ROAD HOUSE T SHIRT. ROAD HOUSE


ROAD HOUSE T SHIRT. PRINTING LOGOS ON T SHIRTS



Road House T Shirt





road house t shirt






    road house
  • Road House is a 1989 American action film directed by Rowdy Herrington and starring Patrick Swayze and Sam Elliott as bouncers at a seedy roadside bar who protect a small town in Missouri from a corrupt businessman.

  • A tavern, inn, or club on a country road

  • Road House (1948) is a film noir drama directed by Jean Negulesco, with cinematography by Joseph LaShelle. The picture features Ida Lupino, Cornel Wilde, Celeste Holm, Richard Widmark, among others.





    t shirt
  • A short-sleeved casual top, generally made of cotton, having the shape of a T when spread out flat

  • jersey: a close-fitting pullover shirt

  • A T-shirt (T shirt or tee) is a shirt which is pulled on over the head to cover most of a person's torso. A T-shirt is usually buttonless and collarless, with a round neck and short sleeves.

  • T Shirt is a 1976 album by Loudon Wainwright III. Unlike his earlier records, this (and the subsequent 'Final Exam') saw Wainwright adopt a full blown rock band (Slowtrain) - though there are acoustic songs on T-Shirt, including a talking blues.











road house t shirt - Road House




Road House


Road House



Patrick Swayze stars in this sexy, "violent tough-guy thriller" (Fort Worth Star-Telegram) from the producer of Die Hard and The Matrix. Co-starring Ben Gazzara (The Thomas Crown Affair), Kelly Lynch (Charlie's Angels) and Sam Elliott (We Were Soldiers), Road House delivers no-holds-barred action that pushes the envelope for high-octane thrills! Swayze is Dalton, a legendary bouncer who comes to Jasper, Missouri, for a special purpose: to restore order at the notorious Double Deuce bar. In one spectacular fight after another, Dalton rids the bar of thugs and henchmen. But when he runs afoul of a ruthless crime boss (Gazzara) who controls the town, the stage is set for a blistering showdown that'll leave only one man standing!

One of those movies that helped usher out the era of action films that had plots that made any sense (and also helped reverse the direction of Patrick Swayze's career arc), Road House concerns a handsome, existential bouncer in a rinky-dink honky-tonk who owns both a degree in philosophy and a Mercedes. And that's perhaps the most believable aspect of the whole movie. Swayze stars as Dalton, "the best bouncer in the business," who runs afoul of Wesley (Ben Gazzara), the meanest SOB round these parts, by taking up with his former girlfriend, Doc (Kelly Lynch)--the only woman in town with an IQ approaching double digits, even if she had unfathomably hooked up with such a lowlife. Swayze had complained about being typecast as beefcake when this was made, but that didn't stop him from revealing as much skin as possible--even guys like him, as revealed in a luridly seedy scene in which one of Wesley's goons tells Dalton that he reminds him of the kind of boyfriend he had in prison (albeit in much saltier terms). It's so insulting to its audience that it's nice to be able to turn the tables and laugh at the filmmakers. --David Kronke










75% (11)





Indonesia, Sulawesi Selatan, Kabupaten Gowa, Bilibili




Indonesia, Sulawesi Selatan, Kabupaten Gowa, Bilibili





Road from Malino to Makassar.

Typical house for that part of Sulawesi. There are more beautiful houses in the Toraja area, further north in the same province. But somehow I'm not attracted to go there. The main reason is not the terrible Toraja T-shirt that is sold in all the souvenir shops of Makassar airport (although that would be reason enough), but I have prejudice against what people call "adventure tourism".

I have a friend who went to Toraja to see the fascinating death cult of the people there. When she arrived in Rantepao, a local speaker of the English language offered his services as a guide and took her to a village because he knew that - coincidentially - a funeral was happening there on that very day.

After that I googled a little and checked on flickr, only to find that everybody else who goes there brings back the same photos as she did: The same beautiful houses, the same village, the same funeral. I can't get rid of the feeling that it may be staged for the tourists.

It's a bit like the story of the tourists, who tell you, full of excitement, of their trip to see an undiscovered waterfall, and in the middle of the jungle the minibus of the tour organisation got stuck in the mud. Then a bunch of wild men jumped out of the forest, clad in loincloth, who looked like dangerous cannibals. And, to everybody's great surprise, they helped to get the bus out of the mudhole with their bamboo sticks and banana leaves.

Of course you know that this is all arranged on a weekly basis for the visiting tourist groups, the mud is artificial and the fee for the "wild men" (who wear long trousers and shirts for the rest of the day) is included in the price for the whole package.

I understand that the people are poor and have to be inventive to satisfy the rich foreign tourists. But not with me, please.

So I have to be satisfied with second class Sulawesi houses and can see the better ones only on other people's photos - and on that horrible T-shirt in the airport.











118/365 My song is love




118/365 My song is love





I woke up this morning yelling “shit” as I checked the time and saw I overslept. As I checked my phone for the time, I also checked it for a text. Nothing. While I got ready for school, I checked facebook to see if you left some hopelessly romantic wall post. Nothing. I waited for my phone to start vibrating in my pocket while I was straightening my hair. Nothing. I walk into school thinking of seeing you with flowers or to greet me with a big, loving hug. Nothing. I leave to go into first period, waiting for some nice and sweet “I love you.” Nothing. I sit in first period. Tears. I write you a letter. Fear. I give it to you. Silence. I see you at the end of the day. Scared. We barely make conversation as we start to say good bye. Coward. You kiss me good bye. A kiss that felt like lips pressing up against lips and nothing more. Pain. Sitting on the bus, listening to John Mayer, writing this. Doubts. Raining while the sun is shining. Everything. Will. Be. Okay.

I love you but today you really broke my heart</3

Today is 2 years with Gary and all I get is “Happy 2 years, by the way” And it’s not even about getting anything; it’s about showing that person you care and that just didn’t happen today. It hasn’t in awhile.
Please don’t feel sympathy for me. This is my own fault for putting up with it. I just needed to vent. Sorry, Flickr that you had to be the ventee.


You know what made my day? The people who drove past me while I was taking this. The people who drove past me and smiled. That meant the world to me. The little things go a long way for me. They always have and always will<3

Those are hearts on my guitar. And I don’t care that parts of this are over-exposed.










road house t shirt








road house t shirt




Road House [VHS]






One of those movies that helped usher out the era of action films that had plots that made any sense (and also helped reverse the direction of Patrick Swayze's career arc), Road House concerns a handsome, existential bouncer in a rinky-dink honky-tonk who owns both a degree in philosophy and a Mercedes. And that's perhaps the most believable aspect of the whole movie. Swayze stars as Dalton, "the best bouncer in the business," who runs afoul of Wesley (Ben Gazzara), the meanest SOB round these parts, by taking up with his former girlfriend, Doc (Kelly Lynch)--the only woman in town with an IQ approaching double digits, even if she had unfathomably hooked up with such a lowlife. Swayze had complained about being typecast as beefcake when this was made, but that didn't stop him from revealing as much skin as possible--even guys like him, as revealed in a luridly seedy scene in which one of Wesley's goons tells Dalton that he reminds him of the kind of boyfriend he had in prison (albeit in much saltier terms). It's so insulting to its audience that it's nice to be able to turn the tables and laugh at the filmmakers. --David Kronke










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