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soselfimportant:
4:35 Blaze it sorry traffic was crazy
(Your picture was not posted)
soselfimportant:
4:35 Blaze it sorry traffic was crazy
(Your picture was not posted)
Nov. 27th, 2018
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starllex:
when something bad happens to someone you dont like and you have to pretend you’re sad but on the inside you’re like
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starllex:
when something bad happens to someone you dont like and you have to pretend you’re sad but on the inside you’re like
(Your picture was not posted)
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plain-flavoured-english:
Storytime. Cooking in a different country makes you realize how many things you take for granted are just, Not A Thing Here. Like apple juice. Surely you can find apple juice at your local Athenian grocery store, right? Wrong. Greeks drink orange juice and peach juice and mixed fruit juice and sour cherry juice, but… plain old apple juice, nope, not so much. You’ll have a hard time finding vanilla extract in Greece too, since Greeks are used to vanilla powder in little plastic capsules and you have to go to specialty shops for the liquid stuff. Sour cream is virtually nonexistent here (but hey, it’s the land of yogurt, which is a good enough substitute). But surprisingly cornmeal (which is a specialty ingredient in the UK) is everywhere, since Greeks have their own versions of cornbread and corn pudding.
So basically: I knew it might be impossible find vegetable shortening (aka Crisco) for my Thanksgiving pie crust here in Athens. Crisco is pretty uniquely American, and Greeks are more likely to use phyllo than shortcrust anyway. That said, there are a handful of specialty shops in central Athens that sell things like Heinz baked beans and custard powder and Worcestershire sauce and other Weird Foreign Foods™ so us Sad Homesick Expats don’t have to go hungry (I’m always reminded of A Passage to India and their corned beef and tinned peas). So I went on Skroutz (the search engine for buying stuff in Greece) and typed in “vegetable shortening” to see if any stores carried it.
A notification came up asking me to confirm that I was over 18 years old?
???
I clicked “yes”??
Turns out there is, in fact, one shop in Athens that carries vegetable shortening. It’s a sex shop. The shortening is listed under “sex essentials”, as lube. For fisting. It’s literally called “βούτυρο για fisting” – “butter for fisting”.
I decided I didn’t need a flaky pie crust that badly.
When my sister studied abroad in Germany, she was going to bake her host family these really tasty pumpkin chocolate chip muffin tops. But when she went to shop, she noticed there just… Wasn’t… Canned pumpkin (or any pumpkin) anywhere? Anyway, long story short, my mom decided to spend a shitton on shipping to send her some canned pumpkin and my sister’s host family got to eat these heavenly desserts
(Your picture was not posted)
plain-flavoured-english:
Storytime. Cooking in a different country makes you realize how many things you take for granted are just, Not A Thing Here. Like apple juice. Surely you can find apple juice at your local Athenian grocery store, right? Wrong. Greeks drink orange juice and peach juice and mixed fruit juice and sour cherry juice, but… plain old apple juice, nope, not so much. You’ll have a hard time finding vanilla extract in Greece too, since Greeks are used to vanilla powder in little plastic capsules and you have to go to specialty shops for the liquid stuff. Sour cream is virtually nonexistent here (but hey, it’s the land of yogurt, which is a good enough substitute). But surprisingly cornmeal (which is a specialty ingredient in the UK) is everywhere, since Greeks have their own versions of cornbread and corn pudding.
So basically: I knew it might be impossible find vegetable shortening (aka Crisco) for my Thanksgiving pie crust here in Athens. Crisco is pretty uniquely American, and Greeks are more likely to use phyllo than shortcrust anyway. That said, there are a handful of specialty shops in central Athens that sell things like Heinz baked beans and custard powder and Worcestershire sauce and other Weird Foreign Foods™ so us Sad Homesick Expats don’t have to go hungry (I’m always reminded of A Passage to India and their corned beef and tinned peas). So I went on Skroutz (the search engine for buying stuff in Greece) and typed in “vegetable shortening” to see if any stores carried it.
A notification came up asking me to confirm that I was over 18 years old?
???
I clicked “yes”??
Turns out there is, in fact, one shop in Athens that carries vegetable shortening. It’s a sex shop. The shortening is listed under “sex essentials”, as lube. For fisting. It’s literally called “βούτυρο για fisting” – “butter for fisting”.
I decided I didn’t need a flaky pie crust that badly.
When my sister studied abroad in Germany, she was going to bake her host family these really tasty pumpkin chocolate chip muffin tops. But when she went to shop, she noticed there just… Wasn’t… Canned pumpkin (or any pumpkin) anywhere? Anyway, long story short, my mom decided to spend a shitton on shipping to send her some canned pumpkin and my sister’s host family got to eat these heavenly desserts
(Your picture was not posted)
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veronica-rich:
pillowprincesslexa:
auntiewanda:
gayheretic:
auntiewanda:
aleph-none:
killerchickadee:
You kiddos have no idea how groundbreaking this was. Like there’s a reason THE lesbian website for a billion years was called After Ellen. She changed everything.
oh man you know that feeling that’s like kind of an ache right between your heart and your stomach? like nostalgic knowing of pain? that’s how the scared look in Ellen’s eyes makes me feel.
Look at her hand too and how nervous she is. Every gay and lesbian person knows this feeling, because we know there are assumptions and consequences and there’s no telling how someone will react.
And let no one forget that she suffered consequences for this. It wasn’t just a moment of cathartic unburdening and then business as usual.
Right, she lost her first TV show. She worked hard to get up to where she is today.
Ellen lost her TV show and didn’t get offered another job for the next 3 years. All while facing harsh critic from most of the world. Not to mention that Oprah, who immediately said yes to playing her therapist in this episode, got her own fair share of disrespectful and mostly racist comments. All over this one episode on a sitcom. Correct me if I’m wrong but I believe that over 40 million people watched this episode to see the first openly gay character on television.
This is history and it better fucking be in the history books for next generations.
I thought Ellen’s career was over; I remember watching this in real time. It’s amazing she’s not only where she is today but that she’s so widely liked and seen as nonthreatening.
(Your picture was not posted)
veronica-rich:
pillowprincesslexa:
auntiewanda:
gayheretic:
auntiewanda:
aleph-none:
killerchickadee:
You kiddos have no idea how groundbreaking this was. Like there’s a reason THE lesbian website for a billion years was called After Ellen. She changed everything.
oh man you know that feeling that’s like kind of an ache right between your heart and your stomach? like nostalgic knowing of pain? that’s how the scared look in Ellen’s eyes makes me feel.
Look at her hand too and how nervous she is. Every gay and lesbian person knows this feeling, because we know there are assumptions and consequences and there’s no telling how someone will react.
And let no one forget that she suffered consequences for this. It wasn’t just a moment of cathartic unburdening and then business as usual.
Right, she lost her first TV show. She worked hard to get up to where she is today.
Ellen lost her TV show and didn’t get offered another job for the next 3 years. All while facing harsh critic from most of the world. Not to mention that Oprah, who immediately said yes to playing her therapist in this episode, got her own fair share of disrespectful and mostly racist comments. All over this one episode on a sitcom. Correct me if I’m wrong but I believe that over 40 million people watched this episode to see the first openly gay character on television.
This is history and it better fucking be in the history books for next generations.
I thought Ellen’s career was over; I remember watching this in real time. It’s amazing she’s not only where she is today but that she’s so widely liked and seen as nonthreatening.
(Your picture was not posted)
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kc-anathema:
ao3feed-thorki:
writethroughmyheart:
Friendly reminder that one of the changes to asgard loki made as king was to put barriers on the bifrost…
I’m not saying he was scared of falling again but…
HE WAS SCARED OF FALLING AGAIN
I need a little drabble about this. Side note: This puts into context just how shaken and pissed Loki was when Dr. Strange let him freefall for 30 minutes. Enough to want to cut a bitch!
Evil brother steals the throne…
First acts are to install safety barriers on dangerous bridge and encourage community theater.
(Your picture was not posted)
kc-anathema:
ao3feed-thorki:
writethroughmyheart:
Friendly reminder that one of the changes to asgard loki made as king was to put barriers on the bifrost…
I’m not saying he was scared of falling again but…
HE WAS SCARED OF FALLING AGAIN
I need a little drabble about this. Side note: This puts into context just how shaken and pissed Loki was when Dr. Strange let him freefall for 30 minutes. Enough to want to cut a bitch!
Evil brother steals the throne…
First acts are to install safety barriers on dangerous bridge and encourage community theater.
(Your picture was not posted)
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salamandertoast:
“If they didn’t like his, they’re going to be furious with mine,” Miranda says. “I intend to represent a corner of London with my accent that has not yet been invented. I’m going to have the worst accent in the history of English accents—I’m going to sound like I’m from another planet.”
[x]
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salamandertoast:
“If they didn’t like his, they’re going to be furious with mine,” Miranda says. “I intend to represent a corner of London with my accent that has not yet been invented. I’m going to have the worst accent in the history of English accents—I’m going to sound like I’m from another planet.”
[x]
(Your picture was not posted)
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toomanylokifeels:
shaylogic:
shaylogic:
Bb MCU Loki: *scrapes knee* mom why is my blood blue
Frigga, super Done and staying out of it: ask your father
Loki: dad, why do I have blue blood?
Odin, sweating: because you’re royalty, of course
Thor: *scrapes elbow* dad, i’m royalty, too, right? Why’s my blood red?
Odin, sweating bullets: you’re adopted
Odin panicking and telling Thor he’s the adopted one instead is peak comedy.
(Your picture was not posted)
toomanylokifeels:
shaylogic:
shaylogic:
Bb MCU Loki: *scrapes knee* mom why is my blood blue
Frigga, super Done and staying out of it: ask your father
Loki: dad, why do I have blue blood?
Odin, sweating: because you’re royalty, of course
Thor: *scrapes elbow* dad, i’m royalty, too, right? Why’s my blood red?
Odin, sweating bullets: you’re adopted
Odin panicking and telling Thor he’s the adopted one instead is peak comedy.
(Your picture was not posted)
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toastpotent:
gunpowder-tea:
Direct action.
bungle said fuck blue lives
(Your picture was not posted)
toastpotent:
gunpowder-tea:
Direct action.
bungle said fuck blue lives
(Your picture was not posted)
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politeq:
voxeterna1:
So ,I’m a music teacher and every year we have what are called “walk through observations”. Basically, this means that 4 times a year the principal or vice principal comes into my class to assess my teaching. Fine. Sure. No problem.
Well, today I was doing an activity with my 1st graders called “Musical Groceries”. Basically, they make up a fake shopping list and then together we figure out what the rhythm of the words on the list is. To do that, a small group of students plays the beat on the conga drum while the rest of the students move around the room while chanting the word. It sounds weird but it’s a great way for the kids to figure out the relationship between syllables and rhythm.
They quickly get bored of walking the rhythm so I let them come up with their own ways of moving around the room.( skipping, hopping, etc) One student suggested they hop around the room like frogs, way down low to the ground. Okay fine.
Or it was fine until my vice principal walked in to do my observation only to find 20 seven year olds hopping around the room like a hoard of little hob-goblins, rhythmically chanting “BREAD! BREAD! BREAD!” while five other kids played ominous beats in a drum circle.
I have never seen anyone look so confused in my life and I really don’t want to know the rating I got on my observation.
this is the only non fake text post on tumblr
(Your picture was not posted)
politeq:
voxeterna1:
So ,I’m a music teacher and every year we have what are called “walk through observations”. Basically, this means that 4 times a year the principal or vice principal comes into my class to assess my teaching. Fine. Sure. No problem.
Well, today I was doing an activity with my 1st graders called “Musical Groceries”. Basically, they make up a fake shopping list and then together we figure out what the rhythm of the words on the list is. To do that, a small group of students plays the beat on the conga drum while the rest of the students move around the room while chanting the word. It sounds weird but it’s a great way for the kids to figure out the relationship between syllables and rhythm.
They quickly get bored of walking the rhythm so I let them come up with their own ways of moving around the room.( skipping, hopping, etc) One student suggested they hop around the room like frogs, way down low to the ground. Okay fine.
Or it was fine until my vice principal walked in to do my observation only to find 20 seven year olds hopping around the room like a hoard of little hob-goblins, rhythmically chanting “BREAD! BREAD! BREAD!” while five other kids played ominous beats in a drum circle.
I have never seen anyone look so confused in my life and I really don’t want to know the rating I got on my observation.
this is the only non fake text post on tumblr
(Your picture was not posted)
lupita-nyongo: Lupita Nyong’o’s Speech
Nov. 27th, 2018 02:20 amvia https://ift.tt/2KGeXV7
lupita-nyongo:
Lupita Nyong’o’s Speech at the ESSENCE Black Women In Hollywood Luncheon
I wrote down this speech that I had no time to practice so this will be the practicing session. Thank you Alfre, for such an amazing, amazing introduction and celebration of my work. And thank you very much for inviting me to be a part of such an extraordinary community. I am surrounded by people who have inspired me, women in particular whose presence on screen made me feel a little more seen and heard and understood. That it is ESSENCE that holds this event celebrating our professional gains of the year is significant, a beauty magazine that recognizes the beauty that we not just possess but also produce.
I want to take this opportunity to talk about beauty, black beauty, dark beauty. I received a letter from a girl and I’d like to share just a small part of it with you: “Dear Lupita,” it reads, “I think you’re really lucky to be this black but yet this successful in Hollywood overnight. I was just about to buy Dencia’s Whitenicious cream to lighten my skin when you appeared on the world map and saved me.”
My heart bled a little when I read those words, I could never have guessed that my first job out of school would be so powerful in and of itself and that it would propel me to be such an image of hope in the same way that the women of The Color Purple were to me.
I remember a time when I too felt unbeautiful. I put on the TV and only saw pale skin, I got teased and taunted about my night-shaded skin. And my one prayer to God, the miracle worker, was that I would wake up lighter-skinned. The morning would come and I would be so excited about seeing my new skin that I would refuse to look down at myself until I was in front of a mirror because I wanted to see my fair face first. And every day I experienced the same disappointment of being just as dark as I was the day before. I tried to negotiate with God, I told him I would stop stealing sugar cubes at night if he gave me what I wanted, I would listen to my mother’s every word and never lose my school sweater again if he just made me a little lighter. But I guess God was unimpressed with my bargaining chips because He never listened.
And when I was a teenager my self-hate grew worse, as you can imagine happens with adolescence. My mother reminded me often that she thought that I was beautiful but that was no conservation, she’s my mother, of course she’s supposed to think I am beautiful. And then … Alek Wek. A celebrated model, she was dark as night, she was on all of the runways and in every magazine and everyone was talking about how beautiful she was. Even Oprah called her beautiful and that made it a fact. I couldn’t believe that people were embracing a woman who looked so much like me, as beautiful. My complexion had always been an obstacle to overcome and all of a sudden Oprah was telling me it wasn’t. It was perplexing and I wanted to reject it because I had begun to enjoy the seduction of inadequacy. But a flower couldn’t help but bloom inside of me, when I saw Alek I inadvertently saw a reflection of myself that I could not deny. Now, I had a spring in my step because I felt more seen, more appreciated by the far away gatekeepers of beauty. But around me, the preference for my skin prevailed, to the courters that I thought mattered I was still unbeautiful. And my mother again would say to me you can’t eat beauty, it doesn’t feed you and these words plagued and bothered me; I didn’t really understand them until finally I realized that beauty was not a thing that I could acquire or consume, it was something that I just had to be.
And what my mother meant when she said you can’t eat beauty was that you can’t rely on how you look to sustain you. What is fundamentally beautiful is compassion for yourself and for those around you. That kind of beauty enflames the heart and enchants the soul. It is what got Patsey in so much trouble with her master, but it is also what has kept her story alive to this day. We remember the beauty of her spirit even after the beauty of her body has faded away.
And so I hope that my presence on your screens and in the magazines may lead you, young girl, on a similar journey. That you will feel the validation of your external beauty but also get to the deeper business of being beautiful inside.
There is no shade to that beauty.
(Your picture was not posted)
lupita-nyongo:
Lupita Nyong’o’s Speech at the ESSENCE Black Women In Hollywood Luncheon
I wrote down this speech that I had no time to practice so this will be the practicing session. Thank you Alfre, for such an amazing, amazing introduction and celebration of my work. And thank you very much for inviting me to be a part of such an extraordinary community. I am surrounded by people who have inspired me, women in particular whose presence on screen made me feel a little more seen and heard and understood. That it is ESSENCE that holds this event celebrating our professional gains of the year is significant, a beauty magazine that recognizes the beauty that we not just possess but also produce.
I want to take this opportunity to talk about beauty, black beauty, dark beauty. I received a letter from a girl and I’d like to share just a small part of it with you: “Dear Lupita,” it reads, “I think you’re really lucky to be this black but yet this successful in Hollywood overnight. I was just about to buy Dencia’s Whitenicious cream to lighten my skin when you appeared on the world map and saved me.”
My heart bled a little when I read those words, I could never have guessed that my first job out of school would be so powerful in and of itself and that it would propel me to be such an image of hope in the same way that the women of The Color Purple were to me.
I remember a time when I too felt unbeautiful. I put on the TV and only saw pale skin, I got teased and taunted about my night-shaded skin. And my one prayer to God, the miracle worker, was that I would wake up lighter-skinned. The morning would come and I would be so excited about seeing my new skin that I would refuse to look down at myself until I was in front of a mirror because I wanted to see my fair face first. And every day I experienced the same disappointment of being just as dark as I was the day before. I tried to negotiate with God, I told him I would stop stealing sugar cubes at night if he gave me what I wanted, I would listen to my mother’s every word and never lose my school sweater again if he just made me a little lighter. But I guess God was unimpressed with my bargaining chips because He never listened.
And when I was a teenager my self-hate grew worse, as you can imagine happens with adolescence. My mother reminded me often that she thought that I was beautiful but that was no conservation, she’s my mother, of course she’s supposed to think I am beautiful. And then … Alek Wek. A celebrated model, she was dark as night, she was on all of the runways and in every magazine and everyone was talking about how beautiful she was. Even Oprah called her beautiful and that made it a fact. I couldn’t believe that people were embracing a woman who looked so much like me, as beautiful. My complexion had always been an obstacle to overcome and all of a sudden Oprah was telling me it wasn’t. It was perplexing and I wanted to reject it because I had begun to enjoy the seduction of inadequacy. But a flower couldn’t help but bloom inside of me, when I saw Alek I inadvertently saw a reflection of myself that I could not deny. Now, I had a spring in my step because I felt more seen, more appreciated by the far away gatekeepers of beauty. But around me, the preference for my skin prevailed, to the courters that I thought mattered I was still unbeautiful. And my mother again would say to me you can’t eat beauty, it doesn’t feed you and these words plagued and bothered me; I didn’t really understand them until finally I realized that beauty was not a thing that I could acquire or consume, it was something that I just had to be.
And what my mother meant when she said you can’t eat beauty was that you can’t rely on how you look to sustain you. What is fundamentally beautiful is compassion for yourself and for those around you. That kind of beauty enflames the heart and enchants the soul. It is what got Patsey in so much trouble with her master, but it is also what has kept her story alive to this day. We remember the beauty of her spirit even after the beauty of her body has faded away.
And so I hope that my presence on your screens and in the magazines may lead you, young girl, on a similar journey. That you will feel the validation of your external beauty but also get to the deeper business of being beautiful inside.
There is no shade to that beauty.
(Your picture was not posted)
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pressxtodavid:
joey-wheeler-official:
joey-wheeler-official:
gettin real tired of people pretending that the writers not explaining every little thing in detail is the same thing as a plothole tbh
has to think once while watching something whoa this is bad writing
The Cinema Sins effect
(Your picture was not posted)
pressxtodavid:
joey-wheeler-official:
joey-wheeler-official:
gettin real tired of people pretending that the writers not explaining every little thing in detail is the same thing as a plothole tbh
has to think once while watching something whoa this is bad writing
The Cinema Sins effect
(Your picture was not posted)
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kayla-bird:
linkstan:
violentwavesofemotion:
Plato, tr. by W. R. Paton, from “Greek Anthology; Epigrams,” published c. 1918
PLATO SAID “LESBIAN RIGHTS!”
“fucking superb you funky little lesbian” - plato
(Your picture was not posted)
kayla-bird:
linkstan:
violentwavesofemotion:
Plato, tr. by W. R. Paton, from “Greek Anthology; Epigrams,” published c. 1918
PLATO SAID “LESBIAN RIGHTS!”
“fucking superb you funky little lesbian” - plato
(Your picture was not posted)
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stagerevolution:
thehuskinbee:
enoughtohold:
i think this is my favorite tumblr ad so far
She just goes there to knock everything off the shelves
Debra “The Bulldozer” Johnson
(Your picture was not posted)
stagerevolution:
thehuskinbee:
enoughtohold:
i think this is my favorite tumblr ad so far
She just goes there to knock everything off the shelves
Debra “The Bulldozer” Johnson
(Your picture was not posted)
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glumshoe:
glumshoe:
2019 fashion prediction: why stop at just one pair of eyebrows?
….Oh no.
…I… I genuinely kind of like it.
(Your picture was not posted)
glumshoe:
glumshoe:
2019 fashion prediction: why stop at just one pair of eyebrows?
….Oh no.
…I… I genuinely kind of like it.
(Your picture was not posted)
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kogasana:
all cats are carriers of sleepy bitch disease. if you ever lay down on a sofa or bed near a cat you are guaranteed to contract sleepy bitch disease.
(Your picture was not posted)
kogasana:
all cats are carriers of sleepy bitch disease. if you ever lay down on a sofa or bed near a cat you are guaranteed to contract sleepy bitch disease.
(Your picture was not posted)
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luxwing:
darkmario666:
videaudio:
There has to be some godless injoke
My ride is here
(Your picture was not posted)
luxwing:
darkmario666:
videaudio:
There has to be some godless injoke
My ride is here
(Your picture was not posted)
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madqueensarah:
If you’re an adult, do the stuff you couldn’t as a kid.
Like, me and my sister went to a museum, and they had an extra exhibit of butterflies. But it cost £3. So we sighed, walked past, then stopped. We each had £3. We could see the butterflies. And we did it was great. We followed it up with an ice-cream as well because Mum and Dad weren’t there to say no.
I was driving back from a work trip with 2 other people in their early 20s, and we drove past a MacDonalds. One of the others went “Aww man, I’d love a McFlurry.” And the guy driving pulled in to the drive through. It was wild. But it was great.
I went to a park over the weekend and I was thinking “Man, I’d love to hire one of those bikes and cycle round the park.” It took me a few minutes to go “Wait, I can hire one of those bikes!”
I guess what I’m saying is, those impulsive things you wanted to do as a kid - see the dinosaur exhibit, play in the fountains with the other kids, lie in the shade for 2 hours - you can do when you’re an adult. You have to deal with a whole lot of other bull, but at least you can indulge your inner 8 year-old.
(Your picture was not posted)
madqueensarah:
If you’re an adult, do the stuff you couldn’t as a kid.
Like, me and my sister went to a museum, and they had an extra exhibit of butterflies. But it cost £3. So we sighed, walked past, then stopped. We each had £3. We could see the butterflies. And we did it was great. We followed it up with an ice-cream as well because Mum and Dad weren’t there to say no.
I was driving back from a work trip with 2 other people in their early 20s, and we drove past a MacDonalds. One of the others went “Aww man, I’d love a McFlurry.” And the guy driving pulled in to the drive through. It was wild. But it was great.
I went to a park over the weekend and I was thinking “Man, I’d love to hire one of those bikes and cycle round the park.” It took me a few minutes to go “Wait, I can hire one of those bikes!”
I guess what I’m saying is, those impulsive things you wanted to do as a kid - see the dinosaur exhibit, play in the fountains with the other kids, lie in the shade for 2 hours - you can do when you’re an adult. You have to deal with a whole lot of other bull, but at least you can indulge your inner 8 year-old.
(Your picture was not posted)
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aleksandr-marchant-the-third:
i don’t mean to sound fake deep but the reason 2018 felt so long was because we’re being fed what’s trending at such a rapid rate that we literally can’t remember half of the shit that even happened anymore. “Black Panther came out in February!” Marvel releases so many movies a year that we completely forget about the last movie as soon as a new one comes out and it repeats in a vicious cycle. “Tide Pods/Ugandan Knuckles was in January!” The life span of memes have been rapidly declining for years and it’s gotten to the point where the average lifespan of a meme is about 2 weeks and then the next thing gets popular and then that lasts for 2 weeks and it just keeps going. We’re literally losing our sense of time because of our rapid consumption of media and pop culture.
(Your picture was not posted)
aleksandr-marchant-the-third:
i don’t mean to sound fake deep but the reason 2018 felt so long was because we’re being fed what’s trending at such a rapid rate that we literally can’t remember half of the shit that even happened anymore. “Black Panther came out in February!” Marvel releases so many movies a year that we completely forget about the last movie as soon as a new one comes out and it repeats in a vicious cycle. “Tide Pods/Ugandan Knuckles was in January!” The life span of memes have been rapidly declining for years and it’s gotten to the point where the average lifespan of a meme is about 2 weeks and then the next thing gets popular and then that lasts for 2 weeks and it just keeps going. We’re literally losing our sense of time because of our rapid consumption of media and pop culture.
(Your picture was not posted)
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ambientblackmetal:
“Girls love each other like animals. There is something ferocious and unself-conscious about it. We don’t guard ourselves like we do with boys. No one trains us to shield our hearts from each other. With girls, it’s total vulnerability from the beginning. Our skin is bare and soft. We love with claws and teeth and the blood is just proof of how much. It’s feral. And it’s relentless.”
— Leah Raeder, Black Iris (via teardropdancersblood)
(Your picture was not posted)
ambientblackmetal:
“Girls love each other like animals. There is something ferocious and unself-conscious about it. We don’t guard ourselves like we do with boys. No one trains us to shield our hearts from each other. With girls, it’s total vulnerability from the beginning. Our skin is bare and soft. We love with claws and teeth and the blood is just proof of how much. It’s feral. And it’s relentless.”
— Leah Raeder, Black Iris (via teardropdancersblood)
(Your picture was not posted)
a collection of tweets, part 12
Nov. 27th, 2018 07:09 pmvia https://ift.tt/2E0felc
livebloggingmydescentintomadness:
(the series)
(Your picture was not posted)
livebloggingmydescentintomadness:
(the series)
(Your picture was not posted)
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kompanie-mutter:
tranarchist:
luxtempestas:
the second radish is 29 feet away
this is legitimately the funniest post on this site
(Your picture was not posted)
kompanie-mutter:
tranarchist:
luxtempestas:
the second radish is 29 feet away
this is legitimately the funniest post on this site
(Your picture was not posted)
via https://ift.tt/2PV4JWB
coolcatgroup:
dimedog:
i can’t stop sending this cat to people so I may as well draw him
I absolutely love this cat so I’m glad you did this
(Your picture was not posted)
coolcatgroup:
dimedog:
i can’t stop sending this cat to people so I may as well draw him
I absolutely love this cat so I’m glad you did this
(Your picture was not posted)
via https://ift.tt/2QmrYrR
scotchtapeofficial:
embalm:
Me, to a waiter at a 5 star restaurant: please tell the chef that if I could, I would be kin with this pasta
the waiter returning five minutes later: the op says feel free to tag as kin.
(Your picture was not posted)
scotchtapeofficial:
embalm:
Me, to a waiter at a 5 star restaurant: please tell the chef that if I could, I would be kin with this pasta
the waiter returning five minutes later: the op says feel free to tag as kin.
(Your picture was not posted)
via https://ift.tt/2P6vRg6
wishingformemoria:
wishingformemoria:
just because someone can articulate their point better doesn’t make them right, it makes them articulated.
and you aren’t stupid for having trouble articulating yourself.
(Your picture was not posted)
wishingformemoria:
wishingformemoria:
just because someone can articulate their point better doesn’t make them right, it makes them articulated.
and you aren’t stupid for having trouble articulating yourself.
(Your picture was not posted)
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no3schofield:
sundayswiththeilluminati:
fuck-planets:
native-coronan:
unbelievable-facts:
An SR-71 Blackbird once flew from LA to Washington DC in 64 minutes. Average speed of the flight: 2145mph.
“There were a lot of things we couldn’t do in an SR-71, but we were the fastest guys on the block and loved reminding our fellow aviators of this fact. People often asked us if, because of this fact, it was fun to fly the jet. Fun would not be the first word I would use to describe flying this plane. Intense, maybe. Even cerebral. But there was one day in our Sled experience when we would have to say that it was pure fun to be the fastest guys out there, at least for a moment.
It occurred when Walt and I were flying our final training sortie. We needed 100 hours in the jet to complete our training and attain Mission Ready status. Somewhere over Colorado we had passed the century mark. We had made the turn in Arizona and the jet was performing flawlessly. My gauges were wired in the front seat and we were starting to feel pretty good about ourselves, not only because we would soon be flying real missions but because we had gained a great deal of confidence in the plane in the past ten months. Ripping across the barren deserts 80,000 feet below us, I could already see the coast of California from the Arizona border. I was, finally, after many humbling months of simulators and study, ahead of the jet.
I was beginning to feel a bit sorry for Walter in the back seat. There he was, with no really good view of the incredible sights before us, tasked with monitoring four different radios. This was good practice for him for when we began flying real missions, when a priority transmission from headquarters could be vital. It had been difficult, too, for me to relinquish control of the radios, as during my entire flying career I had controlled my own transmissions. But it was part of the division of duties in this plane and I had adjusted to it. I still insisted on talking on the radio while we were on the ground, however. Walt was so good at many things, but he couldn’t match my expertise at sounding smooth on the radios, a skill that had been honed sharply with years in fighter squadrons where the slightest radio miscue was grounds for beheading. He understood that and allowed me that luxury.
Just to get a sense of what Walt had to contend with, I pulled the radio toggle switches and monitored the frequencies along with him. The predominant radio chatter was from Los Angeles Center, far below us, controlling daily traffic in their sector. While they had us on their scope (albeit briefly), we were in uncontrolled airspace and normally would not talk to them unless we needed to descend into their airspace.
We listened as the shaky voice of a lone Cessna pilot asked Center for a readout of his ground speed. Center replied: “November Charlie 175, I’m showing you at ninety knots on the ground.”
Now the thing to understand about Center controllers, was that whether they were talking to a rookie pilot in a Cessna, or to Air Force One, they always spoke in the exact same, calm, deep, professional, tone that made one feel important. I referred to it as the “ Houston Center voice.” I have always felt that after years of seeing documentaries on this country’s space program and listening to the calm and distinct voice of the Houston controllers, that all other controllers since then wanted to sound like that, and that they basically did. And it didn’t matter what sector of the country we would be flying in, it always seemed like the same guy was talking. Over the years that tone of voice had become somewhat of a comforting sound to pilots everywhere. Conversely, over the years, pilots always wanted to ensure that, when transmitting, they sounded like Chuck Yeager, or at least like John Wayne. Better to die than sound bad on the radios.
Just moments after the Cessna’s inquiry, a Twin Beech piped up on frequency, in a rather superior tone, asking for his ground speed. “I have you at one hundred and twenty-five knots of ground speed.” Boy, I thought, the Beechcraft really must think he is dazzling his Cessna brethren. Then out of the blue, a navy F-18 pilot out of NAS Lemoore came up on frequency. You knew right away it was a Navy jock because he sounded very cool on the radios. “Center, Dusty 52 ground speed check”. Before Center could reply, I’m thinking to myself, hey, Dusty 52 has a ground speed indicator in that million-dollar cockpit, so why is he asking Center for a readout? Then I got it, ol’ Dusty here is making sure that every bug smasher from Mount Whitney to the Mojave knows what true speed is. He’s the fastest dude in the valley today, and he just wants everyone to know how much fun he is having in his new Hornet. And the reply, always with that same, calm, voice, with more distinct alliteration than emotion: “Dusty 52, Center, we have you at 620 on the ground.”
And I thought to myself, is this a ripe situation, or what? As my hand instinctively reached for the mic button, I had to remind myself that Walt was in control of the radios. Still, I thought, it must be done - in mere seconds we’ll be out of the sector and the opportunity will be lost. That Hornet must die, and die now. I thought about all of our Sim training and how important it was that we developed well as a crew and knew that to jump in on the radios now would destroy the integrity of all that we had worked toward becoming. I was torn.
Somewhere, 13 miles above Arizona, there was a pilot screaming inside his space helmet. Then, I heard it. The click of the mic button from the back seat. That was the very moment that I knew Walter and I had become a crew. Very professionally, and with no emotion, Walter spoke: “Los Angeles Center, Aspen 20, can you give us a ground speed check?” There was no hesitation, and the replay came as if was an everyday request. “Aspen 20, I show you at one thousand eight hundred and forty-two knots, across the ground.”
I think it was the forty-two knots that I liked the best, so accurate and proud was Center to deliver that information without hesitation, and you just knew he was smiling. But the precise point at which I knew that Walt and I were going to be really good friends for a long time was when he keyed the mic once again to say, in his most fighter-pilot-like voice: “Ah, Center, much thanks, we’re showing closer to nineteen hundred on the money.”
For a moment Walter was a god. And we finally heard a little crack in the armor of the Houston Center voice, when L.A. came back with, “Roger that Aspen, Your equipment is probably more accurate than ours. You boys have a good one.”
It all had lasted for just moments, but in that short, memorable sprint across the southwest, the Navy had been flamed, all mortal airplanes on freq were forced to bow before the King of Speed, and more importantly, Walter and I had crossed the threshold of being a crew. A fine day’s work.
We never heard another transmission on that frequency all the way to the coast.”
-Brian Schul, Sled Driver: Flying The World’s Fastest Jet
Always reblog passive-aggressive Blackbird speed check
guys seriously tho what the fuck even was the SR-71 blackbird. That plane is like someone made a fucking bet. Like someone went “I have ten bucks that says you can’t make something that cruises at Mach 2.5″ and the aero folks scoffed and went hold our collective goddamn beers and then they cracked out a plane that CRUISES AT MACH 3 (for reference the much vaunted “supercruise” of the F-22 is only a few ticks above Mach 1). You need to understand how patently absurd this fucking vehicle is from nose to tail. Its original iteration, the A-12, was the successor to the U-2 when it became clear the USSR had developed missiles that could fly high enough to shoot it down so instead they built a new plane so fast you couldn’t fucking hit it. THAT WAS LITERALLY HOW THE SR-71 WORKED. By the time you realized what was goddamn happening at 80,000 feet it was already out of your fucking timezone. One time a pilot missed a turn by a second and ended up over Atlanta instead of DC. It flew so fast and got so hot that the entire fuselage stretched by several inches midflight which turned out to be a gigantic pain because all the fuel lines were hooked up assuming this stretching factor, so while on the ground it leaked like a goddamn sieve so at one point they decided to combat this BY STUFFING IT FULL OF KOTEX literally they had to shove tampons in this incredibly sophisticated aircraft so the fuel would stay in. It was the first serious aircraft built entirely out of titanium because no other metal could do the job, and at the time titanium wasn’t a widely-used metal so the world’s only major supplier WAS THE ACTUAL USSR SO THE US ACTUALLY BOUGHT THE MATERIAL TO MAKE THEIR SECRET SPY PLANE FROM THE PEOPLE THEY WERE SPYING ON.
TL;DR Every single thing about this fucking aircraft is fucking ridiculous.
Please listen to the author himself tell the story.
(Your picture was not posted)
no3schofield:
sundayswiththeilluminati:
fuck-planets:
native-coronan:
unbelievable-facts:
An SR-71 Blackbird once flew from LA to Washington DC in 64 minutes. Average speed of the flight: 2145mph.
“There were a lot of things we couldn’t do in an SR-71, but we were the fastest guys on the block and loved reminding our fellow aviators of this fact. People often asked us if, because of this fact, it was fun to fly the jet. Fun would not be the first word I would use to describe flying this plane. Intense, maybe. Even cerebral. But there was one day in our Sled experience when we would have to say that it was pure fun to be the fastest guys out there, at least for a moment.
It occurred when Walt and I were flying our final training sortie. We needed 100 hours in the jet to complete our training and attain Mission Ready status. Somewhere over Colorado we had passed the century mark. We had made the turn in Arizona and the jet was performing flawlessly. My gauges were wired in the front seat and we were starting to feel pretty good about ourselves, not only because we would soon be flying real missions but because we had gained a great deal of confidence in the plane in the past ten months. Ripping across the barren deserts 80,000 feet below us, I could already see the coast of California from the Arizona border. I was, finally, after many humbling months of simulators and study, ahead of the jet.
I was beginning to feel a bit sorry for Walter in the back seat. There he was, with no really good view of the incredible sights before us, tasked with monitoring four different radios. This was good practice for him for when we began flying real missions, when a priority transmission from headquarters could be vital. It had been difficult, too, for me to relinquish control of the radios, as during my entire flying career I had controlled my own transmissions. But it was part of the division of duties in this plane and I had adjusted to it. I still insisted on talking on the radio while we were on the ground, however. Walt was so good at many things, but he couldn’t match my expertise at sounding smooth on the radios, a skill that had been honed sharply with years in fighter squadrons where the slightest radio miscue was grounds for beheading. He understood that and allowed me that luxury.
Just to get a sense of what Walt had to contend with, I pulled the radio toggle switches and monitored the frequencies along with him. The predominant radio chatter was from Los Angeles Center, far below us, controlling daily traffic in their sector. While they had us on their scope (albeit briefly), we were in uncontrolled airspace and normally would not talk to them unless we needed to descend into their airspace.
We listened as the shaky voice of a lone Cessna pilot asked Center for a readout of his ground speed. Center replied: “November Charlie 175, I’m showing you at ninety knots on the ground.”
Now the thing to understand about Center controllers, was that whether they were talking to a rookie pilot in a Cessna, or to Air Force One, they always spoke in the exact same, calm, deep, professional, tone that made one feel important. I referred to it as the “ Houston Center voice.” I have always felt that after years of seeing documentaries on this country’s space program and listening to the calm and distinct voice of the Houston controllers, that all other controllers since then wanted to sound like that, and that they basically did. And it didn’t matter what sector of the country we would be flying in, it always seemed like the same guy was talking. Over the years that tone of voice had become somewhat of a comforting sound to pilots everywhere. Conversely, over the years, pilots always wanted to ensure that, when transmitting, they sounded like Chuck Yeager, or at least like John Wayne. Better to die than sound bad on the radios.
Just moments after the Cessna’s inquiry, a Twin Beech piped up on frequency, in a rather superior tone, asking for his ground speed. “I have you at one hundred and twenty-five knots of ground speed.” Boy, I thought, the Beechcraft really must think he is dazzling his Cessna brethren. Then out of the blue, a navy F-18 pilot out of NAS Lemoore came up on frequency. You knew right away it was a Navy jock because he sounded very cool on the radios. “Center, Dusty 52 ground speed check”. Before Center could reply, I’m thinking to myself, hey, Dusty 52 has a ground speed indicator in that million-dollar cockpit, so why is he asking Center for a readout? Then I got it, ol’ Dusty here is making sure that every bug smasher from Mount Whitney to the Mojave knows what true speed is. He’s the fastest dude in the valley today, and he just wants everyone to know how much fun he is having in his new Hornet. And the reply, always with that same, calm, voice, with more distinct alliteration than emotion: “Dusty 52, Center, we have you at 620 on the ground.”
And I thought to myself, is this a ripe situation, or what? As my hand instinctively reached for the mic button, I had to remind myself that Walt was in control of the radios. Still, I thought, it must be done - in mere seconds we’ll be out of the sector and the opportunity will be lost. That Hornet must die, and die now. I thought about all of our Sim training and how important it was that we developed well as a crew and knew that to jump in on the radios now would destroy the integrity of all that we had worked toward becoming. I was torn.
Somewhere, 13 miles above Arizona, there was a pilot screaming inside his space helmet. Then, I heard it. The click of the mic button from the back seat. That was the very moment that I knew Walter and I had become a crew. Very professionally, and with no emotion, Walter spoke: “Los Angeles Center, Aspen 20, can you give us a ground speed check?” There was no hesitation, and the replay came as if was an everyday request. “Aspen 20, I show you at one thousand eight hundred and forty-two knots, across the ground.”
I think it was the forty-two knots that I liked the best, so accurate and proud was Center to deliver that information without hesitation, and you just knew he was smiling. But the precise point at which I knew that Walt and I were going to be really good friends for a long time was when he keyed the mic once again to say, in his most fighter-pilot-like voice: “Ah, Center, much thanks, we’re showing closer to nineteen hundred on the money.”
For a moment Walter was a god. And we finally heard a little crack in the armor of the Houston Center voice, when L.A. came back with, “Roger that Aspen, Your equipment is probably more accurate than ours. You boys have a good one.”
It all had lasted for just moments, but in that short, memorable sprint across the southwest, the Navy had been flamed, all mortal airplanes on freq were forced to bow before the King of Speed, and more importantly, Walter and I had crossed the threshold of being a crew. A fine day’s work.
We never heard another transmission on that frequency all the way to the coast.”
-Brian Schul, Sled Driver: Flying The World’s Fastest Jet
Always reblog passive-aggressive Blackbird speed check
guys seriously tho what the fuck even was the SR-71 blackbird. That plane is like someone made a fucking bet. Like someone went “I have ten bucks that says you can’t make something that cruises at Mach 2.5″ and the aero folks scoffed and went hold our collective goddamn beers and then they cracked out a plane that CRUISES AT MACH 3 (for reference the much vaunted “supercruise” of the F-22 is only a few ticks above Mach 1). You need to understand how patently absurd this fucking vehicle is from nose to tail. Its original iteration, the A-12, was the successor to the U-2 when it became clear the USSR had developed missiles that could fly high enough to shoot it down so instead they built a new plane so fast you couldn’t fucking hit it. THAT WAS LITERALLY HOW THE SR-71 WORKED. By the time you realized what was goddamn happening at 80,000 feet it was already out of your fucking timezone. One time a pilot missed a turn by a second and ended up over Atlanta instead of DC. It flew so fast and got so hot that the entire fuselage stretched by several inches midflight which turned out to be a gigantic pain because all the fuel lines were hooked up assuming this stretching factor, so while on the ground it leaked like a goddamn sieve so at one point they decided to combat this BY STUFFING IT FULL OF KOTEX literally they had to shove tampons in this incredibly sophisticated aircraft so the fuel would stay in. It was the first serious aircraft built entirely out of titanium because no other metal could do the job, and at the time titanium wasn’t a widely-used metal so the world’s only major supplier WAS THE ACTUAL USSR SO THE US ACTUALLY BOUGHT THE MATERIAL TO MAKE THEIR SECRET SPY PLANE FROM THE PEOPLE THEY WERE SPYING ON.
TL;DR Every single thing about this fucking aircraft is fucking ridiculous.
Please listen to the author himself tell the story.
(Your picture was not posted)
via https://ift.tt/2Ar75C1
kazoobard:
lesbians and jews are literally the funniest people on earth so if youre a jewish lesbian you have all of my respect immediately
(Your picture was not posted)
kazoobard:
lesbians and jews are literally the funniest people on earth so if youre a jewish lesbian you have all of my respect immediately
(Your picture was not posted)
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artemis-hurt:
nobodybetterhavethisoneoriswear:
commodorecliche:
pull the trigger, Cards Against Humanity.
pull the trigger, Cards Against Humanity.
pull the trigger, Cards Against Humanity
(Your picture was not posted)
artemis-hurt:
nobodybetterhavethisoneoriswear:
commodorecliche:
pull the trigger, Cards Against Humanity.
pull the trigger, Cards Against Humanity.
pull the trigger, Cards Against Humanity
(Your picture was not posted)
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n-eonlyrics:
you know what? they’re not even trying to look like they just poured pudding in your socks. they just have chronic resting lil bitch face
(Your picture was not posted)
n-eonlyrics:
you know what? they’re not even trying to look like they just poured pudding in your socks. they just have chronic resting lil bitch face
(Your picture was not posted)
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lulloph:
this november we are healing from things we don’t talk about
(Your picture was not posted)
lulloph:
this november we are healing from things we don’t talk about
(Your picture was not posted)
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war2th:
dont talk to me or my 47 stuffed animals ever again
(Your picture was not posted)
war2th:
dont talk to me or my 47 stuffed animals ever again
(Your picture was not posted)