1 Notes

Prince helps man break up with his girlfriend on Arsenio Hall Show

"In this relationship, things are much harder than in the single world. Keegan, in this life you’re on your own. Keegan, this is what it sounds like when Steven breaks up with you."

111 Notes

13807 Notes

22 Notes

3362 Notes

Oh Gilmores <3 

56 Notes

19991 Notes

I want to stress this again: In many, many parts of the country right now, if you want to go to see a movie in the theater and see a current movie about a woman — any story about any woman that isn’t a documentary or a cartoon — you can’t. You cannot. There are not any. You cannot take yourself to one, take your friend to one, take your daughter to one.

There are not any.

By far your best shot, numbers-wise, at finding one that’s at least even-handedly featuring a man and a woman is Before Midnight (on 891 screens) so I hope you like it. Because it’s pretty much that or a solid, impenetrable wall of movies about dudes.

Dudes in capes, dudes in cars, dudes in space, dudes drinking, dudes smoking, dudes doing magic tricks, dudes being funny, dudes being dramatic, dudes flying through the air, dudes blowing up, dudes getting killed, dudes saving and kissing women and children, and dudes glowering at each other.

Somebody asked me this morning what “the women” are going to do about this. I don’t know. I honestly am at the point where I have no idea what to do about it. Stop going to the movies? Boycott everything?

They put up Bridesmaids, we went. They put up Pitch Perfect, we went. They put up The Devil Wears Prada, which was in two-thousand-meryl-streeping-oh-six, and we went (and by “we,” I do not just mean women; I mean we, the humans), and all of it has led right here, right to this place. Right to the land of zippedy-doo-dah. You can apparently make an endless collection of high-priced action flops and everybody says “win some, lose some” and nobody decides that They Are Poison, but it feels like every “surprise success” about women is an anomaly and every failure is an abject lesson about how we really ought to just leave it all to The Rock.

At The Movies, The Women Are Gone : Monkey See : NPR

The whole article is fantastic, as is pretty much everything Linda Holmes writes.

(via kdhart)

Linda is my pop culture queen.

(via laughterkey)

258967 Notes


watch both their faces go from “courteous TV smile” to “not paid enough for this bullshit”

17 Notes

I wish there was more of a celebration of getting older.

Winona Ryder [x]

P.S. The awesome Helen Mirren is her landlady!

88 Notes

629 plays

Fuschia Light



Prince - Fuschia Light (Unreleased track from ‘88)

Over your shoulder & over my head, pretty fuschia light shines in our bed. It makes me touch you better than I normally would, it makes me touch you more & that makes its good.

1 Notes

16 Notes


Goddamn goddamn GODDAMN watermelon daddy daddy.

6015 Notes

I think everything in life is art. What you do. How you dress. The way you love someone, and how you talk. Your smile and your personality. What you believe in, and all your dreams. The way you drink your tea. How you decorate your home. Or party. Your grocery list. The food you make. How your writing looks. And the way you feel. Life is art.
Helena Bonham Carter (via bobbycaputo)

499759 Notes



  • finding someone aesthetically pleasing
  • being sexually attracted to someone
  • being romantically attracted to someone

Truth! It might take a while to figure this out, but once you do it makes life a little richer. 

1117 Notes

Don’t touch women and don’t talk to them.


Last night after the No Regrets event I took the F home and there were two incredibly drunk guys in my car, middle-aged white guys in button-down shirts, not young fratty bros.  They were hugging a pole in the middle of the crowded car, talking to each other loudly, moving unsteadily, slurring their words. I was worried, like I am 50% of the time on the subway at night, that vomit might happen on or near me. But they were only bothering each other, til they started talking to a woman who was sitting in the outer seat of a two-seat facing them, effectively underneath them, such that to talk to her one of them had to put his hand on the metal pole right behind her head so that he was sort of crouching over her. She had big, obvious neon green headphones on and I couldn’t see her face because of the direction her seat was facing. And she had a book open, but they were talking to her anyway. I couldn’t hear anything she said. She laughed at one point but to me it sounded like an uncomfortable laugh. Everyone else in the car was looking at these guys, looking at her, looking at each other, saying nothing. And then the louder of the two guys I guess wanted to get her attention because maybe she went back to her book and stopped nervously appeasing him so he reached over and touched her shoulder, not hard, just like “hey,”

DON’T TOUCH HER, I screamed.

"Whuh? Hey, I’m just … mind your business, we’re just talking," or whatever nonsense, he slurred.


He protested, he called me “McSweeney’s” (!!) and he called me some other names, including, of course, “crazy,”  But other women in the car chimed in, telling him to lay off, back off, calm down. And I got off at the next stop, so I don’t know what else happened.