Mike Zakarius - Nifty

Kids 

some fucking resources for all ur writing fuckin needs

body language masterlist

a translator that doesn’t eat ass like google translate does

a reverse dictionary for when ur brain freezes

550 words to say instead of fuckin said

638 character traits for when ur brain freezes again

some more body language help 

What (kind of) song would the vets/104th want to marry to and in what clothes?

Mikasa: “Wherever you are” by One OK Rock

Reiner: Ballad version of “I’m sexy and I know it”

Bertholdt: “My heart will go on” by Celine Dion

Annie: “Stay” By Rihanna

Eren: “I just called to say I love you” by Stevie Wonder

Jean: “The power of love” by Frankie Goes To Hollywood

Marco: “Marry you” by Bruno Mars

Sasha: “You’ve got a friend in me” from Toy Story

Connie: “How deep is your love” by the Bee Gees

Historia: “If I ain’t got you” by Alicia Keys

Armin: “I would do anything for love” by Meat Loaf

Ymir: “I’m coming out” by Diana Ross

Levi: “Once upon a time in the west”

Hanji: “You can leave your hat on” by Joe Cocker

Erwin: “Something” by the Beatles

Nanaba: “Your song” by Ellie Goulding

Mike: “Signed, Sealed, Delivered, I’m yours” by Stevie Wonder

Moblit:“500 Miles” by  The Proclaimers

Men are gross

That was really perplexing but it's good.

For over 30 years, a motel owner in Colorado used a secret crawlspace to watch his patrons have sex. He saw a lot more than that.

You can read the article here.

The hypothetical situation where Viktor is a pianist and he decides to arrange a piece that captures the thrill and fun he had with a certain musician by the name of Katsuki Yuuri. Wouldn’t that be a good story?

This isn’t the scene of a massacre, it’s just a vet’s office where a horse had a nosebleed. Horses breathe heavily through their noses, and their bodies contain a lot of blood, so a human nosebleed that soaks a couple paper towels equates to a horse nosebleed that looks like a crime scene. Source Source 2

Full image:

ᴿᴱᴬᴰ ᵀᴴᴱ ᶜᴼᴹᴵᶜ ᴵᵀ'ˢ ᴾᴿᴱᵀᵀᵞ ᴳᴼᴼᴰ

The Tiger in the Hills is an excellent horror comic that I recommend. It’s pretty short and does contain mild graphic content. (English Translation) (Compilation of Creepy Comics) 

Sometimes the customer is wrong for unrelated reasons.

Due to the well of my friends’ “def not an axe murderer” date recommendations drying up, I have turned to that most sacred of modern relationship institutions: online dating. As a very busy person trying to get it in with other very busy people, I prize honestly and directness above all else when it comes to profile creation. I include full body shots in my photos, try to minimize the use of MySpace angles in selfies, and write at the very top of the summary/caption/profile that I am fat. Not “curvy,” not “thick,” not “lots to love”–I’m f*cking fat. I’m not ashamed of it, but I also known that weight is a dealbreaker for lots of people. I don’t want to waste anyone’s time.

About a year ago I met “Evan” via Tinder. We exchanged friendly messages for a few hours one night and agreed to meet up for drinks the following evening. I waited for a full hour past the designated time, and just as I was getting up to leave, the texts started rolling in.

“I can see you sweating from here.” “How long does it take you to roll out of bed every morning?” “Is there an earthquake or are you just getting up for more pretzels?”

Really idiotic, juvenile shit. Four separate numbers, commenting on things like my clothes, which clued me in that the senders were nearby. This went on for 15 minutes before I finally saw Evan, trying to hide in at a corner table and giggling with a group of buddies. I made eye contact, saw that he saw me, and then walked out. The texts kept up until I blocked the numbers a few hours later.

I ran into Evan about 3 weeks later. We got on the same elevator, and he tried really hard at being super interested in the emergency phone instructions. I just confronted him, and he admitted it was just some “game” that him and his friends play. He knew I was fat before agreeing to meet up; they all did, because that’s what they do. Match up with fat women, then either ghost them or “troll” them at the meet-up. It was also kinda obvious he’d never seen any consequences from this bullshit, as he was sweating pretty hard and looked more humiliated than I felt. I just said whatever and walked out, expecting to never see him again.

About a month ago, some local foodie wrote a great review of the restaurant I own, and we’ve been slammed ever since. In the past, I stayed mostly in the kitchen, but I’ve been doing more and more front-of-house stuff lately, and Valentine’s Day I was working a bit of a split between the two.

I saw Evan just as he was pushing in his date’s chair. My name isn’t on the restaurant, and he didn’t see me. I checked the section up at the hostess stand and saw that one of my favorite old-timers, Nan, was going to be his waitress. I went to the bar till, took out $400, put it in her hands, and said, “This is going to be your only table for the rest of the night. You are going to make this the worst date he has ever been on.”

She spilled every single thing she brought out to the table, all over him. I was waiting for him to blow up on Nan, but he bottled it up, obviously trying to make a good impression on his date. She seemed like a perfectly lovely lady; I told Nan to make sure everything was good for her and terrible for Evan.

She poured ice water on his d*ck. She smacked the back of his head with the edge of a tray. Spilled soup on his shirt. Dropped every fork he asked for. I personally oversalted his food, used the shit liquor for his drinks, used flour instead of sugar on his dessert. To be honest, I don’t know why he didn’t just walk out. He must have really wanted to f*ck this woman.

Finally, he cracked. Demanded Nan find the manager and bring her out. I was only too happy to emerge from the kitchen with my chef’s coat and say what, I’m not ashamed to admit, I’d been planning out all night.

“I would have said hi earlier, but I didn’t want the earthquake to disturb your dinner.”

I will savor the look on Evan’s face for the rest of my life.

He was a little too flummoxed to explain, so I pulled a chair up to the table and introduced myself to his date, Amanda. Told her how I met Evan. Showed her some fun old messages. Then I told gave her a voucher for a free meal on her next visit and told Evan to get the f*ck out and never come back.

He deleted his Tinder profile.