(Source: rainydaysandblankets, via onceuponawildflower)
So, in the middle of everything today, we ran across a hellaciously distressed momma mallard and a bunch of her baby ducks that had fallen down a sewer grate. Another guy was already trying to fish them out, so my friend and I called animal control before we tried to fish the rest of them out. When Animal Control got there, we had all of them out and the mother duck quacking very happily. I was surprised - none of us got snapped at or hurt. I was even holding onto a bag at one point that had all of them in it and she just watched me.
I love how the duck is perched on the guy’s butt
“HOOMANS, PLEASE HALP, HOOMANS!”
You make a nice seat. Get mah babbies, now.
(via useme-holly)
Paintings by Cara Thayer & Louie Van Patten
(Source: arpeggia, via bakefestatspliffanys)
I do not know how to tell you
what I am feeling.
You ask, and
my tongue strangles itself.
It chokes itself silent.
Under my heart,
there is a wellspring
of things I wish I could
tell you, and my tongue
is the cork stoppering
them up. It is the sentinel
warden at the gate, letting
none of the prisoners through.
I wish I could drive a spile
under my ribs
and let it all pour out for you.
Twenty year old Lucille Ball in 1931.
I cured myself of shyness when it finally occurred to me that people didn’t think about me half as much as I gave them credit for. The truth was, nobody gave a damn. Like most teenagers, I was far too self-centered. When I stopped being prisoner to what I worried was others’ opinions of me, I became more confident and free.
(via agapie)
This is the best/truest thing I’ve read in so long (via thesleepingfawn)
But this explains the 90s kids
(via thebbcisslowlykillingme)
(Source: kistybelle, via shialablunt)
