|Posted on August 29 at 9:14 pm with 22,970 notes||Reblog|
|Posted on August 28 at 9:19 pm with 20,610 notes||Reblog|
|Posted on August 28 at 9:16 pm with 2,415 notes||Reblog|
An Edit a Day - Benedict Cumberbatch - [388/?]
|Posted on August 28 at 9:01 pm with 94,944 notes||Reblog|
THERE IT IS AGAIN! THERE IT FUCKING IS! i’VE BEEN TALKING ABOUT THIS PHOTO FOR YEARS AND NEVER COULD FIND IT!! THE LAN PARTY WITH THE GUY DUCT-TAPED TO THE CEILING!! BACK IN ANCIENT TIMES WHEN PEOPLE STILL USED CATHODE MONITORS AND WHEN COUNTERSTRIKE WAS THE NEW THING. THIS SHIT IS REAL. THIS IS REAL SHIT. SHIT THAT HAPPENED.
|Posted on August 27 at 9:23 pm with 362,300 notes||Reblog|
I do this several times a day
|Posted on August 27 at 9:18 pm with 476 notes||Reblog|
|Posted on August 27 at 9:17 pm with 196 notes||Reblog|
|Posted on August 27 at 9:17 pm with 70 notes||Reblog|
haha, what could go wrong?
|Posted on August 27 at 9:08 pm with 13,611 notes||Reblog|
its 3 in the morning what am i doing
|Posted on August 27 at 9:07 pm with 70,770 notes||Reblog|
This is the one time of year that I love wasps.
Not because the wasps themselves get any nicer. They’re horrid little creatures year round. No, it’s because I have a couple of big apple trees out back, and late August, early September is when the apples start ripening.
Now, if you don’t harvest your own fruit, there are two things you need to know about apples.
The first thing you need to know about apples is that, when apples get ripe, they tend to fall from the tree at the slightest breeze.
I often work late at the office; by the time I get home, there are piles of apples scattered everywhere - and sure enough, the wasps are out in force, gorging themselves on the fruit. When I go to clean up the windfallen apples, the wasps naturally do the “rawr, I’ma fuck you up!” routine for which wasps are known.
The second thing you need to know about apples is that they ferment very rapidly in the late August heat.
So: the wasps try to come at me, but they’re too drunk to fly. They get about an inch off the ground, then faceplant directly into the turf, flip over onto their backs, and lay there, legs twitching in the air as they try in vain to find something to sting.
Perhaps I’m a man of simple pleasures, but I bust up laughing every. single. time.