bambicalifornia-blog

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I’m same same but w more tattoos and piercings

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oh i guess i still have a tumblr

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Saw Stephen Fry live last week, and he told us this story: Just after the first Harry Potter book had been released, he was offered the role of narrating it for audiobooks. He hadn’t read it, and was simply told it was a children’s book, so figured it would be an easy afternoons work. When he met JK Rowling, she mentioned that she was writing a sequel. Stephen replied very condescendingly “good for you”.

A few years down the line, the books are selling well, and he is doing the recording for the Prisoner of Azkaban, when he runs into the phrase “Harry pocketed it”. Stephen could not say this line. It always came out as “Harry pocketeded it”, unless he said it ridiculously slowly. They tried time and time again to get it right, but to no avail. Eventually, he called up JK and asked if he could say “Harry put it in his pocket” instead. She thought for a moment, then said “no”, and hung up.

The phrase “Harry pocketed it” appeared in the next four books.

Petty Revenge: Your daily dose of the best petty revenge stories. | cr

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we thought the channel called “spice” on satellite radio was like an all Spice Girls channel but it’s a very different kind of spice

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It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the sound I heard when I was 9 and my father slammed the front door so hard behind him I swear to god it shook the whole house. For the next 3 years I watched my mother break her teeth on vodka bottles. I think she stopped breathing when he left. I think part of her died. I think he took her heart with him when he walked out. Her chest is empty, just a shattered mess or cracked ribs and depression pills. It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s all the blood in the sink. It’s the night that I spent 12 hours in the emergency room waiting to see if my sister was going to be okay, after the boy she loved, told her he didn’t love her anymore. It’s the crying, and the fluorescent lights, and white sneakers and pale faces and shaky breaths and blood. So much blood. It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the time that I had to stay up for two days straight with my best friend while she cried and shrieked and threw up on my bedroom floor because her boyfriend fucked his ex. I swear to god she still has tear streaks stained onto her cheeks. I think when you love someone, it never really goes away. It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the six weeks we had a substitute in English because our teacher was getting divorced and couldn’t handle getting out of bed. When she came back she was smiling. But her hands shook so hard when she held her coffee, you could see that something was broken inside. And sometimes when things break, you can’t fix them. Nothing ever goes back to how it was. I got an A in English that year. I think her head was always spinning too hard to read any essays. It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s that I do.

It’s not that I don’t love you.  (via extrasad)

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when your own naivety bites you in the ass 😐

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“god, you’re so tight” “thanks you’re pretty cool too”

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Poppy fields forever. Antelope Valley, CA  / March 2015

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Dogs With Their Cute Mini-Mes

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last bit of time with mama at home. Then back to reality ✈️

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“My greatest memory was taking Harrison Ford to a Nigerian restaurant in South East London. And this guy comes up to him and says ‘Are you Harrison Ford?’ and Harrison Ford goes ‘I used to be.’”

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