taylor price

★
Sade Olutola
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
sheepfilms
art blog(derogatory)
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Sweet Seals For You, Always

PR's Tumblrdome
YOU ARE THE REASON

blake kathryn
Monterey Bay Aquarium
tumblr dot com
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Claire Keane

Kaledo Art
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Mike Driver
Three Goblin Art
todays bird

seen from United States

seen from Italy

seen from United Kingdom
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Kazakhstan
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from Argentina
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
@smilefor-medarling
at some point someone’s gonna kiss you on the forehead which is just fucking stellar so stay alive for that
At long last, The Chosen One has been discovered. Working as a cashier. With no interest in doing anything even slightly more difficult.
yeah because there is nothing more difficult than retail
tbh anyone who works/has worked retail would see the chance to go around saving the world in ways that could potentially kill them as a welcome vacation
“Does the position of Chosen One offer health benefits of any kind?”
“Well, our ragtag gang of world-saving underdogs has a doctor on-team.”
“Do I have to pay her out of pocket, is what I’m asking.”
“Gosh no! She’s an idealist, you don’t pay her at all!”
“Oh! That’s nice. But then I guess there’s no paycheck.”
“I mean, the secret cabal that dispenses our orders does make sure we have enough money to feed ourselves and keep a roof over our secret lair and such.”
“Hourly?”
“Hourly what?”
“Like have you guys ever had to punch a time clock?”
“We once had to dismantle a sinister time-freezing device in the shape of a clock….otherwise no.”
“Sold. Off we go.”
“do i have to be nice to people who are yelling at me?”
“we’re the good guys, you can’t kill random civilians just because they’re mean!”
“kill?? no, i mean, can i tell them off.”
“well, sure, of course.”
*rips name tag off shirt and tosses it over shoulder* “i’m your huckleberry.”
This resonates on a spiritual level
I just said “I am Moana from Motunui, you killed my father, prepare to die” and it actually took me a few seconds to realize that’s not right
My name is Inigo Montoya. You will board my boat, sail across the world, and return the heart of Te Fiti.
my name is Moana Montoya, you will board my father, prepare to sail, and die
my favorite student is this little excitable turkish kid who waves me over at lunch every day to holler a joke at me & then urges me to get the other teachers to come listen to his jokes. my favorite so far is Q: what do you call somebody who doesnt want you to go to the bathroom? A: a teacher (the other teachers did not find it as hilarious as i did)
this child, hollering at me in the middle of class: YOU NEED PUN.
me: yeah i do whats ur pun
this child: what was the real name of the titanic? …the fathership. ……….because fathers are Big.
me, at recess: hey u got any jokes today
this child, stumbling off a log & dramatically yeeting his paper hat full force for no apparent reason: i have,,,,, ONE. [dramatic pause] i really have to KETCHUP on fortnite
todays the last day i have this kids class & he was like “u need a GOOD final joke” & i want yall to know his final joke to me was: why are frogs so happy? because they eat what bugs them. he then proceeded to hug me for a solid minute while a bunch of other kids came & took turns hugging me,
why is barbie’s the nutcracker the only good film adaption of the nutcracker that has ever been made
because barbie movies slap next question
are u implying barbie rapunzel isnt also the only good rapunzel adaptation that has ever been made
tangled is just a rip-off of barbie rapunzel and that’s just the tea ☕️☕️
anyway here’s a definitive ranking of every barbie movie I’ve ever even vaguely heard of
Hey fucker you dare diss Barbie and The Princess School I’ll fight you at 3:36 am in a Denny’s
why the FCUK is island princess on the bottom tier
MAGIC OF PEGASUS WAS A DAMN MASTERPIECE
So I found a site that does a subscription box for your period- it sends you basics like hygiene products, pain medication as well as snacks and pampering stuff to make you feel good,
but the best thing is they have a specialty boxes, like vegan or kosher only snacks but also
they specifically offer boxes for menstruating guys and nb folks.
which is pretty darn cool.
it’s called bonjourjolie and I think it’s 1000% awesome tbh
i think this is the best thing omf
@mygenderadventures, don’t know if this is content you’d put on your blog, but I think this is fantastic.
I don’t tend to post non-art stuff but thanks for the shout-out anyway!!! I’m sure this will be of interest to a few people here :)
This is such an exciting thing!!
Please don’t read the comments, some people are so embarrassingly uneducated and cruel. YNA supports our trans and nonbinary followers! ❤️❤️
Whoever came up with this idea is just awesome. They really take their costumers’ diets into account, like there’s so many options. Look at all this
And if they still don’t have a box to accommodate your needs, you can even order special items and ask for a box that doesn’t have anything you’re allergic to in it
Not to mention how amazing this is
I hope this service might help some of you guys
Parks & Rec, Pretty Little Liars and the Fast & Furious films all exist in the same universe
And SCANDAL WTF
Oh jeez, SCANDAL….
….and BATTLESHIP too, apparently. It’s a goddamn conspiracy
Oh god. He’s on REVENGE too. How deep does this rabbit-hole go….
Oh my god. DEXTER.
THE ACTUAL NEWS
I read an interview with this guy (who is a real news anchor), and he said he told his acting agent that he is ONLY interested in parts where he plays a new anchor. This is no coincidence. This is by design.
what is his plan
I was hanging out with my grandma in her cabin and she was clearly upset about something. When I asked her what was wrong, she said that someone broke into the house. I told her I doubted it because nothing was out of place or stolen. She looked at me, totally bewildered, and shouted, “Look around you! Don’t you see them?” When I glanced at the floor, I saw them… Hundreds of tiny, but very round glass frogs (like the one in the picture.) I was shocked, but amazed at the sheer amount of frogs that were on the floor. My grandma was disgusted. I began to frantically pick up the frogs, while still denying the fact someone had broken in, and soon my arms were overflowing with those beautiful round angels and one fell to the floor and shattered. I swore loudly at the loss of a frog, and that sent my grandma over the edge. She was enraged, and kicked me out of the cabin. I hobbled out sadly, arms and pockets full of frogs, but when I looked down at my arms I realised there was no reason to be sad. I hade frogs. Life was good.
Who wants to hear how I rekted a straight boys ego in gym class today? Because in really fucking proud rn
*is waiting*
*cracks knuckles* okay nerds listen the fuck up.
So I’m in a special gym class for the swim team, so it’s coed with the boys and girls swim team for my school. It’s leg day, and I was setting up my rack for squats. Now I don’t usually go hard in gym because I don’t fucking care and I’m a 3 season athlete, I don’t actually need extra fuxking exercise. I only put maybe 10 pounds on the bar, and this fucking twig looking punk ass comes from fucking nowhere and starts laughing. Mind you I’m taller than fucking everyone in this class, I towered over this twerp. I ask him why he’s laughing, and he says, WITH A STRAIGHT FACE, “Women are so weak” and I almost decked his ass right then but I bite my tongue. For no fucking reason he decided to continue, “Why are women even in sports, they can’t do anything! What’s your max, 50 pounds?” And all his friends are laughing and telling him how cool this he is. So I challenge him to a squatting challenge, I want to see how much weight he can squat. He’s all reluctant now, saying how that wasn’t safe for me, how I might hurt myself, but my swim coach comes from behind and says she would like to see it so he’s like “Fine, whatever, if you get hurt it ain’t my fault.”
He proceeds to put fucking 100 pounds on, my ass is trying not to laugh because wow that’s “a lot”, and the whole time he is struggling, groaning and making gross ass male noises, and only got 4 reps in. He sets it back on the rack and looks at me with this fucking smirk, surrounded by his douche group, and omg I’m about to just drop kick his ass, and he does that stupid hand motion towards the rack. I walk over and my team members ask me how much I want. I tell them to double it. Everyone stops and my coach is smiling cause she knows how much I can squat. My teammates are like “… Are you sure?” And I tell them how I’m fucking ready. So they put 100 more pounds on, making it now 200 pounds, and I tell them to back off. I then walk over and add 50 more pounds, the whole time looking at this white trash. He looks like a dead man, crusty lookin ass about to pass out. The bar now has 250 pounds, and I get 15 reps in. I set it down and I walk up to him, not having broken a sweat, and just pat him on the cheek before continuing on with my workout. My teammates are all freaking out, telling me how cool that was and how they never knew, but the boys team looks like they’re going to cry. I’m really fucking sore but I regret nothing.
That’s the story how I went up in weight for my squat with the pure determination of breaking up fuckbois dreams @ask-elizabeth-holly-hamilton
Okay I was looking back on this because we were maxing today and my coach said that wasn’t my max and I’m like??? What, and I realized I never accounted for the bar, so that makes total weight was 295.
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
OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS.
I’ve seen the first post a bunch of times, but never the story of How The Santa Tracker Started.
You’re able to call your parents “Mom” and “Dad”. They were not born with those names.
You’re able to call your teachers “Mr” or “Mrs” and their last name. You’d get in trouble if you addressed them by first name.
You’re able to call a celebrity by their chosen stage name.
You’re able to call your friends a shortened version of their name, their middle name instead of their first, or a completely random nickname.
You’re able to call a married woman by her husband’s last name, even though she was not born with that last name.
But when someone’s transgender, how does calling them by a name they were not born with somehow become a hassle?
SAY IT LOUDER FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK
SAY IT LOUDER FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK
LOUDER
SCREAM IT DANG IT THEY HAVE TO HEAR IT
HIGH PITCHED YODELING
Shout it to the roof tops
Scream this shit ladies and gents.I want to whole mother fucking world to hear you!
🎉🎉 HAPPY 1985 EVERYBODY!! 🎉🎉
cool
RAT TRAIL
RatChain RatChain RatChain RatChain RatChain RatChain RatChain RatChain
These are actually shrews!! They all hold onto the base of each other’s tails and travel in a line so they don’t get lost from their mother while out in the open! ((What makes it even better; these little groups are referred to as caravans!))
Shrews are good!! Please do not kill them, they eat mice.