my bf spammed me videos of him feeding his fat neighbourhood cat at 1am...
what a dumbass I love him
i don't do bad sauce passes
wallacepolsom
will byers stan first human second
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
trying on a metaphor
AnasAbdin
Keni

Product Placement

shark vs the universe
Peter Solarz
đȘŒ
cherry valley forever
Cosimo Galluzzi
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Jules of Nature

blake kathryn

titsay
Monterey Bay Aquarium
we're not kids anymore.

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@taettyung
my bf spammed me videos of him feeding his fat neighbourhood cat at 1am...
what a dumbass I love him
When you go to a haunted house, it may seem like youâre being funny by trying to scare the actors or jump out at them when you go through a second time, but guess what? ITS NOT FUNNY.
You pay us to scare you. It is your choice to go, so donât fucking go through if youâre going to ignore the rules and get too close to the actors as a âjokeâ.
These bruises happened because over the course of 4 hours, several people ignored the instructions that CLEARLY stated that they were to wait in the front room until told otherwise. Rather than listen, they ran into the next room and slammed into me- effectively throwing me into the wall. This didnât only happen once. It happened ten times at LEAST.
Then we had this asshole who thought that once I âdiedâ for the haunt, he could pretend to kick me to see if Iâd moved. I, being used to people abusing me- jumped back and slammed my head into the concrete wall.
YOU ARE NOT FUNNY BY BEING RUDE AT A HAUNTED HOUSE. WE ARE PAID ACTORS THAT YOU CHOOSE TO COME AND SEE PERFORM. YOU PAY US TO SCARE THE SHIT OUT OF YOU, SO DONT HIT US WHEN WE DO
I feel that this is relevant considering it is October and more Haunted Houses are opening up. I know it seems funny to scare the âmonstersâ but all you do is hurt real people. So stop.
Itâs not even October but Iâm still spreading this
SIGNAL BOOOOOOOOSSSSSTTTTT!!!!!!! Now
YeahâŠyour director may want to consider reblocking
We donât have a director? Or blocking??? Itâs a haunted house bro, not a play
Reblogging for relevance-
I work at a Haunted House every October, and have been for the past few years. Our house in particular is staffed by Volunteer workers who are either earning credits for Graduation, or people who know the Family that owns the haunted attraction. In our City, weâre one of two Haunted Houses, so while we open in late September, we tend to get incredibly busy during the month of October and often work from 6pm until 2, 3am on weekends.Â
We do not get paid to help out. Due to our location, we get a lot of drunk guys coming through, and a lot of âfunnyâ teenagers. In my several years working there, Iâve seen Actors get grabbed and thrown, stomped on, kicked, bitten, everything. A lot of the Actors at this attraction are young teenagers, Middle and Secondary School students, so this kind of abuse is terrifying and potentially emotionally scarring.
Thereâs a position half-way through the house we call âPsych Wardâ, and itâs essentially a jump scare. The scare is a corner-room, boxed in with walls and broken windows, that the Actor pops out of and shouts and taunts the people going through. October, 2012, a couple were going through the Psych Ward corner and the scare went off as per usual. The girlfriend of this couple got very startled but laughed it off and continued on. The boyfriend, however, back-tracked and went up to the broken window and punched the Actor in the face for scaring his girlfriend. The Actor, who Iâm going to call Tracy, had a black eye for a good two weeks solid and the couple had to be escorted out of the house and were banned from the property. Ever since weâve ruled that Veteran Actors (someone whoâs been there for 3+ years) are the only ones allowed in this particular Scaring Spot.
He paid to get scared and then got violent when we delivered.
There are so many stories I can tell of ignorant customers banging back on scares and injuring the Actors inside, grabbing props from the actors and hurting them with it, destroying props because they thought it would be âfunnyâ.Â
I just want to raise awareness that the ACTORS ARE STILL PEOPLE. Weâre instructed to get the best kind of scare out of you, sometimes with no pay at all (like this particular attraction), so please respect our work.
We wouldnât come to your job, mock you, and push you around trying to be âfunnyâ. Donât come to our job and do that to us!
I literally cannot believe people are angry over this post saying âdonât fucking beat up actorsâ
I work at a haunted hayride and a guy tried to dropkick me in the chest and knee me in the face because he thought it was funny.
I got in trouble for breaking character to tell him to fucking stop.
Ive been hit so many times this season it has left cuts and bruises. Back in 2015 I was fucking choked and dragged behind a wagon because a lady was drunk and her son had to pry her hands off me because IM NOT ALLOWED TO TOUCH YOU OR FIGHT BACK.
Most recently, a customer groped my breasts and twisted my fucking nipples. Apparently, she did it to AT LEAST twenty other actors.
THAT IS SEXUAL ASSAULT YOU ASSHOLES. ITS NOT OKAY.
Most recently a customer fucking kicked me and sent me to the goddamned hospital.
WHEN YOU GO TO A HAUNTED HAYRIDE / HAUNTED HOUSE, REMEMBER YOU LITERALLY PAID US TO SCARE YOU.
THE ACTORS ARE REAL PEOPLE.
DO NOT FUCKING HIT US.
Why the fuck would you even do this holy shit
Hey guys i know this is out of theme but that comment from @witchcryptid was me and my old url. I plan on working this job again this year if at all possible, so hereâs an added psa:
If your family or friend(s) force you into a haunting, be upfront as best you can and tell actors as they come up âplease do not scare me i am too anxious / scaredâ and 9.99/10 times we will listen and leave you alone. just communicate with us even though we most often cannot communicate back.
We may be playing monsters, but we are NOT monsters.
Also, please remember to keep your hands off of us during your haunting, and also please try to step in or speak up if you see people trying to touch us, assault us, or talking about planning to touch or hurt a staff member.
We cannot do anything and will most likely get in legal trouble for touching you in defense.
Thank you and have a spooky fall đ»đđđ
IâŠI feel really upset that this has to be a reminder ._.
I mean they should know youâreâŠjustacting.
jesus christâŠ
I donât even do haunted houses (Iâm one of those aforementioned anxious people) but boosting the signal because this is seriously not cool.
Hey guys itâs that time!!
You paid for a ticket which means you consented to be scared!
As an ex haunt monster please for fucks sake if you KNOW your reflex is to strike when scared DO NOT GO TO THESE.
WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE NO ONE GOES TO DISNEYLAND AND PUNCHES DONALD DUCK WHY WOULD YOU DO THE SAME TO HAUNTED HOUSE WORKERS?!?!?!?!
Please donât attack workers for doing their jobs.
taylor: i wanted access to my masters
scott: i TOLD you i was gonna sell to scooter
taylor: i wanted access to my masters
yael: LEAVE MY CHILDREN OUT OF THIS
taylor: i wanted access to my masters
justin: why canât you just LOVE... love man
iâm so heartbroken.
he was so young. he was too young. he had so much ahead of him. so many people are going to miss him so, so much.
rest in peace cameron boyce. everyone is going to miss you so much for a very long time.
so I got into grad school today with my shitty 2.8 gpa and the moral of the story is reblog those good luck posts for the love of god
okay so i just got my dream job??? a week after applying to it?? and now iâm thinkingâŠ.maybe this is the good luck post
âŠ..not even six hours later i got an offer of a well paying full time long-term job with free room and board in queens in nyc, allowing me independence and a way to escape an abusive situation and an unhealthy environment
likes charge reblogs cast, folks, this is the good luck post
might need one too
For years I asked, pleaded for a chance to own my work. Instead I was given an opportunity to sign back up to Big Machine Records and âearnâ one album back at a time, one for every new one I turned in. I walked away because I knew once I signed that contract, Scott Borchetta would sell the label, thereby selling me and my future. I had to make the excruciating choice to leave behind my past. Music I wrote on my bedroom floor and videos I dreamed up and paid for from the money I earned playing in bars, then clubs, then arenas, then stadiums.Â
Some fun facts about todayâs news: I learned about Scooter Braunâs purchase of my masters as it was announced to the world. All I could think about was the incessant, manipulative bullying Iâve received at his hands for years.Â
Like when Kim Kardashian orchestrated an illegally recorded snippet of a phone call to be leaked and then Scooter got his two clients together to bully me online about it. (See photo) Or when his client, Kanye West, organized a revenge porn music video which strips my body naked. Now Scooter has stripped me of my lifeâs work, that I wasnât given an opportunity to buy. Essentially, my musical legacy is about to lie in the hands of someone who tried to dismantle it.
This is my worst case scenario. This is what happens when you sign a deal at fifteen to someone for whom the term âloyaltyâ is clearly just a contractual concept. And when that man says âMusic has valueâ, he means its value is beholden to men who had no part in creating it.Â
When I left my masters in Scottâs hands, I made peace with the fact that eventually he would sell them. Never in my worst nightmares did I imagine the buyer would be Scooter. Any time Scott Borchetta has heard the words âScooter Braunâ escape my lips, it was when I was either crying or trying not to. He knew what he was doing; they both did. Controlling a woman who didnât want to be associated with them. In perpetuity. That means forever.Â
Thankfully, I am now signed to a label that believes I should own anything I create. Thankfully, I left my past in Scottâs hands and not my future. And hopefully, young artists or kids with musical dreams will read this and learn about how to better protect themselves in a negotiation. You deserve to own the art you make.
I will always be proud of my past work. But for a healthier option, Lover will be out August 23.Â
Sad and grossed out,
đ
Taylor
fuck them
Exciting news.
yâall better hype this up because this is BIG and is evidence that the berlin patient wasnât a fluke, and this could revolutionize medicine (thereâs already cases of cancers where methods similar to these have worked), and while youâre at it, please join a bone marrow registry!! (especially poc bc these therapies usually only have been done on white patients due to genetic similarities, and the more poc we get in registries the more access poc patients can have to this for cancers, SSS, etc)
Also: donât stigmatize HIV+ individuals because they all have different circumstances and mightâve  gotten the virus from a variety of sources (sex, occupational, birth, blood transfusions in other countries).Â
HIV-related stigma remains a huge barrier to preventing HIV, and is linked to a low level of people testing for HIV.Â
The bad news is that Trump is cutting Americaâs spending on HIV year after year. He has taken steps to weaken the Affordable Care Act since coming to power.
The 1969 Easter Mass Incident
Content Warnings: Religion, food, symbolic cannibalism, symbolic gore, penis mention, Blasphemy, SO MUCH BLASPHEMY, weapons, war mention. Mind the warnings and your health always comes first. Its a HILARIOUS story, I promise.
As always, all the names have been changed to protect peopleâs identities. This is a long one, so Press J now if you want to skip it.
When my dad was a young man and still a practicing catholic, he participated in a small church communion that nearly got him and six other people excommunicated.
Father Patrick ran a small church outside of California Polytechnical and tended to be⊠rather more liberal in his interpretations of scripture than most of the church was, which made him something of a hit with the local students and liberally-inclined populace.  Pat went to all manner of civil demonstrations, condemned the shit out of the vietnam war and the politics that lead to it and so on.  In January of 1969 a series of incidents lead him to start exploring ânontraditionalâ means of holding Mass as a means of reaching out to his community and exploring his own faith, which ultimately culminated in the 1969 Easter Mass Incident.
For those of you who werenât raised catholic, Communion is this ritual where you become one with Jesus by eating a really horrible bland wafer cookie and taking a shot of wine (called hosts), which then *literally* become the flesh and blood of jesus in your mouth, allowing him to become one with you. Â Itâs big McFucking deal, and you have the opportunity to take communion at every mass. Â All this had to be explained to me second-hand because after this and Dadâs 51 days in the army, Dad decided he wouldnât inflict religion on any children he might have in the future.
*
âHey dad,â Six-year old me asked the first time he told me this story after my practicing friends were talking about getting wine at church. âIsnât that cannibalism?â
âWeâre getting to that.â Â He waved.
*
The First Incident in January when, due to a serious cock-up by the church, all the hosts Father Pat received were moldering and spoiled and probably would have killed someone if heâd actually fed anyone them. Â But it was the first mass of the year, when a peak number of people came in after vowing to got to church more for new yearâs. Â He couldnât NOT have communion.
âIâll bake.â offered Maria, the parish secretary and probably the best baker in the county. âSo we have hosts. Â Jesus will understand.â
Father Patrick, not one to pass up the chance at Mariaâs cooking, immediately agreed.
A Host is supposed to be composed solely of unleavened wheat flour and water, which is why they taste terrible. Â Itâs a theological point of some importance relating to Exodus or something but Maria had an important theological counterpoint: Jesus both divine and loves all his children, ergo, Jesus would neither be a nasty bland cracker nor want his children to suffer as such and so instead, she made Mexican wedding cookies.
They were a SPECTACULAR hit. Â Many praises were heaped upon father patrick for the Much Better Wafers and that theyâd be sure to show up next week as long as Maria kept making them. Â Father Patrick figuring that hey, anything that gets people in the doors is good and really, if it was turning into Jesus once inside the parishioner, did it really matter what the wafers were made of? Â So he continued to let Maria bake the Hosts, and encouraged her to try out new flavors, like nutmeg and cinnamon.
This went on swimmingly for a few weeks until The Bishop showed up for a surprise visit the same week Maria decided to experiment with rainbow sprinkles.
Dad remembers hearing the bishop through the windows roaring âTHE HOLY BODY OF CHRIST DOES! NOT! CONTAIN! RAINBOW! SPRINKLES!â
The matter went clean up to The Archbishop, who decided that while Pat was probably right to not feed spoiled hosts to his parish, he should attend some remedial classes to remember what Communion was all about, so that if it happened again, heâs come up with a more suitable substitute.
Father Patrick returned in late March, full of spite and some fascinating new ideas.
*
âIs this where the Cannibalism happens?â Six-year-old me asked, eager to get to the good parts.
*
At his remedial classes, the teacher had stressed the importance of transubstantiation, aka âThat bit where the wafer and wine, Actually, Literally, become the flesh of Jesus Christ and we expect you to swallow.â Â Also on the syllabus was understanding the importance of Christâs suffering and sacrifice.
âSo, I was thinking about Easter Service.â Â Said father Patrick one afternoon while dad was doing his computer science homework at the church because his dorm was a barely-standing fire hazard and the library was where you went to have sex.
âWell, we do re-enactments for christmas. Â Why not on easter? Â Why not re-enact the crucifixion of Christ right here? Make it real for everyone. Â Traumaâs great for bonding a community together.â
âWhoâs playing Jesus?â asked Maria, always one for a good laugh.
âThatâs the thing- A Host, it doesnât look much like flesh, right? Â Doesnât look like much of anything, really. Â Not great for reinforcing oneâs belief.
What if, instead, we- and I mean you, Maria, I canât cook to save my life- make a man-sized loaf of bread, maybe in the shape of a T, and we have some of the boys dress up as romans and whip the bread and we pour the wine on so itâs bleeding and them- then we make a big wooden cross and actually nail the bread to it with, I donât know, railroad spikes, more wine all over. And we raise the cross, all while telling the story of the crucifixion.â
He paused to take a drink, Maria slowly crumpling onto the floor in horrified laughter and Dad now thoroughly distracted from his homework.
âThen we lower the cross, and invite everyone who wants to take communion up to tear a hunk of Jesus off. Â Just descend into his corpse like vultures. Â I think thatâd really be a good bonding experience for the church.â Â he nodded thoughtfully. Â âThe hard, part, I suppose, will be finding enough romans.â
âI WANNA BE LONGINUS.â bellowed my father, barreling into the room.
And so, the plan was hatched. Â Dad hit up every other guy in the Church and eventually rounded up four more romans, three of them from the Education Department of Cal Poly, and one guy from Chemistry, who just liked to watch things burn.
This, being a play, naturally meant that there was a rehearsal, and test Bread jesus. Â Maria had decided that if they were going to start being extra-literal, she needed to make the most lifelike Bread jesus possible, and made a distressingly buff and human-proportioned Jesus by Advanced bread-braiding, complete with plaited hair, quailâs-egg-and-raisin eyes, bready muscle groups, and an eight-pack because why not make the lord completely shredded?* Â She also made the important theological decision that since Jesus loves everyone and was happy to die in spite of all his suffering, he should be smiling, and had a toothy corn-kernel smile. Â He was Wonderful and Terrifying all at once.
âMaria,â asked Father Patrick after a few minutes of delighted and horrified cooing over Jesusâ toothy grin and abdominals. âWhy is he wearing a tea-towel?
âWell, heâs the Son of God. A Man.  With all that entails.â  She said, pointedly staring at Father Patrick while everyone stared at the suspiciously lumpy tea-towel.  âAnd he might have⊠burnt, slightly.â
Everyone nodded and agreed that the tea-towel was the best course of action. Â The rehearsal goes splendidly and everyone agrees that this is the most delicious Jesus theyâve ever had.
*
Easter Sunday arrives and the Church is PACKED, from the more lapsed Catholics showing up for a high holiday, parents visiting for spring break and a whole horde of newcomers who had gotten wind that something was up and they ought to come.
Dad is a lanky as hell 21-year old composed mostly of technical jargon and acne but he is STOKED to be playing Longinus, the roman that speared Jesus on the cross, because he gets to do the BEST technical effect in the whole parade. Â Since he came in at the end me missed a good portion of the sermon, but did hear the âooohâ from the crowd as the massive cross was dragged in by the other Romans, followed by horrified gasps and high screams and a discernible âWhat the FUCKâ as they brought in Bread Jesus 2.0, whipping him enthusiastically, and hammering him into the cross, the sound of wine splashing onto the floor loud in the terrified silence of that Parishioners.
Finally Father Patrick gets to the part about Longinus, and Dad comes sprinting down the aisle as hard as he can, because in order for Bread Jesus to be seen by everyone, his middle had to be about 10 feet off the ground, so Dad had to run, shrieking latin curses, Â down the length of the church, with a big honking spear and take a flying leap at Jesus in order to spear him in the gut.
Please take moment to imagine you are some normal god-fearing catholic who has decided to visit little bobby or maybe patricia at college and youâre all going to church together like a nice family and this Fucking madman has decided to go all Silence of the Lambs on mass and now thereâs some sort of underfed translucently pale man in ill-fitting Roman armor and cape flying at a horrifying glutinous effigy of your lord and savior, with an actual fucking spear, screaming like a madman. Â Donât you feel yourself drawing closer to God already? Defensively, perhaps, like an octopus trying to ooze itself into a crevice against the horrors of the ocean.
However, two things happen that were not planned on
1. Dad misses.  In his defense, Bread Jesus is close to but not quite the size of a man- more like the size of a doughy teenager, and his middle is a small target 10 feet up in the air and dad is has a computer science minor, not an athletics scholarship.  He misses by about 8 inches and instead very solidly stabs Bread Jesus right through the groin, leaving a big hole in Mariaâs tea-towel and the spear jutting out at a decidedly⊠attentive angle, as Bread Jesusâs Bread Dick drops to the floor with a splat.  Nobody notices this, however because
2. In rehearsal, Dad had managed to get the spear right in jesusâs navel but neither Father Patrick nor the other romans could get the wine up there to make his middle appropriately bloodied. Â
Maria come up with the Genius solution that since wine is made of grapes and Jam is made of grapes, she could make a jelly-filled Jesus for Dad to stab. Â There was a normal-sized test loaf and when dad stabbed it on the table, it had a nicely gooey dribbling effect.
However, this time the loaf was torso-sized, still hot from the oven and upright, so when dad speared the very end of the loaf, all the steam-pressured jam had collected at the bottom and a spray of lukewarm smuckers exploded out from bread jesus, turning the first three pews into a splash zone of symbolic entrails.
There was  a hot, sticky minute of complete silence in the church after that.Â
Then, Father Patrick indicated it was time for the cross to be lowered, and continued on with the normal preparations of the Host, he himself covered in hot smuckers, as though nothing particularly ordinary was occuring, quietly kicking the bread-dick under the altar. At the end of it all, Father Patrick and invited everyone up with the Last Oration:
âThou, O God, has kindly allowed us to have a part in this Holy Sacrifice; for this we give Thee thanks. Accept it now to Thy glory and be ever mindful of our weakness. Amen.â
âŠAnd everybody came up, shuffling like terrified zombies, pinching off tiny bits at first but then the madness took them and they began tearing apart bread jesus by the handful, weeping as they partook, scattered prayers and begging for forgiveness.  The whole congregation was kneeling about the altar, tearful and united in their guilt and their need for God.
*
âIS CHURCH ALWAYS LIKE THAT?â six-year-old me asked, absolutely stoked. Â Iâd convert on the spot if I got a show like that.
âNo, itâs normally bland wafers and lots of chanting in latin.â
âWell thatâs boring as hell.â I remember muttering and Dad snorting the coffee he was drinking out of his nose.
*
As people filed silently out of the Church to a gloriously sunny California afternoon, faces wan and smeared with wine and jam, Father patrick turned to Maria and asked âYou donât think that was too much, do you?â
âNo.â Â Said Maria with a sarcastic deadpan so intense it was hard to tell from sincerity.
It was the exact same tone she used when the Archbishop and Six other high clergy showed up, clutching a letter someone had written, Livid and almost foaming at the mouth, demanding to know if such blasphemy had transpired.
âNo. Â Thatâs crazy.â Â She said, staring down the archbishop like he was an idiot.
âSuch imaginations some people have!â Said Father Patrick, much less convincingly.
âAnd you-  you didnâtâŠÂ Spear an effigy of our lord and savior?â  the archbishop demanded of my father.
âDo I look like I can jump that high?â Â Dad asked, having in the interim been drafted for 51 days then nearly died of pneumonia from it, and therefore no longer afraid of the Church, the Law or God.
Somewhat relieved that heâd only received the extremely detailed ramblings of a doddering parishioner, the Archbishop sat down and complemented Maria on her most excellent Mexican Wedding Cookies, may he please have another plate for his nerves? Perhaps the ones with sprinkles?
Dad went on to help build the internet, Father Patrick converted to Buddhism and Maria became a Nun.
*For those of you wondering, Jesus was made of Challah.
If you got a laugh out of this, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi or Paypal, as telling stories on the internet is my only source of income right now. Thank you very much and I hope you enjoyed it!
if this ain't the best thing I've ever read
whatâs up with him
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love yourself tour hong kong | march 20, 2019
IM SHJEKSKAJSKSKKSKD my mom just ignored my reply
more stuff i draw on paint when im bored HHH i have a video on this but i wanna speed it up before i post it
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someone please come collect jeon
you know since i cant write smut in front of my family i will be posting poorly recreated memes i drew on paint