I may be a barely functional, underemployed, anxious mess of a human being but my African Violets are so healthy they sparkle and that’s how I plan to evaluate my personal fulfillment

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Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
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@megankmakesthings
I may be a barely functional, underemployed, anxious mess of a human being but my African Violets are so healthy they sparkle and that’s how I plan to evaluate my personal fulfillment
HERE’S THE THING THOUGH
I used to work for a call center and I was doing a political survey and I called this number that was randomly generated for me and the way our system worked was voice-activated so when the other person said hello you’d get connected to them, so I just launch right into my “Harvard University and NPR blah blah blah” thing and then there’s this long pause and I think the person’s hung up even though I didn’t hear a click
And then I hear “you shouldn’t be able to call this number.”
So I apologize and go into the preset spiel about because we aren’t selling anything, etc. etc. and the answer I get is
“No, I know that. What I mean is that it should be impossible for you to call this number, and I need to know how you got it.”
I explain that it’s randomly generated and I’m very sorry for bothering him, and go to hang up. And before I can click terminate, I hear:
“Ma’am, this is a matter of national security.”
I accidentally called the director of the FBI.
My job got investigated because a computer randomly spit out a number to the Pentagon.
This is my new favourite story.
When I was in college I got a job working for a company that manages major air-travel data. It was a temp gig working their out of date system while they moved over to a new one, since my knowing MS Dos apparently made me qualified.
There was no MS Dos involved. Instead, there was a proprietary type-based OS and an actually-uses-transistors refrigerator-sized computer with switches I had to trip at certain times during the night as I watched the data flow from six pm to six AM on Fridays and weekends. If things got stuck, I reset the server.
The company handled everything from low-end data (hotel and car reservations) to flight plans and tower information. I was weighed every time I came in to make sure it was me. Areas of the building had retina scanners on doors.
During training. they took us through all the procedures. Including the procedures for the red phone. There was, literally, a red phone on the shelf above my desk. “This is a holdover from the cold war.” They said. “It isn’t going to come up, but here’s the deal. In case of nuclear war or other nation-wide disaster, the phone will ring. Pick up the phone, state your name and station, and await instructions. Do whatever you are told.”
So my third night there, it’s around 2am and there’s a ringing sound.
I look up, slowly. The Red phone is ringing.
So I reach out, I pick up the phone. I give my name and station number. And I hear every station head in the building do the exact same. One after another, voices giving names and numbers. Then silence for the space of two breaths. Silence broken by…
“Uh… Is Shantavia there?”
It turns out that every toll free, 1-900 or priority number has a corresponding local number that it routs to at its actual destination. Some poor teenage girl was trying to dial a friend of hers, mixed up the numbers, and got the atomic attack alert line for a major air-travel corporation’s command center in the mid-west United States.
There’s another pause, and the guys over in the main data room are cracking up. The overnight site head is saying “I think you have the wrong number, ma’am.” and I’m standing there having faced the specter of nuclear annihilation before I was old enough to legally drink.
The red phone never rang again while I was there, so the people doing my training were only slightly wrong in their estimation of how often the doomsday phone would ring.
Every time I try to find this story, I end up having to search google with a variety of terms that I’m sure have gotten me flagged by some watchlist, so I’m reblogging it again where I swear I’ve reblogged it before.
But none of these stories even come close to the best one of them all; a wrong number is how the NORAD Santa Tracker got started.
Seriously, this is legit.
In December 1955, Sears decided to run a Santa hotline. Here’s the ad they posted.
Only problem is, they misprinted the number. And the number they printed? It went straight through to fucking NORAD. This was in the middle of the Cold War, when early warning radar was the only thing keeping nuclear annihilation at bay. NORAD was the front line.
And it wasn’t just any number at NORAD. Oh no no no.
Terri remembers her dad had two phones on his desk, including a red one. “Only a four-star general at the Pentagon and my dad had the number,” she says.
“This was the ‘50s, this was the Cold War, and he would have been the first one to know if there was an attack on the United States,” Rick says.
The red phone rang one day in December 1955, and Shoup answered it, Pam says. “And then there was a small voice that just asked, ‘Is this Santa Claus?’ ”
His children remember Shoup as straight-laced and disciplined, and he was annoyed and upset by the call and thought it was a joke — but then, Terri says, the little voice started crying.
“And Dad realized that it wasn’t a joke,” her sister says. “So he talked to him, ho-ho-ho’d and asked if he had been a good boy and, ‘May I talk to your mother?’ And the mother got on and said, ‘You haven’t seen the paper yet? There’s a phone number to call Santa. It’s in the Sears ad.’ Dad looked it up, and there it was, his red phone number. And they had children calling one after another, so he put a couple of airmen on the phones to act like Santa Claus.”
“It got to be a big joke at the command center. You know, ‘The old man’s really flipped his lid this time. We’re answering Santa calls,’ ” Terri says.
And then, it got better.
“The airmen had this big glass board with the United States on it and Canada, and when airplanes would come in they would track them,” Pam says.
“And Christmas Eve of 1955, when Dad walked in, there was a drawing of a sleigh with eight reindeer coming over the North Pole,” Rick says.
“Dad said, ‘What is that?’ They say, ‘Colonel, we’re sorry. We were just making a joke. Do you want us to take that down?’ Dad looked at it for a while, and next thing you know, Dad had called the radio station and had said, ‘This is the commander at the Combat Alert Center, and we have an unidentified flying object. Why, it looks like a sleigh.’ Well, the radio stations would call him like every hour and say, ‘Where’s Santa now?’ ” Terri says.
For real.
“And later in life he got letters from all over the world, people saying, ‘Thank you, Colonel,’ for having, you know, this sense of humor. And in his 90s, he would carry those letters around with him in a briefcase that had a lock on it like it was top-secret information,” she says. “You know, he was an important guy, but this is the thing he’s known for.”
“Yeah,” Rick [his son] says, “it’s probably the thing he was proudest of, too.”
So yeah. I think that might be the best wrong number of all time.
Source: http://www.npr.org/2014/12/19/371647099/norads-santa-tracker-began-with-a-typo-and-a-good-sport
Fall is here, the best crunchy leaves to roll in and all the best smells to explore
Nature is beautiful
wats he doin
His best
I’ve just discovered my new favorite painter, Vittorio Reggianini - those smarter than myself probably already know of him as an Italian painter from the 1800s who made satin look even satiny-er than satin. I just cannot get over how much he loved painting women who were NOT. HAVING. A. MAN’S. SHIT.
But there was one hottie that everyone seemed to like, and I can’t blame them…
Vittorio knows what the ladies like.
I’m pretty sure that the women in the background of the third picture are looking at a “lewd” painting. They were sometimes kept by upper class homes in the 1800s. They were kept hidden behind a curtain and only viewed for *ahem* “recreational purposes”. So basically, those ladies are looking at porn while their friend blithely humours Bouffant McShinypants.
that’s some great context, right there
I haven’t reblogged anything in ages but here you go
The forces that created this peaceful moment watching the sunset on an island beach with my family are anything but peaceful. The sun, waves, and eroding hills have such immense power. Maybe that’s why I experience such a deep calm when I’m there, and why I yearn to go back when I’m not—peace can only be experienced with an acknowledgment that it is relative. #myart #myphotography #pnwonderland #guemesisland #sunset (at Guemes Island)
For those of you that like everything neatly organised, here’s links to EVERY ONE of my first 150 how to THINK when you draw TUTORIALS, in ALPHABETICAL ORDER for #SkillUpSunday! Enjoy, link, pin, share! Cheers! Lorenzo! How to draw ANGRY EXPRESSIONS How to draw BIRD HEADS How to draw BOOKS How to draw BOXES How to draw BREAKING GLASS How to draw BRICKWORK How to draw CABLES and WIRES How to draw CAR CHASES How to draw CATERPILLAR TRACKS How to draw CAVES How to draw CHARACTERS (3-SHAPES) How to draw CHARACTERS (FLIPPED-SHAPES) How to draw CHARACTER SHAPES How to draw COMIC COVERS How to draw COMPOSITION How to draw CROSS-CONTOURS How to draw EARS How to draw FABRIC How to draw FEET & SHOES How to draw FEMALE HANDS PART ONE How to draw FEMALE HANDS PART TWO How to draw FOREGROUND MIDGROUND BACKGROUND How to draw GAME BUILDINGS How to draw GEMS and CRYSTALS How to draw GIRL’S HAIR How to draw GRASS How to draw HAIR (1940s styles) How to draw HAPPY EXPRESSIONS How to draw HORNS How to draw HORSE HEADS How to draw IMPACT DEBRIS How to draw IN 3D How to draw INTEGRATING LOGOS How to draw INTERIOR BASICS How to draw IN-WORLD TYPOGRAPHY How to draw JUNGLE PLANT CLUSTERS How to draw JUNK HOUSES How to draw LAMP POSTS How to draw LAVA How to draw LIGHTNING and ELECTRICITY How to draw MECHANICAL DETAILS How to draw MUSHROOMS and FUNGUS How to draw MONSTER HEADS How to draw MONSTER TENTACLES How to draw MOUNTAINS How to draw NEGATIVE SPACE How to draw NEWSPAPERS How to draw NOSES How to draw PERSPECTIVE BOXES How to draw PIGS How to draw POD HOUSES How to draw POURING LIQUID How to draw ROBOT ARMS How to draw ROCK FORMATIONS How to draw RUNNING FIGURES How to draw SAUSAGE DOGS How to draw SEA WEED How to draw SHADOW COMPOSITION How to draw SHOULDER ARMOUR How to draw SIEGE WEAPONS How to draw SILHOUETTE THUMBNAILS How to draw SMOKE EFFECTS How to draw SNOW How to draw SPACE BIKES How to draw SQUIRRELS How to draw STICK FIGURES How to draw THE HORIZON How to draw TIKI STATUES How to draw TREASURE CHESTS How to draw TREE BARK How to draw TREE ROOTS How to draw VEHICLES How to draw VINTAGE PLANES How to draw WATER How to draw WOODEN HOUSES
I kickstarted the book and its amazing having all these!
pink sweatpants that say ‘gluttony’ over the ass instead of ‘juicy’
pink sweatpants that say ‘gluttony’ over the ass instead of ‘juicy’
^Haiku^bot^9. I detect haikus with 5-7-5 format. Sometimes I make mistakes. Star signs will someday symbol your mistakes. | PayPal | Patreon
First there was Yanny Vs. Laurel, now there’s Brainstorm Vs. Green Needle.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
WHAT THE FUCK
WHAT
I WILL NEVER BELIEVE ANYTHING IS REAL EVER AGAIN
me and my friends dancing to “mr. brightside”
I can’t get over how well this fits
Me: I’m going to go to bed early tonight!
Also me: *stays up till 12:30am writing the beginning and end of an idea for a story, but can’t think of a middle and probably never will*
♥♥♥ - Alicja Zmysłowska
He’s so gay he’s so sweet I love him
At first I was like ok why do people love this guy so much because I haven’t watched any of the olympics but I just saw this and am so here for Adam Rippon
When I reluctantly turned away from the sunset to make it home before dark, I felt as though I had turned my face and discovered the hills had been whispering an unheard secret to me. I’m still listening to their secrets, though the hills have gone quiet. Maybe one day I’ll understand them. #sunset #arizona #desert #photography #myart (at Queen Valley, Arizona)
Why is my brain so good at telling me I am a worthless piece of garbage? Even as I type this my brain is saying “Occam’s razor says it’s because you ARE a worthless piece of garbage.”