i loooveee these men<33

theclassix:

Rat Pack

elhumcupcake:

You’re a doll out of sight.

fuckyeahthevoice:

Frank Sinatra photographed by John Dominis, 1965

fuckyeahthevoice:

His blend of strength and softness has been the prevailing constant in my life. I remember his hands holding me while, as a child, I learned to swim, firm but gentle hands keeping me safe. I remember those same hands guiding me, balancing me, and then letting go, as I tried to ride a two-wheeler. I remember lunches with him at drive-ins, oil painting with him on the back porch, baseball games, where he taught me the rules. And I remember the bear hug he gave me recently when I told him how much I love him. I could feel the vibration of the sigh in his chest against my cheek. “Ooh,” he said, “I’d turn the world upside down for you.” Nancy Sinatra on her father, 1985

bamadillert:

fuckyeahthevoice:

Frank Sinatra photographed by Murray Garrett, 1953

missavagardner:

For some alcohol-induced reason—maybe I´d seen Captains Courageous one time too many— I´d decided it was my duty to stay on board and bale the goddamn thing out. By this time, Frank´s temper had reached its limits.

“Get off that fucking boat while there´s still time, you fucking fool”, he roared, shaking his fist in exasperation.

“Go fuck yourself,” I replied, always the lady. “I´m staying here.”

It was about that time that I discovered that this fancy boat was stocked with a monstrous amount of toilet paper. Why in the name of God the owners had decided to store so much on one boat I´ll never know. But all the champagne I´d drunk convinced me that this wealth must be shared with the world. So I unwrapped roll after roll and floated them all off in general direction of Frank. His rage was now off the charts, and he screamed a variety of curses in my direction that even I found impressive, but nothing he said deterred me from my appointed rounds.

Eventually, the boat began to sink in earnest, and I carefully joined Frank on the shore, carrying with me, with perfect survivor´s insticts, the last bottle of champagne and two glasses. We managed to get the bottle open and sat down to regard the scene. What was a little rumpus between lovers, anyway? We clinked glasses, laughed and made up.”

—Ava Gardner: My Story