lmfao the Scots in town for the World Cup have made a pilgrimage to Boston's world-famous Cop Annihilating Slide
h
cherry valley forever
taylor price
Game of Thrones Daily

Discoholic 🪩
RMH
★
todays bird

Game Changer & Make Some Noise
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
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Cosimo Galluzzi
The Stonewall Inn
macklin celebrini has autism
Xuebing Du
Misplaced Lens Cap
YOU ARE THE REASON
Show & Tell
Keni

if i look back, i am lost
seen from Thailand

seen from Oman

seen from United States
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seen from United States

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seen from Brazil
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@creativeburnout
lmfao the Scots in town for the World Cup have made a pilgrimage to Boston's world-famous Cop Annihilating Slide

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Supermassive Black Hole lends itself to soundtracking one thing and one thing alone and that is a strip club. Supermassive Black Hole is the most perfect strip club rock song I've ever heard. I've heard rock songs *about* strip clubs that feel less suited to a strip club than Supermassive Black Hole. I have heard songs where sex is explicitly described in the lyrics that feel less sexy than Supermassive Black Hole. Supermassive Black Hole is a song so disgustingly, flagrantly, enticingly slutty that I sometimes feel legitimately shocked that it was made by a band that most people make fun of for sounding like if Radiohead sold out after their first album. It is a crowning achievement in stripper music that may never be topped in our lifetime. It is best known for soundtracking the scene in the first Twilight movie where they play baseball.
Current mental state: recovering Tumblr login details, listening to Brand New for the first time in about 8 years.
clearly i'm fine
So it turns out that this was probably because I accidentally came off my meds.
Which I realised for the absolutely *stupidest*, but objectively hilarious reason 🙃😂
Wake me, wake me up
(Pictures of you smiling in times when I just couldn't be around)
Hold me, hold me up
(Count my rings to see how many winters I've been stuck here under ground)
Swore I'd not burn out
(Digging through the memories that made you feel alive when you were young)
You were right to doubt
(Broken since foundations in the structures you were building came undone)
if you ever find yourself thinking “wow I scraped the bottom of the barrel with my energy with that and came out okay!” that’s the devil talking. you did not come out okay. you borrowed energy from the future. you will repay it if you don’t rest and replenish the borrowed energy first.
this one took off quickly - are you guys ok
WIZARD PSA: Chronomancy might be weird and confusing, but one of the few solid rules of the discipline is keep your promises. Time is a library, and you don't want to meet the librarian.

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Current mental state: recovering Tumblr login details, listening to Brand New for the first time in about 8 years.
clearly i'm fine
inspired by a conversation about kevin bacon: who is the *worst* person you are less than 7 degrees of seperation away from?
annoying celebrity
politician ew gross yucky
online figure/influencer (condolences)
not famous but actual real life criminal
small time local legend but in a bad way
neither myself or anyone i know knows anyone
more than one of these
mine is five degrees separated from donald trump btw. yes it haunts me. you do have to tell me who it is in the tags because im nosy.
HERE’S THE THING THOUGH
I used to work for a call center and I was doing a political survey and I called this number that was randomly generated for me and the way our system worked was voice-activated so when the other person said hello you’d get connected to them, so I just launch right into my “Harvard University and NPR blah blah blah” thing and then there’s this long pause and I think the person’s hung up even though I didn’t hear a click
And then I hear “you shouldn’t be able to call this number.”
So I apologize and go into the preset spiel about because we aren’t selling anything, etc. etc. and the answer I get is
“No, I know that. What I mean is that it should be impossible for you to call this number, and I need to know how you got it.”
I explain that it’s randomly generated and I’m very sorry for bothering him, and go to hang up. And before I can click terminate, I hear:
“Ma’am, this is a matter of national security.”
I accidentally called the director of the FBI.
My job got investigated because a computer randomly spit out a number to the Pentagon.
This is my new favourite story.
When I was in college I got a job working for a company that manages major air-travel data. It was a temp gig working their out of date system while they moved over to a new one, since my knowing MS Dos apparently made me qualified.
There was no MS Dos involved. Instead, there was a proprietary type-based OS and an actually-uses-transistors refrigerator-sized computer with switches I had to trip at certain times during the night as I watched the data flow from six pm to six AM on Fridays and weekends. If things got stuck, I reset the server.
The company handled everything from low-end data (hotel and car reservations) to flight plans and tower information. I was weighed every time I came in to make sure it was me. Areas of the building had retina scanners on doors.
During training. they took us through all the procedures. Including the procedures for the red phone. There was, literally, a red phone on the shelf above my desk. “This is a holdover from the cold war.” They said. “It isn’t going to come up, but here’s the deal. In case of nuclear war or other nation-wide disaster, the phone will ring. Pick up the phone, state your name and station, and await instructions. Do whatever you are told.”
So my third night there, it’s around 2am and there’s a ringing sound.
I look up, slowly. The Red phone is ringing.
So I reach out, I pick up the phone. I give my name and station number. And I hear every station head in the building do the exact same. One after another, voices giving names and numbers. Then silence for the space of two breaths. Silence broken by…
“Uh… Is Shantavia there?”
It turns out that every toll free, 1-900 or priority number has a corresponding local number that it routs to at its actual destination. Some poor teenage girl was trying to dial a friend of hers, mixed up the numbers, and got the atomic attack alert line for a major air-travel corporation’s command center in the mid-west United States.
There’s another pause, and the guys over in the main data room are cracking up. The overnight site head is saying “I think you have the wrong number, ma’am.” and I’m standing there having faced the specter of nuclear annihilation before I was old enough to legally drink.
The red phone never rang again while I was there, so the people doing my training were only slightly wrong in their estimation of how often the doomsday phone would ring.
Every time I try to find this story, I end up having to search google with a variety of terms that I’m sure have gotten me flagged by some watchlist, so I’m reblogging it again where I swear I’ve reblogged it before.
But none of these stories even come close to the best one of them all; a wrong number is how the NORAD Santa Tracker got started.
Seriously, this is legit.
In December 1955, Sears decided to run a Santa hotline. Here’s the ad they posted.
Only problem is, they misprinted the number. And the number they printed? It went straight through to fucking NORAD. This was in the middle of the Cold War, when early warning radar was the only thing keeping nuclear annihilation at bay. NORAD was the front line.
And it wasn’t just any number at NORAD. Oh no no no.
Terri remembers her dad had two phones on his desk, including a red one. “Only a four-star general at the Pentagon and my dad had the number,” she says.
“This was the ‘50s, this was the Cold War, and he would have been the first one to know if there was an attack on the United States,” Rick says.
The red phone rang one day in December 1955, and Shoup answered it, Pam says. “And then there was a small voice that just asked, ‘Is this Santa Claus?’ ”
His children remember Shoup as straight-laced and disciplined, and he was annoyed and upset by the call and thought it was a joke — but then, Terri says, the little voice started crying.
“And Dad realized that it wasn’t a joke,” her sister says. “So he talked to him, ho-ho-ho’d and asked if he had been a good boy and, ‘May I talk to your mother?’ And the mother got on and said, ‘You haven’t seen the paper yet? There’s a phone number to call Santa. It’s in the Sears ad.’ Dad looked it up, and there it was, his red phone number. And they had children calling one after another, so he put a couple of airmen on the phones to act like Santa Claus.”
“It got to be a big joke at the command center. You know, ‘The old man’s really flipped his lid this time. We’re answering Santa calls,’ ” Terri says.
And then, it got better.
“The airmen had this big glass board with the United States on it and Canada, and when airplanes would come in they would track them,” Pam says.
“And Christmas Eve of 1955, when Dad walked in, there was a drawing of a sleigh with eight reindeer coming over the North Pole,” Rick says.
“Dad said, ‘What is that?’ They say, ‘Colonel, we’re sorry. We were just making a joke. Do you want us to take that down?’ Dad looked at it for a while, and next thing you know, Dad had called the radio station and had said, ‘This is the commander at the Combat Alert Center, and we have an unidentified flying object. Why, it looks like a sleigh.’ Well, the radio stations would call him like every hour and say, ‘Where’s Santa now?’ ” Terri says.
For real.
“And later in life he got letters from all over the world, people saying, ‘Thank you, Colonel,’ for having, you know, this sense of humor. And in his 90s, he would carry those letters around with him in a briefcase that had a lock on it like it was top-secret information,” she says. “You know, he was an important guy, but this is the thing he’s known for.”
“Yeah,” Rick [his son] says, “it’s probably the thing he was proudest of, too.”
So yeah. I think that might be the best wrong number of all time.
Source: http://www.npr.org/2014/12/19/371647099/norads-santa-tracker-began-with-a-typo-and-a-good-sport
No okay THAT is adorable and I’m queueing this for next December.
Oh. My. Goodness. This is like the Candy Bomber from WWII 🥹
2023 Bucket
This is a bucket. Anything you don't want to take with you into 2024, feel free to drop it in the bucket. I will be burning the contents (with Hellfire) at exactly 11:59pm on New Year's Eve.
You don't have to type anything, at all. Just reblog the bucket and your intentions will be known by the universe. Or the bucket. Or whatever you like.
#What three hours of sun does to a nation
iceland’s two seasons: hibernation and mania

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Elliot Page has the chance to do the single funniest thing in the history of Hollywood.
“id send you this post but u are dead to me” is such a strange feeling. im retreating to the woods
When you stumble across a meme that perfectly fits the niche of someone you no longer talk to…. like we have parted ways for good reasons but i’m still left with the knowledge that this would make you laugh. What do i do with that
Robert Frost, 'Nothing Gold Can Stay'
weirdly specific and unrelated asks to know someone well:
chipotle order?
thoughts on veganism?
a specific color that gives you the ick?
mythical creature you think/believe is real?
favorite form of potato?
do you use a watch?
what animal do you look forward to seeing when you visit an aquarium?
do you change into specific clothes for the house when you get home?
do you have a skincare routine (and how many steps is it)?
on a plane, do you ask for apple or orange juice?
anything from your childhood you’ve held on to?
brand of haircare/bodycare/skincare that you trust 100%?
first thing you’re doing in the purge?
do you think you’re dehydrated?
rank the methods of death: freezing, burning, drowning
thoughts on mint chocolate chip?
an anxious compulsion you do everyday?
your boba/tea order?
the veggie you dislike the most?
favorite disney princess movie?
a number that weirds you out?
do you have an emotional support water bottle?
do you wear jewelry?
which do you find yourself using, american or british english?
would you say you have good taste in music?
how’s your spice tolerance?
what’s your favorite or go-to outfit?
last meal on earth?
preferred pasta noodle?
ask me anything !
leave an ask for the person you reblog it from!

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unstoppable force (wanting to be the kindest version of myself) vs immovable object (all the anger and hatred I have inside myself)
new reblog game actually put in the tags what the blog you reblogged from tastes like