I know, I know.
It’s silly.
Super silly, in fact.
But I needed to, guys.
It was calling to me.
I was watching “Forgetting Sarah Marshall,” and impulse struck. The uke was just sitting there, and the song has been stuck in my head all day…
I’m thoroughly enjoying being bad at ukulele at the moment.
I can’t strum, and I can’t sing, but I’m enjoying the heck out of the experience.
If you hate it, so be it.
Thanks for watching and following, guys. :)
I have this problem. I love eyes.
I’ve taken to snapping shots of friends with my phone, and I’m quickly becoming an addict.
Stop me, please.
There is something about this angle.
I’m addicted.
It brings so much attitude to the photo; each person makes it unique.
I will post more soon; I have many more on my other computer.
I need a day trip.
Just wandering around and snapping shots; I miss summer so much for that reason.
Freedom to shoot.
It’s all a girl needs.
I want to be really good at nature photography.
I’m not.
It’s tragic; I cry all the time.
But then I just think of Charlie Sheen, and everything is okay.
“I am on a drug. It’s called Charlie Sheen. It’s not available cause if you try it once you’ll die. Your face will melt off and your children will cry over your exploded body.
Yeah. Life is pretty good.
This man is the epitome of Portland.
He lies on the ground one Thursday out of every month, claiming his survival techniques allow him to make fire. Not once does he make fire.
He allows a participant in the audience to help, perhaps out of sheer desperation. His guest makes fire. Every time.
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