Erin

Aug 27

[video]

[video]

Aug 26

Is it Thursday yet?

Is it Thursday yet?

Aug 25

popculturebrain:

Chelsea Peretti on Twitter

popculturebrain:

Chelsea Peretti on Twitter

Aug 24

😎 (at poolside)

😎 (at poolside)

Aug 23

Drank water straight out of a coconut then had it cut up to eat with chile & lime juice 👌

Drank water straight out of a coconut then had it cut up to eat with chile & lime juice 👌

Aug 22

apartmenttherapy:

(via Erin’s Warm & Wood-Wrapped Austin Budget Bungalow — House Tour | Apartment Therapy)

ugh i wish this erin was me

apartmenttherapy:

(via Erin’s Warm & Wood-Wrapped Austin Budget Bungalow — House Tour | Apartment Therapy)

ugh i wish this erin was me

(via nogreatillusion)

[video]

Aug 21

gilliananderson1996:

Right now the rain is pouring down outside, and in my heart. It’s been a rough week. 
It’s enough to make you want to pack up your troubles in your old satin handbag, bundle yourself in a big, cozy, deep eggplant velvet bathrobe and go to an awards show.

gilliananderson1996:

Right now the rain is pouring down outside, and in my heart.
It’s been a rough week. 

It’s enough to make you want to pack up your troubles in your old satin handbag, bundle yourself in a big, cozy, deep eggplant velvet bathrobe and go to an awards show.

(via nikkifuego)

Anonymous said: how do you make a blowout last a real long time

charmcore:

Witch the First: Every morning, after bats fetch me my robes and crows dress me (there is a spell for reaching back-buttons, but why when I have crows), I take a simple draught of Sickle-grass tea.  I praise the dawn, and I praise the gray that passes into morn.  I wet my hair in the a hidden stream, hidden more for Sightless sake then mine, for we all know what becomes of a man who spies a witch a-bathing.

After this, I ascend to a wind-torn promontory, until I can catch at least three sacred winds on their journeys across this realm.  I then lather my locks with a potion comprised of the powder of sapphire and pearl.  As the winds carry the stream-water from my hair back into the nothingness which encompasses everything, I cackle with affection for my beauty and my strangeness.

So I guess what I’m saying is: jewels.  Powders of jewels.

Witch the Third: Human beauty is just an fatty smudge of vainglory on mouldering bones and the most skilled tricks to allure the eyes of the Sightless incorporate the decay they mask. So they are. A bit gross. (Ask Witch the Second about my flossing charm).

With this warning and this truth I will share with you my storied Blowout of a Fortnight. Four trials must ye endure before it is yours, but then it is yours completely. 

First. Waxy Hair, Waxing Moon.  At the new moon you must train yourself to forgo hair washing. We may, in our lust for purity, forget that when we wash our hair is this is a psychic as well as a physical cleansing and it causes each hair to forget its purpose, which is to crown us in whatever mood we reign. Your hair must know itself. Stop stripping it of its truthful sheen. There are many instructions on both the normal and the Other internet involving potions of vinegar and basic oils that may aid you in feeling less gross while you are doing this; you may turn to those if you wish. I simply stopped washing and as my sisters can (AND WILL) attest, my hair looks great. Revel in the grossness, perhaps. Be the weirdo on the bus. The moon will grow bright, and fade again. Your hair no longer needs washing. 

Second. Coax the Hair Pixies. You must hie to them with coin and allow them-and only them-to wash your locks (now that your hair has come to know itself again, a biweekly pixie washing will not deter it) and train your mane with their wind-guns and fire-levers. You can’t do it as well on your own. They may ask if they can use Product. I always say they may; they are more skilled in these enchantments than I and if they put faith in this Product then it has more than earned my regard.  If you’re doing this every two weeks, it’s cheaper than manicures, think about it that way. Or, preferably, think about it no way. 

Third. Claim ye a dry shampoo with a lot of rice starch. Why this of all starches and talcums coaxes hair to its truest self I know not; Witch the First may have thoughts about the magic of the powder of Oryza Sativa. Anoint yourself with this every third day and just. Brush the shit out of your hair. 

Fourth. Don’t get it wet. Certain witches will be more accustomed to avoiding water than others (Sister we know you laugh with the Crone in her realm. Your flying monkeys are well. They miss you as we do.) Take baths, not showers, add petals and fragrant unguents. Use umbrellas. If you need to, spot retouch with a flat-iron, but never iron the ends, let them take on a spirited bounce. 

Take on a spirited bounce yourself. 

Witch the Second: While witches First and Third offer sound advice regarding the blowing-out of hair, I sense you’re asking a second question as well, you clever beseecher. And regarding that secondary question: I imagine the far more pressing query is how to make your blowout end! The last time I threw a blowout it lasted for seven years Sightless time — for the last two years of it, at least, my head ached, my mouth when opened spilled literal quicksand, and all i wanted was to slip into an enchanted slumber deep as the headquarters of our sea-witch sistren, the Mariana Trench. But alas, the good hostess does not intentionally knock herself unconscious. 

My foolish owl feather, if what you desire is an eternal party, simply do as I did. Spike the witch’s brew with ash from an active volcano and a light spray of your own saliva. Ask sister Kim to invite Dionysus (he considers himself an A List deity these nights, and will RSVP to no one lesser; I blame our sister’s endlessly seductive phone diversion). He’s kind of a dick, as I’m sure you’re Aware, but reliably brings a bounty of drugs. See if you can get the Yellow King to craft you some creepy twig shit for ambience without actually inviting him — if he’s too thirsty to party and you sense an invite will be required, simply blow him off and ask known craft witch Martha Stewart. (Martha will of course be invited regardless; the lesson herein is to always try to get labor out of a man before asking a woman to “”“work”“” — work, the great enemy of the witch and the Sightless woman alike.) Ask the local wolf choir to howl their marrow-chillingest chorus. Turn off the overhead lights.

I expect to hear from you in five to ten years, imploring us for advice on how to end this wild bacchanal. And we will never fail you — provided we receive your invite promptly via messenger toad.

Inexpressibly ancient though we are, we do love a good blowout.

charmcore randomly followed me & i kinda want to #followback