The guy sitting in the car parked next to mine looks exactly like Rowan Atkinson
I can’t handle this. I’m staring at him, waiting for him to do something mr. Bean-ish.
I can’t handle this. I’m staring at him, waiting for him to do something mr. Bean-ish.
(Source: hobbithouses, via entergoatman)
My teacher: How often do you go on facebook?
Everyone: OMG CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT IT BLAH BLAH BLAH
Me: I don’t go on Facebook I read
Teacher: good for you!
ME:Yup…
(Source: partycolfer, via notamorningbird)
Got a truly one of a kind experience today. Hanging out with wolves is pretty cool.
(via nupinoop296)
I wrote this for an art prompt, I think, and I’ve lost track of who the artist was or what’s happening with it. So I’m just giving up and posting it, and if anyone recognizes it, cool beans and remind me who you are and what’s going on, please! :}
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Greg found the place easily enough. He’d expected something more…subtle. And true, it didn’t have a neon sign out front. It matched the character of the other houses in the row. It was just three times the size, on the end of the street. The name was on a discreet brass plate, as well as the number 10 on the front pillar, and there was no way he could pretend he hadn’t found the place.
He still didn’t know how he was going to phrase it. He wasn’t sure why he was here. Did he have to ask permission? But they were all adults. Would it not seem insulting to ask the man’s older brother if he could provide voluntary non-official assistance? It was similar to having community support officers, really. Ordinary civilians who got a bit of special training and spent some of their free time helping the police keep the peace. It was just that in this case there would be no training, no uniform, and it would be on an on-call basis. Or something.
(Source: livinforthefunk, via entergoatman)
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