“Remember, sweet treasure, to cultivate your pleasure. Because at the end of this lifetime, we are what we love, and how we love. We are what we do. And what we do is based on what we think and what we believe. And what we believe is based upon our consciousness and what we tell ourselves we are capable of achieving and becoming. During this New Moon time, hold enough space for your soul to sing powerfully. Your aligned consciousness is the basis of your future. Cultivate an enriched soil to plant the golden seeds of your beloved belonging. Allow these seeds to be magnetized up into existence by the shining rays of your one and only imagination.”

“Ask The Universe” by Olesya Umantsiva

— (via bl-ossomed)

do u ever start typing out a long opinion post and feel very heated and then halfway through realize nothing matters and time is a flat circle and whatever i’m tired

— Unknown (via aurelle)

Just so we’re all clear, it is okay to miss people you no longer want in your life.

turn ons: when a boy calls me baby in a sleepy voice

I do enjoy sleepy voice.

Today, I fucked up... by throwing my steak out a window

Last night, my wife’s boss from her brand new job invited us over for dinner. On the drive over, my wife reiterated many times to me just how important it was to make a good impression.

I scoffed and arrogantly informed my silly wife that I always make good impressions.

My wife’s boss is a single lady in her fifties, so it was just the three of us. We chitchatted over drinks and salads and seemed to really be hitting it off. She laughed at my well-timed, perfectly-appropriate jokes and my wife seemed pleased.

Soon she brought out the main course, a nice big juicy steak for each of us. As I began to cut into my steak, I was discouraged to discover how under cooked this steak was.

Now, I’ve had my fair share of rare steak. I prefer medium, but I can handle rare. This was several-minutes-on-a-hot-grill short of rare. I probably could’ve resuscitated the cow had I tried. Instead, I sat there fidgeting with my knife and fork, worrying about how I was going to get away with not eating this steak.

Claim vegan-ism? No, I’d already feigned great enthusiasm upon seeing the steak.

Just then, our hostess excused herself to the kitchen to take care of some dessert preparations. As I looked across the fancy dining room table at the open window of this 3rd story apartment… a cartoon light bulb appeared over my head.

I knew I had to be decisive, realizing that she could return at any moment. I committed. I grabbed the steak with my hand, gently shook off the juice and executed a perfect throw right through the center of the open window.

Here’s the big time FU. The window wasn’t open. It was the cleanest fricking window you’ve ever seen in your life. That is, until my mostly raw slab of steak slammed up against it and slowly slid down leaving a trail of bloody juice in its wake.

My wife - who’s steak was a nice medium rare and was unaware of my predicament - turned, jaw dropped, and stared at me like I was an alien from another planet. This look then slowly morphed into more of a there-is-no-place-on-this-planet-you-can-ever-hide-from-me expression of demonic anger.

My wife’s boss heard the thud of the steak-on-window impact and came quickly. She took in the scene, the steak sitting on the window sill, the blood trail, my empty plate, and then gave me an inquisitive, puzzled look.

I just didn’t know what to say. It felt like a minute of silence, but was probably 3 or 4 seconds. Finally, the best I could manage was “I… I’m so sorry. I am such a clutz… I don’t know… I was just cutting it.. and… it… … it slipped… just ask my wife, I really am a clutz… right honey?… (no help coming from that direction) … I will clean this up… I can’t believe this… I am so sorry” etc… etc…

Both women continued to stare at me like I had escaped from the loony bin, as I smeared the blood around the window with my cloth napkin, dusted off the steak, and continued to mutter my incoherent explanation. I knew no one was buying the story.

I knew what I had to do. I sheepishly returned to my seat and proceeded to eat every bite of that disgusting, cold, chewy, bloody, raw steak.

I remained pretty quiet the rest of the evening. My wife’s only two words to me since the incident are “I’m fine”.

TL;DR: Tried to sneakily throw my under-cooked steak through an open window… only to find out it wasn’t open.

AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHABABA

I CANT STOP LAUGHING

— Louis C.K. (via wordsnquotes)

just because you don’t look like somebody who you think is attractive doesn’t mean you aren’t attractive. flowers are pretty but so are christmas lights and they look nothing alike

Woah

Fight Club (1999)

Yum

How has it been almost 20 years?!