Thanks, Anon!

something something iceberg of discourse passing by

Not every story is about seeing yourself in it. Sometimes it’s about learning to see other people too.

@tearyeyedcat this was beautifully written, thank you for adding it!

Another excuse for me to post Head Writer of ATLA Aaron Ehasz’s great characters board:

CHARACTERS SHOULD BE: FALSE GODS

me as a hotel receptionist: *greets guests by playing hotel california but cutting it off right before they say california*

Me presenting my rock collection: *plays the start of Roxanne but cuts it off before the “anne”*

the Champton of Brampton

one of the best character types i think is insane man in a long fur coat

something incredibly American about an Allied trooper yelling brand names at Soviets until they recognize him as an ally.

I love genuinely innocent “boys will be boys.” Just saw a guy come out of a frat house to poke a pair of jeans they’d left outside - they were frozen solid, and as soon as he confirmed that, like twenty more boys came rushing out of the house going “YOOOOOOOOOO”

I heard grunting outside my window the other night and there were four boys struggling to push this giant snowball (like 7 foot diameter) down the sidewalk.

I once lost my keys at a frat house.

My drunk ass had actually walked home without them, pounded on my apartment door, gotten let in by my rightfully-disgruntled roommate, and proceeded to pass out on the couch.  Apparently I puked in the toilet before passing out.  I do not remember this part.

The next morning, I schlepped back to the frat house.  I stood there, right in front of the front door.  This was a novel experience for me.  I’d never been at a frat house in broad daylight before.

A boy, presumably, of the house, asked me what I was doing. 

“I lost my keys in here last night,” I called back.  “I was seeing if I could go in and look for them?”

He opened the door and gestured for me to come in.

“Go wherever you want.”

I’d never seen a frat house post-party before.  Wandering up the stairs and through the halls, I was surrounded by hungover and still-drunk frat boys stumbling around in their socks and sandals and gym shorts, seeking out food and showers like moths to a porch light.  A few of them threw puzzled glances my way.  I’m sure they thought I was some post-bacchanalia hallucination.

I entered one room where a boy was drunkenly watching some Old Yeller-esque movie on a tiny TV in the corner of his room from his bed.

“Do you like dog movies?” he asked, voice all mumbly from grogginess and also from the fact that his face was squished against his pillow and half-buried by his blanket.

I told him I did.

He mumbled again, pleased, and asked what I was doing.  I told him I was looking for my keys.

“Sorry, I haven’t seen any keys around here.”

I didn’t doubt him.

Twenty minutes had passed.  I’d searched just about every bedroom and nuclear-waste-dump-site of a bathroom in that house.  I’d given up on ever finding my keys and was prepared to beg my roommates’ forgiveness and get a new set copied.

As I stood there in the hallway, silently bewailing my predicament, a particularly-burly frat boy approached me.

“You need help with something?”

“I lost my keys here last night and I can’t find them, I’ve looked everywhere.”

“What do they look like?  I’ll put it into the group chat.”  He was already pulling out his phone.

No one ever checks a group chat, I thought, but what the hell.  It was worth a shot.  “Um, it’s just a ring of keys.  The keychain is a pink plastic cat, though, like yea big.  Like bright pink, you can’t miss it.”

He nodded, presumably typing this description faithfully into the group chat.

“Alright, I sent the message out.  Good luck.”

And with that, he turned and left.

A few moments later, I heard a distant thundering.  It was coming from upstairs, and it was getting louder and louder.  One assumes that how I felt in that moment was how Simba felt seeing the wildebeest stampede through the ravine as a horde of large young men all thundered down the stairs, making a beeling for me.

“Someone tell the girl!” One of them shouted, faceless in the mob.  “Girl!  Hey, GIRL!!!  We found your keys, girl!!!”

They circled around me.  I hadn’t felt that small since I was maybe eleven years old.  One of them split himself off from the crowd.

“Are these -” he pulled out a ring of keys from his pocket, “your keys?”

And lo, there was the distinctive bright millennial pink cat keychain dangling off the ring.

“Yes,” I whispered.  “Oh my god, yes.”

“EYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!”

The cheer went up.

Turns out he found them in the bathroom upstairs.  I thanked them again profusely.  There was a scattered round of “no problems” and then, just as suddenly as they descended, they all dispersed, like ships in the night.

THIS is boys will be boys

on a camp with teenage boys recently and as i was one of the camp leaders, it was part of my duties to help wake said boys in the morning (at 6am or a similar ungodly hour).

we (the camp leaders) found the most efficient way to do so was to blast music from a tinny little speaker one of us owned.

so before the sun itself has risen, we’re walking down a corridor with 8+ rooms filled with 6 or more boys in each, blasting the one and only Let It Go from Frozen, hoping to wake a few students, preparing for hateful commentary.

instead, what we got was the thumps and shouts of boys excitedly leaping from bunk beds, stuffing on shirts and bursting into the corridor to scream the lyrics to Let It Go.

every.single.boy.did this.

as soon as the song finished, they acted like it never happened and went back to their rooms to get dressed.

you will all be pleased to learn that provided with the zero-gravity environment of scuba diving, it is not uncommon to turn around to see 3 or 4 teenage boys t-posing mid water column

Young men and boys! Please reclaim ‘boys will be boys’ by doing chaotic good things, having good clean fun, and engaging in benevolent bro culture.

So my brother and his crew came out to defucken my front garden a few weeks ago. According to them, that area was absolutely crawling with “snake sized” tiger slugs. And of course, the only possible action these adult men could take after that was to line them up for slug races.

Nah man that's a northern bobwhite

I love Bruce

Official ornithology post

it's always "you gnawed off your own leg to escape like an animal caught in a trap" and never "why didn't anyone try to help you out of the trap" or "why weren't you provided with any other resources to escape the trap with except for your own teeth"

My manager was in the break room with me and she said 'I don't ever remember oranges being THIS hard to peel' and I just responded 'they're making them harder to peel' without thinking and she looked and me and said. Why?

it’s monday i’m in the labyrinth

it’s tuesday i’m in the evil lab

it’s wednesday i’m in the time loop

it’s thursday i’m in the medieval torture apparatus

🌸it’s friday i’m in love🌸

#I don't care for Monday's maze #Tuesday Wednesday time-loop haze #Thursday in the rack's embrace #It's Friday I'm in love (via @hartshorn-and-isinglass)

Remembers I can do whatever I want forever

having a cat is great. there's a small little animal wandering around. effervescent

EATING MY CHARGER

anyone else feeling the Effects lately. due to all the Things

DAMN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

you know what they say. you cant have your drink it too

english's pronunciation rules are absolute bullshit poopoo made up crap but one of my favorite side effects of this in written english specifically is like. altering the spelling of a word in such a way that it's technically pronounced the same. but reads very differently when your eyes go over it in written form. and that sort of dissonance between the proper spelling and the altered spelling producing the same basic sounds in your brain creates an unprecedented level of comedy.

ingredience. creacher. both of these are pronounced essentially exactly the same but the altered spellings are just hilarious for some stupid reason. the english language is a disaster but at least whatever is wrong with it is REALLY funny.

pakige 📦