hey, babe, let’s get a barn and live in the woods. i got some night vision goggles and a nerf sniper rifle to catch game. you just do your artsy, creative, things. it’ll be okay. it’ll be fine. we’ll play beer ping pong. is that what people play? beer ping pong? i didn’t go to college, i don’t know what you kids do with those red cups. i think it would be pretty cool if it rained every day and i get to drink tomato soup and have grilled cheese sandwiches.
yes to everything except beer pong. our homemade brew will be far too delicious to spill.
Here’s an idea: make a wonderfully shot documentary about the first year of four babies’ lives around the world. We saw this preview before Where the Wild Things Are, and the theater cheered like they just saw a new Batman teaser.
Are you sitting down? Because you’re about to get the shit kicked out of you by cuteness.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The appropriate character to describe how I feel after watching this does not exist on computer keyboards. So: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <3&stuff
the opposite of weak for four weeks in a list of words when i would prefer to draw in the air with my hands while showing you with my eyes and the bones in my mouth; or, i have been here a month
1. nightly and very early morning viewing of a starry sky
2. vegetarian chili made from absolute scratch, hard beans and e’rything
3. frisbee forever with the best dog
4. better care in the form of: vitamins, water, stretching, breathing, writing and not showing anyone, especially myself
5. direct deposits and a photo of the ocean taped to my wallet to remember the plan (that’s tattooed on my eyelids and inside my ribs)
6. grocery stores called Schnucks (shh-nooks) and French streets with Midwestern dialects
7. cutting my family’s hair on the porch
8. listening to the same album over and over and over and loving something new every time
9. declarations
10. my long fingers: in the morning dough, in the wet earth, around the fresh eggs, around the cold wheel, between frets, between yours
(via underthesheets)
my life in 30 years.
my nightmare! imagine you are a small, chicken-legged, androgynous child entering your grandmother’s house to this, except the cats are feral and inbred and more numerous than this. now you know where my fear began.
while scouring photos of my twenty second birthday (three years ago), i came across this tumblr hustle. big bones. ned hep. y’all were drunk.
whipple street, always remember.
…
this is hilarious and beautiful. drunk indeed. kaci, i think this night we also spray painted in your alley and had a cupcake fight with your bday treats until someone threw a six pack of pbr at another person. whipple!
