So, what I’m saying is, should I find myself dying in a fiery plane crash, I figured I’d write a Last Will and Testament. One written on a blog should definitely hold up in any sort of legal matter, especially when I’m dealing with internetty and fake things, right?

To Tammi Jean, I leave my many thousand tweets. It is because of you I’m at that website in the first place, clogging the feeds of strangers everywhere with my incessant cat- and fart-talk.

To Ashley, I leave you any Backstreet Boys (and other random, tweenaged pop acts from the 1990s) memorabilia I might have stashed away somewhere. New Kids on the Block, too. I have some buttons and stuff.

To Jack and Agnes, I leave you all of the tape and Q-tips I own. I know how much you like chewing on those things, respectively, and now I won’t be there to verbally and psychologically abuse you when you do.

To Sandy Bear, take my car and my acceptance to The New School and live for me! Become a real, little bear!

Okay, I’m done. This wasn’t funny and I’m still scared! :(

Rollercoasters are scary and make me lose my voice. Something something, I’m going to Georgia this Friday and Tennessee this weekend and then back to Georgia for next week with Janaí-Chanelle. Chicago and Lollapalooza and licking the Second City building with my gross, dry tongue. Funemployment, school, eep! Pizza and a chocolate milkshake. The end.

So, I went to TGIFriday’s beforehand to food. I only went to this particular place because it’s located in the same parking lot as the movie theatre; I mean, fuck. They had a DJ “spinning sweet tracks” in there. Totally not a place I frequent. I had some lemonade and fried string beans and mashed potatoes (because I’m five), and then walked over to the theatre. It wasn’t as insane as the midnight Toy Story 3 experience, but the characters (watching the movie, not the ones in the movie!) were just as annoying. I digress.

I pop in a No-Doz (and almost fucking choke on it, for real) and get ready for my mind to disintegrate. The trailers beforehand were all kinds of “meh,” but the lot of us super-enjoyed the preview for M. Night Shamalamadingdong (okay, M. Night Shyamalan’s) Devil. And by “super-enjoyed,” I mean that we all sat in silence during the trailer and then erupted into a chorus of groans once his name popped up onto the screen. Then we laughed at ourselves because we’re awful people.

Alright, movie starts: ten minutes in, I’m already, practically, looking around me with my hands up like, “What is going on, am I right, people?” Well, I mean, listen; I’m totally a smart person (despite the conversational way I write and ironic usage of “totes” and the like). I completely understood everything that was happening, but sometimes you just have to be like, “What!,” you know? Because what you’re seeing – in this movie – is something your brain has probably never even imagined. How Christopher Nolan’s head isn’t oozing brains right now is a mystery I’ll never solve. We all dream. We all (maybe) wonder what it’d be like to travel into someone else’s dreams and thoughts, but this movie just brings it to levels of dream and reality and story that you can’t even begin to think of. And I think, probably, more than any other living human. As I’m typing this, I’m also thinking of a number of other things. My brain never stops, which is why I tend to accidentally sleep in shifts. I trail off mid-sentence, or run through several tangents of story. Sometimes I lose my breath because all of my thoughts fever pitch and eventually, like, explode inside of my mind.

And that is exactly how this film will make you feel. Like you’re a fucking lunatic. Because I’m a lunatic. Yes, you’ve been reading the ramblings of an insane person this whole time! Obviously! But, for real. I don’t think I’m spoiling anything by saying that this movie brought to fruition my sometimes wonder about whether or not this is reality. (That sentence was stupid.) I mean, totally, I know that I’m in real life right now, but yeah. I’m just saying… things. I don’t know, dude. I’m, like, wide awake and exhausted at the same time right now. Here are a bunch of stills, I guess (no spoils abound, promise!):

Pictures stoled from here, y’all.

Wait, hold on. Can we just talk about how every single piece of human in this film was uh-buh-banging? Because, yes.

Name: Cillian Murphy
Occupation: Film and theatre actor, Irishman
Status: Married to visual artist (pft), Yvonne McGuinness, with whom he has two children (the sighest of sighs)
Most known for: playing the villainous Scarecrow in Batman Begins (and for a second in The Dark Knight) and a creeper trying to kill my precious Rachel McAdams in Red Eye
First known for: heroing it up in that movie I definitely watched, but can’t remember, 28 Days Later
Up next: INCEPTION, STARRING, LIKE, EVERYONEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (can’t wait, obviously); also, that Sienna Miller movie, Hippie Hippie Shake, will be out at some point (I guess?) and filming on At Swim-Two-Birds (with Jonathan Rhys Meyers, Collin Farrell, and Brendan Gleeson) begins in September
Why you crushin’?: alright, so, check it. The first time I saw this dude was, just, at press stuff. Like, pictures of that press stuff online. I didn’t think much of him (and was actually pretty frightened by the intensity of his eyes – though, nothing can compare to this dude’s (why so like that, bro?)), and I didn’t bother seeing his films (I just wasn’t interested in girls with pearl earrings, okay?). Well, then my nerd self excitedly midnight-madnessed up Batman Begins and I found myself, “oh, hey!”ing the screen whenever this magnificent creature came upon it. Though he cameod in The Dark Knight, I still kind of forgot about him until the other day when I watched this video (I’m not sure why that other guy is petting his own knee for three straight minutes, but I digress). Now, as you may have guessed, he plays American a lot. I knew he wasn’t American, but I’d never heard him talk in interviews, or anything, so I wasn’t prepared for my body to convulse with pleasure upon hearing his normal speaking voice for the first time in my existence. I mean, I totally, eventually watched 28 Days Later, but I think I fell asleep and, as I’ve said, I don’t remember it, so forgive my late-to-the-Irish-accent-ness. I’m just saying – dag. He barely even talks in that interview, but it still made me feel this way:

Name: T.A.M.I. Show
Occupation: A 1964 concert film (yes, I have a crush on a concert film this week)
Status: Um, well, it featured The Barbarians, The Beach Boys, Chuck Berry, James Brown and the Famous Flames, Marvin Gaye, Gerry & the Pacemakers, Leslie Gore, Jan and Dean, Billy J. Kramer and the Dakotas, Smokey Robinson and the Miracles, The Rolling Stones, and The Supremes
Most known for: uh, being collective footage from two obviously amazing concerts that took place in October of 1964, that featured that day’s biggest stars
Recently known for: in 2006, the film was named to the National Film Registry by the U.S. Library of Congress, and it’s first authorized release came this March when Dick Clark Productions finally put it on DVD
Up next: unless you count me watching it every day, nothing
Why you crushin’?: I mean, come on. It’s fairly obvious by now that anything having to do with the 1960s is the greatest thing in the world to me (save for racism and sexism obbbvs). While The Ronettes and The Beatles are sadly missing from this concert and, therefore, film – and, though I can barely stand Diana Ross – I still found myself flipping the fuck out when I finally watched it last night. It started and didn’t fucking stop for two straight hours. Fast songs, slow songs, songs I knew by heart, songs I’d never heard – James Brown and his cape!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! When he dropped to his knees, I, literally, said aloud, “Shit! Someone bring him his cape!” and a dude totally brought him his cape. Anyway, not only were the performances outstanding, there were also a good amount of dancers on stage with them that didn’t. quit. Oh and, no big deal, but Tony Basil and Teri Gaar were two of those dancers! I definitely want to watch it again so I can find them. Some girls were in bathing suits, one dude was probably the lead singer of TV on the Radio; I can’t even explain to you how badly you need to find this thing and watch it to death.

Alright, I just checked: you can’t watch it online at Netflix, Amazon, or Hulu, but you can totally rent or purchase it, respectively, at those first two places.

I decide that I will be attending The New School in New York City this upcoming school year, but now must find $15,301 or a very, very cheap place to stay in or aroundish Greenwich Village (or, you know, Brooklyn, Queens, etc.) or will begrudgingly commute to classes.

I talk with much enthusiasm about how I celebrated Father’s Day (seriously, I had a lot more fun than my monotone suggests).

I burp and then blow the burp out of the side of my mouth.

And other awesome things.

The talent behind the blog are Dario Natale (since last January) and founder Mary Scherpe. Mary started the blog in 2006, with Hel-Looks as its main inspiration (I forgot this one when listing the fashion blogs I still read; this one was also too good to give up).

Most of the professional and civilian models are shot in Berlin, though, Mary and Dario have also travelled to other European (and American and beyond?) cities to snap their shots; so, while some of the below pictures may not be German, per se, it still fucking counts so back off, okay? Holy shit, and I just noticed their link to Stillos in Berlin, which is, basically, their pictures of the people, but minus the people, so it’s just pictures of places in Berlin. Please take my internet away before I never leave the couch again, thanks.

I think I might want to marry this ginge right here. I must know everything about her!