For the bits and pieces of internet that gruntle and ungruntle me.

What makes me gruntled?

Corgis in lobster costumes; friends; gin and tonic with a splash of lime (it has to be Hendricks!); speaking Spanish in a bar; birthday parties where everyone is having a good time, particularly the birthday person; novels; old fashioned drinking fountains
humansofnewyork:

"When I get really angry, I start crying. It sucks. Everyone else gets to yell and be scary. I have to be like: ‘No! I don’t want a tissue! Quit comforting me! I’m angry, I swear!’"

This is me to a tea.

View in High Quality →

humansofnewyork:

"When I get really angry, I start crying. It sucks. Everyone else gets to yell and be scary. I have to be like: ‘No! I don’t want a tissue! Quit comforting me! I’m angry, I swear!’"

This is me to a tea.

Feb 24th at 5PM / via: humansofnewyork / op: humansofnewyork / reblog / 11,655 notes

lifeonthepenninsula:

tricksterity:

runtime-err0r:

itsvondell:

you can take one man’s trash to another man’s treasure but you can’t make it drink

Fun fact: the blending of idioms or cliches is called a malaphor.

My personal favorite is “We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.”

make like a tree and fuck off

The course of true love gathers no moss!

Jan 28th at 10PM / via: lifeonthepenninsula / op: itsvondell / reblog / 123,188 notes

itsnotflirting:

man more people need to join the fucking bedroom fandom

image

i mean look at this shit. 

image

it’s bunk beds and a little desk. 

image

a motherfucking aquarium!

image

shit it’s like noah’s ark in the fucking ceiling

image

look how modern this shit is

image

it’s like three rooms in one

image

you could get a boat and sing fucking phantom of the opera and then just climb in bed.

image

I will man this damn fandom by myself if I have too

Jan 28th at 10PM / via: lifeonthepenninsula / op: itsnotflirting / reblog / 256,261 notes
imperfectlyxo:

I want this on my blog because I think it is important. If you have any problems with this, message me.

View in High Quality →

imperfectlyxo:

I want this on my blog because I think it is important. If you have any problems with this, message me.

(Source: dozing)

Jan 28th at 10PM / via: lifeonthepenninsula / op: dozing / reblog / 199,969 notes
foxadhd:

Corgi’s may become endangered. commense rioting in the streets.

foxadhd:

Corgi’s may become endangered. commense rioting in the streets.

Nov 26th at 11PM / via: corgiaddict / op: foxadhd / reblog / 6,470 notes
lifeonthepenninsula:

mcneen:

The thing that irritates me about this quote is it sounds as if someone just took off to sea alone and is like, “How hard can this shit be? Illiterate morons in the 1800’s used to do this asshat-ery!” 
It’s just such an idiotic quote and I don’t like it. No one says, “I’m not afraid of going to the moon, for I’m still learning that I don’t know shit about rocket science.” It’s the same goddamn thing.






“When Jo’s conservative sister Meg says she must turn up her hair now that she is a “young lady,” Jo shouts, “I’m not! and if turning up my hair makes me one, I’ll wear it in two tails till I’m twenty…. I hate to think I’ve got to grow up, and be Miss March, and wear long gowns, and look as prim as a China aster! It’s bad enough to be a girl anyway, when I like boys’ games and work and manners! I can’t get over my disappointment in not being a boy; and it’s worse than ever now, for I’m dying to go and fight with Papa, and I can only stay at home and knit, like a poky old woman.” ― Louisa May Alcott, Little Women

Little Women is a beautiful book. It always makes me think of how special my sister is to me.





Sisters are the best in the world. But mostly my sister.

lifeonthepenninsula:

mcneen:

The thing that irritates me about this quote is it sounds as if someone just took off to sea alone and is like, “How hard can this shit be? Illiterate morons in the 1800’s used to do this asshat-ery!” 

It’s just such an idiotic quote and I don’t like it. No one says, “I’m not afraid of going to the moon, for I’m still learning that I don’t know shit about rocket science.” It’s the same goddamn thing.

“When Jo’s conservative sister Meg says she must turn up her hair now that she is a “young lady,” Jo shouts, “I’m not! and if turning up my hair makes me one, I’ll wear it in two tails till I’m twenty…. I hate to think I’ve got to grow up, and be Miss March, and wear long gowns, and look as prim as a China aster! It’s bad enough to be a girl anyway, when I like boys’ games and work and manners! I can’t get over my disappointment in not being a boy; and it’s worse than ever now, for I’m dying to go and fight with Papa, and I can only stay at home and knit, like a poky old woman.” 
― Louisa May AlcottLittle Women
Little Women is a beautiful book. It always makes me think of how special my sister is to me.

Sisters are the best in the world. But mostly my sister.

(Source: icanread)

Nov 19th at 9PM / via: lifeonthepenninsula / op: icanread / reblog / 1,461 notes

werenotshortwerefunsized:

themasterslover:

seriously-what-is-my-life:

xanthewalter:

wrong-url-motherfucker:

Government, Monty Python Style

Still brilliantly funny all these years later.

BEST INSULTS

whenever i find monty python casually just on my dashboard i just blinka  few times and then get super fucking excited because i don’t see them as much as i’d like to on tumblr

i’ve been waiting for this gifset my whole life

Ah, this never gets old.

Nov 19th at 9PM / via: livedandwere / op: wrong-url-motherfucker / reblog / 258,548 notes
humansofnewyork:

"I’m in a bit of an introspective mood, because one of Ireland’s greatest poets died today. His name was Seamus Heaney.""Do you have a favorite poem by him?"


Diggingby Seamus HeaneyBetween my finger and my thumb The squat pen rests; snug as a gun.Under my window, a clean rasping sound When the spade sinks into gravelly ground: My father, digging. I look downTill his straining rump among the flowerbeds Bends low, comes up twenty years away Stooping in rhythm through potato drills Where he was digging.The coarse boot nestled on the lug, the shaft Against the inside knee was levered firmly.He rooted out tall tops, buried the bright edge deepTo scatter new potatoes that we picked,Loving their cool hardness in our hands.By God, the old man could handle a spade. Just like his old man.My grandfather cut more turf in a dayThan any other man on Toner’s bog.Once I carried him milk in a bottleCorked sloppily with paper. He straightened upTo drink it, then fell to right awayNicking and slicing neatly, heaving sodsOver his shoulder, going down and downFor the good turf. Digging.The cold smell of potato mould, the squelch and slapOf soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edgeThrough living roots awaken in my head.But I’ve no spade to follow men like them.Between my finger and my thumbThe squat pen rests.I’ll dig with it.


RIP

View in High Quality →

humansofnewyork:

"I’m in a bit of an introspective mood, because one of Ireland’s greatest poets died today. His name was Seamus Heaney."
"Do you have a favorite poem by him?"


Digging
by Seamus Heaney

Between my finger and my thumb 
The squat pen rests; snug as a gun.

Under my window, a clean rasping sound 
When the spade sinks into gravelly ground: 
My father, digging. I look down

Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds 
Bends low, comes up twenty years away 
Stooping in rhythm through potato drills 
Where he was digging.

The coarse boot nestled on the lug, the shaft 
Against the inside knee was levered firmly.
He rooted out tall tops, buried the bright edge deep
To scatter new potatoes that we picked,
Loving their cool hardness in our hands.

By God, the old man could handle a spade. 
Just like his old man.

My grandfather cut more turf in a day
Than any other man on Toner’s bog.
Once I carried him milk in a bottle
Corked sloppily with paper. He straightened up
To drink it, then fell to right away
Nicking and slicing neatly, heaving sods
Over his shoulder, going down and down
For the good turf. Digging.

The cold smell of potato mould, the squelch and slap
Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge
Through living roots awaken in my head.
But I’ve no spade to follow men like them.

Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests.
I’ll dig with it.

RIP

Aug 31st at 10PM / via: humansofnewyork / op: humansofnewyork / reblog / 4,444 notes
humansofnewyork:

"If you want to learn about life, watch old films from the 30’s, 40’s, and 50’s. Those will teach you to have style and class."

Seconded.

View in High Quality →

humansofnewyork:

"If you want to learn about life, watch old films from the 30’s, 40’s, and 50’s. Those will teach you to have style and class."

Seconded.

Jul 7th at 12AM / via: humansofnewyork / op: humansofnewyork / reblog / 3,058 notes