Reblogged j-acaster
A pig photobombs a rural wedding, location unknown, but somewhere in England, 1927.
Reblogged perculesspleen
you know who’s gay? paul the real estate novelist who never had time for a wife and davey who’s still in the navy and probably will be for life
New headcannon: everyone in that song is gay except the Piano Man who has no idea he’s playing at a gay bar and the staff and regulars have a betting pool on how long he’ll take to finally figure it out. So far John is ahead.
freshdonus
“The manager gives me a smile ‘cause he knows that it’s me they’ve been coming to see” also implies that the Piano Man is possibly an incredibly attractive but oblivious himbo, and if you listen to the rest of it imagining that, this all fits a little too well.
this makes too much sense. Also, the full quote is “Now John at the bar is a friend of mine. He gets me my drinks for free. And he’s quick with a joke or to light up your smoke. But there’s someplace that he’d rather be” Yes, your bed, he wants to be on your bed honey, that’s not a joke, he is flirting with you.
Lighting another man’s cigarette is some old-school gay cruising.
Billy Joel actually addressed this interpretation!
Reblogged paniniwitharugula
I recently lost my cat and am missing her desperately, so I figure telling a story about her will help, and spread a little more of her memory thru the world.
My cat Emma was deeply hedonistic, as most cats are. She had two great loves: constant pets, and water. For this purpose, she slept in my bed, tucked next to me, and I kept a special mug of water on the bedside table for her.
Each morning after she returned from her breakfast, Emma would attempt to wake me so that I would pet her til she was cozy enough to sleep again. Usually, she was satisfied with a few pats in my sleep, but sometimes she would have to wake me via many plaintive meows and desperate pawing. This had a varied effect, as I am a heavy, but mobile sleeper.
One morning, after her usual routine failed to rouse me from my sleep-titude, I felt her settle for a moment, and then go to the nightstand for a sip of water. She settled again beside my head, and just as I was returning to deep slumber, I felt something furry and wet enter my ear. I jolted awake, tossing covers and pillows aside, yelping in terror, sending the cat sprawling along the bedspread, searching in vain for my assailant.
When I steadied myself, sure that my ears were now safe, if damp, she shook one dainty paw, and looked at me as if to say “well, THAT worked a charm!” and trotted up for a scratch behind the ears.
After that, I slept with the blanket over my ears, with one arm around her.
Reblogged
So I was listening to the Night Vale episode “The Phone Call” and I heard this part again:
“A balaclava-clad man wearing a mitre, cloak, and a giant silver star, and speaking through a vocoder — you know, the man we all believe to be the Sheriff of Night Vale? — announced this morning that all citizens should prepare their town for war.”
and I was like what even is a balaclava, so I looked it up
And I looked up what a mitre looks like and
So in conclusion:
This is the Night Vale Sheriff.
This is the leader of the Sheriff’s Secret Police.
Night Vale Heritage Post
Reblogged greppelheks
Opal In The Window.
Patrick Saunders
Source: patricksaunders.com
Reblogged paniniwitharugula
Having ADHD is so fun because sometimes youre looking for something that you use regularly and definitely put away in a smart and reasonable place and you have absolutely 0 hope of remembering where and finding it. And then other times ur like "hmm I need a some kind of small pointed object. I feel like i remember seeing a paperclip under the left couch cushion a month ago, i wonder if its still there" and it is
"wait but if u saw the paperclip why would u just leave it there?" its the adhd. Also if i had put it away then i wouldnt have been able to find it a month later when i needed it. So. Checkmate neurotypicals.
Reblogged
waitress assigned kin
wtfenris
As someone who’s worked in several cafes, I’m mad at how accurate this is.
jackthevulture
I will forever remember the time my friend and I were out for chinese food. we got up to pay and I (the short one with bottom energy i guess?) revealed that I would be paying for the meal, and the elderly man at the counter just flat out said “Oh, YOU’RE the boss!”
abac (assigned bottom at chili’s)
Reblogged ablogthatishenceforthmine
“Your favorite color… it’s green?”
Reblogged greppelheks
now this is what i’m talkin about. Leaf surfer
badass
Reblogged paniniwitharugula
oh. i just found out that the writer of the vincent van gogh doctor who episode wrote it as a tribute to his sister.
Richard Curtis wrote, "So – here’s the thing – the key reason I wrote this episode – was out of love for my sister Bindy. She was a gorgeous and brilliant person, 2 years older than me. She loved Vincent Van Gogh and life. She couldn’t have been more full of generosity and joy.
But half way through her life she was hit by depression and intermittently it hurt her for the rest of her life. And a few years before this show, like Vincent, she took her own life.
And in the key scene of the episode - when they bring Vincent to the future... that was me trying to show Bin how glorious she had been in our lives - and how nothing could change that.
And then also to deal with the fact that mental health issues are hard - and the capacity for joy, as I know Bindy did know how much she was loved, is intertwined with the immense difficulty of the illness sometimes...
So taking her own life wasn’t a failure by her, or a rejection of all of us. It was, as they say on Love island, what it was."
[Image ID: The Garfield "you are not immune to propaganda" meme, edited to say, "I am not immune to the van gogh episode of doctor who." The background of the image has been replaced with the image of the Starry Night sky from said doctor who episode. End ID.]
I knew that ep had to be about somebody real, because the museum visit didn’t fix him. Didn’t add a day to his life.
People who know about depression from TV write it as something that can be overcome, the severity of the depression must only be matched by the grandiosity of the gesture. Being time-travelled into the future and told your art lives on forever would certainly fix just about anybody right up.
People who’ve been around depression in real life know better. Joy and depression don’t draw blood from one another.
Reblogged counting-ducks
hey sorry we put your boyfriend under a readmore
Reblogged paniniwitharugula
Luigi Mangione could be getting the death penalty…
This man is innocent, his appearance and build doesn’t match that of the killers, the only “motive” he had was a convenient written confession showing that he supposedly viewed healthcare companies as “parasitic” and too expensive (which does somewhat contradict the actual killers actions) he had said note and the murder weapon conveniently on him while living his ordinary life, the killer held the gun in his right hand while Luigi is left-handed, Luigi and the Killer were potentially seen simultaneously, they wore slightly different coats.
The NYPD KNOW these are different people, they know the evidence is lacking, this isn’t a mistaken identity, it’s framing, they are trying to make themself appear to still be control by catching this man, humiliating him, killing him, when they know full well that the person they are prosecuting ISNT EVEN THE RIGHT GUY! This is an injustice! This is not a fair trial! This is downright tyranny!
They confiscated his bag at the mcdonald's, took it out of everyone's sight, unpacked it and repacked it, and THEN took it down to the station and wow there was a manifesto in there that he was just carrying around in daily life for some reason
Definitely the sort of thing that the Bag Of Monopoly Money Guy would be carrying to McDonald's
Reblogged
To touch the glove upon her tender hand, To watch the jewel sparkle in her ring, Lifted my heart into a sudden song As when the wild birds sing.
To touch her shadow on the sunny grass, To break her pathway through the darkened wood, Filled all my life with trembling and tears And silence where I stood.
I watch the shadows gather round my heart, I live to know that she is gone Gone gone for ever, like the tender dove That left the Ark alone. - Gone, Elizabeth Siddal
Remembering Francesca Woodman on her Birthday 3rd April 1958 - 19th January 1981 Untitled, Rome, Italy, 1978, Francesca Woodman