h0odrich:

to put a long story short, I was trying to kill time and I’m walking thru times sq (gross) and I walked by the church of Scientology and they were giving free personality tests so I’m like ‘this is going 2 b so funny’ and I go in, and everyone looks at me and they’re all like following me w their eyes like it was SCARY. and they sit me down (there’s triangles everywhere it looked like some illuminati hq) and I’m taking this test that’s like 200 q’s that are asking the same 6 questions with weird wording and I hear the lady on the phone behind me ‘hi this is Beth from the church, you haven’t called back… I’m worried, it’s crucial to ur growth that you contact us, you need to call us I can’t emphasize it enough, you will not recover if you don’t call us, we need you to call immediately. thank you xoxo Scientology’ and I’m like damn she’s mad thirsty…. anyways . I finish and this other woman takes me upstairs and leads me into this 4x3 ft room and there’s 8 chairs and a projector and I sit down and it’s DARK and she’s like ‘do u know dianetics 🙃’ and I’m like kinesthetics? like excercise? … anyway so I’m sitting in this HOT ASS little room and I’m like… it’s so dark.. and so hot… they’re pumping some sort of gas in here to brainwash me I feel woozy… the walls are closing in… jk, but this video has the production value of a middle school sex Ed movie with acting skills that would make degrassi look Oscar worthy. I’m in there alone for like 20 minutes and I’m CRYING from laughing like I felt crazy . also there was no knob on the inside ski was ready for the chair to strap down my wrists or for a trap door to open and me to fall thru. finally she opens the door and she’s like time 2 evaluate 🙃… I’m ready to kartwheel over her and jump out the window to escape bc it was TOO MUCH. too much . I’m like ‘I have work in 20 minutes I need to go’ and it’s like everyone in the building heard me bc they all cocked their heads and looked at me. I was ready to fight EVERYBODY, me vs. the church. so she takkes me down stairs and this lady starts showing me this chart and she’s like ‘hmm interesting…’ and we get to talking and she’s like ‘I like you I’m not supposed to say that tho’ and I was like ok……… and she’s telling me how my depression and nervousness levels are so low they’re off the chart.. and she’s like 'let me read ur trait descriptions’ and she starts going OFF . she’s like 'ur untrustworthy, unreliable, extremely unstable, ur ugly, ur timbs are dusty…’ I’m jk about the last two but she’s like RIPPING THE HAIR OUT MY HEAD, I was so ready to cal my mom and be like 'I need to you come fight this woman.’ so I’m sitting there acting mad intrigued like hmmm… I didn’t know I was such a garbage bag of a human thank u for telling me! and she’s basically like 'if u don’t take these 3 $100 classes and buy this $25 book you’re not going to get better and if you don’t get better you’ll die’ and I’m like LISTEN. I need to leave and she’s like you didn’t give a last name or phone number’ and I had my phone in my hand with 911 already dialed so I couldn’t lie and say I didn’t have one.. I was like 'I don’t …. like phone calls’ and I went to like run out and everyone’s FOLOOWING ME with their eyes I was rEADY TO FIGHt like una Thurman and the crazy 88’s WITHOUT the hanzo sword. I’m like one mile per hour away from RUNNING and someone’s like 'wait when are you coming back’ *picture a pair of timbs a cloud of dust left in the church lobby and me running and screaming @ the top of my lungs thru times sq* I escaped and that’s why I’m not fucking w no scientologists and I will deadass fight tom cruise whenever he would like.

vrabia:

Have I ever told you guys the true story of the Revolution Christmas Tree?

This one absolutely 100% happened (unlike the drunk zombie geese story which likely only 35% happened, but maybe I’ll tell you about it one day). It happened to my family when I was 4 y/o. 

So imagine Evil Commie Land in the late ‘80s: severe food shortages, no heating (seriously, people slept with their stoves on for heat and sometimes the gas was cut off and came back randomly during the night and carbon monoxide poisoning was a thing). Also large, beautiful, historical chunks of our capital city were being bulldozed into oblivion because our megalomaniac shithead supreme leader wanted to build the biggest fucking thing there was. Anyway, it sucked. 

On top of that we were also technically not supposed to celebrate Christmas, because religion is the opiate of the masses etc. etc. But we did anyway, every year and with great enthusiasm, running as we did on the sweet fuel of go ahead and tell a motherfucker they’re not allowed to do something.

So. Christmas. The way we did Christmas back in the day was to make it as secular and proletarian as possible: officially no church services, no religious carols, no Jesus thingy, no calling Santa Claus Santa Claus (we called him Old Man Frost idk)

The only thing we did exactly the same as regular Christmas, in the privacy of our homes, was the Christmas tree. This is how you got a Christmas tree:

• you went to the marketplace where Christmas tree sellers were
• these were not like, official, state-sanctioned commercial workers, but people with the capacity to somehow provide you with 1 pc. coniferous for Proletarian Christmas celebrating purposes
• I have no fucking idea who they were or how they got them
• anyway, you went to the marketplace where Christmas tree sellers were and you talked to one of them and you told them what kind of Christmas tree you wanted (options were: fir/spruce, medium-ish/small)
• you paid them in advance and agreed on a date where you’d come by and pick your Proletarian Christmas tree
• you picked up your Proletarian Christmas tree, brought it home to the family and decorated it with stuff you inherited from your great-grandmother or your mom made out of candy wrappers like 15 years before
• you celebrated Christmas. Proletarianly. 

So along comes 1989. Shit boils over and by December 21st, we have a violent revolution right on the streets of our capital city. 

Now, I was 4 and my brother was 6 months old and our parents decided that we absolutely cannot go without a regular Christmas in our house, especially now that the world is about to go to shit. We didn’t have anything, presents or nice food or. Anything? Basically. The one thing we had was dad had arranged to get our Christmas tree on the day. So he tells my mom that he’s going to pick it up, and instead of knocking him cold and chaining him to the radiator, like the sensible woman she usually is, my mom goes ok just put on an extra sweater you don’t want to catch a cold haha right?

Let me break this down for you in case there’s any misunderstanding as to what we’re talking about. Outside:

• violent riots
• army
• snipers
• tanks
• plainclothes secret police randomly shooting people dead in the street
• I seriously cannot stress the snipers enough

So off goes my dad to pick up our Christmas tree. And he’s gone for five hours, on a trip that normally takes like 30 minutes at a casual stroll. And the more time passes, the deeper my mother sinks into an all-out nervous breakdown. She’s barely keeping it together, my grandmother is trying to comfort her, while my brother is sleeping quietly, which is a good thing, because at some point there’s a weird rumbling outside our building. 

‘What’s that?’ say I, 4 years old and desperate for some straight, no-bullshit answers

‘Nothing,’ says my mom. ‘Nothing’ is the second stupidest thing to say to an observant, intelligent kid who’s been locked up for a week and kept in the dark about shit that’s very obviously happening just outside.

‘No, really, what is that?’ say I, seriously determined to get a straight, no-bullshit answer. 

Years later, after piecing bits of memories together, I realized there are only so many ways to skirt around ‘It’s a tank, dear’, which is the single stupidest thing to say to a child who’s been locked up for a week if you expect them not to run outside because they want to see, damn it. 

So when my dad finally comes home five hours later, with the goddamn tree, she’s either too exhausted to say much, or doesn’t want to have that conversation in front of her kid, who is seriously right on the brink of smashing something out of frustration. 

It wasn’t until I was in highschool that he told me he’d actually been shot at several times, because sneaking around street corners carrying a large tree is not at all suspicious when everyone is so strung up. Any sniper who might have been around absolutely did not think he was probably a revolutionary agent smuggling weapons or w/e instead of a dad trying to make a nice Christmas for his family BECAUSE WHAT THE ACTUAL EVERLOVING FUCK

So this is the story of the Revolution Christmas Tree, aka the story of how my dad almost got shot lugging around an overpriced bit of spruce in the middle of violent street fighting so his kids could have Christmas. 

There are some levels of parenting you just can’t beat. 

lord-kitschener:

ipecacandcivetoil:

so many gifs of ostriches doing their mating dance for humans but did u know

they actually did a study on this

and ostriches repeatedly found humans more attractive than other ostriches

yes

ostrich farmers have trouble setting up their ostriches with each other because they’re just not interested, they want their farmers instead

it’s incredible

also, ostriches show notable sexual preference

some male ostriches will only display for male humans, some will display for anybody, some will display for female humans only

I can’t believe ostriches are reverse furries

clearly we must kinkshame ostritches

f-ckyeahfutbol:

Just a friendly reminder that while Castiel was punishing Meg’s behaviour (he explicitly says that he learned this from the Pizza Man, and his interpretation of the scene between the Pizza Man and the Baby Sitter had been that the former was punishing the wrongful behaviour of the latter).

Dean was doing this:

Dude is projecting himself in on the action with his whole body. He purses his lips. His hand makes a grabbing motion. But although Castiel has his back to Dean, Dean is paralleling Castiel, this isn’t even a little bit about Dean wanting to visit what Castiel is doing on Meg. Not Meg. They have history. Meg had just threatened him with sexualized violence. It’s not even a little bit about Meg, because Dean doesn’t see this as punishment like Castiel does.

Which leaves only one other option.