THIS MADE ME START HYPERVENTILATING which is really ironic
that was fucking terrifying
your tension has been exterminated
EXTERMINATED
THIS IS THE GREATEST THING EVER
What the f—
(Source: deduce-you-fools, via jenniferether)
thedoctors-steampowered-hunter:
We’ve done it, we’ve reached the pinnacle of human evolution
Make tumblr user Pizza find the thing.
holy shit
(via jenniferether)
I feel like I’ve been asleep for years.
The raven is sometimes known as “the wolf-bird.” Ravens, like many other animals, scavenge at wolf kills, but there’s more to it than that. Both wolves and ravens have the ability to form social attachments and they seem to have evolved over many years to form these attachments with each other, to both species’ benefit.
There are a couple of theories as to why wolves and ravens end up at the same carcasses. One is that because ravens can fly, they are better at finding carcasses than wolves are. But they can’t get to the food once they get there, because they can’t open up the carcass. So they’ll make a lot of noise, and then wolves will come and use their sharp teeth and strong jaws to make the food accessible not just to themselves, but also to the ravens.
Ravens have also been observed circling a sick elk or moose and calling out, possibly alerting wolves to an easy kill. The other theory is that ravens respond to the howls of wolves preparing to hunt (and, for that matter, to human hunters shooting guns). They find out where the wolves are going and following. Both theories may be correct.
Wolves and ravens also play. A raven will sneak up behind a wolf and yank its tail and the wolf will play back. Ravens sometimes respond to wolf howls with calls of their own, resulting in a concert of howls and calls.
(via jenniferether)
Family visiting.
Time to stockpile food in my room and start drinking.
Stephen Colbert salutes UVA’s Class of 2013 Followed by this.
FUCKING THANK YOU.
(via jenniferether)
Began my day with some extra dry champagne, strawberries, and a shower.
I’m okay with this.
Today in my husband’s review of the Fleshlight, we introduce the Anal Sex Safety Snails.
I hope you enjoy.
This blog brought to you by someone from one of those grey states.
(Source: sexandhealthandshit, via jenniferether)
It is one of my favorite questions, though I’m never glad when it finds me.
“Do I really love you? Or do I just want to?”
We’ve known each other for years, this question and I.
Still, I’ve not yet found an answer.
"I’ll just go over to the job tree and pick myself a job. Load myself into my job cannon and fire me over to job land."
— TotalBiscuit
Her. Of course it would be her.
I see her name and my dreams flood back to me.
Do we ever get over our youthful affections?
Or will they patiently wait to haunt our later years?
Restless and enticing are such uncertainties.
Some days, I get out of bed and let the memories of dreams fade. If I wait too long, all they seem to leave me with is a vague feeling of having forgotten something that was once important to me. Who knows what I might’ve forgotten?
(Source: iraffiruse, via theabyssofword)
Silence like a hole, a void. Hollow, but not completely empty. Like a concert hall still ever-so-silently echoing the last few chords. The very last moment of a memory, a sensation, a feeling. Fleeting, fading, escaping, but still there - almost intangible.
There are demons in this place - and angels. Passions of all variety have danced in this hall. And may yet still. All of these angels and demons and ghosts and passions, they echo. Each and every one with my eyes, my heart, my soul. Like a just-forgotten dream, they shimmer and drift away.
This place - my mind- is a land of many mirages. In sleep, in meditation, and in quiet contemplation do I wander its paths of shifting sands and cloudy skies. Always alone, like the last bit of light to be swallowed up by the night.
