maggie n.

May 21, 2013 at 12:26am
1,268 notes
Reblogged from fuckyeahvintage-retro

Summer Evening, 1947 - Illustrated by Edward Hopper.

Summer Evening, 1947 - Illustrated by Edward Hopper.

(Source: fuckyeahvintage-retro, via oldfilmsflicker)

May 20, 2013 at 7:01pm
637 notes
Reblogged from otusshrine
otusshrine:

This may be my favoritest thing on the internet.

otusshrine:

This may be my favoritest thing on the internet.

(via fuckyeahdinoart)

1:29am
83 notes
Reblogged from dannybrito

dannybrito:

Linda Belcher’s Porcelain Babies

(Source: youtube.com, via unicornzzzzz)

May 10, 2013 at 2:16am
2,046 notes
Reblogged from frickyeah1990s

(via frickyeah1990s)

May 8, 2013 at 10:41pm
69 notes
Reblogged from mattstopera

sade:

mattstopera:

0 FLAWS.

so here for this rn

selena you’re killing me

shamelessly diggin this

(Source: youtube.com)

May 7, 2013 at 11:44pm
1,926 notes
Reblogged from maviswillsaveus
motherjones:

maviswillsaveus:

i wish i could find the original of this on tumblr but the gif-dress is too wonderful to pass up.

Some profound pop culture commentary here.

motherjones:

maviswillsaveus:

i wish i could find the original of this on tumblr but the gif-dress is too wonderful to pass up.

Some profound pop culture commentary here.

(via mbyhoff)

May 6, 2013 at 12:21am
9 notes
Reblogged from dyingforbadsongs

sourirealisme:

treeofwrongs:

glorious, i tell you. 

the amount ive listened to this record tho

(Source: dyingforbadsongs)

May 5, 2013 at 12:26pm
78 notes
Reblogged from cognitivedecay

(Source: cognitivedecay, via my5tic41andshit)

2:55am
972 notes
Reblogged from swallowbacca
lesbianese:

same

lesbianese:

same

(Source: swallowbacca, via laurinmclaurin)

May 2, 2013 at 2:34pm
1 note

“For this is the country where the age of the internal combustion engine has come into its own. Where every boy is Barney Oldfield, and the girls wear organdy and batiste and eyelet embroidery and no panties on account of the climate and have smooth little faces to break your heart and when the wind of the car’s speed lifts up their hair at the temples you see the sweet little beads of perspiration nestling there, and they sit low in the seat with their little spines crooked and their bent knees high toward the dashboard and not too close together for the cool, if you could call it that, from the hood ventilator. Where the smell of gasoline and burning brake bands and red-eye is sweeter than myrrh. Where the eight-cylinder jobs come roaring around the curves in the red hills and scatter the gravel like spray, and when they ever get down in the flat country and hit the new slab, God have mercy on the mariner.” 

-Robert Penn Warren