Behold my first world problems
I have funny pictures of my cat, but I can’t get them off my phone.
</cat fail>
</photo fail>
</phone fail>
</basic skills fail>
I’m too tired to learn something new tonight. I will master this kung-fu later. But for now, you’ll have to trust me. The cat is hysterical.
Okay so my mom doesn’t really throw things out of the fridge very often. I’ll ask her something like hey this looks kinda old should I throw it out? And she’ll say nah that’s still good, so I tend to just not bother. But then after a while it starts to smell bad in the fridge and then I have to…
So, I was the person who was talking about the dorm, right? (This is my “farting-around,-talking-about-nothing-important-and-reblogging-kittens-and-pretty-things” blog.) I’m reblogging here b/c I ran out of room.
The worst thing I ever found in the back of the fridge was an unholy amalgam the likes of which God and Science never intended. «PLEASE TAKE THAT AS A GROSS OUT WARNING. I’M ABOUT TO GET FOUL. KEEP READING AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.»
You see, the freshmen on our hall had discovered Boston’s fine fish market! Fresh catches of whole fish wrapped in waxy white paper… It must have seemed like such a good idea! At least until the freshmen got home and realized that they’d never scaled a fish, lacked the proper utensils to do so, and that they were not prepared to cut the head off its tiny corpse either, for that matter. I presume—really, they could have just forgotten the prize fish as its paper-wrapped body got shoved further and further back into the fridge.
But the fish isn’t the end of it. I WISH the fish were the end of it. This is one of those “chilling tales of mad science” where hapless baby animals and/or children stumble into some evil corporation’s hidden toxic waste dump and emerge as bizarrely-twisted creatures with dark powers and urges from beyond our mortal realm. You know, a standard 80’s cartoon.
B/c in the back of the fridge, some OTHER rocket scientist had stashed their Burger King Whopper… well. Half of their Whopper. In its wrapper. Well, not so much ‘in’ as ‘sitting upon’ or ‘crumbled in sort of’ its wrapper. Its paper wrapper.
As more and more folks used the fridge, the fish and the burger remains got shoved into the back, eventually laying on top of one another. They were only separated by a thin layer of wax and tree pulp. As time and entropy slowly dissolved the burger bits, it turned to liquid. The fish above it, also liquified. So you have two putrid paper bladders full of rotted food, waiting like a freaking high-tech chemical bomb in the back of the fridge.
That’s when someone spilled orange juice in the fridge… Orange juice that poured from the top shelf down the back wall, coating every shelf.
I ran point on the fridge clean-out that day, wiping down containers and chucking everything that couldn’t be rinsed. I can tell you that I have never encountered a more foul mishmash of rot. The stench of it reached out and squeezed all the good air out of your lungs, hammered the space between your eyes, and wormed its thick, ropey way into your mouth like a physical sensation. And HANDLING it! Just runny and dissolving, and squelching and cold and so damn slimey. On your hands and under your nails… and every time you moved it, the stink got worse. Like it was trying to fight you off. The worst was that while i could tell what the burger had been from its wrapper, the fish was completely beyond recognition until the wrapper tore. So I reach my hands into this mass, and I pulled and felt the thing was stuck, but when I pulled harder, the paper really tore and now there’s slimey fish bones stuck to the fridge grating and guts all over…
I have never liked eating fish. EVER. But now, I really REALLY hate food-fish. And cleaning other people’s fridges.
*Sits back in my rocking chair. War story concluded. Eyes glassy and far away. Seeing a different time, reliving past battles.*
Okay! Now it’s time to do some chores. See y’all around!
“The clue to the underarm curve is found in the position of the elbow. Locate the elbow, and you will be able to trace the line upward toward the rear armpit; the lower line can be followed from the elbow down to the base of the outer palm. No matter how the arm moves, from simple positions, such as the two extended arms shown above right, to deep, active bends (left), the consistent undercurve is always present. Invariably, the curve provides the basis for the arm’s structural rhythm.” - Dynamic Figure Drawing, Burne Hogarth
Before I started studying this book, my figures were hardly recognizable as human. I’ve gotten it out again bc I still have so much to learn. Should have never put it down…What’s helpful about this book is not only the wonderful illustrations but the helpful descriptions and instructions such as the ones on this page.
Reblogging because I need to look at this, and I’m sure others will benefit from it, too!
This is a keeper.
Stolen from reapy-k
FLANNNNNN
I’m sure I don’t actually get the joke, but this amuses me intensely. I’m almost guaranteed to laugh at flan under any circumstances. And this flan is particularly sassy.
Despite its name, the maned wolf is not a wolf at all, nor is it a fox, coyote, or dog. It is the only member of the Chrysocyon genus, making it a truly unique animal, not closely related to any other living canid. One hypothesis for this is that the maned wolf is the last surviving species of the Pleistocene Extinction, which wiped out all other large canids from the continent.
I LOVE this creature
with a burning passion
It is my spirit animal, hands down. I just love it.
With every respect to the poster before me, this animal looks like a dog and a deer were mistakenly assembled out if a single box of Ikea furniture.
It probably folds down nicely, though. For easy storage. *Fits the maned wolf readily under the spare bed.*
Can’t you just see it? Some Stepford house wife calling up the stairs to her smoking-jacketed husband, ‘Be a darling and get out the spare maned wolf for our guests!’
it is about a vampire who is at least several hundred years old and grows ever more infuriated at each new generation of idiots
like he wants nothing more than to just die and be rid of this awful world
other vampires are stupid and content to just romance young dumbasses for…
I think this would be an amazing short story and you should find a horror anthology to take it.
Also, *Gets a shovel tattoo.* I ship the human and the shovel.
Livraria Lello & Irmão, also known as Livraria Chardron or simply Livraria Lello (Lello Bookshop) is a bookshop located in central Porto, Portugal. Along with Bertrand in Lisbon, it is one of the oldest bookshops in Portugal. In 2011, the Australian Travel Guides and Guidebooks editor Lonely Planet classified Livraria Lello as the third best bookshop in the world.
Reason I Wish I Could Teleport Anywhere In The World, No. 5,689,003
Take me with you, bookmobile! Take me home to your bookplanet!
Just wanted to share this amazingness with my followers who appreciate animation. I think this is just beautiful.
this is fucking gorgeous animation
Trippy as fuck
this guy’s animation AHHFJSDFJHFNMV
So much emotion and flow!
HOLY FUCK THIS IS INCREDIBLE
I like trains
SH: this shit is hillarious.
*Hypnotized*
Oh heavens, this is PERFECT. Amazing noir-themed 2007 photoshoot by national treasure Annie Liebovitz for Vanity Fair, and featuring a whole slew of my favorite actors. Talk about writing prompts. (I’m shipping the Angelica Huston & Sharon Stone characters).
A few more images here.
I would read literally every one of these SSBBs.
Amazing!
You should see this shit. This shit is cool.
Jan van Eyck, The Arnolfini Portrait
My world history teacher drummed into us all sorts of things about the symbolic nature of this painting. One his faves. The dog is fidelity, the oranges behind Mr. Arnolfini stood for fertility, the mirror: wealth, the shoes: I forget, but the single lit flame in the chandelier above is the presence of the divine blessing of the Christian God governing all aspects of the marriage. In this case, marriage of a man to his cat.
This is like some kind of renaissance one-panel Garfield proto-comic, and I love it.
Long may they be fertile, loyal, wealthy, and blessed— Mr. Arbuckl-fini & his Garfini wife.
