Moo-Moo the Ugly Shoe's Tumblr

Cute, chubby, adventurer, feminist, writer.

[fuckyeahgreatplays]

Causes of death in all the Shakespeare plays.

Stabbed takes the lead with 30, followed by 5 beheaded, 4 poisoned, and 3, in an excessive move, are stabbed AND poisoned. 

Source.

[nihilisticspace]

tag urself i’m lack of sleep

[rosalindrobertson]

one more for lack of sleep

[did-you-know]

Stephen King sells the rights to some of his short stories for $1 so that film students can use them to make movies. He calls them his ‘Dollar Babies.’   Source

[magictransistor]

Jean Pierre Rambosson. Prinicipal Phases of Saturn as Seen from the Earth, Recomposition of Light, The Phenomena of Tides, Eclipse of the Sun, The Moon’s Phases, Eclipse of the Moon, The Earth as Seen from the Moon, Phenomena of Refraction, The Passage of Venus Across the Sun. Astronomy. 1875.

[pieceofgold]

[coffeentrees]

Bruno is from Argentina, and a member of the Mars society-he’s spending two weeks in the Mars Habitat in Utah, living as if he were actually on Mars-which of course means always wearing your spacesuit when you’re outside ..on assignment for #natgeo photo by @mrtoledano #marsociety #mars #utah #natgeo by natgeo

[did-you-know]

You can get tiny vases for keeping flowers on your bicycle. Source

[moomootheuglyshoe]

Should I start using Tumblr again?

Like for yes, reply for no. 

[moomootheuglyshoe]

I had a dream based on Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy a long time ago. I wrote it out. Here it is.

The billboard outside of the café declared, in letters as bold as its claim, “THE LIVERPOOL CAVERN CLUB – CONVENIENTLY RELOCATED AND REFURBISHED!” A flickering hologram of The Beatles greeted and waved at passersby and tourists.

Arthur, body feeling particularly sluggish (– What had that Clyiorian put in his drink? – ),    had stumbled out of the Clyiorian’s spaceship, hoping only to find a strong cup of coffee and a bite to eat. As he dragged his feet across the landing lot, a sleepy grin spread over his face as he read the sign in front of him.

Arthur rather doubted that he was entering the Cavern Club (wouldn’t he have heard if some aliens had stolen a national landmark?), but, waking on an unknown planet with a nasty hangover, he was too grateful about finding someplace that spoke English to concern himself with the validity of their claim. He wondered vaguely if he should holo the Clyiorian and ask zir if ze would like him to bring anything back from the café, but he wasn’t entirely tickled by the idea of being the one to wake zir.

The café, wallowing in a thick layer of smoke and vapor, caused Arthur to cough as he entered, earning him a few irritated glances from patrons, an assortment of humanoid (but none human) types. A pinkish fellow gorked at him and a glowing yellow wyvern-like creature did some somersaults in the air. Even these obvious displays of unwelcome were not to deter Arthur, though. He would get his cup of coffee if it was the last thing he did.

He made his way through the café. It was a cramped space, the brick curving walls of the Cavern Club only making the space feel smaller. Booths and tables had been squished between the dividing walls and under the archways. In the back was a long bar. Arthur looked at one of the walls and noticed a series of news clippings showing pictures of an apocalyptic Liverpool, a space-craft teleporting the remains of the Cavern Club, a few construction photos taken on the planet he was on now.

“Hm,” he muttered to himself, “perhaps this is the Cavern Club. I wonder what happened at Liverpool…”

A pink tentacled server with a single eye roller-bladed over to him. The server wore a ‘60s style waitress uniform of a button-down and collared dress, in a shade of pink that almost matched her skin. She also had a short brown wig and a paper hat. She said something to him in a language he didn’t understand.

“I’m sorry, but do you speak any English?” he asked, grimacing as a few more patrons glared at him.

The server pushed some buttons on a wristband she wore on one of her tentacles, and this time when she spoke, the wristband translated in a familiar English accent.

“What can I do for ya, lovey?”

A wave of relief came over Arthur. He’d gotten by on hand motions and pointing at a few places during his travels, but with his head beginning to throb and the unwelcoming atmosphere, he probably would have given up and waited for his Clyiorian friend to wake up before eating.

“I was wondering if I could get a table and a cup of coffee.”

“Sure thing, doll!” the server said, leading him to a booth underneath one of the arches.

She roller-bladed off and returned in a moment with a mug and carafe of coffee. She filled the mug and set it in front of him.

“Would you like to look at a menu?”

Arthur nodded. “Yes, please. Also, I was wondering, how did you get the Cavern Club here? Did something happen to Liverpool?” He brought the mug of coffee to his lips. There was an other-worldly boldness to it, but it was, most certainly, coffee.

“We quantum locked it and brought it here when half of England was destroyed in Earth year 2096.”

Arthur gulped his sip of coffee and gasped. 2096? I knew space travel could cause lost time but exactly how much time have I lost?

“Excuse me, sorry, one more question. What year it is now?”

The server’s single eye scrutinized him before she began cackling, which was especially unnerving coming from her directly, as well as her wristband translating her laugh into something somehow more English-sounding.

“‘What year is it now?’” she repeated through breathless giggles. “Ah ha ha. Don’t you know what planet you’re on? ‘What year is it now?’ he says. What a hoot. What did you have to drink last night, hunny? I’ll be right back in a minute to get your order.” He could hear her repeating his question to her coworkers and giggling as she walked through the café before turning her wristband off.

“Well I thought it was a perfectly reasonable question,” Arthur grumbled, taking another sip of his coffee.

He looked over the menu. He couldn’t read the language, but they had pictures – images of traditional English pub fare that looked like it had been morphed through a Beatles’ video from their more psychedelic era. Luckily, the café seemed to take intergalactic credit, which Arthur had a card for. The card wasn’t exactly his money, or linked to his Earth account, but Ford had assured him that it would take at least a millennia for anyone to notice the card was being used. He had just used it the night before to buy the Clyiorian the first drink.

Arthur pursed his lips and tried to find the closest item on the menu to traditional fish ’n’ chips. A commotion stirred near the entrance to the café, causing several patrons to yell at whom-or-whatever was causing the ruckus. Arthur glanced up, but, in a strange café on a distant planet, he, quite logically, assumed that the commotion had nothing to do with him.

In fact, he was quite incorrect.

Arthur looked up to notice an aging dwarf, clad in a tattered navy admiral’s uniform and oversized blue hat, running through the café with something outstretched in his hand. He cocked an eyebrow, but tried not to pay the dwarf any mind. The back of his mind tickled with the realization that the dwarf quite looked like the mascot for the American cereal, Cap’n Crunch, if the Captain were real and had been through a hundred years of naval warfare.

In that moment of glancing up, the admiral had caught Arthur’s eye and began walking toward him. Arthur quickly averted his eyes and brought the menu closer to his face, but it was no use. The man was at Arthur’s table, barking at him in a language that Arthur did not understand. He held a holo-communicator in his hand and shoved it angrily at Arthur.

Arthur held his hands up. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

The admiral yelled at him a few more times in this strange language before the holo-com turned itself on and projected in front of them the image of Arthur’s best friend, Ford.

“Arthur!” Ford said, throwing his hands up with a grin. He clasped them back together. “I’m so glad we found you. I see you’ve met Sgrindlork. Now pay attention!” Arthur took the telecom from the dwarf, whose name was apparently Sgrindlork.

All around him, the ancient brick building began to shiver and crumble. Patrons gasped and looked up. Many screamed, or made similar noises of distress and began running out of the building.

“They’re coming for you.”

“Who?”

Arthur turned his head round. In every direction, people were running around and calling out. He would have rather liked to be doing the same, but this dwarf and the holo-com with Ford’s face were preventing him.

“Just stay where you are,” Ford was saying. Ford turned his head in the projection and the hologram flickered off.

“Ford?” Arthur shook the telecom.

Ford’s face flickered back on. “Sorry, accidentally hung up. Anyway, the plan will only work if you allow them to capture you. We’ll get you out of this, just don’t panic.”

“Don’t panic? Don't panic?!” Arthur screamed at the holo-com.

Ford winked and said, “See you in a few,” and hung up again.

In that moment, Arthur felt himself lose control of his own body. In fact, the whole building was covered in a glowing light. He could no longer feel the seat pressed against his bum.

“Oh, here we go,” he said. The dwarf with the admiral’s hat shrugged at him.

Within a second, his insides were turning themselves outside-in and the world went very, very dark.

[moomootheuglyshoe]

I was trying to get a decent photo of my hair and this happened. I know half of my face is cut off and it's not good quality, but my hair looks super purple (I'm pretty sure most of the purple has faded), and I look vaguely like Chloë Grace Moretz. Anyway, my hair is looking damn good, which is impressive considering it was down all day yesterday and in a very messy and tangly bun all day today (not in the good way) and I haven't washed it in like three days (and I haven't used shampoo or conditioner in almost a month, I think). It's a stupid photo but idk I thought it was kind of artsy and interesting. And anyway I'm happy that my hair is so healthy and naturally perfect these days.

[okcreepsters]

As a guy in terrified. If I piss a woman off, all she has to do is falsely accuse me of rape, then my life will be ruined. I'll be labeled a sex offender and go to prison, because the judge always listens to the woman as they see her as a damsel in distress. I'm terrified. The accusations are happening more and more because of feminism. This is why we need Men's Rights.

As a woman I’m terrified. If I piss a man off, he might threaten, assault, rape, beat, batter, or murder me; then my life will be ruined. I’ll be labeled a “slut” who “wanted it” and have my character dragged through the mud, either by law officers, my friends and/or family, or the court of public opinion, because of rape culture. Violence against women is happening more and more because of men like you. We are literally being killed, tortured, and abused by male entitlement.

This is why we need Feminism.

S

[yeahlikethedeliveryservice]

If judges “Always listen to the woman” then why is it that 97% of rapists are not punished even when they have been convicted? And although nearly one in evry five women actually does report being raped, anywhere from 54% to 90% of rapes go unreported, because women know that 94% of reported cases don’t end in a conviction, they typically end in the woman being accused of being a slut, sometimes facing massive social shaming that can end in serious consequences, such as academic retaliation if you accuse the wrong boy at school, further sexual violence and even discharge from the military if you report your C.O., and the ever-present fear that a man you accuse will come after you, rape you again, beat you, possibly even kill you—and if they didn’t care the first time, why would they care if it happens again?

Trust me, sweetheart. your fear is completely unfounded. Men do not need activists for their rights. Men need to wake the fuck up to the privilege and rights they already have and stop acting like scared children every time the faintest whisper of a glimmer of what it must be like to be a woman threatens to become even the faintest part of their reality.

[okcreepsters]

Reblogging because this is a fantastic round up of stats, and I thoroughly appreciate the work that went into finding all of these sources.

S

[moomootheuglyshoe]

it sucks. i told myself i'd fight for him forever and in some ways i am, but it's a quieter and lonelier fight and he just gets to move on with his life while i slowly get eaten up by the void he created in my life. 

i know he doesnt check my tumblr anymore. he hasnt for a while. but i wish he did. i wish he'd see that i'm still suffering and something dead inside of him would come back to life and he would want to make me happy again. 

too bad i'm literally too worthless and meaningless to his life for him to want to contribute to my happiness in any sort of way ever again. 

now that i think about it, everyone in my life wants me to be happy but no one wants to contribute to my happiness. like i am constantly trying to make my friends happy or do things with them or whatever. i'm sick of being told "i hope you can find happiness." like no, happiness is not something you idly stumble upon. it's something you work to create for yourself and something that you have to create with others who make you happy. i'm not saying it's anyone's responsibility to make me happy, especially not dave's. but that phrase, "i hope you find happiness" is such a fucking slap in the face when you get it from the person who is capable of making you happy and is currently tearing your heart out and putting it in a blender and then pouring it in the gutter to get driven over and mixed in with all the shit and piss of society. it's a cop-out pity sentence that guilty people say when they hurt people. i dont believe any person who has ever said that sentence means it, except for the purposes of implying that once i'm 'happy' they wont have to feel so guilty. 

i dont have anyone. all i have is tumblr and even shouting into the void is totally useless here because no one will read this. 

[odditiesoflife]

[revolutionarykoolaid]

HAPPENING NOW (11.5.14): Protesters in Ferguson join the global #MillionMasksMarch, peacefully occupying their own streets and neighborhoods. Police respond by sending out dozens of riot police to block streets in residential neighborhoods. 

[revolutionarykoolaid]

The police in Ferguson truly believe they own the streets, not the residents/taxpayers of the city. We’re three months in, and they’ve only become more brazen. With the looming lack of indictment for Darren Wilson being announced next week, it’s clear that the police are prepared to suppress the people, by any means necessary. Even if you’ve stopped paying attention, NOW is the time to start tuning back in to Ferguson. A grave injustice is happening there, and it’s not just the death of Mike Brown. This November 5th remember: “People shouldn’t be afraid of their government. Governments should be afraid of their people.” #staywoke #farfromover

[rikkipoynter]

Shit Hearing People Say (Things You Don’t Say to Deaf & Hard of Hearing)

It’s here! The video is finally here! It’s just a few comments I’ve received or read elsewhere or heard in person that I never understand and it’s both sad and hilarious. So let’s laugh together.

But we’re not gonna laugh at one of the things I make a comment on, which reminds me: trigger warning for a suicide mention.

Since this is part of the Deaf Awareness series, reblogs are extra appreciated!

Tagging chescaleigh to let her know that I’ve made another video in this series! (I guess you can call it a series.)

[moomootheuglyshoe]

My best friends all have significant others, and even though I know we'll always be best friends, I hardly talk to them anymore. I hardly talk to anyone anymore. It's a rare occasion when I get an unsolicited text message. 

I'm beginning to think that no one really likes me. Like I'm just a side character, and not even like a main side character, I'm like the Lavender Brown of everyone else's Harry Potter. But even Lavender had the Patil twins. 

College is supposed to be a time to make friends and whatnot, and here I am missing, of all things, high school. I miss my high school teachers and I miss the actual student-centered learning environments, and I miss my friends more than anything. 

I remember sitting in Barnes and Noble one night in November in 2010, with Dave and Keil and Adam and Allen and Andi, thinking to myself, What a wicked gang we are. A hippie, a gay kid, a trangender gay kid, and a terminally ill girl, and of course, Dave and me, the most normal of the group, in a Romeo-and-Juliet love affair. I wanted that to be my life forever. And then of course Allen and Andi moved away, and Adam and I had a falling out, and Dave broke my heart. 

And now I'm four years away from that and I can never get that back and I know, I know, that's the tragedy of growing up. I get it. And sometimes I wonder if my lingering love for Dave isn't some Gastbyian longing for a past during which I was happy, a past where I belonged with people. Where I knew who my friends were and I never second-guessed myself. I never doubted it. 

And of course, I had Jen and Ashley, who are still my very best friends in the whole world, and yet, sometimes I worry that the distance is too far and someday I'll just be a passing memory to them, too. 

And I had my boys, but they're not boys anymore and I'm not entirely certain if some of them are even my friends, or ever were. The only person I trust in that group is Aaron. How funny, considering our rocky beginnings. 

I could name names right now and talk about the friends that I have, but none of them are my people. The thing about my Film Club gang was that they were my creative people. I don't have a single friend in Normal or Springfield right now that really satisfies my need to be around creative people. Jen and my boys were my Adventure Buddies. Ashley satisfied my intellectual needs. And of course, Dave was love and home. 

I don't have people who satisfy those needs now. The people that I'm still friends with don't have time for me. 

I want to run. I want to go far, far, far away and meet people that will be more like me. I want to meet creators and adventurers and intellectuals and I want love again. 

Right now, I have none of that and I am so alone and I am so unhappy. 

[softjimis]

favorite characters: Hermione Granger (The Harry Potter series)

[aperiodofsoftness]

[moomootheuglyshoe]

I want friends like this. I want life like this. 

Everyone in my life is so boring and jaded. No one wants to do fun things. I need to get out of this town. I don't even like anyone. I miss old friends. Jen and Ashley would do this kind of stuff with me.  Blah, I hate Normal and Springfield.