"A version of me."
Secretariat at the Belmont is one of equine photographer Tony Leonard’s most well-known photos. It was his wife Adelle’s idea to airbrush the groom out of the photo. Mr. Leonard passed away on July 14, 2012. Big Red died in 1989.
First ride in over a week! We did some no stirrups work and my legs are killing me now. Nav had a bad case of baby-brain on the trail ride up to the barn, but we ended up having a nice productive ride in the arena. He seemed to remember what we had been working on before I left, which is encouraging! Took a trail through a cemetery on the way back to his pasture.
I only have a few weeks left of summer. Now that I own Nav I have to decide what I’m going to do with him for this school year. I’d like to bring him back with me, but there aren’t any English barns in the area. I don’t want to leave him here to get out of shape though, even though my current barn is home.
Selfie with the beautiful Rose mare :) #rose #horse #mare #love
“And Harry, with the unerring skill of the Seeker, caught the wand in his free hand as Voldemort fell backward, arms splayed, the slit pupils of the scarlet eyes rolling upward. Tom Riddle hit the floor with a mundane finality, his body feeble and shrunken, the white hands empty, the snakelike face vacant and unknowing. Voldemort was dead.”
You see, this is how it should have been. I wish that this wasn’t just a behind-the-scene photo. I wish that it had happened like this. Exactly like in the book. Voldemort died like anyone else. And it’s amazing how in the book, J.K. Rowling actually used his name. He was humanized in death. And I wish that they had shown that, instead of showing him do an imitation of the Corpse Bride:
Because it’s really important:
Tom Riddle was humanized in death.
DO YOU HAVE COMPANY COMING OVER, BUT YOUR HOUSE SMELLS LIKE SMOKE OR YOUR MOLD EXPERIMENTS OR CAT PISS OR SOME BULLSHIT LIKE THAT?
WELL SLAP MY ASS AND CALL ME BRILLIANT, BECAUSE THIS SHIT ISN’T EDIBLE, BUT IT’LL MAKE YOUR HOUSE SMELL LIKE A GODDAMN CHURCH CHOIR SINGING HALLE-FUCKING-LUJAH IN YOUR NASAL PASSAGE! (YOU SHOULD GET RID OF WHATEVER’S STINKING UP YOUR HOUSE IN THE FIRST PLACE AS WELL, MORON)
RUN YOUR CLASSY ASS OVER TO THE STORE AND MAKE SURE YOU’RE PREPARED FOR THE MIND-FUCK OF THIS SHIT. YOU’LL WANT 1 ORANGE, A SMALL BAG OF CRANBERRIES, 3 CINNAMON STICKS, GROUND CLOVES, NUTMEG, 2 LEMONS, ROSEMARY AND VANILLA.
THERE ARE TWO VERSIONS OF THIS THAT YOU CAN COOK, BECAUSE CLASSY-ASS MOTHERFUCKERS NEED VARIETIES IN THEIR LIFE!
THE FIRST IS ‘CHRISTMAS’ AND THE SECOND DOESN’T HAVE A DAMN NAME, BUT IT’S FUCKING WONDERFUL.
ONLY HAVE ONE POT OF THIS SHIT GOING, IT’S CRAZY POWERFUL.
CHOP UP THE ORANGE, SKIN AND ALL, BECAUSE YOU DON’T JOKE AROUND WITH THIS SORT OF SHIT.
USE YOUR WARRIOR STRENGTH TO BREAK THE CINNAMON STICKS IN HALF, LIKE YOUR CHILDHOOD MEMORIES OF SNAPPING THE FEMURS OF DRAGONS BEFORE YOU SUCKED THE MARROW OUT.
THROW THE ORANGE AND CINNAMON STICK PIECES INTO THE POT, OR IF YOU’RE NOT CONFIDENT WITH YOUR AIM, YOU CAN SET THEM GENTLY INSIDE. SHOVE A SMALL SPOONFUL OF NUTMEG AND A SMALL SPOONFUL OF CLOVES INTO THE POT.
THEN FILL THAT FUCKER UP WITH WATER UNTIL THERE’S ONLY AN INCH OF LEEWAY BETWEEN THE WATER AND EDGE, BECAUSE YOU’RE A DAREDEVIL MOTHERFUCKER.
NOW SET YOUR STOVE TO A LOW-MEDIUM SETTING, AND LEAVE IT SITTING THERE TO MARINATE IN IT’S OWN QUIET ACCEPTANCE OF DEATH. DON’T COVER THIS FUCKER, BECAUSE THE SMELL OF IT IS GOING TO INVADE YOUR ENTIRE GODDAMN HOUSE.
THAT WHICH WILL NOT BE NAMED
THE OTHER VERSION OF BOILING POTPOURRI ONLY HAS LEMONS, ROSEMARY SPRIGS AND VANILLA.
RIP THE LEMON INTO CHUNKS WHILE SOLVING THREE UNSOLVED MYSTERIES IN YOUR HEAD AND YELLING AT YOUR FLATMATE TO LEAVE YOUR OTHER EXPERIMENTS ALONE, THEN BE A CHAMPION BY NOT USING A MEASURING TOOL WHEN SPLASHING 1 TABLESPOON OF VANILLA INTO THE POT.
TOSS IN THE ROSEMARY SPRIGS AFTER YOU’VE STARED THEM INTO SUBMISSION.
FILL THAT SUCKER WITH WATER AND PUT IT ON THE HEAT.
YOU LEAVE IT ON FOR 2 HOURS AT THE START OF THE DAY, THEN TURN IT ON AGAIN AN HOUR BEFORE GUESTS GET TO YOUR HOME AND LEAVE IT ON ALL EVENING.
TAKE A WHIFF UP CLOSE EVERY FEW HOURS, BECAUSE THE FRUIT WILL START TO SMELL WEIRD AT THE END OF THE DAY AND THAT’S WHEN YOU TURN IT OFF.
WHEN YOUR GUESTS ARRIVE THEY’LL HAVE TO STEP BACK AND EXCLAIM “HOLY MOTHERFUCKING TITS, THIS IS ONE CLASSY HOME”
Not gonna lie, I’m mostly reblogging this because reading it is so thoroughly enjoyable.
I really love aggressive recipes
reblogging because I would actually love my condo to not smell like a basement sometimes
She was ill tempered, she was mean spirited, she was vicious. She was the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen.
Teddy Lupin casting a patronus and everyone starts freaking out bc hOLY SHIT IS THAT A WEREWOLF
but the only thing Teddy feels is the comfort of knowing that his father is still there, protecting him
Fantomas de Muze clearing 2.12m O.O
What the fuck?! IS THIS EVEN REAL?!
Omg, so I’m actually not this bad at making screencap redraws or whatever.
Latin@ Lady & the Tramp this time.