getlikemike:

         i hate you                  i hate you  
i hate you i hate you     i hate you i hate yo
i hate you  i hate you  i hate you  i hate you 
i hate you  i hate you i hate you i hate you  
 i hate you i hate you i hate you i hate you 
   i hate you i hate you i hate you i hate 
     you i hate you i hate you i hate you 
        i hate you i hate you i hate you 
            i hate you i hate you i hate
              you i hate you i hate you 
                 i hate you i hate you  
                    i hate you i hate
                      you i hate you 
                         i hate you 
                            i hate
                              you  

stoneddaily:

and ALWAYS swallow ;]

YESSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!

the-absolute-funniest-posts:

Follow this blog, you will love it on your dashboard

bennyd66:

Just sayin

itsmabel:

THIS . THIS . THIS . THIS ):

cum-ulonimbus:

If a boy, who made me happy as well, said this to me I would probably explode. And i doubt anyone ever will.

annarocket:

Tiny Victorian Cottage

With only $3000 on renovation and furniture, Sandra Foster transformed a Catskills hunting cabin into this romantic 9-by-14-foot Victorian cottage. She did all the carpentry work herself, using vintage columns, flooring and wavy glass windows. via nytimes

Oh, I’m in love.

write-drunkedit-sober:

find me this man.

orang3sw3atergirl:

pinkrangerwasa:

captainthing:

ralphdgamf:

starkidwholived:

kimburrit0:

I was helping my little brother

Where the fuck does jack come from

That’s basically what math is like for the rest of your life.

I love how the answer is at the bottom of the page. And how is any kid suppose to know how many stickers Jack has? Does Tani and Jen give Jack their stickers? I wish I was Jack. My friends never give me stickers.  

You’re all missing the point. This isn’t math. Rather it’s metaphysics, or the existence of our being. Theoretically speaking, Jack isn’t a person. Jack exists in all of us. We are Jack. Jack is all of us. Every single one of us. In each inept part of our being, our existence, Jack lives. Forgotten and ignored, yet he exists in our never ending subconscious. The question, rather, is how many stickers do we all have?

I am Jack’s twenty-three unsolicited stickers.

The limit of stickers does not exist. 

guys, that’s the page number… not the answer.