Yes, You Have To Except What's Happening Now, But Not What Will Happen In The Future. You Can Ask The

Reminded me of something so storytime:

*Family dinner*

My brother: lol like that time I got hit be a car

Everyone: WHAT

Brother: yeah like two months ago. There's a GIF *shows us GIF of security cameras catching him getting hit by a car*

Us: are you okay??

Brother: yea the girl that hit me didn't ever talk to me afterwards lol

Us: ???????

It was an accident :(((

Are you telling me there are other types of can openers??? What? I only ever saw these:

They last forever or until they rust and you decide you don't want to contaminate your food with metal anymore. I have one that is extremely rusty and is at least 15 years old

"I don't need a shopping list; with effort, I will remember that I need this item"

Okay but will you be able to remember that you already bought it? Because apparently I can't.

amy pond dies more times than rory williams

y’all know rory as “the boy who dies” but you are WRONG

Rory deaths:

Turned to dust in Amy’s Choice

tardis crashes into the cold sun in Amy’s choice

Erased from existence in Cold Blood

Drowns in Curse of the Black Spot

Jumps off a building in Angels Take Manhattan

Dies of old age in Angels Take Manhattan

Amy deaths:

Drives a car into a house in Amy’s Choice

tardis crashes into the cold sun in Amy’s Choice

Killed by auton Rory in The Pandorica Opens

Killed by those weird dolls in Night Terrors

Old Amy is erased from existence in The Girl Who Waited

Jumps off a building in Angels Take Manhattan

Dies of old age in Angels Take Manhattan

that’s 6 deaths to Rory and 7 to Amy. furthermore. y’all know amy as “the girl who waited” because she waited for fourteen years, but rory waited for two thousand years and you just ignore it ???

switch. the. labels. amy is the boy who died, rory is the girl who waited, there ya go.

I struggle to comprehend those of you who say Israel is prolonging this war because they "want" to. Because they want to hurt other people, or because they want to conquer the middle east, all the reasons are equally stupid.

Do any of you really think any of us WANT to be doing this? Do the parents WANT to be crying over the graves of their children? Do the soldiers WANT to be fighting for their lives and possibly losing them in the heat and the fire and the dust? Do the refugees from the endangered areas WANT to be crammed in hotel rooms with thousands of strangers? Do the loved ones of the hostages WANT to be outside in all kinds of weather, screaming for their return?

Do the kids WANT to be drawing the soldiers pictures so they'll have something to smile at amid the death and destruction? Do the teenagers WANT to spend hours on their feet packaging food and supplies?

Does every single citizen in this country WANT to dread every knock on the door and every telephone call?

I don't think the word "want" is in the vocabulary of this war. I know that the distance between the average leftist overseas and the average Israeli is pretty unbridgeable right now, but surely this can't be that difficult to understand. We are currently thinking in terms of survival. There is no "want" and "don't want" involved in this war anymore. There is "need", "must" and "fuck, I guess we have to do this, don't we?".

That's about it.

Hope that cleared something up.

You know those anime meta posts along the lines of “I was born with pink hair. The doctors told my parents I was a Main Character and ever since my life has not known peace from demons/spirits/sports competitions/harems who find me”

Well I see that, and I raise you this:

An anime boy whose appearance is, by absolutely anyone’s account, completely and utterly average. Mundane hair. Mundane eyes. Not even glasses to set him the tiniest bit apart. A simple, unmemorable, unrecognizable civilian among a backdrop of millions.

And he has a lot of passions, and a lot of ambitions, which he hones every chance he gets. He’s dabbled in sports and archery and cooking and just about anything you could wrap a competition around. And he’s competed in many of these. Every chance he gets. With all of his passion and all of his might.

He’s crushed by the competition every single time.

Until one day–one day something clicks for him. Something that should have seemed obvious from the start and yet never was–as though everyone, including himself, was unwittingly blind to it. It clicks, when he realizes every kid who’s beaten him in competition, every kid who’s gone on to fame and glory and acclaim, has been some candy-haired gel-spiked ridiculously-dressed fucker. 

There’s some trend there that this Main Character boy can’t explain and can’t understand but he decides, this one time, fuck it. He’ll play along too. He’s got a model train competition in four days, and he’s got nothing more to lose. He hits up the department store, buys the pinkest, noxious-est, fruitiest hair dye he can find, the spikiest hair gel available, and the gaudiest clothes on the thrift rack. He enters the model train competition looking like a bubble gum gijinka.

And he wins.

Suddenly, the other candy-haired contestants notice him. They talk to him. They pledge rivalries. Girls notice him. Judges applaud him. Acclaimed model train aficionados offer him internships across the world. He’s hit on something. 

The main cast expands to cover just about every candy-hair cliche in the book: from the mostly-normal-looking demure school girl with the blue hair to the Naruto-est, yelling-est boy with the red-and-green spiked hair. The cool megane senpais, the purple haired tsunderes, suddenly everyone is interested in him. They’re prodigies and upstarts and underdogs and they truly believe that this main character boy is one of them.

So the main character boy maintains his ruse. He touches up his roots at dawn every morning and carefully attends to his gelled spikes and tells absolutely no one about this great, uncanny, unfathomable secret he’s stumbled upon. He wins his competitions left and right. He racks up the acclaim. He’s hailed as a prodigy of all trades, just now bursting onto the scene, and boils to the top of all his candy-haired peers.

He’s rising up, his every dream within his grasp. Until one day he gets a note under his door, taped to an old picture of his Normal Boring self from middle school, that says “You don’t belong”

יש לי זיכרון מעורפל של המורה אומרת שתפוח נגמר בח כי זה כמו ירח כי ח עם פתח בסוף מילה אבל אני לא יודעת כמה איות באמת למדנו

שאלה מאוד חשובה שאני צריך לדעת

Art by Dirty Iron

את לא יכולה לכתוב דבר כזה בלי לתת לנו קישור

ראיתי עכשיו סרטון של איזה מישהו מכין שניצל תירס from scratch . חיי בחיים לא יחזרו להיות כמו שהיו.

Octopus filmed changing colours while sleeping.