Welcome to my collection of vintage, unique, or just plain bizarre food-related images!

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Thrifting Nightmares!

Photography:

www.kellyichinose.com

Hungry Ghost Collective

thesoldierfromthemountains:

earthdad:

a cute snail eating a strawberry
u just take ur time there lil buddy

ANYONE ELSE FIRST THINK THAT THIS FREAKING SNAIL UNHINGED IT’S HUGEASS JAW OH MY GOD

thesoldierfromthemountains:

earthdad:

a cute snail eating a strawberry

u just take ur time there lil buddy

ANYONE ELSE FIRST THINK THAT THIS FREAKING SNAIL UNHINGED IT’S HUGEASS JAW OH MY GOD

(via shadowofthecolossi)

(Source: fiftyyearstoolate, via madmeals)

no-more-ramen:

Genesis of Cookies Poster, the Documented History of Cookie
food52:

We’re more than happy to participate in these Reindeer Games.
(via strangeparking)

food52:

We’re more than happy to participate in these Reindeer Games.

(via strangeparking)

(via femmelesucre)

hollyhocksandtulips:

Brach’s, 1957

hollyhocksandtulips:

Brach’s, 1957

greatfoods:

Garlic-Rubbed Margherita Pizza Grilled Cheese. So easy but so delicious.
Source: morganeisenberg (reddit)

greatfoods:

Garlic-Rubbed Margherita Pizza Grilled Cheese. So easy but so delicious.

Source: morganeisenberg (reddit)

(via honeychiles-kitchen)

fuckyeahthespianpeacock:

saltheria:

yeffyaboyuice:

mythchief:

So there I was, ready to take a shower. I mean, I was dirty, a little greasy, a shower was not such a horrible idea. People take showers, amiright? Of course!
I get naked.
FULL naked.
REAL naked.
I’m talking the exact opposite reason why you ever went to your grandmother’s house.
No cookies. Blatant nudity.
That’s how folks take showers these days, right? Well, I pull back the curtain…
And there it was.
This…thing…sitting on the little soap/shower/pube shelf. Not a care in the world, like it’s been there for years. “What the fuck is that?” I think to myself.
Now, what follows is the exact pattern of thought that took me from rational human being to Sloth in 3.4 seconds.
“Is that a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit? Holy fuck that’s a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit. OMG why would someone leave that unattended. Those things are so delicious. I’m gonna eat the fuck out of it. Man, I can’t wait to see whoever left it’s face when they come back to find that someone ate their cheesy biscuit’s fuck. Ohhh boy.”
Then my brain sent a message to my arm that said, “Reach for that cheesy biscuit, bitch. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!?”
As you must already know, we are all contractually bound to make a dickload of mistakes throughout our lifetime. Some of those mistakes are so big that they forever hinder our world and warrant entire chapters in our children’s history books. However, most mistakes have the dubious providence of merely haunting one’s soul and festering amidst the subconscious for always and eternity.
This was, nearly, one of those.
If my adjacency to failure could be measured, the only possible unit of measurement to appropriate it would be “baby condoms”. And no, I do not mean those horrendous papoose-like titty-cribs that the slovenly carriage their spawn around in in Wal-Mart, I mean condoms that a baby would wear.
My adjacency to failure was roughly 1 and a half Kiddie Trojans.
I’m not sure what stopped me, be it cosmic or supernatural, but it gave my brain just enough time to ask itself some rather important questions regarding this little tub treasure. Questions like:
“WHO, THE FUCK, WOULD LEAVE A CHEESY BISCUIT IN MY SHOWER?!”
And inquiries such as:
“AND WHY WERE YOU GOING TO EAT IT, MORON?!”
Seriously, was I so hungry that I would wantonly disobey all the integral conditioning and survival imprinting my parents bestowed upon me like the ever important, “Um, don’t eat that biscuit retard, you don’t know where it’s been or whose it is and also you found it in the shower.” in order to satisfy something so benign as a munchie?
That, I’m sorry to say, was pretty much my reality.
An early morning introspective psychological evaluation of a sad, hungry, naked man who almost ate a bar of soap.

OMG ITS BACK

This shit needs to be published.

This is going in the monologue section and I’m not even sorry.

fuckyeahthespianpeacock:

saltheria:

yeffyaboyuice:

mythchief:

So there I was, ready to take a shower. I mean, I was dirty, a little greasy, a shower was not such a horrible idea. People take showers, amiright? Of course!

I get naked.

FULL naked.

REAL naked.

I’m talking the exact opposite reason why you ever went to your grandmother’s house.

No cookies. Blatant nudity.

That’s how folks take showers these days, right? Well, I pull back the curtain…

And there it was.

This…thing…sitting on the little soap/shower/pube shelf. Not a care in the world, like it’s been there for years. “What the fuck is that?” I think to myself.

Now, what follows is the exact pattern of thought that took me from rational human being to Sloth in 3.4 seconds.

“Is that a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit? Holy fuck that’s a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit. OMG why would someone leave that unattended. Those things are so delicious. I’m gonna eat the fuck out of it. Man, I can’t wait to see whoever left it’s face when they come back to find that someone ate their cheesy biscuit’s fuck. Ohhh boy.”

Then my brain sent a message to my arm that said, “Reach for that cheesy biscuit, bitch. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!?”

As you must already know, we are all contractually bound to make a dickload of mistakes throughout our lifetime. Some of those mistakes are so big that they forever hinder our world and warrant entire chapters in our children’s history books. However, most mistakes have the dubious providence of merely haunting one’s soul and festering amidst the subconscious for always and eternity.

This was, nearly, one of those.

If my adjacency to failure could be measured, the only possible unit of measurement to appropriate it would be “baby condoms”. And no, I do not mean those horrendous papoose-like titty-cribs that the slovenly carriage their spawn around in in Wal-Mart, I mean condoms that a baby would wear.

My adjacency to failure was roughly 1 and a half Kiddie Trojans.

I’m not sure what stopped me, be it cosmic or supernatural, but it gave my brain just enough time to ask itself some rather important questions regarding this little tub treasure. Questions like:

“WHO, THE FUCK, WOULD LEAVE A CHEESY BISCUIT IN MY SHOWER?!”

And inquiries such as:

“AND WHY WERE YOU GOING TO EAT IT, MORON?!”

Seriously, was I so hungry that I would wantonly disobey all the integral conditioning and survival imprinting my parents bestowed upon me like the ever important, “Um, don’t eat that biscuit retard, you don’t know where it’s been or whose it is and also you found it in the shower.” in order to satisfy something so benign as a munchie?

That, I’m sorry to say, was pretty much my reality.

An early morning introspective psychological evaluation of a sad, hungry, naked man who almost ate a bar of soap.

OMG ITS BACK

This shit needs to be published.

This is going in the monologue section and I’m not even sorry.

(via fuckyeahfoodninja)

tastefullyoffensive:

One donut to rule them all. [mirachravaia]

tastefullyoffensive:

One donut to rule them all. [mirachravaia]

(via piesexualhunter)

elle-emeno-pee:

(via Eggs font)
so cute, so expensivo

elle-emeno-pee:

(via Eggs font)
so cute, so expensivo

(via toastoastoast)

I don’t know what this is from but it sounds like my best friend.

(via fuckyeahfoodninja)

fozmeadows:

In which seven cats all discover the same slightly elevated flat thing and claim it as their own while pretending the other six cats don’t exist.

fozmeadows:

In which seven cats all discover the same slightly elevated flat thing and claim it as their own while pretending the other six cats don’t exist.

(Source: misterjakes, via fuckyeahfoodninja)

theheartmaid:

riker-wears-a-skant:

everyonelovesrobots:

microcroft:

iguah-daily:

I GIVE YOU A HAMBURGER

f UCK PLEASE NOT AGAIN

NOT THIS AGAIN

I HAVE SURVIVED LIKE 2 YEARS WITHOUT THIS DEEP HAMBURGER LEVEL SHIT

Oh god. It’s finally back.

Ì̞͍̘͎̮͔̹̄̄̾͛͛ͅ ̂ͥ̌ͫͯ͆͆҉̷͇̫̰̦̼̤͓̻̥͡g̱̖̙̫̉̏ͧ̂̍ͪ́i̡̘̠͌ͨ̅͒̇̚v̥̲̠̱̳͍͇͎̙ͮͦ̌ͩe̥͇̤̘͒ͣͤͨ͢ ͔̥͖͚̮̩͖̐̐̓̊̕͢y̢͍̳̠͚ͮ́͛ͭ́̅ͯo̡͚ͧͣ͆͊ͯ͊̾͑͢uͪ̃ͣ҉̸̺̻ ͫ͋ͦ̀ͬͪ̌͒͏̹͔͉͍a̶̡̭̯̳͍͚ͬͬͣͯͨͯ̐͢ ̆̋͗ͯ̿ͪ̈́̽҉̥̝̮͍͍̘͎̥̤h̊̏ͫͭ̆ͪ͡҉͏̤̠̖̲͙̥̞a̯̒͌͆̔̈́͡m̨͈̯̖̲͚͈̳̿ͅb̸͓̣̙̥̼̍ͩͫ̓̇͂́͝ͅu̶̸͎͉̮͈͛ͦ͑́ͅr̟̦̤͔̫͇̠͔̓̏ͧ̈̄͑̚g̡͍̲̜̯̥̣̩ͣ̾ͧ̓͛͐̽͠e̞ͭ̔̚͠r̯̜͊͗̀͜͟.̛̺̳̝̔͌ͭ͊̽̆ͧ͟
̣̫̪̣̠̺̾͑̊̊ͩ͆͘͞
̉͊͏͚̟Ạ̢̬̹͖̗̎̑̇̕͞s̭͉͍͕̙͙ͥ̂̒̐ͧͬ ̷̴̸̲͓̮͋̈́͐̀̈ỷ̱̫͚̮͇̖͙͇͆̉̊ͩ̄̂̀̚͟o̤̜̺̩̬̾ͪ̀̐̌͗̽ų̫̣͕̮͚͒̀̎͛͛͟͢ͅ ̜͈̥̲̖ͯḳ̡͚̻̭͓͌͐́̈͛̋͟ĭ̬͌̋ͥ̓̋͐͢l͇̬̮͖̤ͫͯ̔͐̅̓͢ļ̨͈͍̮̪̟̼͓͗̂͐͆ͪͫ̌͝ ̢̢̹̳̝̘̤̆̓̔̉m̖̬̜̮͇̼͍̝̽ͦ́͡e̪͇͆̅̓̐͐̾,̱̥̬͈̙̠̓́ͪͩ̚ͅ ̷̘̰̐̄̑̿̎ͤ̽̀͠I̴̺̭̝̯̟̹͚̜̼͆͑̈́̉͑̂̆ ̱̓̆̅̇ͨ̃ͯ̑̉̕͢d̝͍̮̋͗ͤ͋̔̐ͣ͌ͭö͈̜͚͇̲̠͇͓͠ ̴̼͕̲̱ͤ͋ͣ̏̀͢n̢̠̜̖̋́ͧ̽͢o͙̰͓̒̇̉͗̾̄͞ͅt̵̼̗͂̉̚͝ ̧̤̙͐̊ͬ̔ͩ͛̎̀̚m̧̙͕̬̗̥̘̀̎ͭ̎̾̾ͧa̭̣̜̦̥͙̱̣͊̂͌͐̇̆̈̔͟͝k͔̺̰̭͔̆ͨͪ̆ͦͣ̄e̸͇̻̎̉ͧ̑͛̓̿ͪ͟ ̲̪̹̱̜̝͈̂ͯ̓͌̊͘a̢̫̹̝̥͔͙͉͉ͪͤ̋̓̿̎ͨ̀́ ̦̻ͨͧͧ͋͐̅ͬ͝s͓̗̯̟̝̞̥̮͒̄̑o̴͈͙̲̥̔ͨ̄̿̊̌ͮͨ͠uͦ͆̋҉̙̪̼ṇ̨͈͚̙̣̰͉͇̳́̾̒̌ͧdͪ͂҉̸̞̟͕̦͜.͍̯̙̯̮̈̓̓̊̀͢
̢͇͖̲̲̯̙̭͑͌̅̃ͬ͌͝
͕̪̼̻͎̦̜̹͐͟Í̥͓̳ͫ͐͟ ̛̐̊̿ͫ̉͑͊͂͋҉̤̟̠͍̫͔g̪̼̙͎̖̙ͮ̀͝i̵̫̮̪͉̯̫͙̭̹ͦ̌̇̐ͦ͐̓͜v̡̭͎̠̹̳͖͙̮̆ͥ̒ͧ̍̃̕͞e̴̝͚̘̲̜͈̹̮̺̒̎ͬ͒ͣ͐ ͙̘̗̻̠͚̗̬ͨ̏ͨͪ̽̑̽͜͠yͤͯ̈͆͛̓ͥ҉̛̦o̶̯̬̥̬͒ͬͭ͆ͥ̄̕u̟̟̒͌̿̐̀ ̸̹̯̺̖̇͌͘ä̵̡͕̤́̐̑̀ͥ̈̓̚ ̢͑ͧ̃͏̪̲̪̼h̪̮̣̞̜̰́̏ͩ̅̈́̎ͪ̓͘ä̷̩̠́̓̈́m͎̟̀̌̋ͮ̏͡b̰̬̝̅̏u͚͎̰̮̻̇̿ͣ͐ͯ̍̄ͨͫr̴̨̪̜̘̳̞̖͊͟ġ̱͍ͮͨ̎̓ẻ̵̢̛͕͓̻̳̳̝ͩͪ̇̒ͦ̓̇̓r̦̮ͣ̆͌̕.̣̟̬̣̭̙̱̗̒̽̎

i should have fucking known i’m done with everything

(via shadowofthecolossi)