"Take a breath and let the rest come easy..."

Somehow I always end up getting swept under the rug…

2 days ago / 0 notes
6 days ago / 0 notes

(Source: animalsandgifs)

jackbarakatofficial:

Jack and Rian singing in the tune of Black and Yellow (x)

vaycunt:

varg-fucking-vikernes:

elementofrevenge:

Ozzy yelling at the ocean for flooding his campfire.

Ozzy is a national treasure

fav person alive

fuckyeahthespianpeacock:

saltheria:

yeffyaboyuice:

mythchief:

So there I was, ready to take a shower. I mean, I was dirty, a little greasy, a shower was not such a horrible idea. People take showers, amiright? Of course!

I get naked.

FULL naked.

REAL naked.

I’m talking the exact opposite reason why you ever went to your grandmother’s house.

No cookies. Blatant nudity.

That’s how folks take showers these days, right? Well, I pull back the curtain…

And there it was.

This…thing…sitting on the little soap/shower/pube shelf. Not a care in the world, like it’s been there for years. “What the fuck is that?” I think to myself.

Now, what follows is the exact pattern of thought that took me from rational human being to Sloth in 3.4 seconds.

“Is that a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit? Holy fuck that’s a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit. OMG why would someone leave that unattended. Those things are so delicious. I’m gonna eat the fuck out of it. Man, I can’t wait to see whoever left it’s face when they come back to find that someone ate their cheesy biscuit’s fuck. Ohhh boy.”

Then my brain sent a message to my arm that said, “Reach for that cheesy biscuit, bitch. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!?”

As you must already know, we are all contractually bound to make a dickload of mistakes throughout our lifetime. Some of those mistakes are so big that they forever hinder our world and warrant entire chapters in our children’s history books. However, most mistakes have the dubious providence of merely haunting one’s soul and festering amidst the subconscious for always and eternity.

This was, nearly, one of those.

If my adjacency to failure could be measured, the only possible unit of measurement to appropriate it would be “baby condoms”. And no, I do not mean those horrendous papoose-like titty-cribs that the slovenly carriage their spawn around in in Wal-Mart, I mean condoms that a baby would wear.

My adjacency to failure was roughly 1 and a half Kiddie Trojans.

I’m not sure what stopped me, be it cosmic or supernatural, but it gave my brain just enough time to ask itself some rather important questions regarding this little tub treasure. Questions like:

“WHO, THE FUCK, WOULD LEAVE A CHEESY BISCUIT IN MY SHOWER?!”

And inquiries such as:

“AND WHY WERE YOU GOING TO EAT IT, MORON?!”

Seriously, was I so hungry that I would wantonly disobey all the integral conditioning and survival imprinting my parents bestowed upon me like the ever important, “Um, don’t eat that biscuit, you don’t know where it’s been or whose it is and also you found it in the shower.” in order to satisfy something so benign as a munchie?

That, I’m sorry to say, was pretty much my reality.

An early morning introspective psychological evaluation of a sad, hungry, naked man who almost ate a bar of soap.

OMG ITS BACK

This shit needs to be published.

This is going in the monologue section and I’m not even sorry.

exorchrist:

Interviewer: You pretty much grew up on the road, is that fair to say? 

Alex: I would say so, yeah. 

Interviewer: What do you think is the most valuable lesson that you’ve learned - not as musicsians, but as guys. You started off as teenagers, you’re in your mid-twenties now. What’s the biggest lesson you guys have learned from pretty much growing up in the music industry?

x

I’m seriously so fucking done with you. You’re nothing but shit. This is too far. That’s the one thing you DO NOT FUCK WITH DONT FUCK WITH MY BOY. don’t fuck with him… Why him. Why drag him into it. He didn’t do anything…

1 week ago / 0 notes

nebranska:

NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE nope nien n0pe NOPE NOPE NO NO NO NO NOPE NOPE [source]

Drown - Front Porch Step

(Source: damndepressi0n)

July 18th, 2014 1:47a.m.

I’m not coming back home. I’m not going tomorrow. I don’t want to spend time with you. You have just made this year a lot easier for me and now that I’m okay. I don’t want to talk to you or see you anymore. Just forget about me. Just forget about us.

July 18th, 2014 1:50a.m.

Shit, I’m sorry. Wrong number.

—Late night texts from a stranger (via tauutouu)

articflowers:

don’t you know that you are my inspiration?

(Source: soullessalien)

(Source: youarenotsalinger)

spoken-not-written:

THE CUTEST THING IS WHEN SOMEONE CAN’T STOP SMILING LIKE THEY SMILE THEN THEY TRY TO NOT SMILE THEN THEY END UP SMILING MORE AND THEIR CHEEKS GO ALL CUTE AND SAPOIDSP[DOSADPSA[]PS[]DSAPD[]SAP