Sunshine by Childish Gambino feat Dean

Gap Ad Remake

The Slip - First Panda In Space/The Soft Machine

Are Women As Horny As Men?

Mos Def - Casa Bey: Closed-Captioned

Snow Patrol - You could be happy

Louis Vuitton Core Values [where will life take you?]

【Saitone】"Thriller 8bit tribute mix"【Michael Jackson】

Manchester Orchestra - Shake It Out

We Were once a fairytale

deadmau5 feat. Rob Swire - Ghosts N Stuff

Neon Indian - Should Have Taken Acid With You

It's not his fault they turned the world sideways.

Miles sings Lionel.

Sing it Miles.

Правда хочешь знать?

WE will never stop

day after day turn
to year after year. We will
never stop to be.

Weezer Tribute The 8 bit album

MIley Cyrus - Party In The U.S.A. - Official Music Video (HD)

uh yeah, love this song, maybe even more than anything ever done in the jonas camp.

marbles in the saND

orbit cladestine

but grain by grain

the revolution slows

to a stir

to a stop


the body still murmurs

gets nowhere
neededitbethisway?
perhaps some say. science still rules to roost.

I plead for a better explanation

life is bit a but and but a bit

here we are

are we here? last I checked.

In spirit, no less.

No more.

Never more.

Meow.

Whatever.

Adele - Hometown Glory (Night Facilities Remix)

More Moldover

1974

Super 8 - 1974 from Jarbas Agnelli on Vimeo.

Jose Feliciano " Sunny" (1968)

Stevie Wonder- Sunny

James Brown | Bootsy Collins | Sunny ( Funky Version )

nasty bassline

Marvin Gaye - Sunny motown

Note 8: Sung Of Gaps by Tucker Sampson

A lovely retelling of his trip to San Francisco. As only Tucker could fully understand it.

How could I not remember, those hard standing under the sunlight, and after it flowed, out. Sleep following, only a small foot of the journey, many plants not watered yet. Living through congo drums, the tell of motions. This is how get prepared to fuck.

This city is not absolutely responsible for anxiety, responsible

Mind.

A few turns, missed idea of location, covet maps, the hero pervails. Asian many outside smoke a cigarette, and walks by so children who look like video games. Start the action now

Let own only need, then be still

— —

Blue white gray,
white off, the shortest.

As mind let build. Voice arrive to say speak, not for smog drags.

Shapes and people. Short built its own life.

— —

Stone been here longer than the trees, wait us both out. Wading into high water. With the balance, and shifting of water in the masonic jar, I see a new eye into time travel. The who of pronoun, like a transformer.

Telegraph Hill is a monograph its own shadow.

Being clever I go flat.

— —

The morning reappears, just like sun in suprise. Who could actually know, who could?

Facts remain it’s not actually morning, nearly ten past when the sun is supposidly highest in the sky. I open the window, the eye hole of Green Street. Wind, the in blow. 1255 Kearney. Yesterday those huge stair, clothing on it without a person.

This view, open, waterway with sail boat. Do what they made. Do what they made.

The back most ground, is hill. Days cannot get the forcast until, box-spring of a bed. Out somewhere. I copped a nod on a foton.

Green and white flatest house, see, I, now.

Roll as guerillas, seen three people walking dogs or dogs walking three people. They said it was prose without rules, whoopty shit. Snap cracks whip. Maybe the ocean.

Last night was Thai. I ate the Red Ocean. JD said he never saw anything like that.
Just like eating a tire. Taste, good. Labored, snack cracks whip. Water lemoned. Red Ocean, picture: Kreton of the sea, prawn shrimp calamari— somewhere, and eggplant.

Wake up hill words after eating, a man or woman one day will figure out the world, one day one day. As I know I’m, not God. Or Buddha.

Let it detach, slip into funk music, a city finds its own culture. Said Frisco is a city of transcient. Almost a city without history. Close.

Keep digging, Watson. Throw into bird what had politician of rooftop, drop the eye looking down old man waiting deli. With doubt anyone can sag. A gray building blue round its window eyes. Forest of missed color. Parking lots blunder. Swung him asunder: that was almost, Hart Crane. Build a tribute with all forks.

I just had breakfast. Not pickles and barrels: nearly, Clark Coolidge. What do I take out of my bag lighten load, the sun ducks of nobos.

A multitude of colors are brought forth from the city’s landscape, the cityscape. Through out’s finger shout.

Hey, Suzy, how are you?

Came out later into wild cries. Run up quick under the guise of quite, nobody knows how well it would work. We had only trusted for plans to be let down, by the help. Could only stand to let the shadow walk home that late at night.

Coffee.

— —

Sun ducks behind tree lines. Constraints not balance it has to sense, straight whom?

The abandoned building is filled forwards, hazard and lost by a numb tongue, a case of mistaken identity of displaced people. Lone building fogged with flat craft, is filled forwards gripping reality. Chant of cause, not loss of the gross waste of drunk love. Service displace by disfigured manner and ill-fated forms. I am everything I am against. You know how to link puzzles back together, whether or you are willing to admit this is another thing, entire. A constant why.

Staff of country line never knowing the bad sheltered kid, born of chalk marks

Markings these element are the dust. Remember, this is human life I love you.

Yes, back there again. Why did I have to drink the blue book, this could barely stand an understanding. What is his angle. Look at the role domainant magnets we have made this mathematics.

The kid need all the more, not to waste out just move forward, sublime superceding life times.

The row of tanks. Tents automatic, it is just a game of sound a likes. We have long tried to believe subjects are the magic numbers. Always probe deeper. Not watching baseball. The old meet and creep.

Yes two who we are
Car noises all night
We still can collaborate

When is the whole community ready to discuss, mug and disguist. Ravige form meaning I believe, leaving myself show.

— —

The answer always comes to you eventually and myself. Girl next door table red lipstick, reading Walden. How close is it really. No right or wrong on the left or right. Not enough sisters and brothers.

— —

Ability to steal words from someone else, that for the sake of itself. Art for art’s sake: poetry for poetry’s sake.

Moving outward. Collage. Found meaning. Measure, and more.


A carbomb, I don’t see.

— —

Told whatever, it wasn’t what it was, not really. As the dark shine, those spotlights streetlighting hill parked cars.

Hey, Suzy, how are you? I am fine, how are you? Wanting I would, to know her. Two, one door doors on that side, of the street. The man house closed the corner grocery store.

Slow strum with the window closed. License plate. I think we are part. What movie was that stolen from? Who could?

— —

Those lungs we could rest for— yes that we could believe in forest of needle who strolls morning as a greasy spoon. Is that really his name? Exist 14, last night a walk up stone step hill. Right me sentence, something to teach. Does anyone know death’s birthday? Contained by self, celebrating.

Clarinet floats the night sky, learned what is, from the bearded oracle. From the table rising left left then right, down out the door by coupons. A space of completely different circuitry.

In some future or past morning, I woke up got together and dressed, shoes find keys, turn off the alarm. Spools of cloverfields. Flip-flops I usually wear. Sauntering out into the hall of the apartment building, bikes aren’t folding, I lock the door even if there, no need. This form of life needs coffee. The blue door is locked. Short hall out door of broken and downstair. Exit 13. A third door open or nearly finished of broke. Left less than a quater; the manner feet walk. Then left again as could. Exist 12. That is morning.

Night now has become flacks, the proper it was wanted. A spellbinding voice fits into chunks this eve. Rights of stolen spectrum light. Voice still lerks, tell is things, it is things. All these street corners: Crescent and Rush, Green and Kearney, Broadway and Market, Hall and Prospect. The road corners.

Exist again. This different master plans, wonder model, the people. More prayers waking states. Televisions great syncopation, as emotions electrical. Gaurded by the wholly un-sunburned flip-flops of future. Classic forward. Recycling modal images, isn’t that his thing.

— —

We have expert reason. Only that of the bearded oracle. Cream and peach colored tables/chairs at radical coffee. Well brewed. I don’t have to know. As split out of radio the webbing could be perfect wishing, the unfinished. Abandoned couch of the sidewalk.

— —

Morning often seems as story told once more, changing with the links of moments, strange never repeating itself. The surfboards stand over an ocean hill. Waves with their white crests.

Known by sweet under a twist just brushing back; the hair slide on the grain, usually uncruding cracks.

A white haired man reading the newspaper sits on the corner ready as people pass, watched by a dog. Over there other people know. Same oning, to hang. Green street watching lying on its back. A gull sees. A guy wearing jeans and a windbreak walks up one of the many hills. Blue building on the diagonal has geriatric ornaments holding to the buildings front fascade; Its trim looks between blue and green. Could be both I don’t know; honestly that of lower planks looks green, more green; a jaunt closer to the potted plants and trees out front.

Further away individual a tree, dances to songs of wind. The songs told, the songs told.
Sleet notes of car and plane engines. Music often adds in the multiplication tables.

It is a good thing I remember to remember.

— —

Deep into woods
For hike
Nonce know of day-mare

Which become hallow stalk
Cancerous mind wound to car sickness
Directly

Drink this

Be as they stray
Wide open world
Standing far above cloud lines
Not a glumb loss

A winged culture
Breathe in breathe out
Drink water it will make you better
Through rocks at metal trashcan
Shows master pulling through knowledge

Remember
There is no negative distance from zero

Anarchy

Tin pan road ready to wake up and bang
As this was always a dream
With time the story dulls I get distracted

It was Muir Woods
But after Muir Beach
Standing far above the clouds

Beautiful girls beautiful girls

— —

Focus is often determined by destination
Eyes with some kind of commitment

Good coffee is good heated

— —

Progress constricts
I go onto something else

Some line of meaning is lost somewhere

No farms no food
She drinks her coffee quickly
Full-time is matter of other kinds


A new day can be a kind of new perspective. Enough distractions make a square.

Dawn makes cerebral movements like coffee. That which wakes us up, can be to much, to put us to sleep. Has had an upset stomach weeks ago.

I am time addicted, to the good in men. The good in men, time addicted. I am addicted to time, to the good in women. Got to help this and I don’t even own a watch.

Watching me in a starlit sky I wake up. I wake, up. I up the wake. Wearing an old wool suit a nice suit and I wake up.

In a box the park. Know the trashcan of the hollow ashcan. Where I don’t know where, here—the park. Just a park. The suit is brown. Find a newspaper, this is still a city. It must be somewhere in myself. Realizing the rest of my body is in a cardboard box, I crawl out. I crawl out. Walk of to a bench through a bush green leaf. Newpaper on the ground says. A bum a bench I talk to can’t help. He smoke a cigarette. We talk about the book of Job. Some commissioner is healing and he has the power.

— —

A hundred door car, the newest way to move round metropolis, battered by a new world. Malignant syntax.

How out there is made, self of mode, has lost the track. I go wrong direction of road wind. With camera, I can see field but are actually hill believe in themselves, tightly held to narrow pathes. Sweet simple.

The narrows. Hills explain to roll into themselves, like a great burden of all time being releashed. Its spots are tops of pine trees. Begun to live.

Certain exists color different, not about the lines, bushes have overhang long linger beyond well of what is expect, to high brow to actually vibrate, a conversation which begins with a realization; and

Larger number animals
See our same views:
You need to learn the talk,
Blocks of connected apartment
Buildings on Grant.

— —

We can always more than dare in the chance of living, was just right, they there before, I got some color today, those other lives how they so often meet on cross-roads, a culture of living together, action to make essence feel strong, stronger.

An entire city never trying to be more of itself, its not paranoia at night or self-conscious under energies refracted and reflected in life, the conditioned human, the human condition. A mass made into the sum which is ecology.

This could be answer why cost less than humility, rent, or scientology.

A city, energy, held down individual lights. Over flat fragments.

A man’s old brother heads
Downtown for poker with friends
Needs the money as it
Only half needs him
The other brother orbits
Bars and mossy clubs and
I sleep night of roads

— —

Wind far distance but feels ill. Call in. They just like the roof because its lower. The songs written must know its neighborhood.

Influence is control by the contour of the language, late or simple, payphone steel colored gray wall, perfect brown couch. Again grocery opens, elected spire sight she said it looks like a huge penis.

Song walk to a diverge eating of place, red head beauty waitress. Perfect senses with eggs, pancakes, and ham.

— —

This place, the Mission is dumpy but delightful. Building elevates its graffiti skin. North Beach graffiti is vandalized. The swamp tatters. Books in the right hall at a diligent price.

In a moment of digression I decide to go to Mo’s. Palm tree vertebrae Dolores. Why do those pigeons remind me of New England College?

What a place this Monday brought me to… Homosexuals, Chicanos, and hipsters.

Smells of chicken lost again, she dyed her hair. How do those drugs get into prison. A lot of sex being sold on Broadway, the whole city, chicks and dicks rolled in with Coca-Cola the fucking American dream.

bums a cigarette
people without names
or faces
pictures pictures.

a winding down…
i could talk to them

peopled americana.

— —

Night last watching prison film, that is good you are running out, nothing I need to depend upon. Say what they will, make them, made by them. Then a designer living. You know what they say, fuck ‘em young.

I decide not to wait line, at the greasy spoon. The icy water is arrived already. Coffee with one sugar, and creme. Modal jazz, obviously it was greasy spoon quality coffee.

Eggs, inside them are tomatos and scallions. Then potatos, also with scallions, again somehow, whole wheat toast. Out back into the sunny morning, no one complains of that sunny disposition. Man walking by wearing baggy paints carries a boombox Samba Rap. Someone plug of another wiretap.

The restored gash of slanted windows with graffiti hold to the wall. A man tries to sneeze the apex of nowhere. Curtains shut the alarm of wind waves.

This isn't the best town for what we're doing. Too many other things to pull the crowds away.

—Kenneth Rexroth

I bob through the liquid of people moving down Valencia. Transience manner of existance in this city standing near the ocean of the northern Califonia shore. The biggest hole is the missing commuter mind, adaptation. I move my hair to a completely new hour of wait. It nearly sings.

Pulling off inside the shift. It is the usually silence, an action that gives thanks.

— —

Things happen sometimes. Leaning single, back the couch; Mission street group of migrants. Sense as they must to live. Four blocks down a dresser imagined to be room-sized is left on the road. A raspy look of hull. In a parking lot a waitress on her break smokes a cigarette. This is half of what people want. I need to find someone to supply the water.

Party in Sweden's pants

While I was Away

Funny video of a simple miscommunication that turned sour REAL fast. The maker shares the JD name and the similarities don't end there- my summer of 2007 wasn't much different, minus the Europe part.

Squarepusher - squarepusher's theme

Chet Baker - My Funny Valentine

my friend spencer is the best.

We Have a Map of the Piano

How eerily this tune provokes the past.

This song raises many fond and odd memories from inside. It makes me question the choices I've made and the choices yet to make. I feel powerless listening to it but empowered by the choices I've made during it's presentation.

What it does most prosaically is allow-force- me to reapproach my history and realize it is just that- a memory, growing ever more distant. There is a long standing belief held by people of a ripe age that one day you will return to the age of your youth, your strongest strength. But with every passing day it seems more apparent that there is no return. Life continues in its continuum, unconcerned with your fears and anxieties. It's an unnerving realization- that life has phases. Phases that eventually end. They may leave you richer in areas- monetarily, experientially. Yet time robs you of excitement, of that sensation that can only be conjured in that moment that means so much because it is enjoyed in the heat of virginity.

I feel many feelings listening to this song, but one feeling aptly left out of this emtional medley is regret. For every moment I have experienced, I don't regret. It is for every missed moment, every wasted second of my finite youth that I yearn. But in the end, there is no clock to respool to learn what could have been if a different path were to be chosen. So I suppose this dread is for naught. All that I can do is relish in the moments in which I did live, in which I did feel alive.

And during this song, however somber and sinister, I felt real.

Cube Theory Haiku

What happens when your
Environment(s) shape(s) the way
That you see yourself?

ClimbStation Gym (english version)

Snow... a winter travel with "Sunny Road" by Emiliana Torrini

Sundance screenwriters on writing for independent film

Death By Cheese: A Story of Brothers

This is a story about my brother and me. And cheese. It's mostly true, from what I remember.

I was 7. My younger brother was 5 and we were enjoying an annual family trip to Florida. My grandfather had a boat that he’d leave docked for the whole year but would take us on a few joyrides around the geriatric harbor when we’d come down. The boat acted more as a floating hotel, housing the whole family as well as our nanny. (It’s not vastly important to the story, but it should be noted that our nanny was a girl with the 80’s-tastic name of Brenda who would sulk in her room most of the day, avoiding the sun, teasing her puffed hair while listening to the woeful tunes from the Beauty and the Beast Broadway show soundtrack). When not on the boat, we’d be spending time at and around the yacht club. Activities consisted of splashing my brother in the face with pool water, punching my brother in the stomach while walking on the beach, pushing my brother closer to the waiting jaws of lounging crocodiles....generally doing something to damage my brother.

But then there was the food. At the age of 7, neither my brother or I had any idea of the social stigmas of a yacht club. As far as we were concerned, we weren’t privileged white kids, we were quickly reddening adventurers, strangers in a strange land, rubbing elbows with the rich and wrinkled. What the yacht club meant for us was a never ending supply of mozzarella sticks and strawberry (albeit virgin) daiquiris. Our grandmother, a wily, foul mouthed coot masquerading in a disguise of Burberry and Chanel actively encouraged us to be as gluttoness as childly available. “Want a daiquiri?” She’d ask. Hells yes. “Want 9 daiquiris?” Who am I to say no? My brother and I would cozy up to the cabana bar starting around 7-7:30 in the morning and we’d be ordering doubles all day. Drunk off sugar and possibly rum (if they messed up the order), my brother and I enjoyed the good life, the yacht club life.

But it was our edible passion that almost undid us. Drinking 20 daiquiris a day rouses an appetite. And nothing quite puts the cabash on your hunger like mozzarella sticks in 105 degree heat. My brother and I hardly ate anything else during our Florida trips. And since there was no one telling us we couldn’t, we’d order that god damn gooey goodness all day long. Even when we weren’t hungry, we’d invariably be pushing another congealed cheese log into our gullets, if only to keep appearances. And like anything involving my brother, I had to be better than him. In this case, being better meant eating more of whatever was meant to be shared. This would usually be a simple victory for an older sibling except that from the second my brother started producing stool, he had an appetite. Rotund and covered in grease, he’d eat the mozzarella at breakneck speeds, making me question my 7 years of existence and wonder what god had designed this consumption machine of meat and bone.

On one night, we had retired to the boat, tired from a long day of doing diddly shit. Of course, we had ordered a few rounds of cheese sticks as a night cap of sorts. For reasons unknown, I had stopped eating for a minute and joined my family in watching Jeopardy. I remember on that night actually answering (read: guessing) a question. The answer was Camel. To this my family congratulated me, saying, “Boy, you’re smart! Who knew?!” For a brief instant I imagined that this was a sign of my superior intellect, that one day I’d graduate from whatever Yale was and build a rocket. Or do whatever intelligent people do- own camels maybe. But then the moment was gone and I was hungry. I turned around, realizing that without my vigilant watch, my porgy brother would have surely devoured all the cheese. But usually, his munchings were audible. You'd hear his porous teeth gumming through the crunchy log surface then gently nibbling through the melted cheese. However, he wasn’t making those noises. He wasn’t making any noises. He just was kind of standing there with a dumb looking face, like someone contemplating what shit might taste like if spread across toast. Then the dumb looking face turned blue. At this, my family turned around to look at this child, one hand grasping a half stick of cheese, one hand motioning to his mouth. It quickly became apparent that he wasn’t breathing. Rather, he had absent-mindedly bitten off a piece of mozzarella, let it harden in his throat, then tried to breathe it into his lungs, as though to take his eating to a higher level. My mother ran over, extremely concerned. She opened up his mouth and stuck her entire hand into the piehole. A second later, her arm emerged, holding a half foots worth of mozzarella. My brother immediately started crying (perhaps from being alarmed but possibly from not being able to finish ingesting the cheese). All in all, it was pretty scary. The thought of losing my brother over his over-eating was terrible- our gluttoness ways suddenly seemed infantile. We both took a hard stance and swore off mozzarella forever. We were too young to lose one another.

The next day we were back at the bar, ordering rounds of daiquiris and cheese for ourselves- for everyone, open tab. Life was too short to not take risks and Florida only happened once a year. Yacht club life can be crazy sometimes. Frightening? Occasionally. Thrilling? Always.

Alcoholic Vervet Monkeys! - Weird Nature - BBC animals

The Christmas Tree

Ballers

Evil Fart

Watch Evil Fart on CollegeHumor

I've Got You and You've Got Me - New Buffalo Remixed by Broken Social Scene

I've Got You and You've Got Me - New Buffalo Remixed by Broken Social Scene from Karen Abad ♥s Dinosaurs. on Vimeo.

BananaPhone, Ho.

Watch Bananaphone Lil Jon Mash Up and more funny videos on CollegeHumor

[VIDEO] Eminem Freestyles - Respect My Conglomerate + Alchemist + Chonkyfire

Talking Cat

my idol.

Auto-Tune the News #3 !!!

BIG waterslide

Watch Fat Chick Launched Off Slip N Slide on CollegeHumor

"Rap Chop" featuring Vince (Steve Porter's Slap Chop remix)

Thanks you sir Weed.

Auto-Tune the News #2: pirates. drugs. gay marriage.

Kings Of Leon Use Somebody Remix - Steve Appleton

ill give it to him, a fun poppy remix

Röyksopp - Vision One (HD Version)

Röyksopp - Vision One (HD Version)

Röyksopp - Vision One (MMMatthias Remix | HQ AUDIO)

Bloc Party - Signs ( MMMatthias Remix )

Bloc Party - Signs ( MMMatthias Remix )

Sigur Rós - Gobbledigook (North Nation Remix)

Sigur Ros - Saeglopur (MMMatthias Remix)

Philips Carousel Commercial - Adam Berg

freaky

TO MY BUBBULA

I CANT WAIT FOR YOU TO GET HERE! YOU ARE SUCH A CATCH!

オオカミはブタを食べようと思った。Stop motion with wolf and pig

so badass- great planning and foresight went into the creation of this phenom. Awesome job!

Instant Messanger At the Movies

A tricky French technique at promoting a video selling software before movies. Could this work in the US? You betcha!

BSS Presents: Brendan Canning - Churches Under The Stairs

m83- we own the sky

M83 - We Own the Sky from David Altobelli on Vimeo.

Gay Fish Single

Donate $5, Win a Free Plane Ticket

The following is a note from my close friend, Matt Powers. He's running the Boston Marathon to cure cancer. He won't be curing it personally, but he knows a guy. Anyway, every $5 you give this guy gets you one chance closer to winning a free plane ticket, which he will treat you to. I'll let him explain:


So I'm planning on running the Boston Marathon. "Running" might be the wrong word actually, it will probably be closer to interchangeably jogging like an old man and power walking like an old lady, with plentiful water breaks dispersed throughout. But one way or another I'll get from one point to another 26.2 miles away, hopefully within the span of 24 hours. And so, I am inviting all of you kind people to join in watching my uphill battle against both my own body and whatever slight westerly breeze might happen by.

Now you might ask how such an unlikely scamp managed to qualify for a marathon. Well good question but I didn't. I'm not that fast. I'm not even a very good walker. The answer is that I am running in honor of a charity, Dana-Farber Cancer Institute and The Claudia Adams Barr Program in Innovative Basic Cancer Research to be precise.

So this is where you kind people come in. Because I am running for this charity, I am humbly asking all you to support them and their research. Yes, I am asking you to donate money to this charity, but No, I am not leaving you empty handed. You see, if you donate $5 in my name, you will not only get to lounge around smirking with pride that you've contributed to curing cancer, you will also get the chance to win a round trip plane ticket to anywhere in the U.S., courtesy of yours truly. You heard me. I am going to buy one of you at random a plane ticket. For every $5 you get free smirks for a week and one name in the proverbial hat for the ticket.

Anyways, please help me (and anybody unlucky enough to have cancer) out by visiting http://www.runDFMC.org/matthewp2009 and making a donation. Even if you don't know me or if you do and you don't like me, chances are you like cancer even less, and free plane tickets even more. So please help out and if you're around Boston on April 20th come watch me dehydrate myself.

CasOne (Feat. Brother Ali) - Flashbacks

Check more from this Southern Gentlemen at http://www.myspace.com/cas1ne

Company of Thieves - "Oscar Wilde" (Official)

What What In The Butt - BustAGrimes Mix

what?

Fink - Sort Of Revolution

Sexual Sportswear [ SebastiAn remix ] - Sebastien Tellier

Dan Black - Alone

Dan Black Alone from chic & artistic on Vimeo.

Daft Punk - Electroma remix

Scenese from a movie they are making. Or made. Or something.

La ritournelle - Sébastien TELLIER (Mr OIZO' version)

same song, but I enjoyed the 80'sness of this film

Sebastien Tellier - La Ritournelle

Gorgeous Song.

Girl Ice Cream Fight

See more funny videos and funny pictures at CollegeHumor.

Pomomofo

Nice throwback styling

Oren Lavie - Her Morning Elegance

Oren Lavie - Her Morning Elegance
Uploaded by IgnitionVM

MSTRKRFT - FRSHPRNCFBLR

Fresssssssh!

Bag Raiders

all i can really say is.....SUPER FUN!!!!

Capsule x Daft Punk x Beastie Boys - Starry Sky YEAH! Remix

god i'm a fucking loser/sucker for a good european wiggle mash.

M83 - run into flowers (jackson midnight remix)

combo- boards of canada + m83 + midnight fuck remix = this experience.

Flipping Off Hot Girls

I'm usually opposed to this level of assholery, but this is just funny. Wish I had those kinda grapes.

Printer Jam

Creepy.

See more funny videos and funny pictures at CollegeHumor.

If you've ever felt unsure...

Don't be afraid. We are all out there with you, floating through this maze that is life. Don't hesitate to reach out and grab hold of someone, it might be just what they need. too.

Slumdog Millionaire - Jai Ho Dance Scene Video (Ultra Remix)

Awesome Movie. Even Awesomer Dance Moves

tribalistas ja sei namorar

Weight Loss Diary

Feb. 4

Weight: 195

Diet:
- Crunch Bar
- Sandwich
- Vegetables and Pasta Salad

Exercise:
- :30 mins of swimming

Feeling:
- Tired...

Weight Loss Diary

Feb. 3

Weight: 194

Hiatus due to trip to Mexico. It was eventful and surprisingly heavy (if you don't count the two nights of drinking). Runs on the beach, swimming, strenuous stretching, weight circuits, healthy eating.

Diet:
- FREE GRAND SLAM FROM DENNY'S!
- Clif Bar
- Green Beans
- Cucumber and hummus
- Nectarine
- Odwalla Protein Drink

Exercise:
- 3 mile run
- weights (arms and chest)
- :30 min. spinning

Feeling: Great. I'm feeling healthy and this tan isn't hurting my look!

Weight Loss Diary

Jan. 29

Current weight: 197

Diet:
Breakfast:
- Banana
- 2 egg sandwich on wheat toast
Lunch:
- Seaweek Salad
- Hearty Sushi helpings
- Green Tea
Dinner:
- two beers

Exercise:
- None

Weight Loss Diary

Jan. 28

Current weight: 200 lbs

Diet:
Breakfast:
- Banana
- Bowl of Cereal
Lunch:
- Nutty Nut Bar
- Yogurt with Granola/Fruit
Dinner:
- 2 servings of Eggplant Parm
- piece of cake
- wine
- 2 beers

Exercise:
- Light AM Stretching

Feeling on the day:
- Not good...

A day in 40 words or less

jan. 27

Woke up on my yoga mats.
Sleeping on the ground was warmer than the bed.
Veal and video games for lunch.
Berkeley yoga with Jackie, then back to the mats.

Brevity, You Bitch. A day in 40 words.

My Day in 4 sentences of 10 words or less.

Jan. 26

I caught the early flight from LA to San Francisco.
I hate goodbyes.
The day was spent returning emails and meeting prospective partners.
JDate, UFC, Cereal without lactose, yoga. Is it bedtime already?

Bonobo - Live At Koko - Trailer

Fantastic Artist, Fantastic Performer and a Fantastic Guy. Highly suggest you tune in and tune out.

Check Chew Fu and Kings of Leon Rock it Out

King of Leon Chew Fu RMX + NEW NONEWYORK at Schitz Popinov

Cristina Del Basso - Hot Italian Mama

If she is any sign of what's to come, I think 2009 will be a pretty good (looking) year.

why am i so compelled to become an inexplicable entity of fortune? Why does money matter? Why can't I make independent decisions? If life ends tomorrow, will I be happy with it? Will regret strangle the accomplishments or will the reverse triumph? Can I die happy? Can you?

Viva La Chicks

See more funny videos and funny pictures at CollegeHumor.

Broken Social Scene Presents: Brendan Canning - Hit The Wall

Broken Social Scene Fire Eye'd Boy

one of my favorite pump up songs

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