August 2011
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Just came up with the most brilliant joke:
What do female necrophiliacs like from their corpses?
Deadwood.
I am a genius!!!
Are you proud of me, Internet?
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Spoilers: (How to end game like a boss)
In any, if not most, films/shows I watch where you have to figure out who is the super evil bad guy/girl whose been going around and fucking everybodys shit up, I have two simple rules that I am more than happy to bestow upon you: 1) It’s probably the old person. 2) If not, then it’s definitely the child. Seriously, take those little gems of wisdom to the next film you go with all...
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I can't be wrong if I'm write.
Writing is something that I’ve never been the absolute best at (at least that’s what all my English teachers kept telling me. Thanks guys), yet for the past month I’ve been having this overpowering urge to start writing and try my hand at its madness. Now I know I’m probably not a maestro of words, weaving lines that make your emotions fluctuate like a roller-coaster, but...
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“Every atom in your body came from a star that exploded. And, the atoms in your...”
– - Lawrence M. Krauss (via wilwheaton)
This! This this this this this! (via pocketfulofgeek)
Absolutely yes!
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Sometimes I just want to hide.
Run away to someplace where no one can find me.
All they see is an occasional post of where I might be.
Keeping in contact with me would be a tedious chore, thus hardly anyone would do it.
I’d be free from the mess, from the problems.
Everything would be neater, easier, more organized.
The world would try to catch up, as I ran away with the universe.
