The Amazing Fuzzy Sweater
so this is
The Amazing Fuzzy Sweater
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There must have been moments even that afternoon when Daisy tumbled short of his dreams—not through her own fault, but because of the colossal vitality of his illusion. It had gone beyond her, beyond everything. He had thrown himself into it with a creative passion, adding to it all the time, decking it out with every bright feather that drifted his way. No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart.

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There must have been moments even that afternoon when Daisy tumbled short of his dreams—not through her own fault, but because of the colossal vitality of his illusion. It had gone beyond her, beyond everything. He had thrown himself into it with a creative passion, adding to it all the time, decking it out with every bright feather that drifted his way. No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart.
There must have been moments even that afternoon when Daisy tumbled short of his dreams—not through her own fault, but because of the colossal vitality of his illusion. It had gone beyond her, beyond everything. He had thrown himself into it with a creative passion, adding to it all the time, decking it out with every bright feather that drifted his way. No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart.
There must have been moments even that afternoon when Daisy tumbled short of his dreams—not through her own fault, but because of the colossal vitality of his illusion. It had gone beyond her, beyond everything. He had thrown himself into it with a creative passion, adding to it all the time, decking it out with every bright feather that drifted his way. No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart.
There must have been moments even that afternoon when Daisy tumbled short of his dreams—not through her own fault, but because of the colossal vitality of his illusion. It had gone beyond her, beyond everything. He had thrown himself into it with a creative passion, adding to it all the time, decking it out with every bright feather that drifted his way. No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart.
There must have been moments even that afternoon when Daisy tumbled short of his dreams—not through her own fault, but because of the colossal vitality of his illusion. It had gone beyond her, beyond everything. He had thrown himself into it with a creative passion, adding to it all the time, decking it out with every bright feather that drifted his way. No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart.
There must have been moments even that afternoon when Daisy tumbled short of his dreams—not through her own fault, but because of the colossal vitality of his illusion. It had gone beyond her, beyond everything. He had thrown himself into it with a creative passion, adding to it all the time, decking it out with every bright feather that drifted his way. No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart.
There must have been moments even that afternoon when Daisy tumbled short of his dreams—not through her own fault, but because of the colossal vitality of his illusion. It had gone beyond her, beyond everything. He had thrown himself into it with a creative passion, adding to it all the time, decking it out with every bright feather that drifted his way. No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart.
There must have been moments even that afternoon when Daisy tumbled short of his dreams—not through her own fault, but because of the colossal vitality of his illusion. It had gone beyond her, beyond everything. He had thrown himself into it with a creative passion, adding to it all the time, decking it out with every bright feather that drifted his way. No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart.
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zz2m:

Context really not required. {x}

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zz2m: Context really not required. {x}
zz2m: Context really not required. {x}
zz2m: Context really not required. {x}

sherlocks-s:

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sherlocks-s:
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est1495:

Gordon Ramsay…our favorite angry chef

Permalink (57,778 notes) Source: est1495 Via: harryjasperkennedy
est1495: Gordon Ramsay…our favorite angry chef
est1495: Gordon Ramsay…our favorite angry chef
est1495: Gordon Ramsay…our favorite angry chef
est1495: Gordon Ramsay…our favorite angry chef
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angergirl:

AU CONTRAIRE

MY GRANDMA GOT ALL A’S IN “ETIQUETTE” (YES THAT WAS AN ACTUAL CLASS IN HER HIGH SCHOOL) AND SHE TOLD ME, “DEAR,” SHE SAID,


“YOU NEVER CROSS YOUR LEGS, YOU CROSS YOUR ANKLES. BUT THE GREAT THING ABOUT YOU LIVING IN THIS GENERATION IS YOU DON’T HAVE TO FOLLOW MY GENERATION’S RULES. SIT THE WAY YOU WANT. IF SOMEONE LOOKS UP YOUR SKIRT, JUST TELL THEM YOUR AUNT MARY WILL KILL THEM.”

WHICH IS TRUE

MY AUNT MARY HAD A SWITCHBLADE IN A SPECIAL POCKET OF HER NIGHTGOWN UNTIL THE DAY SHE DIED

the moral of this story is

1. Sit the way you want.

2. My great aunt Mary was a fucking badass.

Permalink (94,643 notes)Source: etiquetteforaladyVia: harryjasperkennedy
angergirl: AU CONTRAIRE MY GRANDMA GOT ALL A’S IN “ETIQUETTE” (YES THAT WAS AN ACTUAL CLASS IN HER HIGH SCHOOL) AND SHE TOLD ME, “DEAR,” SHE SAID, “YOU NEVER CROSS YOUR LEGS, YOU CROSS YOUR ANKLES. BUT THE GREAT THING ABOUT YOU LIVING IN THIS GENERATION IS YOU DON’T HAVE TO FOLLOW MY GENERATION’S RULES. SIT THE WAY YOU WANT. IF SOMEONE LOOKS UP YOUR SKIRT, JUST TELL THEM YOUR AUNT MARY WILL KILL THEM.”WHICH IS TRUE MY AUNT MARY HAD A SWITCHBLADE IN A SPECIAL POCKET OF HER NIGHTGOWN UNTIL THE DAY SHE DIED the moral of this story is 1. Sit the way you want. 2. My great aunt Mary was a fucking badass.
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benedict’s shenanigans 

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benedict’s shenanigans 
benedict’s shenanigans 
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dwarvesandtheirblogger:

to-blink-or-not-to-blink:

hiddles-n-downey:

brainette:

I gave both of my parents a picture with these people on it and told them to write their first reactions of them. 

This is what happened.

foreheadman

mormon

^

Entrepreneur canadian

Permalink (37,614 notes) Source: brainette Via: harryjasperkennedy
dwarvesandtheirblogger: to-blink-or-not-to-blink: hiddles-n-downey: brainette: I gave both of my parents a picture with these people on it and told them to write their first reactions of them.  This is what happened. foreheadman mormon ^ Entrepreneur canadian
dwarvesandtheirblogger: to-blink-or-not-to-blink: hiddles-n-downey: brainette: I gave both of my parents a picture with these people on it and told them to write their first reactions of them.  This is what happened. foreheadman mormon ^ Entrepreneur canadian