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"If you want to be original, you can count on being copied."

havok-and-turner:

misscharlottebell:

darling-darling-darling:

let’s not be hasty in dismissing 1999 ok

god bless 1999

there’s a horse

nicholasdunnes:

winkbooks:

Dead Inside: Do Not Enter — Notes from the Zombie Apocalypse

Dead Inside: Do Not Enter
by Lost Zombies
Chronicle
2011, 160 pages, 8 x 10 x 0.5 inches
$15 Buy a copy on Amazon

Some of my favorite things about zombie movies are the details of the changed world. The dead grass, broken windows, toppled telephone poles, abandoned cars with missing wheels and trunks left open, boarded-up buildings, spent ammo shells, and other signs of struggle and desperation serve to create a fascinatingly creepy environment.

And that’s why I like Dead Inside: Do Not Enter so much. The book consists entirely of letters, hand-written warnings, and pages torn from journal entries that were written during the zombie pandemic. The notes are on matchbooks, napkins, photographs, advertisements, shopping lists, road maps, scraps of cardboard, and gum wrappers. Some of the notes are written with pen and pencil, others are written with lipstick, burnt wood, crayons, and blood.

The messages of the notes themselves tell the tale of the rise of the zombie pandemic, from tentative, joking questions about a “really bad flu,” escalating to confused panic, and later to grim acceptance of the new reality that the survivors now must live in.

In the introduction to Dead Inside, we learn that these notes had been found in a Dora the Explorer backpack. The first note presented in the book was written by the man who killed the owner of the backpack, a girl who was about 10 years old and had been bitten by a zombie (but had not yet turned into one). The man wrote “I opened her backpack and found all these notes and letters. This stuff is poisonous. No one in their right mind should read it. Reading this is like looking into the sun.” – Mark Frauenfelder

September 16, 2014

hopeheisagentleman

Need this

katara:

124:

photosynthesis… hacked

katara:

124:

photosynthesis… hacked

escapeawkward:

i wonder if there is anyone nervous to talk to me.

onedirectioncutefacts:

onedirectioncutefacts:

a bunch of girls commented their numbers on harry’s instagram pics and i am gonna be that asshole that texts them pretending its harry

image

image

i fucking love myself
ladyfabulous:

fleetwytchmac:

decadentlullaby:

When women used to be depressed or were not “taking care of their men” properly their husbands could send them to the psych ward for attitude adjustments. This was part of conditioning them to always wear a smile. They believed that if a woman saw herself smiling that it would become natural practice and that she would be “cured”. This often went along with shock therapies.

CREEPY.

This gives a whole new level of creepiness to when random men tell you to smile.

ladyfabulous:

fleetwytchmac:

decadentlullaby:

When women used to be depressed or were not “taking care of their men” properly their husbands could send them to the psych ward for attitude adjustments. This was part of conditioning them to always wear a smile. They believed that if a woman saw herself smiling that it would become natural practice and that she would be “cured”. This often went along with shock therapies.

CREEPY.

This gives a whole new level of creepiness to when random men tell you to smile.

gingerblivet:

molecularlifesciences:

angelicinnovator:

Biologists are jerks.

Our sense of humor is infectious. 

This needs to go viral.

gingerblivet:

molecularlifesciences:

angelicinnovator:

Biologists are jerks.

Our sense of humor is infectious. 

This needs to go viral.

shouldnt:

We’ve officially reached that annoying time of year where it’s sweater weather in the morning, but by midday you die from a heatstroke.

My first babe

My first babe