Welcome to my Cave of Reblog
iradicate:

I did a thing

iradicate:

I did a thing

Celia Pavey - Feel Good Inc. (Gorillaz cover)
713,717 plays

slimmeroo:

holy shit

shinykaito:

everyone stop what you are doing and watch this vine rIGHT NOW

nympheline:

This is my favourite bookstore and bookseller in the world. Bar none.
I used to get to Seattle every six months or so, and whenever I visited I always made it a priority to stop in BLMF and ask its keeper what he’d been reading lately. He possessed an inexhaustible memory, a comfortable lack of snobbery, and impeccable taste. The first book he recommended to me, upon listening gravely to my litany of at-the-moment authors (Barbara Kingsolver, James Clavell, Maeve Binchy, Neil Gaiman, Charles DeLint, Anthony Bourdain) was Tipping the Velvet. He also later landed me with Geek Love, Anno Dracula, half the Aubreyad, and more modern Literature-with-a-capital-L than I could carry home.
The next-to-last time I dropped in, I asked if he had any P. G. Wodehouse.
"I have zero Wodehouse," he said, "and here’s why…"
Turned out that some fiend had taken to creeping in every month or so expressly to inquire of any Wodehouse and, once led to the volumes, to buy it all. ALL. Didn’t matter the condition, the edition, or whether he had another just like it in his possession; the villain bought every single P. G. Wodehouse in stock, every single time.
Was he a fan more comprehensive, more truly fanatical than any other I’d heard of, let alone known? Was he virulently anti-Wodehouse, only purchasing the books to keep their wry poison from infecting the impressionable masses? The world may never know.
I didn’t get any Wodehouse then, and I didn’t really feel the lack. I found plenty of other treasures that trip. But here’s one reason why BLMF and its proprietor are my favourite of their kind: that was two years ago, you see. Maybe three. In all that interim, I never planted foot in that bookshop. Never called. Never wrote. And I’m one face out of hundreds of thousands, dear reader; one reader he saw twice a year for three years, then not again for another three.
But I walked in the shop last Friday. Nodded hello.
"Can I help you find anything?" he asked, lifting his head from the phone.
"No, I’m good," I said.
"Wait—hold on a second." He set the phone down, walked ‘round the towers of books balanced precariously on the desk, on the floor, and atop other, only slightly less precarious towers. He jerked his head conspiratorially toward the far end of the shop, led me carefully to a shelf way in the back, removed a tattered stack of mass market paperbacks and motioned me closer to see what they’d been hiding.
Fifteen pristine Wodehouses: crisp, heavy, and—
“Hardcover,” he said, and waggled his eyebrows.
Reader, I bought them all.

nympheline:

This is my favourite bookstore and bookseller in the world. Bar none.

I used to get to Seattle every six months or so, and whenever I visited I always made it a priority to stop in BLMF and ask its keeper what he’d been reading lately. He possessed an inexhaustible memory, a comfortable lack of snobbery, and impeccable taste. The first book he recommended to me, upon listening gravely to my litany of at-the-moment authors (Barbara Kingsolver, James Clavell, Maeve Binchy, Neil Gaiman, Charles DeLint, Anthony Bourdain) was Tipping the Velvet. He also later landed me with Geek Love, Anno Dracula, half the Aubreyad, and more modern Literature-with-a-capital-L than I could carry home.

The next-to-last time I dropped in, I asked if he had any P. G. Wodehouse.

"I have zero Wodehouse," he said, "and here’s why…"

Turned out that some fiend had taken to creeping in every month or so expressly to inquire of any Wodehouse and, once led to the volumes, to buy it all. ALL. Didn’t matter the condition, the edition, or whether he had another just like it in his possession; the villain bought every single P. G. Wodehouse in stock, every single time.

Was he a fan more comprehensive, more truly fanatical than any other I’d heard of, let alone known? Was he virulently anti-Wodehouse, only purchasing the books to keep their wry poison from infecting the impressionable masses? The world may never know.

I didn’t get any Wodehouse then, and I didn’t really feel the lack. I found plenty of other treasures that trip. But here’s one reason why BLMF and its proprietor are my favourite of their kind: that was two years ago, you see. Maybe three. In all that interim, I never planted foot in that bookshop. Never called. Never wrote. And I’m one face out of hundreds of thousands, dear reader; one reader he saw twice a year for three years, then not again for another three.

But I walked in the shop last Friday. Nodded hello.

"Can I help you find anything?" he asked, lifting his head from the phone.

"No, I’m good," I said.

"Wait—hold on a second." He set the phone down, walked ‘round the towers of books balanced precariously on the desk, on the floor, and atop other, only slightly less precarious towers. He jerked his head conspiratorially toward the far end of the shop, led me carefully to a shelf way in the back, removed a tattered stack of mass market paperbacks and motioned me closer to see what they’d been hiding.

Fifteen pristine Wodehouses: crisp, heavy, and—

Hardcover,” he said, and waggled his eyebrows.

Reader, I bought them all.

artattackmusic:

trebrond:

Dr. House in a nutshell

literally every episode of house

artattackmusic:

trebrond:

Dr. House in a nutshell

literally every episode of house

ravingsbya-woc:

antifascistaction:

otipemsiw:

basedheisenberg:

Neo-Nazis get their shit pushed in by native american grandmothers, who then capture their flag, take selfies with it, and then burn it.
Neo Nazi status: Wrekt.

Fav 4ever

You will never be as cool as these grandmothers.

Get it grandma’s!

ravingsbya-woc:

antifascistaction:

otipemsiw:

basedheisenberg:

Neo-Nazis get their shit pushed in by native american grandmothers, who then capture their flag, take selfies with it, and then burn it.

Neo Nazi status: Wrekt.

Fav 4ever

You will never be as cool as these grandmothers.

Get it grandma’s!

helpmejordan:

Can we just take a moment to remember the greatest book in the history of our childhoods…

helpmejordan:

Can we just take a moment to remember the greatest book in the history of our childhoods…

macabrekawaii:

monstertag:

I don’t think I’ve posted this yet - my piece for the Rookery anthology with some other just graduated SVA classmates. The theme of the book was myths and urban legends. I spent my childhood summers on an island in Nova Scotia, and I was always fascinated with seals, and, because of that, selkies.

Disclaimer: I have not made out with a seal. Yet.

GUYS I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS ABOUT SELKIES AND THIS ENCOMPASSES ALL OF THEM 

oxboxer:

"No homo" is one of the dumbest things I have ever heard come out of the mouth of a human. This is my second favorite way to reply - the first, bloody retribution.

Like and comment on Tapastic!

djsckatzen:

h8seed:

birdhorse:

soulgems:

sO I WAS AT WORK GETTING PIZZA DOUGH FROM THE FREEZER AND THIS GIANT PIECE OF ICE FALLS ON ME SO I PICK IT UP AND WITHOUT REALIZING IT I WHISPERED “ICE DILDO” OUT LOUD BUT APPARENTLY MY COWORKER HEARD ME BECAUSE THE NEXT THING I KNOW HES ON THE GROUND CRYING FROM LAUGHTER


oh

more like chilldo am I right

REBLOGGING AGAIN FOR CHILLDO

djsckatzen:

h8seed:

birdhorse:

soulgems:

sO I WAS AT WORK GETTING PIZZA DOUGH FROM THE FREEZER AND THIS GIANT PIECE OF ICE FALLS ON ME SO I PICK IT UP AND WITHOUT REALIZING IT I WHISPERED “ICE DILDO” OUT LOUD BUT APPARENTLY MY COWORKER HEARD ME BECAUSE THE NEXT THING I KNOW HES ON THE GROUND CRYING FROM LAUGHTER

oh

more like chilldo am I right

REBLOGGING AGAIN FOR CHILLDO

originalnaijababe:

pawsthomasanderson:

officialfrenchtoast:

”..the Son of Man came not to be served, but to serve..”
-Matthew 20:28

PROPHET LIKE IT’S HOT

I hate you guys sometimes

originalnaijababe:

pawsthomasanderson:

officialfrenchtoast:

”..the Son of Man came not to be served, but to serve..”

-Matthew 20:28

PROPHET LIKE IT’S HOT

I hate you guys sometimes

chisanaai:

stereolimit:

tsukishimaho:

deidaras-ass-splinters:

rupeerose:

kankris-svweater:

physicianwhy:

assassinated by MY FAMILY… completely understandable

crushed by the world we live in 
sounds right

penetrated by juggalosno

crushed by a cloud
someone needs to explain this to me

smothered by my existence ok good

Buried alive by lord Jesus Christ

strangled by the world we live in
welp, got the name for my next album~

Fellated by EVERYTHING

chisanaai:

stereolimit:

tsukishimaho:

deidaras-ass-splinters:

rupeerose:

kankris-svweater:

physicianwhy:

assassinated by MY FAMILY… completely understandable

crushed by the world we live in 

sounds right

penetrated by juggalos
no

crushed by a cloud

someone needs to explain this to me

smothered by my existence ok good

Buried alive by lord Jesus Christ

strangled by the world we live in

welp, got the name for my next album~

Fellated by EVERYTHING

dynastylnoire:

absolute-tripper:

asylum-art:

Martín De Pasquale:Photography

this is fucking with my head woah

whoaaaaaaaa

dramaticspoon:

frostbackcat:

ohyeahcourtoon:

ultrafacts:

Source (Want more facts? Click HERE to follow)

I would live there so quickly 

Me too LOL

So you’re basically tellin’ me Disney wanted to build Rapture?

dramaticspoon:

frostbackcat:

ohyeahcourtoon:

ultrafacts:

Source (Want more facts? Click HERE to follow)

I would live there so quickly 

Me too LOL

So you’re basically tellin’ me Disney wanted to build Rapture?