chewbacca was definitely the best man when han and leia got married and he gave a long speech of wookiee noises that next to nobody could understand and han was definitely trying not to cry the whole time
Every time she comes to my house, she runs to my brother’s room and asks him new questions about space and stars and planets and cosmos.
She doesn’t want to be an astronaut because she says she doesn’t like their suits, she doesn’t want to be an astrophysics because she says she doesn’t know what to do. She wants to work in space. That’s what she says.
Today when she came, I was watching Jupiter Ascending and even though it was in english and she is still learning to read fast, she sat down and watched because it has space.
I explained to her what was happening every time she asked and gave her of my popcorn and listened every time she explained what planet she thought they were in or how a sun works.
When the movie was over, she went downstairs and jumped in front of her mother, saying she knows now what she wants to do when she is older.
She is going to be a space queen like Jupiter Jones and will save Earth.
Thank you, Jupiter Ascending, for giving my little four years old space nerd niece a new dream.
I love when I accidentally intercept a spider running across the floor and they raise up their front legs like “big thing! I fite!” And then if you move again they scurry away like “bigger than expect! very big! hide now!” Like, godspeed little one, go eat some ants
So a tiny story: on Black Friday a few weeks ago I went to Gamestop to buy my brother a game for Christmas, and I noticed this older man was watching me like a hawk. He was loitering around the front of the store without really buying anything, and every time I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye he was looking at me. I went to look at the PS4 games, and he was looking at something right behind me. I checked out the Nintendo games, and he was looking at them too. I was the only woman in the store, by the way.
By the time I got in line to pay he was loitering at the front of the store again, and I just had that feeling that he was going to try and take the game I just bought, or steal my purse, as soon as I left the store. OR, he was going to try and follow me home. And I know I don’t have to explain that terror to any woman reading this, but all I could think was that I’m in this Gamestop alone with at least twenty other men and something is about to happen. I’m beginning to freak out, to the point where I’ve just pulled my pepper spray out of my purse and into the pocket of my coat.
So there I am, next in line to pay, and there is this GIGANTIC dudebro right behind me, and I say gigantic as a 6 foot tall woman. He says, “Ma’am? Don’t be offended, but would it be alright if I walked you to your car?” and I was like “Are you serious?” and he was like “There are some weird guys in here right now. Have you noticed that guy watching you?” and then I showed the dudebro the pepper spray in my pocket and he was like “Right on. Would you still let me walk you to your car?” and I said yes.
So I paid, and waited while HE paid, and he walked me to my car. And just as I was getting in, the weird guy who’d been loitering came out of the store, saw me and my dudebro, and turned around and walked away in the opposite direction.
In short: men who recognize that women are unsafe in dark alleys, college campuses, grocery stores, gas stations and retail stores and do something about it are the kind of quality men that this world needs more of.
Please for the love of god yes.
My friend left class before I did. My friend is a 6+ft and 250+ lbs. So he’s not tiny guy. I ended up calling him and had him come back to the building our class was in and walk me to my car. It was 10 oclock at night and I just hated walking around campus by myself at night. I always felt safer with him around since I did have friends who were assaulted on campus. He didn’t even think anything about coming back.
The next time someone rudely asks me “so… what are you?” as a way of trying to figure out my race, I’m gonna answer as nervously as possible with “hahah ahah ahaha… human? liKE YOU?” and then walk about 3 feet away from them before stage whispering into my watch “I fear the humans are beginning to catch on. I believe it’s now time to proceed with Plan E.”
What amuses me is the Plan E part. That means several other plans have failed. You are a terrible secret agent.
[sweats and whispers into watch] “They’re definitely onto us.”
So, possibly one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen. I mean you know how you hear the “women want him, men want to *be* him” stuff in old movies? Well I’m a man and by *god* I wanted to be this guy. Anyway!
I’m having dinner with my girlfriend at the time, and behind us are a couple on a date. It is.. not going well. Guy was being rather creepy and making some pretty inappropriate comments, the girl doesn’t look at all comfortable.
The girl finishes her appetiser really quickly, my guess is she wanted to get it over with. Guy proceeds to comment on it and says “well, least I know you can swallow right?”. Loudly.
Girl goes red and tells him that isn’t appropriate, he literally waves his hand in a “shoo” type motion and says “oh calm down I was going to find out in a few hours anyway”.
I missed her exact reply as she moved to a hushed tone, but it was fairly obvious what was being said - fuck no, fuck off, fuck this. He responded with “sweetheart I picked you up, I know where you live”. She lost the colour in her face and said nothing.
No. No. Fuck no. I’m one of those “get involved” type of people and there is no way I’m sitting here watching this go down. I get up. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I’m 23, fighting fit and happy to put that motherfucker through a wall. I may have had a slight temper in my youth. But anyway.
I was halfway out of my chair when a hand came down on my shoulder and I look up to this mid-50s but super fit guy who says “Easy.. I’ve got this one son”. Absolute, total confidence in his voice.. so seeing as my current plan amounted to “stab him in the neck” and I’m already thinking maybe that’s not the best idea, I sit down.
He walks over, grabs a nearby chair, flips it around and sits down with the couple. Then.. he pulls out his police ID and puts it on the table. Now the guy doesn’t have any colour in his face.
Cop: “So, I’m quietly celebrating my daughters birthday with my family when I distinctly hear you threaten this young lady, would you care to explain yourself?”
Guy: “I, ah, well, um, you see..”
Cop: “That’s what I thought. Now see, we take a *very* dim view of that kind of thing, so right now I’m deciding if I want to have some of my buddies come pick you up.”
Guy: “oh no well that…”
Cop: “But that would disrupt everyone’s dinner, so how about you hand me your ID, because I wouldn’t want you running off on me, then you go see one of the staff here and settle your bill.. the full bill now, this young lady shouldn’t go hungry on account of your poor behaviour. Or we can go with the first option, I’ll leave it up to you.”
Guy: “No no! That’s perfectly fine!” \*hands over ID, gets up and walks very quickly in the direction of the counter\*
Cop: \*while writing down the guys details\* “Sorry about that miss, I hope I’m not intruding it just seemed like you could use some help. Oh and don’t worry, if you want to pursue this further I’ll have some of the boys pick him up on his way home, we can definitely take this further.”
Girl: “No, thank you so much, I wanted to run out 30 minutes ago but he drove me here”.
Cop: \*shifts from hardarse cop to comforting father figure in about half a second\* “Well I’m here with my daughter, she’s about your age, perhaps you’d like to finish your meal with us? We can run you home afterwards if you’d like, unless you’d prefer to call someone else?”
Girl: “Oh.. that would be really nice.. thankyou so much!”
\*guy returns, so does the hardarse cop\*
Guy: “Uh so, I’ve paid the bill, if I could have my ID back..”.
Cop: “There you go.. now I have your details right here so I *highly* recommend you don’t go near or contact this young lady ever again.”
Guy: “Yes yes of course, I’m so sorry!”
The guy pretty much fled the restaurant, the girl went and sat with the cop and his family and by the time we left they were still sitting around talking and laughing about random crap.
It was hands down the best way I have ever seen anybody handle any situation, ever. That cop is my hero.
Dude. I hope that man has a great rest of his life.
I think that one of my favorite things as a kid was right after a powwow my ma and I decided to go with her then fiance to an ice cream shop with some of our regalia and leathers still on. Out of nowhere a little girl comes out, points and yells:
“LOOK MOMMY! INDIANS!”
My ma without missing a beat turned around, pointed at her and screamed, “LOOK JEFF! A WHITE GIRL!”
There are loves which burn like bright stars; which can never be reached but they still light up even the darkest nights. —-
Request drawn from the prompt @micole6600 gave me, an anthropomorphic white wolf with rainbow hair. It was a very nice opportunity to play with digital brushes and let out some feelings!
To Be Clear: Tiggy is my former biology teacher’s cat, not mine.
Tiggy was found on the street by her six-year-old son and they thought he was a teenager, except his teeth weren’t in great shape, and he never got any bigger. He’s lived with them for 15 years, and Mrs. A thinks he’s probably 17 now.
Tiggy is SUPPOSED to be an indoor cat, but he is Cunning and Apparently Feels No Pain, so he’s managed to get out may, many times by jimmying window locks open, working doorknobs knocking a hole in the roof from the attic, and straight-up running through single-pane glass once. So Mrs. A, attempting to mitigate his environmental impact, has him permanently wearing a neon yellow, reflective strip vest/harness, with bells, a flashing light and a beeper that goes off every 12 minutes, in case he gnaws the bells off. It also has a GPS tracker made from a modified Ankle bracelet, that tells her when he gets out.
IN SPITE OF THIS, he’s still murdery little shit.
The Loud Harness seems to have slowed down his genocide of the local small vertebrates, but had a curious backwards effect: The large carnivores come over and try to throw down with him.
If you’re wondering how 6lb kittykat takes down a 45 lb coyote: Stone-cold bastard kills them the same way a lion takes down a fucking zebra-He latches onto their windpipes and either asphyxiates them by clamping down or actually rips their throats out. The ruff does nothing.
We know this, and his estimated body count, because he likes to bring back particularly difficult kills to the porch to show off.
In 2012, Mrs. A’s son brought home a malamute/GSD puppy and Mrs. A was terrified that Tiggy was going to kill him too. Instead, Tiggy took Tobasco under his proverbial wing and went from “Mighty Hunter” to “Overprotective Parent”, staying in the yard and guarding Tobasco from any potential harm with the same murderous zeal as he’s always had.
…He also taught Tobasco how to stalk, chase, and corner the local wildlife and last year Mrs. A came home to find a six-point mule deer buck in her kitchen, attempting to hide on top of the stove.
Every day during lunch there will be several parties of two straight men having lunch together, that insist I seat them at a table for four even though there are only two of them. Because I guess homosexuality can be transmitted through accidental undertable foot contact now? Who knew?
Right now you might be asking “What happens when four straight men are having lunch together?”
Well what do you think?
They ask for a table for six. I shit you not.
I was airing my humorous grievance to our daytime bartender who only nodded and said. “They order wine and ask me to bring it in a pilsner glass.”
The cocktail server corroborated this saying some straight men will demand he show them the glass a drink comes in to make sure it’s suitably “masculine” looking before they order it.
And the dishwashers hate this because it makes their jobs much more complicated. It’s really not fun to have to drop what you’re doing to scrub dried red wine out of the bottom of a narrow pilsner glass. Especially when they have literally THOUSANDS of other dishes you have to do in a short amount of time.
Straight men ask for special accomodations for their straightness all the time.
That being said, Disabled folks, chronically ill folks, folks with severe allergies and other special needs:
NEVER feel ashamed to request the accomodations you require to enjoy your time at a restaurant. Hand to God we are happy to do it for you- a person who actually needs it.
It would honestly be a nice break from catering to all that fragile masculinity.
A lot of people ask me what my biggest fear is, or what scares me most. And I know they expect an answer like heights, or closed spaces, or people dressed like animals, but how do I tell them that when I was 17 I took a class called Relationships For Life and I learned that most people fall out of love for the same reasons they fell in it. That their lover’s once endearing stubbornness has now become refusal to compromise and their one track mind is now immaturity and their bad habits that you once adored is now money down the drain. Their spontaneity becomes reckless and irresponsible and their feet up on your dash is no longer sexy, just another distraction in your busy life.
Nothing saddens and scares me like the thought that I can become ugly to someone who once thought all the stars were in my eyes.
this fucks me up every single time
I never expected this to be my most popular poem out of the hundreds I’ve written. I was extremely bitter and sad when I wrote this and I left out the most beautiful part of that class.
After my teacher introduced us to this theory, she asked us, “is love a feeling? Or is it a choice?” We were all a bunch of teenagers. Naturally we said it was a feeling. She said that if we clung to that belief, we’d never have a lasting relationship of any sort.
She made us interview a dozen adults who were or had been married and we asked them about their marriages and why it lasted or why it failed. At the end, I asked every single person if love was an emotion or a choice.
Everybody said that it was a choice. It was a conscious commitment. It was something you choose to make work every day with a person who has chosen the same thing. They all said that at one point in their marriage, the “feeling of love” had vanished or faded and they weren’t happy. They said feelings are always changing and you cannot build something that will last on such a shaky foundation.
The married ones said that when things were bad, they chose to open the communication, chose to identify what broke and how to fix it, and chose to recreate something worth falling in love with.
The divorced ones said they chose to walk away.
Ever since that class, since that project, I never looked at relationships the same way. I understood why arranged marriages were successful. I discovered the difference in feelings and commitments. I’ve never gone for the person who makes my heart flutter or my head spin. I’ve chosen the people who were committed to choosing me, dedicated to finding something to adore even on the ugliest days.
I no longer fear the day someone who swore I was their universe can no longer see the stars in my eyes as long as they still choose to look until they find them again.
“You deserve a lover who wants you disheveled, with everything and all the reasons that wake you up in a haste and the demons that won’t let you sleep.
You deserve a lover who makes you feel safe, who can consume this world whole if he walks hand in hand with you; someone who believes that his embraces are a perfect match with your skin.
You deserve a lover who wants to dance with you, who goes to paradise every time he looks into your eyes and never gets tired of studying your expressions.
You deserve a lover who listens when you sing, who supports you when you feel shame and respects your freedom; who flies with you and isn’t afraid to fall.
You deserve a lover who takes away the lies and brings you hope, coffee, and poetry.”
― Frida Kahlo
Love this picture so much, love the woman, love her words.
So ummm my city hates me and they think it’s cool to put this giant mechanical spider on top of a cathedral downtown and tonight it’s going to come down and walk the streets?! LITERAL NIGHTMARE.
This one time I went to an address by the American ambassador to the UK and he said he does this exercise with British students where he gives them index cards and asks them to write things on one side that frustrate/scare them about America, and on the other side things that inspire them about America, and he said when his office collected them the most-written concepts on the frustration side were like “guns, violence, racism” and the inspiration side was overwhelmingly “NASA”
I am an ER nurse and this is the best description of this event that I have ever heard.
FEMALE HEART ATTACKS
I was aware that female heart attacks are different, but this is description is so incredibly visceral that I feel like I have an entire new understanding of what it feels like to be living the symptoms on the inside. Women rarely have the same dramatic symptoms that men have… you know, the sudden stabbing pain in the chest, the cold sweat, grabbing the chest & dropping to the floor the we see in movies. Here is the story of one woman’s experience with a heart attack:
"I had a heart attack at about 10:30 PM with NO prior exertion, NO prior emotional trauma that one would suspect might have brought it on. I was sitting all snugly & warm on a cold evening, with my purring cat in my lap, reading an interesting story my friend had sent me, and actually thinking, ‘A-A-h, this is the life, all cozy and warm in my soft, cushy Lazy Boy with my feet propped up.
A moment later, I felt that awful sensation of indigestion, when you’ve been in a hurry and grabbed a bite of sandwich and washed it down with a dash of water, and that hurried bite seems to feel like you’ve swallowed a golf ball going down the esophagus in slow motion and it is most uncomfortable. You realize you shouldn’t have gulped it down so fast and needed to chew it more thoroughly and this time drink a glass of water to hasten its progress down to the stomach. This was my initial sensation–the only trouble was that I hadn’t taken a bite of anything since about 5:00 p.m.
After it seemed to subside, the next sensation was like little squeezing motions that seemed to be racing up my SPINE (hind-sight, it was probably my aorta spasms), gaining speed as they continued racing up and under my sternum (breast bone, where one presses rhythmically when administering CPR).
This fascinating process continued on into my throat and branched out into both jaws. ‘AHA!! NOW I stopped puzzling about what was happening – we all have read and/or heard about pain in the jaws being one of the signals of an MI happening, haven’t we? I said aloud to myself and the cat, Dear God, I think I’m having a heart attack!
I lowered the foot rest dumping the cat from my lap, started to take a step and fell on the floor instead. I thought to myself, If this is a heart attack, I shouldn’t be walking into the next room where the phone is or anywhere else… but, on the other hand, if I don’t, nobody will know that I need help, and if I wait any longer I may not be able to get up in a moment.
I pulled myself up with the arms of the chair, walked slowly into the next room and dialed the Paramedics… I told her I thought I was having a heart attack due to the pressure building under the sternum and radiating into my jaws. I didn’t feel hysterical or afraid, just stating the facts. She said she was sending the Paramedics over immediately, asked if the front door was near to me, and if so, to un-bolt the door and then lie down on the floor where they could see me when they came in.
I unlocked the door and then laid down on the floor as instructed and lost consciousness, as I don’t remember the medics coming in, their examination, lifting me onto a gurney or getting me into their ambulance, or hearing the call they made to St. Jude ER on the way, but I did briefly awaken when we arrived and saw that the radiologist was already there in his surgical blues and cap, helping the medics pull my stretcher out of the ambulance. He was bending over me asking questions (probably something like ‘Have you taken any medications?’) but I couldn’t make my mind interpret what he was saying, or form an answer, and nodded off again, not waking up until the Cardiologist and partner had already threaded the teeny angiogram balloon up my femoral artery into the aorta and into my heart where they installed 2 side by side stints to hold open my right coronary artery.
I know it sounds like all my thinking and actions at home must have taken at least 20-30 minutes before calling the paramedics, but actually it took perhaps 4-5 minutes before the call, and both the fire station and St Jude are only minutes away from my home, and my Cardiologist was already to go to the OR in his scrubs and get going on restarting my heart (which had stopped somewhere between my arrival and the procedure) and installing the stents.
Why have I written all of this to you with so much detail? Because I want all of you who are so important in my life to know what I learned first hand.
1. Be aware that something very different is happening in your body, not the usual men’s symptoms but inexplicable things happening (until my sternum and jaws got into the act). It is said that many more women than men die of their first (and last) MI because they didn’t know they were having one and commonly mistake it as indigestion, take some Maalox or other anti-heartburn preparation and go to bed, hoping they’ll feel better in the morning when they wake up… which doesn’t happen. My female friends, your symptoms might not be exactly like mine, so I advise you to call the Paramedics if ANYTHING is unpleasantly happening that you’ve not felt before. It is better to have a ‘false alarm’ visitation than to risk your life guessing what it might be!
2. Note that I said ‘Call the Paramedics.’ And if you can take an aspirin. Ladies, TIME IS OF THE ESSENCE!
Do NOT try to drive yourself to the ER - you are a hazard to others on the road.
Do NOT have your panicked husband who will be speeding and looking anxiously at what’s happening with you instead of the road.
Do NOT call your doctor – he doesn’t know where you live and if it’s at night you won’t reach him anyway, and if it’s daytime, his assistants (or answering service) will tell you to call the Paramedics. He doesn’t carry the equipment in his car that you need to be saved! The Paramedics do, principally OXYGEN that you need ASAP. Your Dr. will be notified later.
3. Don’t assume it couldn’t be a heart attack because you have a normal cholesterol count. Research has discovered that a cholesterol elevated reading is rarely the cause of an MI (unless it’s unbelievably high and/or accompanied by high blood pressure). MIs are usually caused by long-term stress and inflammation in the body, which dumps all sorts of deadly hormones into your system to sludge things up in there. Pain in the jaw can wake you from a sound sleep. Let’s be careful and be aware. The more we know the better chance we could survive to tell the tale.“
Reblog, repost, Facebook, tweet, pin, email, morse code, fucking carrier pigeon this to save a life!
I wish I knew who the author was. I’m definitely not the OP, actually think it might be an old chain email or even letter from back in the day. The version I saw floating around Facebook ended with “my cardiologist says mail this to 10 friends, maybe you’ll save one!” And knew this was way too interesting not to pass on.
Female heart attacks are much different, and most people don’t know it!
This is so much more helpful than the fucking lists that basically describe everything that happens during a really nasty panic attack and then tell you to go seek help as if you don’t have an anxiety disorder that does this to you on a regular basis and can afford to go to the emergency room.
From the linked Taibbi article: "On the other hand, it sort of worked! The least successful Trump administration officials to date have been the ones who have labored in public to act like real presidential aides. Scaramucci on the other hand is like Trump himself: ridiculous, ham-brained, unapologetic, disdainful of Washington pieties, and bursting with reasonless confidence."
"Freakish, embarrassing, and all too short." That's Matt Taibbi's summation of the tenure of Anthony Scaramucci in the White House. Last week ("American Heroes Week"!) may have felt like a millennium, but if you can believe it Mooch has only been on the job for something like eight days.
Taibbi's observation is well-phrased but by no means a bold prediction. My reaction to seeing this Mario Cantone with Bone-itis cosplayer for the first time was, "Can we just skip ahead to the part where he's fired?" Whatever thrill there was in watching these people crash and burn is gone; this isn't fun anymore.
If Scaramucci matters, it is as an indication of Trump totally throwing in the towel. Not that he intends to quit or anything, but he appears to be done trying even in the quarter-assed way he may have been attempting to create the illusion of being Serious. This is the kind of person you hire when you not only intend to stop trying, but when you don't particularly care to hide the fact that you are done trying.
The goal at this point appears to be to make this coke-fueled vaudeville act so utterly idiotic that Americans check out altogether, at which point Trump can resume his plans to crash this plane into the side of a mountain so he and his friends can collect on the insurance policy. The journalists who are professionally obligated to cover this all day, every day are going to need treatment for PTSD if this goes on for four years. Watching news and following politics has never been a great joy for most people. It's more of a thing one does because it's good for you, like jogging or eating cauliflower.
Now it is getting to a point at which it is literally too inane to watch. That is not an accident. The point of Anthony Scaramucci is to make your urge to change the channel or close the browser overpowering the moment you see his idiot face or hear one syllable of his fifth-rate Joe Pesci impression. That is why his face is so punchable; the White House wants you to want to punch him. To hate him. To be so disgusted that you feel like you need to be pumped full of thorazine to watch 10 minutes of CNN. And above all they want you to look at Anthony Scaramucci and realize that just as it has gotten worse every day for six months now, it is only going to get worse as time goes on.
“My mother-in-law was baking one of her awesome Black Forest cakes for my sister-in-law’s birthday. She left the cake cooling and when she went to look…”
Monkey meters in New Bedford, Massachusetts (all images from Tom Bob’s Instagram and used with permission)
Animism — the belief that all creatures and objects are imbued with spirit — is pre-pagan, mythical, and, if translated into cartoons, endearing. Consider the charm, at once magical and comforting, of the singing flowers from Disney’s Alice in Wonderland, the stars of Władysław Starewicz’s stop- motion films (dead insects, toy puppies), and even Clippy, the divisive and now-defunct Microsoft Office assistant — say what you will, but he was bright-eyed and wholesome, and always knew when I was writing a letter.
Similarly, the street art of Tom Bob animates pockets of the urban landscape in New York City, New Bedford, Massachusetts, and other locales, making even a city’s most innocuous objects seem alive and adorable. Storm drains become Oreos; a drainpipe becomes the trunk of a smiling elephant; a barred window becomes an open birdcage; an electrical outlet becomes a man brushing his giant teeth. Even when he isn’t transforming innocuous street items into something far cuter and more vibrant, the results are sublime, from an alien mural on a beach, for example, to the kissy-faced, neon-hued whales on the roof of two New Bedford buildings. The effect is to evoke a delightful urban playground that, admittedly, is very Instagram-friendly, but, more importantly, otherworldly.
New Bedford, Massachusetts.
The New York-based artist’s work is very much in the spirit of the French street artist OakOak, who also brings the city to life, or the Québecois artist Roadsworth, who turns it into a playground. It also evokes animator Sean Charmatz’s “Secret World of Stuff,” in which everyday objects (leaves, soup dumplings, ice cubes, bike racks, hanging planters) are animated laughing, crying, melting, or hugging each other. It’s all the stuff of childhood imagination, but if you know how and where to look, little wonders are hidden everywhere.
An elephant drainpipe in New Bedford, MassachusettsElectrical outlet lobsters in New Bedford, MassachusettsRingo StarrThe rooftop of two Elm Street buildings in New Bedford, MassachusettsA storm drain in Brooklyn, New York CityA “snake in the grass” in New York CityTraffic cone stencil art in New York CityButtonwood Park, New Bedford, MassachusettsA freed blackbird, in the spirit of Maya Angelou, in New Bedford, Massachusetts
‘Existential ISIS harm’ is nothing compared to the Republican agenda.
Think of all the division and pain Republicans are bringing to every family in America. Right Wingers are tied to Trump, and his obnoxious and infantile politics. That is one man changing an entire political party for the worse. In turn, Trumpsters are willing to destroy our norms and rights, just to rebuild the country in their image. That is real terror.
