[Flash 10 is required to watch video]

Awww my Dad just texted this video to me and it melted my heart into goo.

a) he’s finally getting a grasp of technology!

b) hahaha my teenage step-brother’s ridiculous car!

b) I love that he hung out in the backyard alone and took a video of Willow and Nitro- just the thought of him doing that is adorable (him muttering things in the background, bahaha, oh Dad…)

Happy Sunday to you too, D!

Aaaand the cherry on top of an awesome weekend away is coming home to full-blown spring at home, sunny and warm(ish, let’s not get ahead of ourselves) with the air smelling like sea salt and cherry blossoms and new greenery, to my rad little home which I share with my best and then swapping pictures of the epic meals we made over the holiday. 

Aaaand the cherry on top of an awesome weekend away is coming home to full-blown spring at home, sunny and warm(ish, let’s not get ahead of ourselves) with the air smelling like sea salt and cherry blossoms and new greenery, to my rad little home which I share with my best and then swapping pictures of the epic meals we made over the holiday. 

Reblogged from Leksicon

The Tutu Project by Bob Carey

“The Tutu Project began in 2003 as a lark. I mean, really, think of it. Me photographing myself in a pink tutu, how crazy is that?

But nine years ago my wife, Linda, and I moved to the East Coast and, as odd as it may sound, the self-portraits proved to be a perfect way of expressing myself. Why? Because even though the move was exciting, exhilarating, and inspiring, it was 180 degrees from what I knew. So I took the old, mixed it in with the new, and the kept the tutu handy.

Six months after the move, Linda, was diagnosed with breast cancer. She beat it, only to have it recur in 2006. During these past nine years, I’ve been in awe of her power, her beauty, and her spirit. Oddly enough, her cancer has taught us that life is good, dealing with it can be hard, and sometimes the very best thing—no, the only thing—we can do to face another day is to laugh at ourselves, and share a laugh with others.

Enter Ballerina, the book. Not only is it a collection of my tutu images, it also shares many humorous stories about the adventures of a guy and his pink tulle. So far, there has been a tremendous response to the series of photos—people are particularly moved by the images. And their interest and enthusiasm have made us want to share that experience with as many people as possible in the form of a book, so that we can raise money to help other women who have been diagnosed with breast cancer.

This autumn, I will self-publish Ballerina. The net proceeds from the sale of the book will go directly to breast cancer organizations, including Cancercare.org and the Beth Israel Department of Integrative Medicine Fund, that make significant differences in the lives of women with breast cancer and in the people who love them. Our goal is to raise $75,000. But we need your help to seed the project so it will take root and grow—and positively affect these families.” (via, brain-food:)

Reblogged from Kyoko has a blog
I think Valentines Day is complete bollosky. It’s not even because I’ve had too many ‘sad-single’ V-Days- on the contrary, more often than not I’ve been in a long term relationship on the dreaded V. Still have always found it insufferably stupid with the hearts and the candy and the flowers…
So I’ll leave you kittens with this passage from the Velveteen Rabbit. Let’s use this V(elociraptor) Day to celebrate the people we love in our life- whether they be romantic partners or family or the best friends a soul could ask for.
Natarat, Meggy Boo, Gilly Lou, Cozwaza, Deebs, this one’s for you.


My favorite passage on love. From the Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams.“What is REAL?” asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. “Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?” “Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.” “Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit. “Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.” “Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,” he asked, “or bit by bit?” “It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”
Image Via: MaggieCakes

I think Valentines Day is complete bollosky. It’s not even because I’ve had too many ‘sad-single’ V-Days- on the contrary, more often than not I’ve been in a long term relationship on the dreaded V. Still have always found it insufferably stupid with the hearts and the candy and the flowers…

So I’ll leave you kittens with this passage from the Velveteen Rabbit. Let’s use this V(elociraptor) Day to celebrate the people we love in our life- whether they be romantic partners or family or the best friends a soul could ask for.

Natarat, Meggy Boo, Gilly Lou, Cozwaza, Deebs, this one’s for you.

My favorite passage on love. From the Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams.

“What is REAL?” asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. “Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?”

“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.”

“Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit.

“Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.”

“Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,” he asked, “or bit by bit?”

“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”

Image Via: MaggieCakes

Reblogged from etymologie
Reblogged from
Apparently I did this last night. After several cocktails and a few bottles of wine and some kind of bizarre turnip liqueur (?) shared with Coz, Deebs and Brett at Chambar we stumbled home where I wrote a messy scribbled love note to him and left it next to the computer to be found this morning over breakfast. Awww, drunk lolavox is cute. I have no recollection of writing the note but it is unquestionably my writing.
suicideblonde:

Homer’s love letter postcard to Marge

Apparently I did this last night. After several cocktails and a few bottles of wine and some kind of bizarre turnip liqueur (?) shared with Coz, Deebs and Brett at Chambar we stumbled home where I wrote a messy scribbled love note to him and left it next to the computer to be found this morning over breakfast. Awww, drunk lolavox is cute. I have no recollection of writing the note but it is unquestionably my writing.

suicideblonde:

Homer’s love letter postcard to Marge

Reblogged from Bohemea
Dear Coz,
This past year’s been pretty much the best. You give my heart a total boner. Here’s to another one, and maybe a few more after that.
love, lolavox

Dear Coz,

This past year’s been pretty much the best. You give my heart a total boner. Here’s to another one, and maybe a few more after that.

love, lolavox

Reblogged from The Bluth Company
Yeah. Gross.
theslyestfox:

Yeah. Gross.

theslyestfox:

Reblogged from fistful of sparklers.
Hey, remember when you could date someone for an extended period of time without people expecting anything from the two of you? Like you could say sweeping romantic crap like ‘wahhh, I’ll love you forever and have a million zillion babies and we’ll both be millionaires at age 22’ and almost kind of sort of mean it but no one started picking out baby clothes for you because that’s a ridiculous pre-emptive thing to do.
Somewhere between then and now things shifted and I’ve been somehow deemed a terminal spinster and (now that I’m in a serious relationship) a “don’t worry, it’ll happen for you someday” girl. BARF.
I’m still in my twenties, jerkwads. Believe it or not, I’m not in a race to become a middle aged stick in the mud like some people. I’m not saying getting married automatically makes you boring, of course, but I’d like to think that if it ever happens I will still be able to carry on coherent and interesting conversations about something other than fucking drapery samples.
Sorry for the rant but I just hate that this has become such a THING (thanks, holidays). I’m not against getting married but if you all put so much pressure on me all the the time about how it SHOULD be happening, I do learn to kind of dread and resent the whole institution. It’s become like an elephant in the room. An elephant who is holding a gun to my head (how he would operate such a weapon without fingers is not the point). And, in the ‘traditional woman’ sense, all I can do is just like… sit and brace myself and wait for the moment it happens? Gross. Euck.
I love my boyfriend to bits and pieces but this whole engagement anvil looming over my head is really starting to skeeve me out. Why do people think it’s okay to openly speculate about this stuff? Fuck tradition, let’s just live happily in sin forever. Or I’ll ask you to marry me. Or we can just go down to the courthouse and git ‘er done.
eriebasin: 1930s Art Deco C.D. Peacock ~0.40ct European Cut Diamond Ring, Platinum (in the online shop) 

Hey, remember when you could date someone for an extended period of time without people expecting anything from the two of you? Like you could say sweeping romantic crap like ‘wahhh, I’ll love you forever and have a million zillion babies and we’ll both be millionaires at age 22’ and almost kind of sort of mean it but no one started picking out baby clothes for you because that’s a ridiculous pre-emptive thing to do.

Somewhere between then and now things shifted and I’ve been somehow deemed a terminal spinster and (now that I’m in a serious relationship) a “don’t worry, it’ll happen for you someday” girl. BARF.

I’m still in my twenties, jerkwads. Believe it or not, I’m not in a race to become a middle aged stick in the mud like some people. I’m not saying getting married automatically makes you boring, of course, but I’d like to think that if it ever happens I will still be able to carry on coherent and interesting conversations about something other than fucking drapery samples.

Sorry for the rant but I just hate that this has become such a THING (thanks, holidays). I’m not against getting married but if you all put so much pressure on me all the the time about how it SHOULD be happening, I do learn to kind of dread and resent the whole institution. It’s become like an elephant in the room. An elephant who is holding a gun to my head (how he would operate such a weapon without fingers is not the point). And, in the ‘traditional woman’ sense, all I can do is just like… sit and brace myself and wait for the moment it happens? Gross. Euck.

I love my boyfriend to bits and pieces but this whole engagement anvil looming over my head is really starting to skeeve me out. Why do people think it’s okay to openly speculate about this stuff? Fuck tradition, let’s just live happily in sin forever. Or I’ll ask you to marry me. Or we can just go down to the courthouse and git ‘er done.

eriebasin: 1930s Art Deco C.D. Peacock ~0.40ct European Cut Diamond Ring, Platinum (in the online shop

Reblogged from ERIE BASIN | tumblr

Christmas was really exhausting this year, guys.

I love my family to utter bits and pieces, god do I have the best family ever (Meems, Moo, Dad, Oma, Coz…) It was just… really trying. I think I am the only one who loves this time of year. And tomorrow is my birthday (well, in a couple hours). 

This has been one of the best years of my entire life, so it truly doesn’t matter that Christmas week was… weak. Happy freaking birthday to me, because at the end of the day I don’t care whether we get along or not or if people make cheese dip or drink pumpkin wine- you quirky bastards are all the best things to ever happen to me. So suck it. Merry fucking Christmas, kids. I love you all so SO much. (you too tumblies!!!)

Reblogged from That Kind Of Woman