My name is Breezy(Brianne). I have an amazing twin sister. We are penguins. I'm hilarious. Welcome to my blog.

Some of my interests include: Nerdfighting, poetry, punk cabaret, folk punk, penguin hugging, LOLCATS, being twinily, Tee and Essing, nomming noms, making art, formulating inside jokes, decreasing world-suck, being straight edge, being introverted, being nostalgic, being skeptical, being sarcastic, being outspoken and not forgetting to be awesome.

I'm a bit awkward, but I always appreciate a friendly "hello."

(via hope-chambersc)

Source: fangirlmusings

(via sethbrundlefly)

Source: dontyouleavehimsamwisegamgee

sylvanburningcenter:

THEYRE LIKE CHICKEN NUGGETS BUT FROGS????????????????????????

sylvanburningcenter:

THEYRE LIKE CHICKEN NUGGETS BUT FROGS????????????????????????

(via sethbrundlefly)

Source: throughthestargate

(via happiestbackslider)

Source: drunkonstephen

kaylacoan:

I think all of our positivity levels need to be more like Mike’s.

(via hope-chambersc)

Source: packageofgirlyevil

nethilia:

murdorito:

ankankimatank:

dollymacabre:

mszombi:

fleurdulys:

The Irritating Gentleman - Berthold Woltze
1874

I know that feel, Painting Lady. 

My bus ride to and from work every day.

They never published the second picture, which was the one where she backhanded him in the fucking face for getting all up in her shit.

Oh great, good to know this has been a problem for HUNDREDS OF YEARS CAN WE PLEASE STOP DOING THIS ALREADY JUST FUCK OFF AND LEAVE ME ALONE

Everyone is overlooking something very significant in this picture, that I saw in two seconds, that adds a layer of super slime to his whole awful attitude. “The Irritating Gentleman” is a politeness.
She’s wearing all black in 1874. Black gloves, hat, cloak, and dress. In public. The whole nine yards. That’s not a fashion choice or a gothic thing. Back then when people wore all black like that, they were in mourning for someone who died. No one did mourning like the Victorians, that shit was an art form to them.
Someone in her family has died—she could even be a young widow. No one’s accompanying her either. With the carpet bag? She’s traveling alone while still in deep mourning. Look at the closeup. She’s got tears in her eyes. She is upset, devastated in a way that one is only when someone has died. And the guy’s still bothering her, like her problems are flippant bullshit and she needs to just smile or pay attention to him because ladies are supposed to be pleasing for men no matter what shit they’re going through. That’s not a look of “what an ass.” That’s a look of devastation that even in her pain, she’s expected to give people like him focus. She’s not mad. She’s hurt. And to add insult to injury? Everyone would be able to tell. It was a clear sign and still is in ways that someone is mourning, to dress in black crepe like that. He would know why she’s wearing all black, and he’s still demanding her attention.
What an insufferable dick.
At least I’m not the only one who saw this.

nethilia:

murdorito:

ankankimatank:

dollymacabre:

mszombi:

fleurdulys:

The Irritating Gentleman - Berthold Woltze

1874

I know that feel, Painting Lady. 

My bus ride to and from work every day.

They never published the second picture, which was the one where she backhanded him in the fucking face for getting all up in her shit.

Oh great, good to know this has been a problem for HUNDREDS OF YEARS CAN WE PLEASE STOP DOING THIS ALREADY JUST FUCK OFF AND LEAVE ME ALONE

Everyone is overlooking something very significant in this picture, that I saw in two seconds, that adds a layer of super slime to his whole awful attitude. “The Irritating Gentleman” is a politeness.

She’s wearing all black in 1874. Black gloves, hat, cloak, and dress. In public. The whole nine yards. That’s not a fashion choice or a gothic thing. Back then when people wore all black like that, they were in mourning for someone who died. No one did mourning like the Victorians, that shit was an art form to them.

Someone in her family has died—she could even be a young widow. No one’s accompanying her either. With the carpet bag? She’s traveling alone while still in deep mourning. Look at the closeup. She’s got tears in her eyes. She is upset, devastated in a way that one is only when someone has died. And the guy’s still bothering her, like her problems are flippant bullshit and she needs to just smile or pay attention to him because ladies are supposed to be pleasing for men no matter what shit they’re going through. That’s not a look of “what an ass.” That’s a look of devastation that even in her pain, she’s expected to give people like him focus. She’s not mad. She’s hurt. And to add insult to injury? Everyone would be able to tell. It was a clear sign and still is in ways that someone is mourning, to dress in black crepe like that. He would know why she’s wearing all black, and he’s still demanding her attention.

What an insufferable dick.

At least I’m not the only one who saw this.

(via tisalwaysdecember)

Source: fleurdulys

thegirldetective:

gigglygaleocerdocuvier:

8bitbowtie:

I was so nervous talking to a man that I have admired for twelve years of my life. The man who let me know as a child that miserable things happen and that’s perfectly normal. The same man who helped me overcome my fear of reading after being screamed at by my teacher that I would never be able to read anything my grade level, only to have a college level reading skill by the end of sixth grade. My motivation to write and keep doing whatever I want because no matter who tries to bring me down, I know that I can overcome it just like I did those years ago.
I blushed and stuttered, barely getting out a ‘this may sound dorky, but thank you for everything you’ve done for me’. I hadn’t told him the tragedies that had gone on in my life in specifics. I thanked him for giving me a chance when so many adults did not and how I found it ironic that I still love a series about miserable children when I practically went through the same thing. And even though I’ve heard ‘I’m sorry’ so many times about every death, every terrible thing that has happened, I have never heard one so sincere.
Here I was beating myself up about failing to convey myself in front of this wonderful man. How I missed my chance. Putting my things away, I grabbed my book and peeked inside to see this. And I began to cry.
This is a man who I have never met before. A man I have only dreamt of meeting since I was very small. But yet in one small sentence he has managed to move me entirely. A sentence that has needed to be said for a long time now.
‘To Bridget, who has suffered enough.’

This makes me wanna cry

In other news Daniel Hadler continues to be the nicest person on planet earth

thegirldetective:

gigglygaleocerdocuvier:

8bitbowtie:

I was so nervous talking to a man that I have admired for twelve years of my life. The man who let me know as a child that miserable things happen and that’s perfectly normal. The same man who helped me overcome my fear of reading after being screamed at by my teacher that I would never be able to read anything my grade level, only to have a college level reading skill by the end of sixth grade. My motivation to write and keep doing whatever I want because no matter who tries to bring me down, I know that I can overcome it just like I did those years ago.

I blushed and stuttered, barely getting out a ‘this may sound dorky, but thank you for everything you’ve done for me’. I hadn’t told him the tragedies that had gone on in my life in specifics. I thanked him for giving me a chance when so many adults did not and how I found it ironic that I still love a series about miserable children when I practically went through the same thing. And even though I’ve heard ‘I’m sorry’ so many times about every death, every terrible thing that has happened, I have never heard one so sincere.

Here I was beating myself up about failing to convey myself in front of this wonderful man. How I missed my chance. Putting my things away, I grabbed my book and peeked inside to see this. And I began to cry.

This is a man who I have never met before. A man I have only dreamt of meeting since I was very small. But yet in one small sentence he has managed to move me entirely. A sentence that has needed to be said for a long time now.

‘To Bridget, who has suffered enough.’

This makes me wanna cry

In other news Daniel Hadler continues to be the nicest person on planet earth

(via thequagmirenotebook)

Source: 8bitbowtie

"Your life is not an episode of Skins. Things will never look quite as good as they do in a faded, sun-drenched Polaroid; your days are not an editorial from Lula. Your life is not a Sofia Coppola movie, or a Chuck Palahniuk novel, or a Charles Bukowski poem. Grace Coddington isn’t your creative director. Bon Iver and Joy Division don’t play softly in the background at appropriate moments. Your hysterical teenage diary isn’t a work of art. Your room probably isn’t Selby material. Your life isn’t a Tumblr screencap. Every word that comes out of your mouth will not be beautiful and poignant, infinitely quotable. Your pain will not be pretty. Crying till you vomit is always shit. You cannot romanticize hurt. Or sadness. Or loneliness. You will have homework, and hangovers and bad hair days. The train being late won’t lead to any fateful encounters, it will make you late. Sometimes your work will suck. Sometimes you will suck. Far too often, everything will suck - and not in a Wes Anderson kind of way. And there is no divine consolation - only the knowledge that we will hopefully experience the full spectrum - and that sometimes, just sometimes, life will feel like a Coppola film."

- Letters From Nowhere (via audrotas)

(via shotinsarajevo)

Source: vervelig

"if i ever finish knowing neil gaiman (and i don’t mean in the biblical sense), stick a dessert fork in me and turn me over, i’m done.
if i ever finish knowing neil gaiman, i get an A+ from god and a diploma from alain de botton’s philosophical school of life and every honorary doctorate in america plus a spiritual certification from the buddha himself that i can stop my life’s work and just drink mai tais in a jungle mountain hut while the ghosts of john lennon and elliott smith sit beside me, strumming ukuleles."

- Amanda Palmer

missevalyn:

This is the first part of the short comic I promised last week; the second part will be up next week.

For this little project, I used so, so many references and screenshots, and even watched an episode of House for the first time in years, all in an effort to prove to my friends and family that I do in fact draw more than just Watson and Holmes in my spare … … 

… oh.

(via jorfimus-prime)

Source: missevalyn