(via rapnamechribby)
There’s just something wonderful about smearing blond wingers with neon cleats into the turf…
fuck yeah avengers.
this video never gets old.
i find it amusing that every friday night i shower, shave my legs, and paint my toenails… not because i’m going out, but because if i get fucked up during the game on saturday, i want to look presentable for the EMT’s.
have i mentioned that i’m classy?
two of my top 10 celebrity girl crushes in one place, with dancing. and LMFAO. my monday just got a little bit better…
i’ve been memed. *do the tighthead dance*
Training tonight made me wicked nostalgic for horrific workouts with the team I played with in New Zealand. I miss those bitches.
Figures that the twats would go and do a naked calendar after I leave. Not that anyone really wants to see the props naked. Unless they’re fighting to the death, I guess.
Only 2 days left to enter win a portrait of you, by me—as well as signed prints of Sherlock, Ron Swanson, Inspector Spacetime, AND Katniss Everdeen.
SAM SPRATT’S SPRING PORTRAIT CONTEST/CUSTOM PORTRAIT/SIGNED PRINT GIVEAWAY!
Spring is around the corner which means as thanks to you for following me here, as usual—I am giving TWO of you the chance to win a custom portrait made by me, custom-tailored to your heart’s desire. Free, no strings attached. The rules are simple, but read them so you can win.
What You Get:
A Web-resolution (1100 pixel) custom portrait, tailored to your most bizarre of requests. You can get a very traditional portrait done or as outlandish as you can dream. Zombies, Hipsters, Pirates, Ninjas, Superheroes, Robots, etc. are all fair-game themes in which you can have yourself transmogrified in painted form.
ADDITIONALLY, I’ll be giving 3 runner-ups their choice of a 13”x19” signed velvet archival print. Choices are: Sherlock, Ron Swanson, and Inspector Spacetime.
How to Enter:
FACEBOOK: Simply comment on the following facebook post. You get an extra entry if you click the “share” button and post it to your wall. ( Sam Spratt - Facebook Contest )
TWITTER: Follow http://twitter.com/#!/SamSpratt and tweet the following phrase verbatim on twitter:
“ Entering to win a custom portrait #painting from @samspratt’s portrait contest! https://www.facebook.com/sam.spratt ”
This also counts as an entry.
TUMBLR: Just reblog/like this post!
How long this will last:
This contest will run until April 6th, 2012.
You all are the best! Good luck and thanks again to all who follow my little slice of artwork on the web.
NOTE: You must be a follower or subscriber at the time of the win.
Why all this? Well, you’ve gotta write a big check with quite a few zeros at the end of it to commission art from me—and call me crazy, but I firmly believe that in a perfect world, people *should* get to own art AND do things like “pay rent”, “eat food-like substances on occasion”, and maybe even “continue to live”. Two of you can do that, the rest of you… you’re screwed. Sincerely, <3 Sam
one of my earliest memories is of sitting under my grandfather’s woodworking bench playing in piles of sawdust with a pair of his hand-carved hound dog statues. my parents would drop me off for summer weekends at the house my mom grew up in, and since i wasn’t much for “girly” household tasks with nana, poppy would tuck me away in his shop. we would putter around for hours, lost in our own worlds, to emerge at dinner smelling like pine wood and pipe smoke. when i got too big to fit under the bench, he cleared me my own space in the corner so i could set up a sketchbook and whatever art tools i was using that day. the light was crap; his shop was built into a hill and had just two tiny windows that hadn’t been cleaned in years, but it was cool in the heat of summer and we knew nobody else would bother us in there. at the end of the day we’d compare projects.
i’ve always thought it funny that the family members i was closest to were the ones that didn’t press me with conversation; poppy and i could spend entire days together in complete contentment without saying a single word. he and nana moved to arizona when i was in middle school, and while we never once spoke on the phone, we fell back into companionable silence on the few occasions we were in the same place.
the last time i saw him was in arizona about a year after they’d moved. he had just started carving something new; i think maybe it was a horse. i was drawing a series of knights in full armor for a social studies project. my mom and grandmother sat in the house bickering and chatting under the AC while my brother played video games. poppy cleared me a space at the end of his new work bench, and he and i drank budweiser and root beer (respectively) out of his minifridge to avoid going in the house, working side-by-side in silence until dark.
my grandfather died unexpectedly in his sleep this past weekend. i’d wish i’d had a chance to speak to him one last time, but neither one of us would’ve had anything to say. if there is an afterlife, i sincerely hope he’ll reserve me a bit of space at the end of his bench.
Starting over isn’t crazy. Crazy is being miserable and walking around half asleep, numb, day after day after day. Crazy is pretending to be happy. Pretending that the way things are is the way they have to be for the rest of your bleeding life. All the potential, hope, all that joy, feeling, all that passion that life has sucked out of you. Reach out, grab a hold of it and snatch it back from that bloodsucking rabble.
(via monsieurlapointe)
