dragon-in-a-fez:

konekat:

the-noble-idiot:

troubadourtrousers:

sniffling:

rightbackheretohauntyou:

rightbackheretohauntyou:

I just imagined a jeopardy category of solely vine references

“I’ll take vines for $200 alex”

“hurricane Katrina… more like ____”

“What is hurricane tortilla?”

“vines for $600″

“back at it again at ______”

“what is krispy kreme”

“vines for 300”

“this young man has remained illiterate his whole life”

“who is jared”

“vines for 400″

“Two bro’s are chilling in a hot tub, five feet apart because they are what?”

“what is not gay”

“vines for 500″

“the exclamation made upon discovering a bitch is empty”

“what is yeet”

“vines for 100”

“you can come on out to Del Taco and get some of this”

“what is FREE SHAVOCADOO”

inkskinned:

Me: oh oops I almost drank my paint water lmao

The pretentious man writing my life: this is what drove him crazy about her, her wildness, her insanity. One moment she was peaceful, the artist in her nest – the next, she dived into chaos, dined on it, challenged it. Just when he thought he understood her, she moved to again rewrite her definition, always unknowable, always glittering like the ocean, hinting at a story yet untold, laughing at a joke not meant for him, her eyes twinkling with secrets and humor and the otherworldly feminine. She was surrounded by color, loved it so much she tried to pour it inside of her, tried to poison herself with it, tried to paint even her organs. He wanted to kiss her, to entangle that art into his own skin – but the moment was passed. She was again order, peace. The chaos ceased. He didn’t even get to touch her boobies.

sighet:

hey, mr. dover. hey. hey. hey. hey. hey. hey. hey. hey. hey. hey. hey. hey. hey. hey. hey. hey. hey. hey. hey. hey. hey. hey. hey. hey. hey. hey. hey. hey. hey. hey. hey. hey. mr. dover.

quackatomic:

oh-man-aw-geez:

orbispelagium:

jerkstorecalling:

fiztheancient:

i cant believe there are people who still havent seen this video

I could probably recite this entire video, word-for-word, on demand.

Goddamn, this is nearly thirty years old and it fits like a glove into contemporary shitpost cadence and aesthetics, this is High Art

“that’s right

we’ll fuck your wife”

IT BETTER NOT BOUNCE OR YOU’RE A DEAD MOTHERFUCKER