obviously this represents a failure

chotai:

ugh

this is my k hepburn impression, guys

(Source: carygranted)

theniftyfifties:

Joan Marshall feeds the penguins, 1958.

Penguins: the must have accessory for your mini-fridge.

Great ideas brought to you by my dad.

(Source: susiesnapshot)

The Lion in Winter (1968)

(Source: iwantcupcakes, via lamamama)

professionallush:

pepperjess:

“I am intrigued by glamorous women … A vain woman is continually taking out a compact to repair her makeup. A glamorous woman knows she doesn’t need to.” -clark gable

That dirty plate is killing me.  As if they EAT like normal people.  AS IF.

Don’t get on my bad side, Clark Gable. I love vain people. They’re fascinating too.

edit to add: And like, are you serious? He was a famous dude, living in a world where vanity was valuable for survival. WAKE UP CLARK GABLE. WAKE UP DUDES WHO THINK VANITY IS THE WORST.

(via unicornicopia)

standing-6four:

Gregory Peck and Mary Badham review the script for the film adaptation of To Kill a Mockingbird, 1962

From the LIFE magazine Photo Archive

via suninthetrees, liquidnight

* Love it!

(via parasols)

Fred Astaire and the piano in Let’s Dance

George Gershwin playing I’ve Got Rhythm

theimpossiblecool:

Lombard.

marplecomplex:

heckyeahlucydesi:

Lucy and Desi spoke once more in the final days before his death on December 2, 1986. As Lucie remembers, “I got on the phone with my mother and said, ‘He is barely speaking. He didn’t eat any of the dinner we fixed. He hasn’t eaten in three days. I don’t even know if he’ll understand what you’re saying, but I’ll put the phone up to his ear.’ She said, ‘Oh, okay.’ She was always trying to be so brave. You could hear her voice cracking. I put the phone up to dad’s ear in the bed. And he gave me a look that said, ‘Who is it?’ And I said, ‘It’s the redhead.’ He just listened, and I heard what she said. She just said the same thing over and over again. It was muffled, but you could clearly make out it was the same thing over and over again.

It was, ‘I love you. I love you. Desi, I love you.’ You could even hear the intonations of the voice change, how she meant each one, the interpretation. And I just sat there, trying not to show him I was listening, because I had to hold the phone. I couldn’t get out of the room. He couldn’t hold the phone. And he said, ‘I love you, too, honey. Good luck with your show.’ I had told him in passing, ‘Mom’s going to be on a variety show tonight, she’s going to give somebody an award.’ I’m sure he didn’t realize what show it was, it was just important for him to say that. I couldn’t say anything to her. I just said, ‘I’ll talk to you later.’ And I hung up the phone. Really, my mother was the last person he talked to, because he died about forty-eight hours later.

“Until I went back to my little diary”, concludes Lucie, “I never put it together that the date this happened was November 30 - the same date as their wedding anniversary.”

- Desilu: The story of Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz

(please, do not remove the text. Thank you <3)

having an emotional day over here

(via fallontines)

this is the dream

(via drunkandfreaky)

cavecitysink:

“Although known chiefly as an actress, Hedy Lamarr was a keen inventor and mathematician who was interested in military technology. Her neighbour was the composer George Antheil who was experimenting with automated musical instruments such as player pianos. Together they developed a system based on the perforations on player piano rolls, where a signal could switch between multiple frequencies to make radio controlled object such as torpedoes harder for the enemy to jam or detect. The patent was applied for in 1941 and was designed to assist the US military as a secret communication system, but it wasn’t put into use until the Cuba blockade of 1962.”

(Source: our-girl-friday)

(Source: endlessbloomability, via drunkandfreaky)

I would love to be the only person in a big house right now, watching Nick and Norah and drinking tea.

(via kickedy)

hiddenballroom:

LISTEN UP MOTHERFUCKERS, THIS AN ANTHEM FOR LIFE

Que sera sera

whatever will be will be

the future’s not ours to see

que sera sera

what will be, will be

I’d like to take this special moment to thank Hitchcock for locking that little boy in that room and having Doris Day sing to him at the top of her lungs.

Alfred Hitchcock is my Valentine. I’m going to draw his fat fucking profile on every goddamn thing I own.