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Who am I? I am a baseball nut. Paily fan. Iowegian farmer's daughter. Flaming liberal. Sunday school teacher. Writer. Pinterest rock star and Willy Wonka wannabe who likes girls. Yeah, that's pretty much it.

npr:

"Casey At The Bat," the poem by Ernest Lawrence Thayer, was first published in the San Francisco Examiner 126 years ago today. 
Last year on June 3rd, Frank Deford paid tribute to the poem. Listen here.
— Lauren 
(Image via)

npr:

"Casey At The Bat," the poem by Ernest Lawrence Thayer, was first published in the San Francisco Examiner 126 years ago today

Last year on June 3rd, Frank Deford paid tribute to the poem. Listen here.

— Lauren 

(Image via)

(via scholasticreadingclub)

inothernews:

millionmovieproject:

No cut-aways, one take.
Crew members threatened to quit and begged him not to do it.
The cameraman looked away while rolling.
A six ton prop.
It brushes his arm as it comes down.
And he doesn’t even flinch.

Buster fucking Keaton, everyone.

inothernews:

millionmovieproject:

No cut-aways, one take.

Crew members threatened to quit and begged him not to do it.

The cameraman looked away while rolling.

A six ton prop.

It brushes his arm as it comes down.

And he doesn’t even flinch.

Buster fucking Keaton, everyone.

(Source: questcequecestqueca)

inothernews:

Here’s a photo, taken from the side, of this famous scene from 1928’s Steamboat Bill, Jr. (via MentalFloss)

inothernews:

Here’s a photo, taken from the side, of this famous scene from 1928’s Steamboat Bill, Jr. (via MentalFloss)

humansofnewyork:

“One time we were driving through Italy, and we were listening to a radio station that played nothing but melodramatic Italian love songs. So we started inventing translations. The stories we made up kept getting more and more ridiculous, and the laughter kept escalating until soon we were both in tears.”

humansofnewyork:

“One time we were driving through Italy, and we were listening to a radio station that played nothing but melodramatic Italian love songs. So we started inventing translations. The stories we made up kept getting more and more ridiculous, and the laughter kept escalating until soon we were both in tears.”

I want your Monday morning
sleep soaked eyes
dream drenched voice,
lazy bones
‘five more minutes please babe.’

I want your Tuesday afternoon
coffee break,
glasses off, laughter on
‘just hold me for a while
it’s been a hard day.’

I want your Wednesday evening
fingers through hair
teeth nibbling nails
neck craning, eye glazing
‘this paperwork never ends’

I want your Thursday night
drinks for two
bones unbind
muscles let loose
flats, slacks,
‘just me and you’

I want your finally Friday
stretch soul smile,
sun sipping light
from the glaciers in your eyes
fingers unfurl, hand extends
‘c’mon babe, lets go wild’

I want your weekend.
your movie marathon Saturday
reading by the fireplace
kissing in the blankets
want your Sunday morning
orange juice and pancakes
white sheets, tender skin
hair like the Fourth of July
‘let’s not get out of bed today.’

I want your ordinary
and your stress, rest, release
I want your bad day and that terrible night
I want you drunk in my arms
forgetting the place but never my name
I want your lazy and your lonely
and your fist full of fight
I want you everyday
in every way
for the rest of my life.

_

On Both Knees | alfaazkibarsaaat 

 

(via anatomyofapology)

(via amottalicious)

cracked:

On [edited] Wisconsin! On [edited] Wisconsin! #CrackedClassic
24 Famous Photos You Won’t Believe Were Fake

cracked:

On [edited] Wisconsin! On [edited] Wisconsin! #CrackedClassic

24 Famous Photos You Won’t Believe Were Fake

italianworldtraveler:

This is a depression awareness campaign @ uiowa, the backpacks all represent individuals personal accounts of dealing with the disease. Really proud of my campus today :)

(via fuckyeahiowacity)

Is it possible to love someone you’ve never met? And have the kind of love grown ups have?