fight-0ff-yourdem0ns:

The kids face behind her is my reaction


Omg

fight-0ff-yourdem0ns:

The kids face behind her is my reaction

Omg

starshapes:

petehix:

chrisdemaraisofficial:

transposing:

milkti:

lidstrom:

pyreclaws:

masato-indou:

whittacker:

39 mega pixel photo of a burger

I can see the goddamn cell walls in the onion holy fucking shit

wait a sec is that

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a hair in the cheese

oh my god is that

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a doge in the hair

WAIT

What is this.


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In the doge’s eye

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Could it be?

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I THINK IT IS

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Oh my days there iS A BURGER IN THE EYE OF THE DOG IN THE HAIR IN THE CHEESE IN. THE. BURGER.

THAT’S A WHOLE LOTTA HOOPLAH

helpwigi:

nightvalesponsors:

gingerbludger:

who-the-fuck-let-me-have-a-blog:

women who had period cramps before pain killers were invented were metal as fuck let’s give them a standing ovation

Standing ovulation

A round of menopause.

It was a difficult period of history for everyone

Wait who uses pain killers lol

g-0-r-i-l-l-a:

gaddamn her face

wingardium-liftiosa:

dancingonthegrave:

THIS IS THE MOST RELEVANT THING I’VE EVER SEEN ON THE INTERNET. EVER. 

Reblogging again because it’s more true now than it’s ever been.

  • english is not their first language: Hello! I'm sorry if my English isn't very good.
  • english is their first language: hte fuckign
"

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the sound I heard when I was 9 and my father slammed the front door so hard behind him I swear to god it shook the whole house. For the next 3 years I watched my mother break her teeth on vodka bottles. I think she stopped breathing when he left. I think part of her died. I think he took her heart with him when he walked out. Her chest is empty, just a shattered mess or cracked ribs and depression pills.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s all the blood in the sink. It’s the night that I spent 12 hours in the emergency room waiting to see if my sister was going to be okay, after the boy she loved, told her he didn’t love her anymore. It’s the crying, and the fluorescent lights, and white sneakers and pale faces and shaky breaths and blood. So much blood.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the time that I had to stay up for two days straight with my best friend while she cried and shrieked and threw up on my bedroom floor because her boyfriend fucked his ex. I swear to god she still has tear streaks stained onto her cheeks. I think when you love someone, it never really goes away.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the six weeks we had a substitute in English because our teacher was getting divorced and couldn’t handle getting out of bed. When she came back was smiling. But her hands shook so hard when she held her coffee, you could see that something was broken inside. And sometimes when things break, you can’t fix them. Nothing ever goes back to how it was. I got an A in English that year. I think her head was always spinning too hard to read any essays.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s that I do.

"
It’s not that I don’t love you.  (via extrasad)

lilgremlingirl:

are we gonna fuckn hold hands tonight or what bitch