New Orleans on Saturday night, the Big Easy at her best. Her French Quarter shines all the way to orbit.
Home sweet home, as seen from the International Space Station.
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On The Bro'd: 193 - The Pimped-Out Bottom of America ›
There was like an eighty percent chance of precipitation when we rolled out to Cali. We’d party regardless. “Fuck yeah!” Dean was like. “Let’s light this shit!” Dude grabbed the wheel like he was trying to kill it and jacked the gas; he was ready to rumble, it was obvious. All of us got totally…
This is so, so ungodly brilliant.
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I stood by the window while the coffee brewed, watching Dennis chop down our Christmas tree from the yard. As he dragged it toward the house and approached the back porch, he caught my eye and mouthed, “I love you.”
I like this way more than I should.
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WORTH SEEING: Kid President drops some real talk. “I’ve been getting lots of emails about farting policy.”
Me too.
I can really get behind his ”stop making the internet so sad” platform.
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we’ll pin you and then we will drink you @veuveclicquot #popfizzclink (at kate spade new york)
I love you Kate Spade, but your tumblr kills me. Do you drink champagne every day? I’m good at that! It could be at the top of my resume! HIRE MEEEEEEE
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Happy Thanksgiving everyone. May yours at least involve minimal filming of your own personal hell.






