does anyone else realize how gross that paint would look though? I mean that shit’s gonna blend together instantly unless you meticulously wash your brush after each stroke. And then you’ll end up being a sad artist with paint the color of leprechaun diarrhea.
Like seriously, why isn’t pole dancing an olympic sport? This is freakin gymnastics. This is strength and skill. This is not sexual whatsoever. Why does pole dancing have to be so stigmatised as a sexual thing that only strippers do? I have great respect for all people who can pull this off. This is art and beauty right here.
Good lord, the fluidity of her movement is mind-bending, jfc
you know what the stupidest award is
why should you be rewarded for having a superior immune system and never catching a virus okay it’s not exactly my fault that I’m not perfect and I gotta work it
where is my award for not murdering anyone all four years of high school since we’re giving out pointless awards here
This drives me mad. I used to work in a bookstore, and was talking to my coworker and he just yelled out “stop flirting with me!” at this ridiculous volume and it was humiliating because
1. I wasn’t
2. I got in trouble for acting unprofessional
3. He embarrassed me in front of a line of people
4. And he only stopped insisting that I was flirting when my boyfriend (who is now my husband) said, “dude, trust me, she’s not flirting with you” to him
That asshole respected my BOYFRIEND saying I wasn’t flirting more than he respected me saying it and I was the one who was talking! The whole scene got me in trouble at work. And the most ridiculous part is we were talking about a fucking book. In a bookstore.
One time, my ex boyfriend had a crush on some girl, and said that he thought he might have “a chance” with her.
When I asked him what made him think that, he said “Well, she talks to me.”
And this is why it is so difficult to be a girl and be friends with men who are attracted to women.
Can we also add that this is why a lot of women do the resting bitch face when out in public. Cause dudes swear a glance or a smile is flirting.
So yesterday something that perfectly illustrates this happened. I work at a fast food place and this guy comes in at 7am on a Sunday, still probably drunk from the night before, and when I smiled and said goodmorning he said “Did you just say that because you’re being paid to say that?”
I repressed my urge to sarcastically answer, and said “Nope, I just enjoy saying hi to everyone!” To which he responded, “Oh, so you weren’t flirting with me then.”
Dude, I’m not flirting with your gross 7am-on-a-Sunday-ass, trust me.
My defense mechanism when I’m uncomfortable at work is to smile, so I did that and said “Is there anything I can get you this morning?” to which he responded,
"There, you just smiled! What does that mean?"
At this point I was fed up, so I said,
"I smile at everyone sir, its just what I do. What can I get you, coffee, a bagel?"
And he said “I’m gonna be watching to see if you smile at everyone. I don’t like it when girls lie to me” and then ordered a coffee and a muffin like he hadn’t just said something at 11 on the “Is this guy a serial rapist” scale (where 0 is ‘no’ and 10 is ‘Yes, run away as fast as you can right now.”).
Then he sat there for another hour and a half, staring at me from his table. When he got up and left he came back to the counter, and said “You do smile at everyone. That’s fucked up.” and walked out.
I can’t even be innocuously polite and pleasant to people at my job (where customer service is the number one thing we are supposed to be focusing on) for fear of this shit happening. What happens if he had decided to wait until my shift was over?
New Rule: If she’s at work, SHE’S NOT FLIRTING WITH YOU.
I scrolled hoping for a description and there wasn’t one
One isn’t needed.
Everyone knows he’s showing us how to fake having a girlfriend so our families will leave us alone.
okay but why don’t more people talk about Night at the Museum like
poc characters and people being portrayed by poc people
this movie is so good
and it has one of the funniest, best, most ridiculous friendships in movie history
and you have Robin Williams as Teddy Roosevelt I mean
and if all that didn’t convince you there’s also a t-Rex skeleton that plays fetch with one of its own ribs
#pirates of the caribbean was kind of a formative influence #so here’s the thing #after years of chasing curses and hearts and fountains; losing the pearl and winning her back and losing her again #after rum enough to drown his sins and sorrows both#captain jack sparrow wakes up one morning and he’s immortal #just like that #no deals with calypso (he hasn’t been able to find her since the brethren court broke her chains) no desperate double-dealing #one morning he just…stops #stops aging stops dying #he gets the seas forever—except #except #the edges of the map are closing in #the lure of undiscovered treasures is waning and merchant ships are becoming better defended #the day that the East India Company takes Shipwreck Island; Jack feels a great chapter in the world’s history close #(he flees to the Barbary coast with the rest of his ilk; but the romance has gone out of it—the is too much desperation #too much hunger too much blood to it nowadays #the age of the swashbuckler won’t live out the decade) #I imagine this thing he’s chased all his life would crumble through his hands as he bounced from ship to ship #he never gets used to the square rigging on the clippers; though they lead to some good work running tea from china #but the first time he sees a steamship he nearly walks off the dock out of shock #of all the ways sailing would have changed; who thought you’d get rid of the /sails/ #(he swears he’s never getting on one of those monstrosities; let alone sailing on one) #(he manages to hold out until 1893 when the longing for the sea overwhelms him and he decides that even #that ghastly smog and the humming of the engines can be endured) #sometimes he’ll see calypso out of the corner of his eye—leaning on the deck railing; darting alongside the ship with the dolphins #(someone in the early 20th century tells him they’re not fish and he nearly busts a gut laughing) #he wears a hundred names and a hundred looks; cuts his hair short or grows it long #calls himself american; spanish; english (british); caribbean #he has two dozen different copies of Stevenson’s Treasure Island—it reminds him of something gone and half-forgotten #and in 1920 when Seitz comes out with Pirate Gold; Captain Jack Sparrow is in the first row (x)
And then in the future, everything changes. He’s been through it all, of course-watched humanity rediscover the heavens above them, watched them begin to wonder what’s out there. He cheered with the rest of the world when they landed on the moon, cheered as if he’d found Isla de la Muerta all over again, because there was something new. New treasure, a new horizon. But then they stop going, stop exploring, and he goes back to riding tankers across the rising seas. So he’s surprised when one day he wakes up from a night with his bottle of rum (his truest companion), and hears that there’s colonies on Mars now, and they need ships to supply them. He spends the next decade crafting new identities, learning all he can to qualify for the job, and after several tries (and even more faked deaths-this immortality thing isn’t all it’s cracked up to be in the age of the inerasable digital self) he gets it. The ships go nearly constantly now, the needs of the terraforming project creating an unbroken line of vessels from Mars to Earth and back again. “Show me that horizon,” he whispers to himself, his personal prayer of thanksgiving, each time they leave orbit, because the worlds, the stars are in motion and it’s never the same, with nearly three years for a round trip the ports are always different, even if they keep the old names. And finally one trip something goes wrong with the reactor, they’re too low on power and have to deploy the backups, and Jack (Lucky Jack, they call him, for he survives too many things he shouldn’t but science has yet to accept that maybe some things weren’t old wives’ tales after all) goes out for the spacewalk to bring up the solar panels. And as they rise, geometric patterns black against the sun’s glare, he’s struck by a powerful sense of déjà vu, because it’s all here-wind and sails, a ship beneath his feet and stars above his head, horizon in all directions. He wonders, for a moment, if the reason he’s still here is because the universe wanted a witness, to mourn the end of one age of exploration, and rejoice in the birth of the next.
Thank you for writing this. It made me cry, but oh I am so relieved to see the yearning for the stars.
That shouldn’t have given me as many feels as it did…