Simple, yet entertaining .

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Tue, 21 May 2013 00:39:15 -0400

juliafreakingvu: prettying: Being a girlfriend. Being a...

Sun, 12 May 2013 15:17:46 -0400

prettying:

Being a girlfriend.

Being a girlfriend is not just about being beautiful and attractive for your guy. It’s not just about letting him chase you, letting him do sweet things every time you’re mad at him and not just receiving flowers and gifts during your anniversaries. It’s not about doing those girly things just to get his attention and not just about feeling mighty every time he did everything you want. It’s also being an emotional partner wherein you support him in every opportunity that he takes, you appreciate everything that he does for you and you thank him for doing it, you remind him on the things he must do and what he must not. Just because you know that you can always keep him on his feet, doesn’t mean you can manipulate him. You understand him not just as a partner but as individual too. you help him in every way showing him, that in a relationship, there’s no “I” or “you”, there’s only “we” and “us”. You know also that a man has their ego, and even when it become a little irritating sometimes, you still understand that it’s a part of his nature. A girlfriend is not just a term, it also has responsibilities that every girl must know. You’re a friend, a sister, a second mom, a teacher, and a best friend.

^ amen

instagram: Celebrating Mother’s Day with @Sueshine Years after...

Sun, 12 May 2013 15:05:42 -0400

instagram.com/p/MRGRjpt0RL/#sueshine

instagram.com/p/XQ2fIpN0RD/#sueshine

instagram.com/p/Qmo2uKN0QI/#sueshine

instagram.com/p/UT8iD0N0fb/#sueshine

instagram.com/p/YtwVPRt0Zg/#sueshine

instagram.com/p/MWeDC0N0bn/#sueshine

instagram:

Celebrating Mother’s Day with @Sueshine

Years after her adoption from a South Korean orphanage, Instagrammer Sue (@sueshine) discovered she had the autoimmune disease known as Lupus. The affliction practically destroyed her kidneys at a young age and years later when she discovered she was pregnant, both she and her husband knew they had a challenging road ahead of them. Her daughter, Sammy Lu, was born weighing less than 3 pounds, but Sue recalls that their struggle to bring Sammy into the world “was beautiful because my husband, my baby and I all fought together like warriors on a battlefield that refused to give up on each other. She was itty bitty but she was a fighter.” Sue’s condition improved after a kidney donation from her husband, who was miraculously a perfect donor match.

Two years later, it was confirmed that Sammy was autistic, but this was a hurdle Sue could overcome. “Raising an autistic child has pushed me to be creative and create a creative environment for Sammy. The scenes I capture are a combination of Sammy’s imagination and mine. It’s a peek into our Never Never Land; the place where silly, exciting and impossible things can happen.”

Sue shares photos of Sammy’s world on Instagram. Her photos capture the moments of calm, joy and wonder Sammy experiences as she interacts with the whimsical scenes that Sue carefully crafts with love.“It’s given me a place to show my life and most importantly Sammy’s life. Now it’s evolved into wanting to show a side of autism that is real and beautiful. That my daughter is more than a cute face, she has depth, hopes and struggles. To think that Sammy has strangers cheering her on, enjoying the small glimpses into her life and wanting the very best for her future is a wonderful thing that has come from the Instagram community.”

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Tue, 07 May 2013 00:17:05 -0400

youngblackandvegan: sickntwisted-sonovabitch: i fucking love...

Sun, 05 May 2013 20:22:38 -0400

youngblackandvegan:

sickntwisted-sonovabitch:

i fucking love dave chappelle

the world wasn’t ready for his talent or honesty

sinfulyearning: Head between your legs, hands on your body,...

Sun, 05 May 2013 20:15:03 -0400

sinfulyearning:

Head between your legs, hands on your body, taking my time to enjoy your delicious flesh.

battery4cid: I’ve been looking for a photo like this for so...

Sat, 27 Apr 2013 21:33:28 -0400

battery4cid:

I’ve been looking for a photo like this for so long

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Sat, 27 Apr 2013 21:26:16 -0400

zadi: Disney chalk scenes

Sat, 27 Apr 2013 21:19:12 -0400

zadi:

Disney chalk scenes

I have stupid cousins! Lmao!!!!

Sat, 27 Apr 2013 20:45:39 -0400

I have stupid cousins! Lmao!!!!

ocfitness: dope

Thu, 25 Apr 2013 19:55:54 -0400

ocfitness:

dope

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Sat, 20 Apr 2013 14:40:59 -0400

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Sat, 20 Apr 2013 14:39:03 -0400

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Sat, 20 Apr 2013 13:14:20 -0400

thecontentsofmysoul: shit just got real

Sat, 20 Apr 2013 00:38:18 -0400

thecontentsofmysoul:

shit just got real

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Sat, 20 Apr 2013 00:34:57 -0400

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Sat, 20 Apr 2013 00:28:31 -0400

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Fri, 19 Apr 2013 00:56:42 -0400

gingerfiedblunts: d4untles-s: 10000steps: sayhellotoskinnyme: ...

Wed, 17 Apr 2013 21:39:18 -0400

gingerfiedblunts:

d4untles-s:

10000steps:

sayhellotoskinnyme:

They told me the big black Lab’s name was Reggie, as I looked at him lying in his pen. The shelter was clean, no-kill, and the people really friendly. I’d only been in the area for six months, but everywhere I went in the small college town, people were welcoming and open. Everyone waves when you pass them on the street.

But something was still missing as I attempted to settle in to my new life here, and I thought a dog couldn’t hurt. Give me someone to talk to. And I had just seen Reggie’s advertisement on the local news. The shelter said they had received numerous calls right after, but they said the people who had come down to see him just didn’t look like “Lab people,” whatever that meant. They must’ve thought I did.

But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me in giving me Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog pad, bag of toys almost all of which were brand new tennis balls, his dishes and a sealed letter from his previous owner.

See, Reggie and I didn’t really hit it off when we got home. We struggled for two weeks (which is how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his new home). Maybe it was the fact that I was trying to adjust, too.
Maybe we were too much alike.

I saw the sealed envelope. I had completely forgotten about that. “Okay, Reggie,” I said out loud, “let’s see if your previous owner has any advice.”
____________ _________ _________ _________

To Whomever Gets My Dog:

Well, I can’t say that I’m happy you’re reading this, a letter I told the shelter could only be opened by Reggie’s new owner. I’m not even happy writing it. He knew something was different.

So let me tell you about my Lab in the hopes that it will help you bond with him and he with you.

First, he loves tennis balls. The more the merrier. Sometimes I think he’s part squirrel, the way he hoards them. He usually always has two in his mouth, and he tries to get a third in there. Hasn’t done it yet. Doesn’t
matter where you throw them, he’ll bound after them, so be careful. Don’t do it by any roads.

Next, commands. Reggie knows the obvious ones —-“sit,” “stay,” “come,” “heel.”

He knows hand signals, too: He knows “ball” and “food” and “bone” and “treat” like nobody’s business.

Feeding schedule: twice a day, regular store-bought stuff; the shelter has the brand.

He’s up on his shots. Be forewarned: Reggie hates the vet. Good luck getting him in the car. I don’t know how he knows when it’s time to go to the vet, but he knows.

Finally, give him some time. It’s only been Reggie and me for his whole life. He’s gone everywhere with me, so please include him on your daily car rides if you can. He sits well in the backseat, and he doesn’t bark or complain. He just loves to be around people, and me most especially.

And that’s why I need to share one more bit of info with you…His name’s not Reggie. He’s a smart dog, he’ll get used to it and will respond to it, of that I have no doubt. But I just couldn’t bear to give them his real name. But if someone is reading this … well it means that his new owner should know his real name. His real name is “Tank.” Because, that is what I drive.

I told the shelter that they couldn’t make “Reggie” available for adoption until they received word from my company commander. You see, my parents are gone, I have no siblings, no one I could’ve left Tank with .. and it was my only real request of the Army upon my deployment to Iraq, that they make one phone call to the shelter … in the “event” … to tell them that Tank could be put up for adoption. Luckily, my CO is a dog-guy, too, and he knew where my platoon was headed. He said he’d do it personally. And if you’re reading this, then he made good on his word.

Tank has been my family for the last six years, almost as long as the Army has been my family. And now I hope and pray that you make him part of your family, too, and that he will adjust and come to love you the same way he
loved me.

If I have to give up Tank to keep those terrible people from coming to the US I am glad to have done so. He is my example of service and of love. I hope I honored him by my service to my country and comrades.

All right, that’s enough. I deploy this evening and have to drop this letter off at the shelter. Maybe I’ll peek in on him and see if he finally got that third tennis ball in his mouth.

Good luck with Tank. Give him a good home, and give him an extra kiss goodnight - every night - from me.

Thank you,

Paul Mallory
____________ _________ _________ _______

I folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope. Sure, I had heard of Paul Mallory, everyone in town knew him, even new people like me. Local kid, killed in Iraq a few months ago and posthumously earning the Silver
Star when he gave his life to save three buddies. Flags had been at half-mast all summer.

I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbows on my knees, staring at the dog.

“Hey, Tank,” I said quietly.

The dog’s head whipped up, his ears cocked and his eyes bright.

“C’mere boy.”

He was instantly on his feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor. He sat in front of me, his head tilted, searching for the name he hadn’t heard in months. “Tank,” I whispered.

His tail swished.

I kept whispering his name, over and over, and each time, his ears lowered, his eyes softened, and his posture relaxed as a wave of contentment just seemed to flood him. I stroked his ears, rubbed his shoulders, buried my
face into his scruff and hugged him.

“It’s me now, Tank, just you and me. Your old pal gave you to me.” Tank reached up and licked my cheek.

“So whatdaya say we play some ball?” His ears perked again.

“Yeah? Ball? You like that? Ball?”

Tank tore from my hands and disappeared into the next room. And when he came back, he had three tennis balls in his mouth.”

Not thinspo, but deserves a reblog. Makes me cry everytime.

This made me cry too….

omg, Im in tears right now!

I love dogs and our military. I cried so hard just now.

thatkat: Bby

Wed, 17 Apr 2013 21:33:18 -0400

thatkat:

Bby