Distraction from the real world

merilsell:

And they lived happily ever after in the land of denial that is my headcanon.

(via packageofgirlyevil)

spawnofklaus:

Once that baby shit goes away, I’ll watch TO and I will be its biggest cheerleader. I’ll be all about Klaus and Elijah and Rebekah and Marcel and basically anyone who isn’t Hayley. It’s not that I don’t want to be positive, because I do. I want this show to succeed and I know in my bones that it won’t if it doesn’t change its trajectory. I just can’t get past this story line.

When shit has been fixed, I will all but market your show for you.

chefboyardeezie:

banjo-jeff:

chefboyardeezie:

when im rich the first thing im doing is getting laser hair removal on every inch of my body that isn’t my head

you’ll look pretty funny without eyebrows

im at least 3% sure that my eyebrows r on my head

(via mrskensideeks)

radstunts:

thirteenth-zodiac-sign:

bllonde:

Dear tampon and pad companies:

Please make your items quieter to open.

Sincerely,

The whole restaurant/household/bathroom now knows I am on my period, thank you.

I just thought my flat-mates were eating crisps in the toilet. 

that is the single most british sentence i have ever read

(via spawnofklaus)

gatzzby:

You’re not a REAL Gatsby fan unless you’ve read the book. Unless you’ve read every Fitzgerald book. Unless you’ve read their early drafts, mailed to you by Fitzgerald himself. Unless you first read Gatsby when Scott handed it to you in a Parisian bar in 1925, apologising for the cover when he saw you disapproved. Unless you embarked on an intense friendship with him that culminated in rumours that you two were having a clandestine homosexual affair. Unless you once took him to the Louvre so you could prove to him that his penis wasn’t any smaller than those on the statues there. Unless Scott turned up, drunk and uninvited, at your house so many times that you had to move more than once. Unless you continued to exchange increasingly infrequent and terse letters with him for the rest of his life, then missed his funeral because you were in Cuba. Unless you called his literary talent “as natural as the pattern that was made by the dust on a butterfly’s wings” and won a Nobel prize and wrote For Whom The Bell Tolls. That’s right, you poser, if you’re not Ernest Hemingway you can fuck straight off right now. We’re on to you.

(via packageofgirlyevil)