Inkwood

historicaltimes:

The Telefontornet connecting some 5,000 phone lines in Stockholm, 1890.

historicaltimes:

The Telefontornet connecting some 5,000 phone lines in Stockholm, 1890.

(via kaiserlowen)

loveandddrevenge:

amphetaheroin:

thepondsaregone:

thorinoakenbutt:

castielandpie:

poryqon:

it bothers me that Kansas and Arkansas are not pronounced the same

I’m from the UK and I have been pronouncing Arkansas as Ar-Kansas my whole life

For all my non-american friends, Arkansas is pronounced ark-an-saw

WHAT

WHAT

I’m laughing

(via the-fangirls-have-the-phonebox)

blowmydandelion:

i laughed for 10 minutes

(Source: iraffiruse, via kaiserlowen)

boomsticks-and-firewater:

puellamagidolaon:

lovrdlogic:

When you crack your knuckles you hurt the skeleton inside you

Good, the skeleton needs to know that I am the alpha and I am in control.

Break your own bones to establish dominance over skeleton.

(via the-fangirls-have-the-phonebox)

chen000:

trombono:

chen000:

chen000:

how to draw a sheep: draw a cloud, legs, a circle for the head and there you have it
a sheep

someone draw a sheep using these instructions

image

this rlly helped i think this is the best sheep i have EVER drawn!!!

its very good !!

(Source: hydrangea7, via kaiserlowen)

thisragingpeace:

cassiel-the-loyal:

rpgmaker:

thatbatterisaspy:

hairandbeardkommando:

punks not dead

Heosemys spinosa is an endangered species. 

punks almost dead

That is not a Heosemys Spinosa,its a Graptemys nigrinoda. 
they are in the low risk list, therefore, not endangered.

Punks not as almost dead as we thought.

thisragingpeace:

cassiel-the-loyal:

rpgmaker:

thatbatterisaspy:

hairandbeardkommando:

punks not dead

Heosemys spinosa is an endangered species.

punks almost dead

That is not a Heosemys Spinosa,its a Graptemys nigrinoda.

they are in the low risk list, therefore, not endangered.

Punks not as almost dead as we thought.

(Source: sinyasiki, via p-eterquill)

i-love-mmfd:

baguetttes:

this is how false information on tumblr works

THIS SCENE

(Source: reginaa-phalange, via themothershipper)

ouyangdan:

leggywillow:

truezodiacfact:

Moth pit

My reaction to this gif went from stone-faced “this is dumb” to full-on snickering gleefully in about fifteen seconds.

you can’t just drop shit like this on my dash i hurt myself laughing

ouyangdan:

leggywillow:

truezodiacfact:

Moth pit

My reaction to this gif went from stone-faced “this is dumb” to full-on snickering gleefully in about fifteen seconds.

you can’t just drop shit like this on my dash i hurt myself laughing

(via the-fangirls-have-the-phonebox)

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.

(via kaiserlowen)

turkey-imported-from-maine:

firelorcl:

meladoodle:

i wanna be a reverse tooth fairy where i rob people and then scatter human teeth on their bed

a dentist

i dont know what your dentist is doing to you but i think you need to go to the police

(Source: meladoodle, via buckyandlokiruinedme)

coffeeandcastiel:

whosthisdouchefag:

do you think this is a fucking game

(Source: lilwildspark, via casbarnes)

oboebandgeek99:

heckacute:

If you put a bee in the freezer, it will get cold and fall asleep. After it’s asleep, put it in your mouth, but don’t eat it. Just let it sit there. It will get warm and wake up. Now you have a bee in your mouth.

Why the fuck would I do that

(via the-fangirls-have-the-phonebox)

test administrator: when you finish your test go back and read over your answers

me: i'm never goin back the past is in the past