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Laura- JMU 2017
blazepress:

US Navy SEAL Mike Forsythe and his dog Cara. World record holders for the highest man and dog parachute jump (30,100ft).

blazepress:

US Navy SEAL Mike Forsythe and his dog Cara. World record holders for the highest man and dog parachute jump (30,100ft).


georgetakei:

The selfie, taken to new extremes. How were some of these possible? 
See all the extreme selfies here

georgetakei:

The selfie, taken to new extremes. How were some of these possible?

See all the extreme selfies here


nefferpitou:

on monday a guy walked into the psychology class i’m in and sat next to me. about 30 minutes into class, he leans over and whispers, ‘this isn’t algebra.’ and calmly stands up and walks out of the room. luv college


fuckyeahusnavy:

"Never Forget"
September 11, 2001.

fuckyeahusnavy:

"Never Forget"

September 11, 2001.


warrenbuchholz:

Stop Victim Blaming campaign poster series.


slaughteroftheweeaboos:

ppl my age have children what the hell i am a children


galactic-kat:

wasarahbi:

emes:

leeantsypantsy:

all-aboutqoqo:



“We dressed up as the book Madeline, with six people dressed up as her and me as Ms. Clavel, their teacher. One of the Madelines, however, was the truly special one…the one with the beard, that is. Our experience was hysterical—I’d walk all the girls (and one guy) down the street in two straight lines. Guys would be walking the other way, whistling or hollering at all the pretty ladies. Then, as they got to the back of the line, they’d see my friend Brennan, then they’d see me, and I could tell that they were suddenly wondering if ALL the Madelines were men.”




the last sentence

lmao what

There will never be a time when I don’t reblog this because it is my fave.

galactic-kat:

wasarahbi:

emes:

leeantsypantsy:

all-aboutqoqo:

“We dressed up as the book Madeline, with six people dressed up as her and me as Ms. Clavel, their teacher. One of the Madelines, however, was the truly special one…the one with the beard, that is. Our experience was hysterical—I’d walk all the girls (and one guy) down the street in two straight lines. Guys would be walking the other way, whistling or hollering at all the pretty ladies. Then, as they got to the back of the line, they’d see my friend Brennan, then they’d see me, and I could tell that they were suddenly wondering if ALL the Madelines were men.”

the last sentence

lmao what

There will never be a time when I don’t reblog this because it is my fave.


daftlypunk:

i hit my coworkers shoulder lightly and he was like “you’re going to make me cry like a girl” and i was like “what’s wrong with being a girl?” and he was quiet for a moment then he looked into the distance and whispered “the social standards they’re forced to live by”


No, fuck you. I was worth it.

and I’m still worth it // R.R. (via done)

you think you’re a better kisser than me??? you think you’re a better cuddler? come over here and prove it punk


fakinq-glory:

today was my last day in my creative writing class and my teacher gave everybody a piece of paper to write down a contract and to put it in our wallets. she said she did the same thing when she was younger and every now and then she’d brush by it and remember that she wanted to write. everybody took time to write out what they wanted and I just sat at the back of the class, sitting on the windowsill and I knew there was only one thing to write but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. at the end of the class after everybody left, I went to thank her for the year, and she told me that people should be reading my words for a long time, but they won’t be able to do that if I’m not around to write them. I showed her the blank piece of paper, and she said it was okay not to write anything, and then I wrote this. I learned the power of words in that class, I learned it was okay to vomit up half a dozen notebooks stained with blood and exploded pens because it means you have something to say.

fakinq-glory:

today was my last day in my creative writing class and my teacher gave everybody a piece of paper to write down a contract and to put it in our wallets. she said she did the same thing when she was younger and every now and then she’d brush by it and remember that she wanted to write. everybody took time to write out what they wanted and I just sat at the back of the class, sitting on the windowsill and I knew there was only one thing to write but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. at the end of the class after everybody left, I went to thank her for the year, and she told me that people should be reading my words for a long time, but they won’t be able to do that if I’m not around to write them. I showed her the blank piece of paper, and she said it was okay not to write anything, and then I wrote this. I learned the power of words in that class, I learned it was okay to vomit up half a dozen notebooks stained with blood and exploded pens because it means you have something to say.


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