another horizon

My Facebook status update cloud - little concerned to see...

Thu, 26 Nov 2009 11:51:40 +0000

My Facebook status update cloud - little concerned to see ‘bummed’ in there out of context…

cloud - Kathryn Bythell | status cloud

theofficeohword: flickflickflicker:annahinks

Thu, 26 Nov 2009 10:54:34 +0000

theofficeohword:

flickflickflicker:annahinks

(via )

Wed, 25 Nov 2009 23:24:20 +0000

(via )

Waiting for Lily Allen

Tue, 24 Nov 2009 20:37:44 +0000

Waiting for Lily Allen

TypeTees - T-shirt: I Listen to Bands That Don’t Even...

Tue, 24 Nov 2009 10:24:24 +0000

TypeTees - T-shirt: I Listen to Bands That Don’t Even Exist Yet.

nickholmes: Parental guidance.

Mon, 23 Nov 2009 20:42:11 +0000

nickholmes:

Parental guidance.

(via nickholmes)

Mon, 23 Nov 2009 13:05:41 +0000

(via nickholmes)

Comics.com

Sun, 22 Nov 2009 23:48:43 +0000

Comics.com

via i.imgur.com Have I already tumbled this?? It’s funny...

Sun, 22 Nov 2009 23:47:00 +0000

via i.imgur.com

Have I already tumbled this?? It’s funny anyway…

Play by spiritualspatula - DPChallenge

Thu, 19 Nov 2009 16:10:14 +0000

Play by spiritualspatula - DPChallenge

Joke:

Thu, 19 Nov 2009 13:00:22 +0000

Two drums and a cymbal fall down the stairs…

Bu-bum tssh.

It’s really more of an audio-joke.

anunreliablewitness: Amidst all the intellectual (and, of course, very middle-class) debate about...

Thu, 19 Nov 2009 10:26:02 +0000

anunreliablewitness:

Amidst all the intellectual (and, of course, very middle-class) debate about how calmly and lucidly Belle de Jour handled her decision, back in 2003, to embark on a (brief) career as a call girl in order fund her PhD studies, and how expertly she has now handled the revelation of her true identity, the other side of the story seems to have been rather forgotten: namely, that prostitution isn’t all ITV-peaktime-high-gloss-airbrushed-drama-starring-Billie-Piper. I’m glad that The Guardian has remembered, at least.

An excellent article.

Awesome lego-ness (via @nodster)!

Thu, 19 Nov 2009 10:19:08 +0000

Awesome lego-ness (via @nodster)!

meaghano: I spent 1994 to 1997 harboring the same unrequited...

Tue, 17 Nov 2009 16:34:14 +0000

meaghano:

I spent 1994 to 1997 harboring the same unrequited crush on a boy who, when he heard, told our entire 4th grade class as we lined up to go back inside after recess, that this couldn’t possibly be true, because “if Meaghan O. liked me, I would be in the bathroom barfing right now.”

“It’s not true!” I yelled out, and wanted to die. I mean, truly wanted to die in a way you don’t really want to die anymore when you grow up. Don’t get me wrong, I want to die all the time still but not in that way. Not in that I am nothing way.

So I was ass over elbows for this kid for pretty much the rest of my adolescence, and eventually we became friends because I sort of leveled up in ~~popularity~~ self-esteem after quitting Girl Scouts and refusing to wear glasses and reading all of my mom’s Anatomy books so that I told everyone I knew everything I knew about fuckin and then got kicked out of the gifted program because I had a mouth like a sailor and was generally too much of a badass. Anyway we became friends and I would write poems about him and he would find out and I would do presentations in class about Madonna songs I considered to be about him and he would sit through them, and I would give him nicknames and send him long notes about how he PLAYED with my HEART and then we would hold hands during Anne Frank and he would tell me I looked really pretty in my new smiley face hair clip but that Michael Fowler was telling all the boys in PE class that I didn’t wear gym shorts under my pleated skirt.

Eventually things escalated and we talked on the phone every night from 4:10 (when he got off the bus and I finished my math homework) until 8pm (when my mom kicked me off the phone because…I…had… been on it for four hours) and when I was grounded he would pretend to have a homework question and we would do our homework out loud and then he would tell me he just did that so he could hear my voice I would hang up and run and sing and skip around the house and my mom would say, Baby, I hate to tell you this, but that ain’t ever gonna happen.

And I probably yelled at her then went and wrote in my diary and made plans to go to the skating rink over Thanksgiving.

We went and we held hands during couples skate to LeeAnn Rimes’ “How Do I Live (without you! srsly!)” but we- well, somehow, at 12, we managed to be in the sort of relationship gray area mostly tailored to people our age now! But much like now I was in no hurry to define things! I didn’t care about lousy titles! I just wanted to hold hands during the sad songs so I knew what it felt like and could yell at my mom that I knew what love was more than she ever would! It was fall of ‘97 and I was literally living out a dream— a dream I had written about for years and years in my stupid diaries and in Petrarchan sonnets rife with simile and forced rhyme, in notes to my stupid friends who would always show them to him on the bus ride home, in elaborate math equations, theonly time i enjoy it, attempting to predict the likelihood of our together forever-ness based on vowels and consonants and dammit our names had so many wonderful E’s! — but he told my friend he wasn’t sure. He was 12 and he liked to hold my hand but he had read my sonnets and he wasn’t sure. He had heard my ideas of “Take a Bow” and all it meant and he wasn’t sure. He could never really know, you see, if he really liked me or if he just liked me because I loved him.

He said we couldn’t be together because he could never love me as much as I loved him.

No seriously, he did. This was like 1997 and he was emotionally unavailable.

Anyway Christmas break came around and I went to Tallahassee to look for our new house and by the time I got back he was GOING OUT with a girl who was in HIGH SCHOOL and the rumor was that he did things to her that Romeo did to Juliet in the Baz Luhrman movie (sorry, couldn’t make that up).

Obviously I cried a lot but it fit perfectly with my overtly tragic (Lurlene McDaniel-influenced) sense of how things would pan out for me in the long run. I wrote him notes that would put a grown man TO SHAME. 10, 20 page notes with the rhetorical skill of Friends, Romans, Countryman but more along the lines of, and I quote, “thank you for teaching me what suck feels like”.

Eventually my rage subsided into deciding to pretend the girl friend didn’t exist and letting him call me every night again and letting him sneak up behind me in the lunchline every day and put his cold chocolate milk up to my cheek to scare me which only worked the first few times but months and months later was something I got excited about in the shower before school. Soon enough we were passing notes again and I taught him how to write block letters and he taught me about the NBA and we’d do all our assignments together and his hand would always be on my thigh before we knew why we liked it and soon we were getting in trouble for ‘giving each other googly eyes’ in class and people called me a whore for flirting with him and people gave him shit for leading me on but i didn’t CARE because here was my dream so we passed note after note after note and I still have most of them and most of them end the same way.

Every time he wrote me a note he would write 8 little ‘lines’ before he signed his name.

He wouldn’t tell me what they meant and I was never really sure but he wrote them every time. He would come over and write them on my math homework, on the margins of my social studies notes, on the cover of my religion book, in white out on his backpack. I went utterly batshit but he never gave in, just smiled and shrugged and made my heart pine for him to such an extreme it’s a wonder I didn’t pass out half the time.

Soon the lines became some other language between us, carving out a little 12 year old Us-Them before we knew that’s what people did; we wrote our names in block letters and we had nicknames for everything and we’d write Mariah Carey song lyrics in tiny writing at the bottom of our letters and I think that was one of the last times I participated in something, in intimacy, before I could name it.

And then one day he told me he broke up with his girl friend.

And then a few days later he told me there were 8 lines because there were 8 letters in I love you.

And then we totally made out.

Home sewing is killing fashion… nickholmes: You know who...

Tue, 17 Nov 2009 15:49:31 +0000

Home sewing is killing fashion…

nickholmes:

You know who you are.

comicbooks: Runaways #25 cover art by Jo Chen

Tue, 17 Nov 2009 15:23:00 +0000

comicbooks:

Runaways #25 cover art by Jo Chen

tanya77: mikehudack: caterpillarcowboy: mdfsmash: An open...

Fri, 13 Nov 2009 13:15:22 +0000

tanya77:

mikehudack:

caterpillarcowboy:

mdfsmash:

An open letter to Stephen Colbert from Miracle Whip, as seen in this morning’s amNewYork:

Dear Mr. Colbert,

Recently on your show, you tapped into a sore spot in our nation’s psyche: the eternal struggle between mayonnaise and Miracle Whip. And surprisingly, for a man of your impeccable intellect, you’ve chosen the wrong side. A side doomed to a painful, drawn-out, utter and complete defeat. Like the Plantagenets in the Hundred Years’ War. Or whichever on was the cat in “Tom and Jerry.”

Mr. Colbert, we found your attacks a little harsh, occasionally funny, and at times, wholly inaccurate (for the record, our target is 18-35, not 34). But unlike most advertisers who are so mayo, who would back down at the slightest whiff of controversy, and pull their advertising from not just your show but from your entire network and all its sister entities – we intend to do the opposite.

On Thursday, November 12, we will dominate the airspace on your show. With every commercial break, your viewers will be exposed to hardcore Miracle Whip attitude and revelry. You will see our legion of (as you call them) “mayonay-sayers” snarfing sandwiches topped with our one-of-a-kind flavor in a very cool and totally hip way. They will be in your face and massively dope. It goes without saying, they WILL NOT TONE IT DOWN. And you will begin to see the soft, bland white walls of the mayo empire begin to collapse under the weight of its own whipped-egg pretentiousness.

Think about it, Mr. Colbert. In a sense, we will own you.

We’re on a mission. We’re taking no prisoners.

We’re raising Hell, man.

THE BOLD MARKETING TEAM AT MIRACLE WHIP

I don’t like mayonnaise or miracle whip, but this is amazing.

hee!

heart-quake: Dream a Little Dream - Anastasia Volkova (15 pics)...

Thu, 12 Nov 2009 11:43:37 +0000

heart-quake:

Dream a Little Dream - Anastasia Volkova (15 pics) - My Modern Metropolis

I don’t effing think so! Road sign from Darwin, Australia...

Thu, 12 Nov 2009 10:40:00 +0000

I don’t effing think so!

Road sign from Darwin, Australia (via @maggot1981)

"Girls, if boys say something that’s not funny, you don’t have to laugh."

Thu, 12 Nov 2009 09:33:11 +0000

“Girls, if boys say something that’s not funny, you don’t have to laugh.”

- Amy Poehler.

(via katespencer)(via leilacohan)(via poteeweet)

(via ostracizinglove)

(via whitmanwalden)