Stole the night

I have no idea.
Eh... this sentence fits me the best and this is what I say most of the time when I have to talk about myself. Of me, orwhat...
People say that in a horror movie I could survive the monsters, a zombie attack and also the murderers but in the end a tourist bus would hit me.

Ask me anything
2:44 PM
March 4th, 2012
10:39 AM
October 14th, 2011
theconsultingbitch:

hecomesinpieces:

thetardis:


..here is a picture of my daughter and a sentient blob of fat.
Yes, that is her in her 10th doctor costume.
This is her in all eleven costumes.

Um.
Best mom EVER.

this is parenting

THIS IS SO CUTE I WANT TO BREED. 


theconsultingbitch:

hecomesinpieces:

thetardis:

..here is a picture of my daughter and a sentient blob of fat.

Yes, that is her in her 10th doctor costume.

This is her in all eleven costumes.

Um.

Best mom EVER.

this is parenting

THIS IS SO CUTE I WANT TO BREED. 

(via doctorwhosexualreview)

9:36 AM
October 8th, 2011

Other People Vs. Me

whereeissthelovee:

rawrragnes:

phuongynguyen:

marry-me-kendall:

snowpikachu:

Dancing sexy:

Other People

Me

Looking Cute:

Other People

Me

Dancing with friends:

Other people

Me

Love life:

Other people

Me

Being sassy:

Other people

Me

Being sad:

Other people

Me

Being mad:

Other people

Me

Being happy:

Other People

Me

The thing is……

Follow me for more giggles!

Gpoy

gpoy

GPOOOOYYYY!!!!

This is me. so fucking me.

(Source: , via potterponder)

5:49 PM
October 7th, 2011



5:49 PM
October 7th, 2011



12:27 PM
October 1st, 2011
10:35 AM
September 17th, 2011
selfinspiration:

The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, by Haruki Murakami


selfinspiration:

The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, by Haruki Murakami

(via dulcetdecember-deactivated20130)

9:20 AM
September 17th, 2011

If you don’t reblog this, then you hate Harry Potter.

I’m obligated as a resident of Earth

FOREVER REBLOG

well, can’t have people think I hate Harry Potter now can I? 

I’m sorry, but my existence obligates me to reblog this. :/

FOREVER REBLOG

Who wouldn’t reblog this?

(Source: lonelyelectrahearts, via potterponder)

5:48 PM
September 16th, 2011
Death’s a funny thing. I used to think it was a big, sudden thing, like a huge owl that would swoop down out of the night and carry you off. I don’t anymore. I think it’s a slow thing. Like a thief who comes to your house day after day, taking a little thing here and a little thing there, and one day you walk round your house and there’s nothing there to keep you, nothing to make you want to stay. And then you lie down and shut up forever. Lots of little deaths until the last big one.
4:38 PM
September 11th, 2011
fuckyeahmoleskines:

nawasaka.tumblr.com


12:04 PM
September 4th, 2011

WAND GIVEAWAY

potterponder:

Hey Im doing a wand giveaway.

What you can win are the three wands shown above, which is Harry, Ron, and Hermione’s wand.

Here are the rules,

1. Must be following me. www.potterponder.tumblr.com

2. Reblog as many times as you want. Likes count.

Giveaway will end October 1st, due to Pottermore.

I will be using random.org.

Good Luck (:

(via humdrum-blues)

12:01 PM
September 4th, 2011



6:49 PM
September 2nd, 2011
doctorevazan:


The Island of the DollsKnown as “La Isla de la Muñecas”, by the Spanish, The Island of the Dolls is  perhaps the creepiest tourist attraction in Mexico. Located within an  extensive network of canals, south of Mexico City, the island is a place  of mystery and superstition.
Almost every tree growing on the island is decorated with old,  mutilated dolls that give anyone the feeling that they’re constantly  being watched. The story behind the Island of the Dolls began when a  hermit by the name of Don Julian Santana moved here. Although he was  married he chose to live the last 50 years of his life alone.
Don Julian used to say he was haunted by the ghost of the little girl  who had drowned in one of the canals around the island. Some say he  used to fish the dolls from the water because he thought they were real  children, but the truth is he was collecting and placing them around his  home as a shrine for the spirit that tormented him. At one point he  even traded home grown fruit and vegetables for old dolls.
Ironically, in 2001 Don Julian Santana was found dead by his nephew,  in the same canal that he said the little girl drowned in. Now his  Island of the Dolls is one of the world’s weirdest tourist attractions.  Some tourists who visited this place claim the dolls whisper and you  must offer them a gift upon setting foot on the island, to appease their  spirits.


doctorevazan:

The Island of the Dolls

Known as “La Isla de la Muñecas”, by the Spanish, The Island of the Dolls is perhaps the creepiest tourist attraction in Mexico. Located within an extensive network of canals, south of Mexico City, the island is a place of mystery and superstition.

Almost every tree growing on the island is decorated with old, mutilated dolls that give anyone the feeling that they’re constantly being watched. The story behind the Island of the Dolls began when a hermit by the name of Don Julian Santana moved here. Although he was married he chose to live the last 50 years of his life alone.

Don Julian used to say he was haunted by the ghost of the little girl who had drowned in one of the canals around the island. Some say he used to fish the dolls from the water because he thought they were real children, but the truth is he was collecting and placing them around his home as a shrine for the spirit that tormented him. At one point he even traded home grown fruit and vegetables for old dolls.

Ironically, in 2001 Don Julian Santana was found dead by his nephew, in the same canal that he said the little girl drowned in. Now his Island of the Dolls is one of the world’s weirdest tourist attractions. Some tourists who visited this place claim the dolls whisper and you must offer them a gift upon setting foot on the island, to appease their spirits.

(via lucroyale)

5:14 PM
September 2nd, 2011



5:01 PM
September 2nd, 2011

Imagine

I didn’t understand the theory.

By the way… waiting for the phone to clank is always the same.
I’m wearing my nerve-endings outside yet… even though a day didn’t pass by since the last one, but every part of meis turned on. My cells are starving for his voice, for his laughter. To tell the truth I’ve turned into a psycho-idiot, who would break one’s head without asking the one who goes near to the phone or even take a half look at it, you know…