Schmorinom.

in-demigodishness-and-all-that:

constitutionclass:

england-made-a-spooky-blog-and:

nega-che-chalaga:

salt-water-chardonnay:

latinagabi:

thenoodledude:

emergencysalsa:

Tumblr: #this fucking donut #can we talk about this fucking donut for a minute #can we #because on this donut #the sprinkles just comfortably melt into the icing #you can tell that they are so perfectly in tune with each other #and they’ve come so far from when the sprinkles just sort of sat on top #barely touching for fear of rejection #just ugh I can’t #otp: comfortably melting

4chan: here’s a picture of someone putting their dick in a donut.

reddit: that donut needs to go back into the kitchen and make me a sandwich.

academia.edu: Here is a pdf of the seminar paper I wrote about the erotics/poetics/semiotics/science of donut eating.

deviantArt:I did not steal this donut. I traced it so now it’s mine.

It got better

Fanfic.net: The donut is the setting for a high school AU, were two sprinkles meet and realise they have more in common than they ever thought possible, however, the mean chocolate sauce has caught wind of their secret relationship. Will they be able to make it together before it’s too late? M for a lemon flavoured donut.

This has officially become one of my favorite posts.

(via a-night-in-december)

DerpLor Swift

(Source: ialmostdo, via pink-vogue)

inducecoma:

areyoutryingtodeduceme:

ladyofdisney:

roachpatrol:

avatarjk137:

nooby-banana:

thesanityclause:

rinnysega:

vashappeninstyles:

the19thhistory:

areyoutryingtodeduceme:

I remember my first eagle ceremony when I turned nine. The first eagle you get is always declawed, which I always thought was pretty inhumane, but it was a good way to ease into caring for the birds. My eagle (named Baldy, because I wasn’t a terribly clever child) was already quite old when I received him (he was a rescue eagle, luckily) but I did have him until I was 16. I don’t know if I was more excited about getting my drivers license that year, or my new eagle! You should have seen the party we had when I got him, too! Grilled hot dogs and fire works and lemonade…. obviously I named my beautiful new eagle Freedom. He’s too big to keep inside anymore, unfortunately, but we’ve got a pretty comfortable roost for him on our apartment’s balcony.

Ah, yes, the eagle ceremony! My Justice and I remember his quite well. (They had just come out with telepathic link transplants when I got him, which is how I know he remembers it.) Our celebration was quite modest, compared to Freedom’s—apple pie under a cloudless summer sky as we signed our Declaration of Interdependence. I still have the inked and talon-pierced document hanging on my wall.

what is this 

Get out Canada

I was so scared during my pet eagle ceremony I almost threw up. But Stonewall Jackson and I have been best friends ever since. My dad and grandfather built a really massive roost behind the house for my eagle and my sisters’ eagles. Stonewall always waits for me when I get home from class since schools are getting so over protective and strict these days and won’t allow eagles indoors. Which just goes to show how much we’re bubble wrapping kids today. Back in the day, if you couldn’t handle a few stitches because you pissed off the wrong kid’s eagle, you had to just man up and learn your lesson!

Ooo, I never miss a chance to tell this story! I had a rather unusual first eagle ceremony. The traditional giant American flag that you wave around to summon your eagle had been severely damaged the week prior (a ceremony that had not gone according to plan, but the child only suffered minor talon wounds. The flag took the brunt of the attack).  Anyway, I couldn’t use the normal flag so we had to search ALL OVER for one suitable for eagle summoning. Unfortunately the stripes weren’t the correct shade of patriotic red so everyone was worried an eagle wouldn’t show up at all.  I had to stand in the middle of that wheat field, the wind creating amber waves out of it, shaking that flag in the air for over three hours.  Everyone was just about to give up when suddenly Patriot appeared out of nowhere!  He came to me so quickly it was like he was apologizing for being late.  And we’ve been together ever since.

Some people think it’s excessive to have two eagles.  But what can I say, I’m a two eagles kind of guy.  Well, I can say, “You must be a terrorist to call me out over my excesses,” but I digress.  We don’t have many open fields around here, so I got Liberty by waving my flag atop a decommissioned WWII aircraft carrier.  I was kicking a couple of boxes of tea into the harbor for good measure, and there she was.  I loved her so much I repeated the process a year later and got young Colbert here.  It’s hard work, raising two eagles, but I have two shoulders, after all.  Besides, I know that the secret to happy and healthy eagles is plenty of Bud Light.

Oh man, the eagle ceremony. I was a weird fucking kid, okay, so I was totally sure that the eagle ceremony wasn’t just going to net me my eagle and deepen the mystical bond between a citizen and their country, I thought I was going to get to turn into an eagle too. So me and my mom and my dad and my little brother are all standing in the old civil war battleground, surrounded by the ghosts of our fallen soldiers, and all and the problem here — it’s not usually a problem because I make sure to shave my beard off twice a day, three times on sundays — was that I am, actually, born on the fourth of July. So it wasn’t just one eagle that showed up, it was pretty much every big old patriotic warbird in Missouri, all flapping around confused and pissed off, their innate senses of direction completely fucked up by the way firecracker babies warp America’s natural system of ley lines. And I was six, so grabbed the flag and ran with it over my shoulders, rippling in the wind, thinking it was going to turn into wings for me and I would go be an eagle with all the other eagles. Instead I just got mobbed by a freaked-out mess of nationalistic avians who all weighed more than I did. I lost half my nose and my whole left arm and spent most of fourth grade in reconstructive surgery getting machine guns welded on to the shattered remains of my ulna. Completely missed my little brother’s eagle ceremony, which I will always regret, but it was all worth it to have met Columbia. I never did turn into an eagle on the outside, but I like to think those long hours in the hospital, feeding her rubbing alcohol and my own blood, have made me an eagle in my heart. 

I remember my first eagle ceremony like it was yesterday, There was a huge storm that day and my parents tried to make me wait a few days until the storm subsided. But I was not waiting to get my eagle. So I stood out in the field closest to my house. Thunder rumbling, lightening cracking, and hurricane force winds, but I stood my ground. I was getting me eagle that day if it killed me. I raised the giant american flag as high in the air I could and began waving. The flag was hard to hold with all of the wind, and water the flag was soaking up. It was getting harder to hold by the minute and the storm was getting worse and worse. I was beginning to loose hope that my eagle would ever come. Then as the lightening flashed and the thunder boomed its loudest and its brightest, I saw Bravery flying towards me. So strong, young, and majestic. We both braved the storm to find each other and to this day we are best friends. 

wait did I make a meme when did this happen

It’s hard to believe only thirty years or so ago, women weren’t allowed to have pet eagles in this country. I’m really glad that America is making inching progress toward equality…I just don’t know what I’d do without Colony. I met her when I was thirteen; man, that was six years ago already. I remember the ceremony because I was really scared that it wasn’t going to go right. We had an Ecuadoran exchange student living with us, and his stupid vulture was always swooping around the place. My sister’s eagle, Big Mac, was really lazy, and he sort of just stared the vulture down whenever it got too close. That thing sure backed off in a hurry! Anyway, we had the vulture out in the back field (we’d lured it out there with the corpse of one of them communists) and I had my flag all ready to go, and my ceremony was just starting. I was so excited! Everything was going great, and I could just see Colony starting to fly toward me, and I was so thrilled, when the damn vulture came out from the back field and attacked my eagle as she was getting closer! I grabbed one of my guns, but Colony didn’t need the help. She kicked his ass right away! Last time some dumb vulture messed with her. ‘Murrica.

(Source: oliviahopeful, via theseagullsarewatching)

toiletcramp:

the-absolute-funniest-posts:

pookiebrr:

spacegandalfhastheintersect:

sauntering-vaguely-downwards:

 #I would sit outside this gate and cry and hold down the intercom button and tell the person inside how beautiful their gate is #and they would call the police to collect the drunkard off their driveway #but I would be completely sober and still crying over this beautiful gate

sdalkdfaosjdfiaosjdfoiajsdiofjdiof

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Reblogging this again

(Source: calm-ground, via ulzzzang)