• natasha: i nominate steve rogers to do the ice bucket challenge
  • bucky: nat he did the ice bucket challenge for like 70 years
  • steve: [looks directly into the camera like he’s on the office]

kyliesparks27:

badbunnyfoofoo:

just-paper:

pal3trash:

I hate that gif for fitting the song perfectly

That should not have been that fun to dance to

I need a music video with those storm troopers to this now

(Source: part-time-princess-mia)

Played 286031 times.
catholic-girl-in-training:

lutefisktacoandbeer:

kittymudface:

It gets better—the guy is deaf, and he taught his cat the sign for “food.” So the cat’s not just saying “put that in my mouth,” it’s actually signing

Not only that, but if you notice at the beginning, the cat *gets the man’s attention* as any person who wanted to talk to a deaf/hoh individual would (well, and vice versa IME). I’ve done sign since I was 5, and generally, w/o eye contact initially, you wave a hand or lightly touch the arm (if that’s ok with the person you’re trying to converse with, of course). Generally, adult cats meow mostly to humans, but this cat has figured out that’s not going to work and has adapted. Animal companions! They are INCREDIBLE.


AWHH. KITTY.

catholic-girl-in-training:

lutefisktacoandbeer:

kittymudface:

It gets better—the guy is deaf, and he taught his cat the sign for “food.” So the cat’s not just saying “put that in my mouth,” it’s actually signing

Not only that, but if you notice at the beginning, the cat *gets the man’s attention* as any person who wanted to talk to a deaf/hoh individual would (well, and vice versa IME). I’ve done sign since I was 5, and generally, w/o eye contact initially, you wave a hand or lightly touch the arm (if that’s ok with the person you’re trying to converse with, of course). 
Generally, adult cats meow mostly to humans, but this cat has figured out that’s not going to work and has adapted. Animal companions! They are INCREDIBLE.

AWHH. KITTY.

(Source: needsmoarcat)

rock-flag-and-jerkface:

THIS IS THE CUTEST THING EVER

they both look a little nervous about what the other one might write

then just the biggest smiles when they are reassured yet again how much they just love each other

(Source: hiddlesy)

pridefulvanity:

next time someone tells you Muslim countries oppress women, let them know Pakistan, Bangladesh, Indonesia, Turkey, Kosovo, Kyrgyzstan, and Senegal have all had female Presidents or Prime Ministers and 1/3rd of Egypt’s parliament is female but the US has yet to even have a female vice president and can’t say “vagina” when discussing female reproductive rights

(Source: la-rinascente)

homme-brella:

I WENT TO TARGET TODAY AND SOMEONE BENT THE FUCKING AD FOR THE IPHONE I DIED

sarahsupastar:

absolute-bollocks:

half-doomed-and-semi-sweet:

koblala:

im-in-lesbians-with-tony-perry:

soliloquyn:

therothwoman:

Can we talk about how Hairspray is a story where a not-conventionally-attractive girl gets the hot guy in the end without having to Become “Pretty.” Because we need more stories like that.

It’s also story about breaking down the barriers of racism which we also need more of.

And it’s about nice hair and cheesy dance moves, more things we need more of

It’s a movie where John Travolta plays a chic, which we need more of

No. We don’t need more of men in roles which should have gone to plus size women.

Actually, the role was written as a man playing a woman because it’s a pantomime technique so it’s not like the movie purposely discriminated, It was literally just written that way and it’s probably one of my favourite comedic techniques.

Actually, the role was written as a man playing a woman because in the original Hairspray movie the role was played by Divine, a radical and influential plus-size drag queen. It is in honor of that original casting and in Divine’s memory that more recent stage and movie adaptations of Hairspray have continued to cast Mrs. Turnblad as a man in drag.

(Source: rouxx)

belowtheprecipice:

cosmographia:

thepap64experience:

Mulan: The only Disney Princess with a body count… in the thousands

I yell this to anybody who misses in anything. 

a body count… in the thousands

(Source: garfizzle)

mccue90:

prokopetz:

a-cumberbatch-of-cookies:

spicy-vagina-tacos:

zooophagous:

Hades speaks to me on a spiritual level

why does tumblr always relate to the satan of every fandom

Because it’s easier to identify with a flawed character then some kind of ultra human the hero normally is portrayed as.

Possibly also because Satan figures in media typically live in dark holes in the ground, spend most of their time laughing at others’ misfortunes, and communicate primarily by means of passive-aggressive snark.

That last comment

(Source: octaviasblake)

Anonymous Asked
Questionplease elaborate on how you got a substitute teacher to quit within one day. I'm genuinely curious. Answer

mysticmoonhigh:

mamalovebone:

all right everyone sit down, shut up and listen closely because I’m about to tell y’all the tale of Ms. Mormino.

Seventh grade is a time most people don’t look back on fondly. I know I sure don’t—I tend to regard that era as nothing more than an unpleasant, acne-filled haze of fall out boy and poor attempts at pseudo-zooey deschanel fashions. But enough about me. Let’s talk about my math teacher. 

Ms. Isom. Poor old Ms. Isom. Well in her 60’s, always plagued with some illness or injury, she was hardly ever even at school. Since many of her absences were the result of short-notice incidents—“falling down the stairs” was popularly cited— it wasn’t all that uncommon to not have a substitute on hand. Being a smartass honors class, we’d gotten away with several successful evasions of administration, walking cavalierly into class  to pass the next 48 minutes doing just about nothing. Hell, for good measure, we’d sometimes even toss in a friendly “hey, Ms. Isom!” if any administrators were anywhere within earshot. So incredibly anti-establishment, you could basically call it another Project Mayhem, except instead of Brad Pitt and Ed Norton concocting homemade bombs, it was a bunch of tweenyboppers with iPhone 3’s and Justin Bieber 2009 haircuts. 

 We got pretty accustomed to our own little self-governing system that rolled around every second period, so we naturally weren’t exactly thrilled when administration caught on to our little Anarchy Act and strictly enforced the presence of a substitute every day. 

Most of our subs weren’t terrible—most were friendly, gave us participation grades, and didn’t object to the independent attitude of our class (which, mind you, only had about ten students in it) 

That is, until Ms. Mormino came along. 

Four feet, ten inches of raw, undiluted evil, Ms. Mormino walked into class with a scowl on her face and a chip on her shoulder. When the girl behind me sneezed, Ms. Mormino’s immediate response was “NO INAPPROPRIATE NOISES!” 

 Although we all suppressed our laughter, we all knew from that moment on that, try as she might with her despotism and her draconian anti-sneeze policy, Ms. Mormino didn’t stand a chance. 

 The arguable beginning of the end for Ms. Mormino’s all-too-brief reign of terror was the moment I asked for a calculator; mine was broken. Mormino asserted that I could only borrow a calculator if I loaned her something of mine; at that moment, the girl next to me chimed in, saying she, too, needed a calculator. “I have a folder I can give you,” I offered. “I have a highlighter,” added the other girl. 

 At that moment, a puberty-creaking voice from the back of the room piped up. 

Max. 

We all know certain people have certain gifts. Michelangelo saw angels in every block of marble and devoted his life to setting them free; Einstein had a mind which saw the potential of the entire universe; F. Scott Fitzgerald wove intricate tales of decadence and depravity. Max, however, had a different kind of gift: he could make anything—anything at all—into a “that’s what she said” joke. More on that later, though. 

Max pried off a Nike sneaker and held it proudly in the air, like a coveted trophy. 

"I have a shoe." 

Tottering in one-shoe-one-sock, Max dumped the sneaker on Ms. Mormino’s desk, retrieved a calculator, then tottered back to his own desk, a sort of smirk playing on his face. And, as to be expected—the rest of us quickly followed suit. 

 A small pile of shoes on her desk, Ms. Mormino grit her teeth and glared at us as we all sat back down, quietly victorious, a calculator in each of our hands. It wasn’t long, however, until we all began to silently plot our next act of minor mayhem. 

"Can I go to the bathroom?" asked Tyler, who, despite being in seventh grade, was approaching his sixteenth birthday. In a combination of verism and admiration of Tyler’s devil-may-care boldness, we unequivocally accepted him as our leader. For reasons unknown, Ms. Mormino denied his request. Tyler, much like his Fight Club namesake, heeded no rules but his own and left anyway—Ms. Mormino, furious, locked the door behind him and smugly insisted that "administration will take care of him." 

Tyler, however, was not one to be caught, and stayed close by, appearing in the window of the door whenever Ms. Mormino wasn’t looking. Waving, smiling, laughing, making faces and obscene gestures, Tyler had us all in stitches, but cleverly avoided Ms. Mormino’s sight—when she asked us what was so funny, we all refused to give Tyler away. 

A girl asked to go to the bathroom, stating she “really really really” needed to go. Ms. Mormino, again, denied her request. Ms. Mormino, however, seemed to be uninformed about the side door—leading right outside, always locked from the outside but always open from the inside. 

"Well, I’ll go myself," the girl responded, and took off, hurdling three desks and darting out the door. Right behind her, two other students took off, pursuing freedom. The door slammed behind all three students, and they were gone. 

 Six of us were left. Among us, importantly, was Chris. 

Chris was thirteen, but looked half his age; scrawny, wiry, he probably measured in at about four-foot-three, but no taller. “Late Bloomer” are words that come to mind. 

Despite his diminutive size, Chris possessed the gall of someone like Tyler.

"I have to use the bathroom," said Chris, standing. 

 ”Do you think I’m going to allow you to go to the bathroom?” snapped Ms. Mormino. 

 ”It’s an emergency!” Chris pleaded. 

"Sit down," Ms. Mormino growled. 

Meanwhile, the entire class borders on hysteria. We have tears in our eyes, almost suffocating from choking back laughter. 

"It’s an emergency," repeated Chris, but it sounded more like a warning.

"Sit."

Silence. Silence, Silence and more silence, until we all began to notice a dark stain on Chris’s khakis. The stain grew. And grew. And grew.

 Fists at his sides, stoicism in his face, and a cold, proud, triumphant glint in his eye, Chris locked eye contact with Ms. Mormino. 

And pissed right in his pants. 

The entire class erupted into a laugh only comparable to the detonation of a bomb. 

We laughed so hard for the next five, ten, fifteen minutes straight that Ms. Mormino gave up. Surrendering, putting her head on her desk, she waited until the hysteria finally subsided. 

Finally looking up, defeated, pathetic, Ms. Mormino glared at us all and wailed: 

 ”This is too much, this is too hard, too hard, Jesus Christ, this is too much for me!” 

 A lone voice sounded from the back of the room. Guess whose it was.

"That’s what she said."

Ms. Mormino officially retired from teaching that afternoon.

FUCKING READ IT IT’S WORTH IT

peaceandflying:

2farts2furious:

she’s a harvard graduate and speaks like 6 languages

She’s the best.

(Source: so-you-better-run)

violenthugfest:

violenthugfest:

image

What??????

image

Oh, okay.

Wait.

What?????????

image

What is going on???

kia-kaha-winchesters:

just the girly things

  • forcing an earing through a closed piercing
  • taking off tight clothes and rubbing the indents they left on your skin 
  • human sacrifice
  • homemade face masks 

isitmountainday:

Can we get a mountain day Boxing Day? Especially since the weather is perfect snuggle in your bed with Netflix and a mug of tea (and maybe your significant other) weather?