How to Marry a Millionaire (1953)

#jobinterviewlooks

How to Marry a Millionaire (1953)

#jobinterviewlooks

(Source: bunnyhepburn, via bellecs)

@4 months ago with 2915 notes
@6 months ago with 15753 notes

I always buy my medications/vitamins/general pharmaceutical needs at CVS.

However, I always purchase my condoms and lubricants at Walgreen’s because I don’t want a cashier to see me purchase wine, sleeping pills and Astroglide in the same transaction,

Fortunately, there’s always a Walgreen’s just across the street from a CVS so my neurosis hasn’t been all that inconvenient.

@6 months ago with 2 notes

Elevators that are wide enough to accommodate a gurney scare me. Children’s hospitals scare me. Reviewing the last will and testaments of family members scares me. Imagining losing control over my body or mind scares me. Imagining having my Achilles’ tendon cut scares me. Turning left in intersections scares me. Heights scare me. Death by cold scares me. The near-impossible likelihood of this planet colliding with anything scares me. The idea of the Yellowstone caldera erupting and threatening life on this planet scares me. The lightless basement of the abandoned meatpacking plant scares me. The words on the walls “If I had a dime for every time my spine tingled” scare me.

Knowing that one day, there is a very likely chance that my grandmother could forget my name scares me. Knowing that I could follow in the same route scares me.

I’m willing to brave these fears. To not only stand my ground but to assert myself, to run without fear and restraint in the void, in the silent, black, gaping maw of an empty universe, empty of meaning and direction, chaotically tumbling on a haywire compass towards nothing…

It’s like being in that basement. Cold. Wet. Your very presence echoing on disintegrating concrete walls and pillars, under the weight of a butcher’s complex. If I had a dime.

I am able to take these fears… Because I live in this world, in this body, in this bright life… where the manager of Whataburger gives me free gravy for my fries.

Thanks Michelle.

@6 months ago with 2 notes
#Me #Fear #Whataburger 
Is this Cazwell? This seems like this should be Cazwell.

Is this Cazwell? This seems like this should be Cazwell.

(Source: louisxxviii, via assicles-deactivated20140422)

@6 months ago with 27021 notes

While playing Bioshock Infinite’s DLC, Burial at Sea, my character encountered a diner in which Patsy Cline’s “She’s Got You” is playing on a jukebox and immediately caught upon a flaw. You are currently playing on December 31st, 1958, mere hours before the New Years Riots in the Kashmir Restaurant. Andrew Ryan cut contact from the surface world in 1951 after the completion of the underwater city of Rapture. Patsy Cline didn’t record this song until the early 1960’s. EVEN THOUGH Frank Fontaine and his crew of cronies were smuggling in contraband items from the surface world, it is literally impossible for this track to have been playing due to the simple fact that it had not yet been recorded. This of course, negates the all-too-obvious “multiple universe/time-travel/tear” concept which could have technically allowed Elizabeth to open a tear into a universe in which Rapture is privy to have Patsy Cline. However, this seems a little too much like a lazy deus ex machina. 

Truthfully, I would be completely alright with this snafu if Ken Levine and the rest of the development team explain that they simply did it for the Vampira eyebrows.

Just behold them.

Patsy Cline. Eyebrow game on difficulty: expert level first person shooter.

@7 months ago with 3 notes
#Patsy Cline #Bioshock #Bioshock Infinite #Burial at Sea #Rapture 

Although, really… campy, gay-enabling, cougar queen Eartha was best Eartha.

@8 months ago with 4 notes
#Eartha Kitt #I Love Men #Videos 
Pitbull is looking pretty alright for being a 33 year old rapper whose only shtick is muttering incomprehensible horny Spanish into the ears of intoxicated barely-legal blondies. Sexy. Miami. Sexy ladies. Mr. Worldwide. Miami. Sexy. Churro.

Pitbull is looking pretty alright for being a 33 year old rapper whose only shtick is muttering incomprehensible horny Spanish into the ears of intoxicated barely-legal blondies. 

Sexy. Miami. Sexy ladies. Mr. Worldwide. Miami. Sexy. Churro.

@8 months ago
#Pitbull #Ke$ha #Timber 

Tonight, a friend invited me to a meet and greet of Miley Cyrus and Icona Pop after the concert tomorrow night. Given that I’m not going to the concert, I have no real desire to actually go to this after-party.

HOWEVER

I could use this opportunity to go all out. Arrive on scene as a crazed Hannah Montana fan. Long blonde wig and tear-stained makeup. I’d pull a pistol out of my $14.99 Wal*mart Hannah Montana backpack and fire wildly towards Miley. Through the tears and sobs, I’d choke on the words "Where did you go wrong Miley?! Why did you leave us?! Why did you change?!"

Miley would have a martyr’s funeral. She would forever be misappropriated as a symbol of teenage rebellion and its subsequent suppression. T-shirts. A somber, funeral ode translation of "We Can’t Stop" would be played against a slideshow of her growth from Disney pop princess to renegade rampant harlot. Billy Ray would use this tragedy to further springboard his career in his desperate cry to maintain relevance.

The case study would be a long and intensive study into fan psychosis. They would study my actions, my speech patterns. They will visit my apartment which will seem like a perfect time capsule from the date that Hannah Montana was canceled on Disney. As if I blocked out any and all mainstream influence since 2011. They would discover a hidden room, filled to the brim with Miley paraphernalia. A shrine. They would discover that I would spend hours upon hours, listening to "The Climb" on repeat while whipping myself with the cord of my Hannah Montana hair-straightener. Chanting ritualistically "It’s the climb! It’s the climb! Miley Cyrus must die."

I would be imprisoned for life, easily. Imagine the scene from the end of Psycho, in which Norman Bates stares lifelessly into the camera. I would no longer be Cliff Johnson. Cliff Johnson is gone.

I’m Leslie.

And she’s just being Miley.

@6 months ago with 2 notes
Posting this as a casual reminder to use this GIF the very next time I get a physical.

Posting this as a casual reminder to use this GIF the very next time I get a physical.

@6 months ago with 25 notes
#David Bowie #Labyrinth #Film 
In the film Jumanji, 12 year old Alan Parrish plays a board game that ultimately banishes to live in the deep jungle for 26 years, aging him to 38 years old, later finishing the game and returning to his 12 year old self having none of the age but all of the memories and experience, developing his character immensely.He gathers a newfound respect for his father’s strict personal standards. He probably learns to face his bullies, as he later marries Sarah and inherits his father’s mansion. I’d assume he’d also be the most tenacious boy scout in the history of New England. 26 years of jungle life has taught him the most dire and daring survival tactics.Or so it would seem.Has anybody even considered how absolutely fucked up this premise is? This vanilla suburban boy has been transported, fish out of water, to live in the jungle for almost 3 decades. Literally vaporized. Like an even more horrific version of the the transportation scene from Willy Wonka, he is broken down to an atomic level and rearranged, particle by particle, into a jungle with no exit, no escape. Even after he’s adapted to the initial shock of his new environment, he is still kept on his toes! Between the carnivorous plants, the watermelon-sized spiders and a bloodthirsty huntsman/pseudo-representation of his father, Alan could not possibly get a moment’s rest.Stampedes. Monsoons. Poisonous mosquitos with the sucking power of a goddamned Hoover.26 years of trauma are not absolved because you won a board game. 26 years of heightened prey psychosis do not disappear in an instance.He would still sleep with one eye open. He would still hear the drums in the dead of night.Truthfully, he probably ended up being institutionalized… y’know… after he stabbed his mother for merely checking in on him while he was sleeping.

In the film Jumanji, 12 year old Alan Parrish plays a board game that ultimately banishes to live in the deep jungle for 26 years, aging him to 38 years old, later finishing the game and returning to his 12 year old self having none of the age but all of the memories and experience, developing his character immensely.

He gathers a newfound respect for his father’s strict personal standards. He probably learns to face his bullies, as he later marries Sarah and inherits his father’s mansion. I’d assume he’d also be the most tenacious boy scout in the history of New England. 26 years of jungle life has taught him the most dire and daring survival tactics.

Or so it would seem.

Has anybody even considered how absolutely fucked up this premise is? This vanilla suburban boy has been transported, fish out of water, to live in the jungle for almost 3 decades. Literally vaporized. Like an even more horrific version of the the transportation scene from Willy Wonka, he is broken down to an atomic level and rearranged, particle by particle, into a jungle with no exit, no escape. Even after he’s adapted to the initial shock of his new environment, he is still kept on his toes! Between the carnivorous plants, the watermelon-sized spiders and a bloodthirsty huntsman/pseudo-representation of his father, Alan could not possibly get a moment’s rest.

Stampedes. Monsoons. Poisonous mosquitos with the sucking power of a goddamned Hoover.

26 years of trauma are not absolved because you won a board game. 26 years of heightened prey psychosis do not disappear in an instance.

He would still sleep with one eye open. He would still hear the drums in the dead of night.

Truthfully, he probably ended up being institutionalized… y’know… after he stabbed his mother for merely checking in on him while he was sleeping.

@6 months ago with 2 notes
#Jumanji #Film 
Oscars Party on Sunday.
Welcome to Night Vale Live in Dallas on March 14th.Color Me Rad Run on April 5th.London trek when ever all of my passport rigmarole sorts itself out.Moving into a new place in May.Dolly Parton at Winstar on May 31.So very ready for this very intense spring!

Oscars Party on Sunday.

Welcome to Night Vale Live in Dallas on March 14th.

Color Me Rad Run on April 5th.

London trek when ever all of my passport rigmarole sorts itself out.

Moving into a new place in May.

Dolly Parton at Winstar on May 31.

So very ready for this very intense spring!

@6 months ago with 1 note
#Me 
Showed up to work 3 hours early, running on about 2 hours of sleep, aided by lethal amounts of caffeine and a soundtrack that would wake Shirley Temple from the dead and force her to spastically tap-dance her carcass. Ended up going from Ambien chic to tinfoil-hat schizo-edged within 15 minutes. Thank you chemical dependency!

Showed up to work 3 hours early, running on about 2 hours of sleep, aided by lethal amounts of caffeine and a soundtrack that would wake Shirley Temple from the dead and force her to spastically tap-dance her carcass. Ended up going from Ambien chic to tinfoil-hat schizo-edged within 15 minutes. Thank you chemical dependency!

@7 months ago with 2 notes
#Me 
I’ve spent my evening with wine and Pat Benatar while reading about Mesoamerican ball games. An adequate cab and “Love is a Battlefield” seemed like the perfect ambiance for Mayan blood sports, really. Like Diana Ross & the Supremes just stacks brilliantly alongside zombie-slaying video games.

I’ve spent my evening with wine and Pat Benatar while reading about Mesoamerican ball games. An adequate cab and “Love is a Battlefield” seemed like the perfect ambiance for Mayan blood sports, really. Like Diana Ross & the Supremes just stacks brilliantly alongside zombie-slaying video games.

@8 months ago with 2 notes
#Me 

Today would have been Eartha Kitt’s 87th birthday. And really, her philosophy was the best philosophy.

@8 months ago with 36 notes
#Eartha Kitt #Love #Videos