Strike TWO.
After many years of disappointment, I’m just now learning to set my standards lower than low so that I am never let down again.
So far, so good.
There isn’t a month I hate more than June. Let the bullshit month begin.
(via fuckyeahhardfemme)
Oh well. Buy the ticket, take the ride.
(Source: violetcleopatra, via marfmellow)
Came home to watch this.
I like this guys sweet dance moves.
(Source: criticalfeministcorgi, via marfmellow)
Happy, happy birthday to my little Che.
Why this song? I’m so glad you asked. She dedicated me this song.
…fucking weirdo.
Like most stories about growing up and getting your life together, I spend more time daydreaming than actually doing whatever it is I want to do.
I still want that 1967 all black Mustang. I have since I was in middle school.
I still want to go to cosmetology school.
I still want my own place with open windows and pretty sheers and simple nothings sitting on top of books and a yellow kitchen with coffee mugs that say inappropriate things. I’d have my dogs sitting under the sun while we listened to our favorite artists and I’d have as many decorative pillows as I wanted.
But.
What I want most of all is to ride the subway in New York. To ride my bike down the street with all the pretty trees and listen to how rude the people really are.
I think I would like it.
