I have one foot in the grave but in a kind of fun flirty way, the way one might slip on a fishnet stocking

Are you fucking stupid.

I mean broadly yeah but what prompted you to ask

Albanian women’s coats and jackets

1. early 20th century 2. jacket, 1875-1900 3-4. 1900

assuming an average body weight of 8 lbs this bitch can stomp you with 40 lbs of force in less time than the blink of an eye. we stan

Secretary birds as antifascist symbol

OH

reblog to keep cotton eyed joe sealed away

he really did just call him up and say she’s gonna fuck the fishman didnt he 

confirmed

Doug Jones is to Guillermo Del Toro as Helena Bonham Carter is to Tim Burton

the holy trinity

Cell Block Tango: *Plays*

My thoughts for the next 7 minutes:

Anyone have the gif’s of the Chilean goalkeeper Christiane Endler lifting two of her teammates with ease.

I need them for um reasons lol

Let’s take a look at it one more time

Just so we’re clear about what an absolute unit this woman is

Update: She can actually hold up three team mates.

someone had to say it

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we really dont fuck around and wake ancient gods enough 

well, maybe YOU don’t

Wasserspeier am Freiburger Münster

WINTER IS A BAD TIME.

What it feels like to chew 5 Gum

IT’S MY FAVORITE GARGOYLE BACK AGAIN FOR WINTERTIME.

I want to know the exact conversation that lead to the creation of this abomination

Ye olde German architect: “ok, it’s time to put in the rainspouts and last night I was out with the lads and Hans had too much and the point is I had the FUNNIEST idea…” *Holds up drawing*

Ye olde German Architect Supervisor: * snorts beer out of his nose.* “YES. BUILD IT IMMEDIATELY.”

That’s gussy babe

Sooooo I just came back from studying in Freiburg and went on a tour of the Münster with a historian who knew all of the insider secrets and the story is even better than you think. 

It took more than 300 years to build the Freiburger Münster (1200s-1500s), so they went through a lot of architects and people who paid those architects. Some of the patrons were dicks and one of those dicks lived in a house right next to the Münster. The asshat kept demanding they work faster and changed his mind every five hours about what he wanted and THEN he refused to pay the architects because he wasn’t happy with what they’d done. 

That really pissed the builders off so in retaliation, the head architect built the butt gargoyle facing his house so that every morning for the rest of his life, when the dick looked out his window at the Münster, he’d have to look at a gargoyle butt.

So, the defecating gargoyle is a big fat “fuck you” to someone’s dick of a boss that has survived 500 years and two world wars 

*standing ovation*

Kentucky Gothic

•There is no blue grass here.  The grass is green.  Grass is always green.  Even the bluegrass is green.  We don’t know why.

•The sun shines bright on our old Kentucky home.  The rain pummels it five minutes later.  The sun comes out even sooner.  A tornado can be seen from the distance.  It’s practically picnic weather.

•Look out at the corn field; now it is a strip mall.  The fields get smaller and smaller.  Farmers are baffled.  Who keeps planting all of these stores?  Everyone blames Indiana.

•Sinkholes are everywhere.  The house next door is gone now.   Only a hole remains.  Bless their heart.  They had it coming.

•They say Frankfort is the capital.  Nobody has ever seen Frankfort.  It is so small.  We have lost Frankfort.  We have found the Confederate capital, Bowling Green.  It wasn’t hard to find; they never shut up about being the Confederate capital.

•It is impossible to see anything. Is that a giant fog? No, it is cigarette smoke. I thought this was a no smoking establishment. Where’s the sign? Oh wait, I can’t see it. Maybe it was never there. Only the smoke remains.

•That is not how you pronounce Versailles.  Nobody knows how to pronounce Versailles in Kentucky. They are forever cursed to pronounce it as “ver-sales”.  Bless their hearts.

•I have been in Lexington for a week.  I am still in Lexington.  I thought I left yesterday.  A month has passed.  There is no end to this place.  A horse prances in the distance, signalling my doom.  I am trapped here for eternity.

•I don’t know where Louisville ends and Jeffersonville begins.  Am I in Kentucky?  Am I in Indiana?  Everyone sounds the same.  I can’t tell.  I sip my sweet tea in agony.  This isn’t sweet tea.  This is a mint julep.  I cry into the glass.  Bless my heart.