television is a little city
and of course- “never trust a poet”.
can we just agree that shes the most successful Crazy Cat Lady in the entire world? shes totally batshit. you know this, i know this. lets stop the masquerade. she is totally unhinged, has like 11 cats (who are probably all named “umlaut” and “dryer sheet”), and we just egg her on.
(photo via folkinz)
all i wanna do is NOM NOM NOM NOM
(LIMB TEAR) AAAAAAAGHHHH!!!!!
and i take your moneyyyyy
You know, I appreciate these little salads you put out here every day for me. But would it kill you to add a few tomatoes, some carrots, maybe some fucking bacon bits once in awhile?
I mean, come on. Salad Time is the highlight of my goddamn day in this stupid fucking tank. All lettuce and no bacon bits makes Jack a sad dugong!
(via TCL 1961)
Holy fucking fuck! This rotting fruit is so mandible-wateringly delicious that I can’t get legs 47 through 93 to stop wiggling!
(via Furryscaly)
I don’t even think something more perfect exists in this world. Oh wait.
GUESTBREAKER: You Say Things Like “I’m Just One Of Those People That Likes To Get Up Early And Go For A Run”
If someone were to ask me my type, I would probably say somebody who is outdoorsy and athletic, like you are. But that’s mostly because I’m a deeply homophobic gay person. I like to pretend that my desire for an athletic boyfriend is not because of self-loathing but because I am athletic, too. After all, I played soccer in high school until it interfered with being in plays, I had a gym membership in college back when it came free with tuition, and sometimes if I wait too long to poop I run the last little bit of the way to the bathroom. I’m practically an athlete.
But now that I’m actually dating you, and I hear you say things like you’re “setting your alarm for 5:00am to run as the sun comes up” or you want to go work out because you want to “feel the burn”, I feel like we have absolutely nothing in common. Are we going to move in together one day? How would that work? I spent last night in my underwear eating cheetos and drinking white wine while talking back to last week’s episode of Big Brother. I can’t let you see that. Sure, you might say it’s charming, or that opposites attract. But to me opposites would be you saying something like “Oh, you like Cheetos? I’m more of a candy person.” That would make sense. Running isn’t the opposite of eating cheetos at two in the morning, it’s the thing the living still do after the Cheetos-eater died at the age of 29 from not fucking pulling himself together.
Not only do you love to run, but you constantly ask me to do it with you. Are you kidding? I can’t tell. I would like to think you’re being sincere, but it kind of feels like I’m a retarded child and you’re the parent letting me open the jar after you already REALLY opened it yourself. How do you see this run going? Because there is going to be a lot of walking involved on my end. And a lot of saying things like “this is miserable”. Don’t you remember that first time we worked out together, and I had to “go to the bathroom real quick”? I threw up in there. Because I am weak and that is what weak people do after working out for 25 minutes.
You are beautiful. I theoretically admire your athletic prowess. You’re like looking at a Men’s Fitness and thinking “one day I’ll be like that”. But I won’t. Because the only time I have ever read a Men’s Fitness is I’m just kidding I’ve never read a Men’s Fitness. Is that a real thing? I quickly typed the name of something that sounded like a real magazine and think I accidentally stumbled upon a real one. Good for me. If that doesn’t tell you all you need to know when you ask “Would you like to run home from the subway with me just for fun?”, then I don’t know what to tell you.A Guest Dealbreaker written by Chris Kelly.
Victory
A Day in the Life of An Indie-Porn Photoblogger
8:15 am - Wake up. I’m exhausted from the party last night, and pretty hung over. I wade though half empty PBR tall boys to get to the bathroom when I see Chelsea leaning against the wood paneling on the living room wall. She’s wearing only a tiger mask and tights that are bunched around her ankles. I’m glad I have my camera with me.
11:27 am - I wrangle Devon and Mitch to go get burritos. Devon is biting Mitch’s ear while he digs around his floor for a clean shirt. I’m lucky enough to get a clean shot of her boobs falling out of her plaid shirt as Mitch tosses her onto their vintage sofa.
2:23 pm - I get a text from Wendy saying her boyfriend’s back from Amsterdam. We go to his pool party and he’s spinning some pretty great soul stuff I’ve never heard of. There’s a girl making out with these 2 dutch twins on the Slip n Slide. She’s got a hand down both their pants. I’m lucky I bought that waterproof camera.
4:57pm - Skyler tells me I better get to the American Apparel factory, and fast. 20 cases of Polaroid film were discovered in a cardboard box that 4 AA models have been using as a bed. The film expired in 2002, which made all their boobs look slighty sepia toned. I didn’t bother waking them up to snap the photos.
6:11 pm - In line for the Kogi truck, I spot a girl peeing next to a bush. I trade her my place in line for a Holga pic of her squatting. 100% worth it.
10:20 pm - I tell every girl backstage at the Crystal Castles show that I work for Vice, and that pretty much takes up the rest of my night.
