If I were I superhero I’d call myself Widow’s Peak, and my hairline would jut out from my forehead, like an arrow shaped razorblade projectile, and it would one-shot-KO my enemies as easily as it’s going to take down my future husband.

This is what my brain does when I let go of the reigns for a fucking second.

(Source: nomadicstatic)

I’m not particularly fussed about what exactly happens between now and then, but I hope when it’s ‘then’, we end up together.

(Source: nomadicstatic)

THE BEER AND PIZZA COMBINATION IS SUCH A SIMPLE PLEASURE, CERTAINLY ONE OF THE FINER THINGS IN LIFE, SO COMMONLY OVERLOOKED AND UNDERAPPRECIATED. 

This has been a post.

-An evidently simple-minded American. Usa! Usa! 

(Source: nomadicstatic)

My response for when people tell me I have “nice tits” or call me “tits McGee” is always 

THANKS. I GROW THEM MYSELF.

(Source: nomadicstatic)

It’s not that I have a terrible work ethic, or that I’m lazy, but I hate the thought of a job. It would be a totally different story if everyone didn’t try to push off an occupation as your ‘purpose’ in life, or all that life is worth living for. If there were extra hours in a day besides the 24 that you already get that were solely destined to be ‘working’ hours - like if at 9AM a vortex opens up and you’re slingshot into an alternate universe where you work for 9 hours straight, then you return back to universe number one, and it’s still 9AM. That would be fine. It’s just that money, and “success” will never mean half as much to me as experiences and the people in my life do. Every single day I hold so much fury in at my 9-5 because it’s restricting me from doing so many things. It’s NOT as important as everyone in that fucking building thinks it is, those people have their priorities in such a fucking disgraceful order, it’s sickening. Hourly, they shit on people’s lives, cause CHAOS over such a meaningless purpose - such is a business, I know, welcome to Corporate America, but that’s literally the last environment I’d ever want to put myself in again. In such a short life, I’m squandering my greatest days, I’m moaning about something I have every ability to change, I’m spending the greater portion of each day doing mundane tasks that are contributing to one of the greatest pockmarks on the face of society, I think I’m cut out for something different.

Things are hectic, but things are good. New leather jacket, purchased. I put on my old friend yesterday morning to find IT WAS ENTIRELY TOO FUCKING HUGE, I literally was swimming in it, I looked like a little kid playing dress up with her Daddy’s motorcycle jacket. I guess that’s the only drawback with losing a lot of weight, all of the nice expensive things you own are going to sit in a closet and collect dust, BUT I REFUSE TO GET RID OF IT. Got a sexy fucking new one though, all cropped and slightly worn, I FEEL THE EXCITEMENT TINGLES ALL THE WAY IN MY TOES <3.

Aside from that, It’s been a while since I’ve had a dull moment. Today I got to sit on my back steps and drink tea from a huge yellow mug while doing absolutely. Nothing. for more than 15 minutes, I feel like I just had all sorts of revolutions and crazy thoughts because my brain had not a thing to focus on except existing. Wouldn’t change much though, I curl up in bed exhausted at the end of each day, one or more of my friends (or myself) is/are always drunk at any given point, there’s always some show to go to, somewhere to eat, some trip to take, some spot to check out, some mountain to climb - aside from being able to finish books in under three sittings, I’m not missing much about how much I used to hang around at home. i Viva la social life !

(Source: nomadicstatic)

Reasons I’m unbearable to live with: Eating all of the little ham and cheese rolls out of the container of antipasto, and putting just the slimy lettuce and olives back in the refrigerator for the next poor, unfortunate soul to find. 

I desperately wish my Dad was still alive. I grew into all of his interests. I want him to teach me how to work on cars. I want to go to old car shows in his ‘50-somethin’ Packard. I want to learn how to ride his motorcycle. I want to get my own motorcycle. I want him to show me where the fucking spot with all the pine trees on our mountain is, because it’s off the beaten path and I’ll end up being helicopter’d out if I go and find it myself. I want to drink beers and play billiards into the early hours of the morning. I want to have matching big clunky boots. I want to quote Eddie Izzard and The Jabberwocky in public places when nobody else will know what the fuck I’m talking about.

:.

(Source: nomadicstatic)