Caffeine isn't a drug, it's a vitamin!

ruthinwonderland:

i wish someone would like serenade me with romantic songs instead of me serenading my cat with romantic songs

This is me when I have no make up on, no energy, no new books to read.

IT’S LIKE THE APOCALYPSE, GUYS. 

(via lazyfantasies)

(Source: bettymcrae, via lazyfantasies)

(via tothehottieinthebaseballcap)

(Source: itskylestyle)

(via me-wwow)

Ladies and Gentlemen of the internet. I am here to help. 

We’ve all seen them. Their numbers are slowly overtaking those of the ‘normal’ people.

They are the Gym Monsters.

[photo not mine (but holy hell look at his muscles)]

The average Gym Monster can often be seen in the Gym (an obvious one); in the supplement aisle of your local pharmacy; or pressing its face up against the display counter at a butcher’s.

I myself co-exist with a Gym Monster. My Mother, bless her heart, is a Gym Widow (Gym Widow: noun - woman whose spouse has become a Gym Monster). 

Yes, it’s true. My stepfather is indeed a Gym Monster. 

Before you applaud my bravery or recoil in disbelieving horror, I must admit: it was a long and difficult journey to acceptance. The most important thing I can say is this - if you persevere, it is possible. It isn’t easy, but… you can survive.

If you are finding it tough to decide whether your friend/guardian/sibling/spouse/dogwalker/other is a Gym Monster, I have lovingly compiled a list of 5 signs that can help you distinguish your average healthy person from your dreaded Gym Monster. Let us begin:

NUMBER 1: They gasp when the words ‘saturated fats’ are uttered.

No normal person knows why, but reciting that phrase in the presence of a Gym Monster is akin to quoting Richard Dawkins to a priest. The Gym Monster may snarl, spit or even lash out in response, so please refrain/speak with caution.

NUMBER 2: They are magnetically attracted to reflective surfaces.

Mirrors. iPhone screens. Windows. Saucepans. A lover’s eyes. All of these things can present the Gym Monster with a representation of how its transformation from human to near-mutant is progressing.

NUMBER 3: They forget they have a home.

The average Gym Monster is so committed to its place of worship, it may not recognise its own living space. It might lunge into walls or cupboards due to disorientation. If this is the case, you can avoid damage to the interior of the house by gently yet firmly guiding them to a set of dumbbells or stack of health magazines while murmuring softly about the size of its biceps. The Gym Monster will recognise its home as a safe and secure environment and settle down to graze (on health shakes).

NUMBER 4: They experience a sudden aversion to shirts.

A common phenomenon surrounding Gym Monsters is loss of clothing. Specialists cannot be sure if this is a case of developing allergies towards clothes or some sort of Incredible Hulk-like state of tearing fabric, but Gym Monsters are often found flexing partially/fully nude from the waist up in front of the aforementioned reflective surfaces. The Gym Monster may sometimes grunt or stretch languidly during this practice but this is no more than an affirmation of assumed dominance and is nothing to fear.

NUMBER 5: They have an unhealthy affinity with Protein. 

If Protein was available as a living, breathing, human form, the Gym Monster would marry it. Like Pavlov’s dogs, Gym Monsters are prone to salivating when it is mentioned. The Gym Monster might also growl possessively or coo lovingly when presented with products containing massive amounts of the stuff. It is easy to tell when a Gym Monster hasn’t consumed Protein in a while. It will often curl up and hide in a huge muscled ball underneath a cross-trainer; yearning, whimpering and cradling an empty box of Maximuscle©. 

So there you have it. 5 signs of a Gym Monster, complete with survival tips and witty banter.

Thank you for reading!

[No harm or offence was intended while writing this piece. If any Gym Monsters would like to hurt or punish me for writing this light and meaningless article, please don’t.]

scarlettjohanssonmaga:

Scarlett Johansson   ELLE - November 2007 (11-2007) USA

(via beautifully-broke-n)

life:

A half-century ago, on a spring night in New York City, 35-year-old Marilyn Monroe — literally sewn into a sparkling, jaw-droppingly tight dress — stood in a spotlight on a dark stage. She took a breath, began to sing — and 15,000 men and women who filled the old Madison Square Garden that night knew, simply knew, that they were seeing and hearing something that they would never, ever forget.

The song, of course, was “Happy Birthday,” and Marilyn’s breathy, intimate rendition — sung, as if the two of them were utterly alone, to President John F. Kennedy — has been celebrated, analyzed and lovingly parodied countless times in the five decades since that indelible performance.

LIFE’s Bill Ray was there — and now, we present a set of unpublished from that unforgettable night.