Now that’s a towel that’s seen the Galaxy… ;) (Taken with instagram)

that ‘Connecticut’ is an old, Native American word that really means “residents can’t fucking drive for shit.”

Professional game show contestant

Game show host

Unindicted co-conspiritor

Leg-breaker for Doug and Dinsdale Piranha

Member of the U. S. Olympic drinking team (Hey!  It can happen!)

Head of Quality Control for Hendrick’s Gin

Hurricane/storm namer

Hurricane/storm surfer

Auxiliary member of the A-Team

Emma Peel

Ballerina

Wine taster

Really cool superheroine

Serge (or Coleman)

Candy creator

Patsy (or Eddy)

Rowan Atkinson’s second wife (;p) ‘straight man’

Test driver for Aston Martin’s consumer division

Driver for Aston Martin Racing

Race horse owner

Me: “Dad! What ship were you on in Vietnam?!”
Dad: “The ‘Ticonderoga.’ (puzzled) Why?…”
Me: “Was the ‘Bon Homme Richard’ in the same fleet?!”
Dad: (even more puzzled) “Yeah…”
Me: “Do you know who the admiral of that ship was?!”
Dad: “Enlighten me…”
Me: “JIM MORRISON’S DAD! YOU SERVED WITH JIM MORRISON’S DAD!”
Dad: “So how many degrees of separation does that make between me and the Lizard King?”

“You can get away with wearing just your underwear. You can get away with vomiting on yourself. You can even get away with screaming insane shit at me. But, for the love of Christ, not all three at the same time.”

-The most easygoing bartender on planet Earth laying down the law at the Troubadour Lounge  

(From Modern Drunkard Magazine http://www.drunkard.com/)

Somehow, in my life, having an organised handbag is equal to knowing where my towel is.

I would like to suggest that all of the opponents of gay marriage who have married and divorced with the same consideration and frequency that most of the population swaps out their underwear, should please fornicate off and die. Or at least, fornicate off.

Summer nights and long warm days 
Are stolen as the old moon falls 
And the mirror shows another face 
Another place to hide it all 
Another place to hide it all 

And I’m lost, behind 
The words I’ll never find 
And I’m left behind 
As the seasons roll on by 

Sleeping with a full moon blanket 
Sand and feathers for my head 
Dreams have never been the answer 
And dreams have never made my bed 
Dreams have never made my bed 

And I’m lost, behind 
The words I’ll never find 
And I’m left behind 
As seasons roll on by 

Now I wanna fly above the storm 
But you can’t grow feathers in the rain 
And the naked floor is cold as hell 
The naked floor reminds me 
The naked floor reminds me 

And I’m lost, behind 
The words I’ll never find 
And I’m left behind 
As the seasons roll on by 

If I should be short on words 
And long on things to say 
Could you crawl into my world 
And take me worlds away 
Should I be beside myself 
And not even stay 

And I’m lost, behind 
Words I’ll never find 
And I’m left behind 
As seasons roll on by 

“Seasons”, by Chris Cornell

fabforgottennobility:

Agnese by Gianpietro Brugnoli / Gianpib