UP (2009)

rudolphofficial:

is michael cera even a real person?

(Source: carelessobserver, via girl-on-fiya)

fullmetal-dipshit:

teenagecentury:

rubbishapples:

July 2nd.

182nd day of the year.

It’s 12pm.

Congratulations you’ve officially wasted half a year.

I finally understand what Blink-182 means.

FUCK

(via girl-on-fiya)

edwardspoonhands:

moeranda:

itseliberg33:

can she just get an award or something

I reblog this whenever it pops up on my dash.

So many directions she could have gone with this joke…out of infinite possibilities…she picked the best possible direction.

(Source: aryanstark, via girl-on-fiya)

me: whats your opinion on tampons
little brother: they're little fuzzy sticks on strings
me: then you are ultimately more mature than most boys
little brother: why
me: for some reason tampons are gross and taboo just cuz they go in a vagina
little brother: well so does a penis and boys never stop talking about those
me:
little brother:
me: that is a fantastic point
jetn:

fingersareoptional:

fingersareoptional:

fingersareoptional:

fingersareoptional:

fingersareoptional:

fingersareoptional:

*prepares party popper*


*nervously shakes the party popper*


*slowly falls asleep with the party popper*


*has a wonderful night with the party popper*


*gets married to the party popper*

It’s a beautiful evening in February. My wife and I are sitting at the fireplace, when suddenly a terrible image appears on the screen of my computer.

My wife looks at me. As I look in her terrified, cardboard eyes, filled with tears, she takes a deep breath, before saying with her shivering voice “It’s what you’ve always wanted, dear. Do it.” My hands start shaking and a lone tear rolls down my cheek. “I can’t, honey. I’m not like that anymore.” “I will do it.” a small voice behind us says. As I turn around, my eyes cross with my son; our son. “You don’t have to do this, Benedict.” I say, as I hold his hands.
Ignoring what I told him, young Benedict Popper-Are Optional holds my wife’s cardboard body in one hand, and her long, beautiful string in the other. With tears in my eyes, I turn my head away. A loud pop sounds behind me and I watch in terror as I see my wife’s confetti spread across the room.
"It’s what you’ve always wanted, dad…" my son says, putting his small, cardboard hand on my shoulder. "Yes," I say, "but not like this… Never like this…"

what the actual fuck