too old for tumblr

apple-bananna: i really wish i was famous so i could have one...

Mon, 01 Apr 2013 11:26:44 +0800

apple-bananna:

i really wish i was famous so i could have one :(

Tina Fey answers the last ‘Ask Tina’ question

Fri, 01 Feb 2013 19:18:55 +0800

Tina Fey answers the last ‘Ask Tina’ question

Lemon, there is a word, a once special word that’s been...

Fri, 01 Feb 2013 19:18:40 +0800

Lemon, there is a word, a once special word that’s been tragically co-opted by the romance industrial complex and I would hate to use it here and have you think that I am suggesting any type of romantic sentiment, let alone an invitation to scale bone mountain.
It’s a word that comes to us by way of the old high German luba from the latin lubera meaning “to be pleasing”. So, I’m going to use this word to describe how I feel about you in the way that our angalosaxin forefathers would have used it in reference to say…. “hot bowl of bear meet” or “your enemies skull, split”.

I love you too, Jack.

“I meant something like that.”

Fri, 01 Feb 2013 19:16:31 +0800

“I meant something like that.”

Photo

Fri, 01 Feb 2013 19:16:07 +0800

Photo

Fri, 25 Jan 2013 19:13:35 +0800

Photo

Mon, 21 Jan 2013 19:00:46 +0800

Jennifer Lawrence hosting SNL

Sun, 20 Jan 2013 20:23:46 +0800

Jennifer Lawrence hosting SNL

Photo

Sun, 20 Jan 2013 15:55:08 +0800

Photo

Sun, 20 Jan 2013 15:54:51 +0800

What happens if you fall in love with a writer?

Wed, 16 Jan 2013 21:18:15 +0800

karenfelloutofbedagain:

Lots of things might happen. That’s the thing about writers. They’re unpredictable. They might bring you eggs in bed for breakfast, or they might all but ignore you for days. They might bring you eggs in bed at three in the morning. Or they might wake you up for sex at three in the morning. Or make love at four in the afternoon. They might not sleep at all. Or they might sleep right through the alarm and forget to get you up for work. Or call you home from work to kill a spider. Or refuse to speak to you after finding out you’ve never seen To Kill A Mockingbird. Or spend the last of the rent money on five kinds of soap. Or sell your textbooks for cash halfway through the semester. Or leave you love notes in your pockets. Or wash you pants with Post-It notes in the pockets so your laundry comes out covered in bits of wet paper. They might cry if the Post-It notes are unread all over your pants. It’s an unpredictable life.

But what happens if a writer falls in love with you?

This is a little more predictable. You will find your hemp necklace with the glass mushroom pendant around the neck of someone at a bus stop in a short story. Your favorite shoes will mysteriously disappear, and show up in a poem. The watch you always wear, the watch you own but never wear, the fact that you’ve never worn a watch: they suddenly belong to characters you’ve never known. And yet they’re you. They’re not you; they’re someone else entirely, but they toss their hair like you. They use the same colloquialisms as you. They scratch their nose when they lie like you. Sometimes they will be narrators; sometimes protagonists, sometimes villains. Sometimes they will be nobodies, an unimportant, static prop. This might amuse you at first. Or confuse you. You might be bewildered when books turn into mirrors. You might try to see yourself how your beloved writer sees you when you read a poem about someone who has your middle name or prose about someone who has never seen To Kill A Mockingbird. These poems and novels and short stories, they will scatter into the wind. You will wonder if you’re wandering through the pages of some story you’ve never even read. There’s no way to know. And no way to erase it. Even if you leave, a part of you will always be left behind.

If a writer falls in love with you, you can never die.

opiumfornobody: We made a difference. Remember...

Mon, 14 Jan 2013 00:16:56 +0800

opiumfornobody:

We made a difference. Remember that.

Goodbye, Leverage. You’ll be missed.

Photo

Thu, 10 Jan 2013 18:20:59 +0800

Come on, baby bubble, wait in line.

Tue, 11 Dec 2012 12:54:38 +0800

Come on, baby bubble, wait in line.

Photo

Thu, 18 Oct 2012 21:58:21 +0800

Photo

Sat, 22 Sep 2012 02:09:44 +0800

Adam Scott analyzing some of the lyrics to ‘Ice, Ice, Baby’

Wed, 19 Sep 2012 13:27:54 +0800

Adam Scott analyzing some of the lyrics to ‘Ice, Ice, Baby’

“And… I think you feel the same about me.”

Wed, 19 Sep 2012 09:51:38 +0800

“And… I think you feel the same about me.”

Photo

Tue, 18 Sep 2012 17:16:58 +0800

lalondes-wonking: / bloggish: / sicani: Jupiter may have just...

Tue, 18 Sep 2012 10:36:28 +0800

lalondes-wonking: / bloggish: / sicani:

Jupiter may have just saved Earth from a devastating impact event

Something just went down on Jupiter. Monday morning, at 11:35:30 UT, amateur astronomers glimpsed a brief but blazing flash of light in the upper reaches of the planet’s cloudy atmosphere. If past observations are any indication, Jupiter may have just sustained a major impact event. If that’s the case, the gas giant may have just saved Earth from a devastating cosmic collision.

“Hey Jupiter!” Earth burst in, grinning wildly. “Where are you? Some of my scientists got this theory about your moons and-“

“I’m over here.” The voice calls out from another room and Earth frowns. Why does Jupiter even have rooms? Hesitant, he walks into another room, to find Jupiter. The man is standing shirtless, which could be a little awkward, until he notices Jupiter standing slouched and the red, inflamed burn along his torso.

“Jupiter?! What happened?!” Without a second thought he rushes forward, grabbing ice off a table and wrapping it in a towel, and pressing it to the burn. Jupiter jumps back, and Earth whacks his hand. “Stay still! Trust me, I know what I’m doing. We have actual medical professionals on my planet. We have actual people on my planet.”

“…Hello, Earth.” Then Earth realises his position, kneeling in front of Jupiter and with his hands pressed to the other man’s chest. And he hasn’t even said hello. He blushes.

Must defuse situation. “Uh, hi!” he says awkwardly. “Sorry about bursting in. You know me, always interfering with everything and thinking I know what’s best for everyone, ha ha!”

Jupiter chuckles. “It’s fine.” Earth notices the ice is heating up so he takes it out of the towel, swaps it for more ice. Jupiter winces as Earth reapplies the bundle.

“Seriously though,” Earth says, “What happened?”

Jupiter sighs. “Impact event. Asteroid, comet,” he says.

Earth stops dead. Impact events. He’s seen a few of those in his time, and they’ve always been so much worse for him than anyone else - the rest of his solar system is barren enough it doesn’t count, but him, teeming with life and ideas and species. He still remembers when he lost the dinosaurs, in a haze of fire and ash and poison. Woke up centuries later, smaller and fragile. He loved them so much, and still remembers them. It terrifies him to think of such a thing happening again, even to his humans, with all they’ve done to the planet - he loves them too.

And… Jupiter. “I’m so sorry,” he says, blinking through the haze of emotion.

“It’s alright,” smiles Jupiter, and Earth wants to ask how can it possibly be alright? “It’s not exactly an uncommon occurrence. Largest planet in the solar system; I think my mass just attracts things.”

“What?” Earth leaps to his feet. “But - that’s not fair!”

Jupiter cocks his head to the side. “Greatest mass, greatest target. Laws of physics. How is that not fair?”

“Because - because you haven’t done anything wrong!”

Jupiter laughs again. “Oh, right. You and all your lifeforms, and their concepts - fairness, morality, karma.”

“Don’t mock me; they don’t even all have those, anyway,” Earth huffs. “But how can you… Look at that burn, man. And you’re telling me this is nothing?”

Jupiter briefly looks down at the oozing, crusting thing. “Well, what would happen if I wasn’t here, huh?” he asks. “The meteors - or comets, or asteroids, or whatever - would get past me, hit the smaller planets behind. Your best friend Mars… or Venus and Mercury, nuts as they are. Or you.”

Earth gulps. “You shouldn’t have to do this for us,” he says.

Jupiter smiles, before pulling Earth into his embrace. Um. Okay. “It’s alright, Earth. I don’t mind. After all - I’m a gas giant, emphasis on the giant. I can get by, pretty much no matter what happens. Other people are more important. People like you. You’re… special.”

“I’m not,” says Earth. “I’m not special. Just… self-important.”

Jupiter chuckles again. “You’re better than you think you are. You’re alive, Earth, and that’s the most important thing. You have people, ideas, emotions still to share. You have so much to find, so much to see, so much to explore. You’re fragile, and I wouldn’t let you get set back by just any old meteor. You are special, Earth; you’re gonna fly across the universe one day, and to me that is worth a thousand burns.”

Am I late for this ship?