6,161 notes

    rhinosarahs:

    Career goal: Puppy Bowl referee.
    image

    (Source: stickymuppet, via the-absolute-funniest-posts)

    127,786 notes
    227,513 notes

    cornchipz:

    daleksunshine:

    danfreakindavis:

    when you find that perfect gif but don’t know how to use it

    image

    You can reverse the flow of the hotdogs if you concentrate hard enough

    oh my god you can

    (via andrew-pan)

    418,544 notes
    You when you think I’m not paying attention to you

    You when you think I’m not paying attention to you

    (Source: wacotaco, via x-lucid-dreaming-x)

    261,165 notes
    101,734 notes
    durkin62:

watchoutboy:

OH MY GOD WHY, WHY DO YOU DO THIS ON A SITE WITH 13 YEAR OLDS WHO WILL ACTUALLY TRY THIS, STOP

Natural selection.

    durkin62:

    watchoutboy:

    OH MY GOD WHY, WHY DO YOU DO THIS ON A SITE WITH 13 YEAR OLDS WHO WILL ACTUALLY TRY THIS, STOP

    Natural selection.

    (Source: theothermayor, via zackisontumblr)

    131,850 notes
    chasewhiteside:

Trunk Mail 
A friend of mine was telling me about these new subscription fashion services. You answer some questions about your tastes, set your budget, and they’ll mail you a box of clothes.The premise was intriguing—can a stranger dress me better than I can dress myself?—and so I signed up for a few of the services. In truth, I can’t really afford any of this, but I was curious about the business model and the process.
Also, I was sort of drunk and it was Thursday night and, okay there was no friend, it was just, you know, the internet…
The three I signed up for—Trunk Club, Five Four Club, Frank & Oak—have the pretense of being somehow exclusive (hence “club”), but they aren’t. In fact, as I’ve learned from all of them, if you merely show interest, the companies will reach out with great urgency to enroll you.
The most persistent of these is Trunk Club, which assigns you a real-world personal stylist, who of course doubles as a salesperson.
I ignored two follow-up emails from my assigned stylist Christina (Chase — It’s your stylist at Trunk Club and Trunk Club — Still interested?) because I never really intended to give anyone my billing information and because both seemed like the kind of boilerplate emails that computers send.
Then I got a voicemail! —which, okay, I also ignored, but no hard feelings, Christina, I ignore voicemails from just about anybody who isn’t calling to give me money.
I’ve written before about how odd it is that our generation is surprised by and even fearful of human interaction (see: modern grocery checkouts), and I confess to being surprised that my digital fiddling resulted in a phonecall.
But if at first I thought this aspect of Trunk Club was overly aggressive, the back-and-forth I’ve just had with this Christina has reminded me why humans are actually the best:

Subject: Last Chance — Start your Trunk Club MembershipHi Chase,
I haven’t heard from you since you signed up for Trunk Club. Are you still interested in the service? If so, let me know when we can quickly chat. I only need a few minutes, and then I’ll put together your first trunk.
If you’re no longer interested, that’s totally fine — please just let me know so I can update my records.
Thanks,Christina

Despite the voicemail, I still wasn’t sure if this came from a computer or a human, but either way I didn’t want more email, so I responded:

Dearest Christina,
I’m afraid that I’ve died, and that my supremely unfashionable family has decided to dress me for the big day themselves. This pains me in ways my necrotic flesh can never feel again. From beyond, I do want to express my gratitude for the “last chance” offer that you personally scribed to me. For now, I’m a permanent member of a very different “trunk club,” trapped in an outfit unfit for the hellish party to which I’m likely bound. Please update your records accordingly.
Adieu,Chase

Cheeky, I know, but I really didn’t think anyone would actually read it. How wrong was I:

Count C. Augustus,
It pains me to hear that you have ventured over to the dark side where, in exchange for blue blazers and Bonobos Weekday Warriors, you are forced to wear a black tuxedo circa 1431. And to sleep in a box.
Should you ever thirst for the warmth of a well-fitting cashmere sweater and a cold beer over Blood Type B and…death…you have my contact information. I’m not sure you’ll be able to make a phone call in your bat state as your hands will be really little. Too small to handle a Nokia flip phone, if you ask me.
Until then, give yourself a break and treat yourself to something nice from time to time. Years from now after refusing our service will you be like Brad Pitt (I mean, Louis de Pointe du Lac) and ask:

I bid you adieu.
Hiss,Christina


that is quite possibly the best response ever.

    chasewhiteside:

    Trunk Mail 

    A friend of mine was telling me about these new subscription fashion services. You answer some questions about your tastes, set your budget, and they’ll mail you a box of clothes.

    The premise was intriguing—can a stranger dress me better than I can dress myself?—and so I signed up for a few of the services. In truth, I can’t really afford any of this, but I was curious about the business model and the process.

    Also, I was sort of drunk and it was Thursday night and, okay there was no friend, it was just, you know, the internet…

    The three I signed up for—Trunk Club, Five Four Club, Frank & Oak—have the pretense of being somehow exclusive (hence “club”), but they aren’t. In fact, as I’ve learned from all of them, if you merely show interest, the companies will reach out with great urgency to enroll you.

    The most persistent of these is Trunk Club, which assigns you a real-world personal stylist, who of course doubles as a salesperson.

    I ignored two follow-up emails from my assigned stylist Christina (Chase — It’s your stylist at Trunk Club and Trunk Club — Still interested?) because I never really intended to give anyone my billing information and because both seemed like the kind of boilerplate emails that computers send.

    Then I got a voicemail! —which, okay, I also ignored, but no hard feelings, Christina, I ignore voicemails from just about anybody who isn’t calling to give me money.

    I’ve written before about how odd it is that our generation is surprised by and even fearful of human interaction (see: modern grocery checkouts), and I confess to being surprised that my digital fiddling resulted in a phonecall.

    But if at first I thought this aspect of Trunk Club was overly aggressive, the back-and-forth I’ve just had with this Christina has reminded me why humans are actually the best:

    Subject: Last Chance — Start your Trunk Club Membership

    Hi Chase,

    I haven’t heard from you since you signed up for Trunk Club. Are you still interested in the service? If so, let me know when we can quickly chat. I only need a few minutes, and then I’ll put together your first trunk.

    If you’re no longer interested, that’s totally fine — please just let me know so I can update my records.

    Thanks,
    Christina

    Despite the voicemail, I still wasn’t sure if this came from a computer or a human, but either way I didn’t want more email, so I responded:

    Dearest Christina,

    I’m afraid that I’ve died, and that my supremely unfashionable family has decided to dress me for the big day themselves. This pains me in ways my necrotic flesh can never feel again. From beyond, I do want to express my gratitude for the “last chance” offer that you personally scribed to me. For now, I’m a permanent member of a very different “trunk club,” trapped in an outfit unfit for the hellish party to which I’m likely bound. Please update your records accordingly.

    Adieu,
    Chase

    Cheeky, I know, but I really didn’t think anyone would actually read it. How wrong was I:

    Count C. Augustus,

    It pains me to hear that you have ventured over to the dark side where, in exchange for blue blazers and Bonobos Weekday Warriors, you are forced to wear a black tuxedo circa 1431. And to sleep in a box.

    Should you ever thirst for the warmth of a well-fitting cashmere sweater and a cold beer over Blood Type B and…death…you have my contact information. I’m not sure you’ll be able to make a phone call in your bat state as your hands will be really little. Too small to handle a Nokia flip phone, if you ask me.

    Until then, give yourself a break and treat yourself to something nice from time to time. Years from now after refusing our service will you be like Brad Pitt (I mean, Louis de Pointe du Lac) and ask:

    I bid you adieu.

    Hiss,
    Christina

    that is quite possibly the best response ever.

    52 notes
    harvestheart:

The Caturday Contribution - feeding time

    harvestheart:

    The Caturday Contribution - feeding time

    (via thomasboatwright)

    252 notes
    dredsina:

askayallqu:

Isn’t this that daft punk song

work it regular make it softer do it harder makes us porridge

    dredsina:

    askayallqu:

    Isn’t this that daft punk song

    work it regular make it softer do it harder makes us porridge

    (via tyleroakley)

    149,918 notes
    brianabuenviaje:

ladybulletsordie:

warriorinthemaking:

when it turns from winter to spring

when bae comes over

when you can backflip and take your pants off simultaneously

    brianabuenviaje:

    ladybulletsordie:

    warriorinthemaking:

    when it turns from winter to spring

    when bae comes over

    when you can backflip and take your pants off simultaneously

    (via zackisontumblr)

    138,001 notes

    (Source: taylorwildfree, via lohanthony)

    177,307 notes
    26,037 notes
    30,981 notes
    438,866 notes