Kiana Khansmith
macklin celebrini has autism
Aqua Utopiaď˝ćľˇăŽĺşă§č¨ćśăç´Ąă
đŞź
blake kathryn
titsay
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Monterey Bay Aquarium
occasionally subtle
#extradirty
wallacepolsom
YOU ARE THE REASON
Cosmic Funnies
Cosimo Galluzzi
Noah Kahan
Stranger Things
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
gracie abrams
shark vs the universe
izzy's playlists!
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@isishoney
Hairspray and the Shape of Water both take place in circa 1962 Baltimore and I absolutely think of the events of the two happening simultaneously
⪠Good morning Baltimore! Thereâs the fish man who lives next door. Thereâs the lady who rides the bus. I think theyâre boning but I wonât judge. Good morning BaaaaaaaaltimoreâŚ. âŞ
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Christopher Nolan almost allows colors into his mythical epic shot on 70mm IMAX film. thank god they stopped filming in time.
I kept forgetting my nighttime antidepressant so I set an alarm where the sound was a recording of me saying "HEY. TAKE YOUR FUCKING PILL" because I thought it would be funny. It was funny about three times, and then it started making me mad and I'd dismiss it right away to make it stop. So I handed my phone to my partner, who made another recording sweetly saying "Okay Shira, it's time to take your medication" and now I don't get mad anymore and I take my pill. The "compassion over punishment" camp has gotta get something wrong one of these days
Hairspray and the Shape of Water both take place in circa 1962 Baltimore and I absolutely think of the events of the two happening simultaneously
⪠Good morning Baltimore! Thereâs the fish man who lives next door. Thereâs the lady who rides the bus. I think theyâre boning but I wonât judge. Good morning BaaaaaaaaltimoreâŚ. âŞ
Iâm getting ads telling me to replace live porch flowers with plastic ones because the plastic ones donât die and buddy I can tell you from personal experience that those flowers will fade until they look like theyâve achieved a new kind of death
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I still like the term parental unit that we used to use as a joke in middle school and high school. Did everyone else do that or was it just a my social circles thing?
Anyways telling the kids to go collect their parental units at the end of an event is a) funny b) gender neutral and c) just refers to the person currently doing your parenting
Also if youâre on joking terms with your parents âgreetings, childâ âgreetings, parental unitâ is a top tier greeting. Makes you sound like robot aliens.
"im not saying feminism is for everyone but-" the fuck? well im saying that. feminism is for everyone. yes even cishet men will benefit from feminism and cishet men should be feminists because cishet men are indeed harmed by the patriarchy; nowhere near to the extent that women are, but having a culture that is fully equal and anti-misogynist benefits everyone. have we forgotten that lifting up the disenfranchised people in society helps all of us as a collective? "im not saying that universal and unalienable human rights are for everyone but-" YES THE FUCK THEY ARE LOL
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I love getting unaccompanied minors (kids flying alone) who so clearly just. Don't want to be here lol. Sometimes I get to know a little of their story, like their parents are divorced, or a family member died and they're heading to the funeral, but usually they just don't want to talk about it and that's fine. But I always treat the flight like it's a challenge to make them smile. I offer them snacks and soda but that's never enough, that's whatever, they could get those from an airport vending machine. Chump change. So then I tell the worst jokes. Just the most embarrassing, kindergarten teacher, annoying dad jokes you can think of. And those always get a groan, or a "Seriously??" And that's my in! Now I can say "Why, what's your idea of a good joke? No, come on hotshot, make your best joke, let's see it." And they hem and they haw but of course they eventually tell me their very best joke because kids are little competitive comedy goldmines. And it's always super funny, so I laugh, and that's where they slip up. Because you know what you almost always do when your joke successfully makes someone laugh? You smile. And I'm like. Gotcha. Rookie move. Now you're going to end up having a good time in spite of yourself. I win.
Did this with an 11yo u.m. today and he said "What did the ghost say to the other ghost?" And I said "What?" "Nothing. Ghosts aren't real."
I'm literally a flight attendant, offering snacks and drinks is my job
one of my favorite this american life segments of late is about the people who played orchestra pit for phantom of the opera on broadway and how, like, a sizeable majority of them had literally been playing the show since it opened in 1988 (on broadway. I know it opened in 86 on the west end, you random pedants, but I am specifically talking about broadway musicians) because their contracts stipulated that they'd have jobs throughout the show's entire run... but nobody anticipated that phantom would become the longest-running broadway show of all time.
and none of these people wanted to walk away from a guaranteed job, so very few of them ever quit. they just kept doing the same show eight nights a week... for twenty or thirty years... and by the time it finally closed last year most of these musicians (who had been working together for DECADES) hated each other and really really fucking loathed phantom. I can't stop thinking about it. it's indescribably hellish to imagine but also the funniest thing I've ever heard in my life.
can you imagine.
[ID: excerpt from an article reading: One of my favorite stories, which should drive anyone who has every played in a band crazy-- thereâs this bassoon player who has sat next to the same clarinet player since 1988. Sheâs convinced he plays half a note4 flat on every note heâs every played. He denies this. /]
Here's the link to the full transcript. An absolute goldmine. The section on Phantom of the Opera starts in Act 2.
Reblog this photo of a käpylehmä to have a käpylehmä in your blog
It's a trick! If you reblog you get TWO käpylehmäs in your blog!
They're traditional Finnish toys, little cows made out of spruce cones, on their way to see the world from one tumblr blog to another
that's less terrifying than pinecones with cordyceps, which is what I first thought I was looking at
judy grahn, from another mother tongue: gay words, gay worlds, 1984
["1974, We Were Five Dykes
The year was 1974. We were five dykes, living in an all-women's household. We were highly visible and vocal Lesbian feminist organizers, a little grungy and eccentric in jackets and baggy pants, for we did not have a stake in what we looked like. We had started the first women's bookstore, the first women's collective press for publishing books, and a newspaper. Occupationally, we were a carpenter-mechanic-accountant, a copy editor, a printer-poet, an electronics assembler, and a printer-artist. One day a woman came into the bookstore begging us for help. Her boyfriend, she said, was trying to kill her and she did not want to see him anymore. She was afraid to tell her friends because he would tell them she was a whore. So he had beaten her up. He called her on the phone day and night to threaten and terrify her; he banged on her door in the middle of the night, and only that morning in broad daylight he had thrown a crowbar through her front door, which happened to be made of glass. And he had sworn he was coming in to get her. She spent hours cowering on the floor at the back of her apartment. The police had told her they couldn'tâ or wouldn'tâ do anything. They advised her to move.
"I don't want to move," she raged. "I love my apartment. Why should I move? He's the one who's in the wrong. Besides, he could just follow me home from work and start it all over again." We agreed. And we agreed to help. But, we told her, "You will have to help, too."
That evening we went to her house, which had many windows and was as filled with lively plants as a hothouse garden. "We are starting a vigil here," we told her. "One or two of us will stay with you until the problem is solved."
She smiled gratefully. We did not smile in return.
"What are you doing to defend yourself?" we asked. She did not know.
"What do you want us to do to stop him?" we asked.
"Kill him," she said.
"No, no," we replied. "But you must protect yourself from direct physical attack and learn to feel safe in your house." We located hammers, umbrellas, heavy dictionaries, flowerpots, bricks, sticks, and the like, and arranged them strategically around the house, showing her what to do with them. We talked a lot to each other about guns, knives, karate. We got her to agree to tell some of her friends about what was happening and to keep their numbers near her phone for emergencies.
Then we talked among ourselves about what plan of action to take, loud enough so she could hear there were a thousand alternatives to the drastic, essentially passive reaction "kill him." She went into the kitchen, returning with cookies and brownies. "I baked these for you," she said, smiling at us as though we were football heroes. We ignored her cookies.
"Why do you wear such helpless clothes?" we asked. "How can you run or kick in those shoes, that tight skirt?" She didn't know. "The police aren't going to help you," we said. "And for the most part neither are your friends. And you can't expect us to stay with you forever. We're not your personal bodyguards. You have to learn to defend yourself." She changed her clothes and began to pay attention to our plans. We asked questions about her boyfriend's habits. What does he value, we asked, his car, his motorcycle? Where does he work, where does his wife work, where do they live? Are his parents in town? Where do you think he is most vulnerable? We made a plan, one, two, three, four. First, we would talk to him; if that didn't work then we would contact his wife, go see her if necessary, then his boss; if none of these tactics worked, we would go wreck his car."]
Had to know the end of this story. Turns out it was on Internet Archive!
I am begging you. Please learn about stress/discomfort tolerance. Practice raising it. You need this to survive. If someone online can ruin your day with a throwaway comment, you desperately need to understand discomfort tolerance and consciously, systematically build that shit.
Also! Stress tolerance is such an important skill that having a learning disability in that area is a major symptom of a whole lot of other disabilities/mental illnesses! Struggling with it is a huge part of life! It sucks!
Am I saying everyone with misophonia needs to listen to chewing noises all day? No. But you need to find ways to tolerate it enough that you don't treat others like shit if they make a mouth noise near you.
No, you don't have to read the fic with your trigger tags. But you do need to be able to handle scrolling past the tags without being upset.
It is hard! But not having it also makes you so so so easy to manipulate. That grandma is racist AF because her mom raised her to be uncomfortable around black people and she never fought that discomfort. Trans people make so many cis people uncomfortable and that discomfort turns into bigotry real fast.
Letting your discomfort dictate your actions and beliefs about things is a great way to become a terrible person. Learn. Discomfort. Tolerance.
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I don't want to buy mass-produced garbage from a big box store so I go to etsy but half of etsy is now dropshipped mass-produced garbage or AI slop so I go to the local arts and crafts street market but a ton of those booths are also selling the same generic plastic objects or identical stickers or 3D printed dragons so WHERE do I buy real trinkets and art from sincere freaks
So, Iâve been pulled over a few times in my life. Not many, but a few. And Iâve also been in a couple of cars that got pulled over. And let me tell you, if you were actually doing something wrong, the officer doesnât make any small talk, just straight into âI clocked you doing 70 in a 55.â The only time Iâve ever gotten the âdo you know why I pulled you over?â was the time when I wasnât doing anything wrong, and I got let go even though he insisted to the end that I was doing 87 in a 70 (white privilege at work).
âDo you know why I pulled you over?â is a trap. It means thereâs a good chance the officer doesnât actually have a good reason to ticket you, and is trying to get you to waive your 5th Amendment rights and incriminate yourself. If you make a guess, thatâs a confession of guilt.
But thereâs another trap, that Iâve heard of but havenât yet experienced. Itâs âdo you know how fast you were going?â With that one, theyâre hoping youâll say no, because then they can name whatever speed they want â you just said you didnât know how fast you were going, if you deny the speed they name then youâre lying to them.
Oh, Iâve had that one. Go with âyes.â Donât give them a number, just say âYes.â Then they still have to offer a number and you can deny it without contradicting yourself. They could just ask you, at that point, but thatâs suspiciously similar to saying they donât know, and they tend to avoid doing that.
Reblog to save a life
if you scroll past this just because it doesnât affect you personally, i see you.
Also, you can always go to court and contest a ticket, and a lot of times youâll win. Or if the cop thinks youâll win they wonât even show up and youâll win by default.
They like to target out of state plates because anyone who would be majorly inconvenienced by a court date two months away is a lot more likely to just pay it.
