So here I am going into the kitchen at 1 am to get some cookies like a fat kid. I’m digging through the cabinets when I look down and right next to my foot is a spider as big as a goddamn half-dollar. And the little bastard just sits there like he’s waiting for me to make the next move. Of course my reaction is to just scream a muffled “OH FUCK” and jump backwards like the spider will instantly think I disappeared if I move out of his line of sight. So the little bastard decides to inch forward at me while I scrounge for something and finally get my hands on a shoe on the other side of the bar. And he just sits there, watching me, waiting like I’m just going to let him go or something. But he’s dead. I made sure of that.
5 days ago - 
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![thedailywhat:
Sage Advice of the Day: Henry Rollins, the relentlessly outspoken hardcore music icon — the Black Flag bearer of modern punk, if you will — recently participated in a “Letters to a Young American” project. What follows is an excerpt from Part 1 and Part 2.
“You’ll find in your life that sometimes your great ambitions will be momentarily stymied, thwarted, marginalized by those who were perhaps luckier; come from money; had more doors opened; where college was a given, not a student loan; it was something that dad paid for; where an ease and confidence in life was almost a birthright. Where for you, it was a very hard climb. … That happens all the time.
Just because you come from nothing, you must not let that be something that holds you back.”
Poignant, and more relevant than ever.
[death+taxes]](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m35nxuVBlp1qzpwi0o1_400.jpg)
