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AU where the Justice League forms like usual, except Batman maintained his “totally a myth” status and has in fact been active for years before the JL forms. He’s very cautious about trusting them, but still joins, and the others sort of accepts that as long as they trust that Batman has a really hard time with trust, it will all work out in its own weird way

Then, one day, in the middle of a JL mission, the League gets in a tight spot. Out of nowhere, this blue and black blur swoops in and saves everyone’s ass. Maybe breaking some shackles that were proving very difficult, maybe disarm a bomb that the League was just a hair’s breadth too slow to reach without help, but whatever happens, the shadowy figure pauses just long enough to say, “Hey, Batman, you know you there are these things called cellphones now and you can just call sometimes, it doesn’t have to be this dramatic?” and bounds away after shouting ‘let’s do brunch! Bring your new friends!’

Batman is mortified.

No one lets it go.

The entire rest of the mission, the whole League is asking so many questions. Who was that? Do you know him? How do you know him? What’s going on? I didn’t know there was a vigilante in this area?? They don’t let up until he talks.

“That was Nightwing.” Batman is mumbling. The JL forces him to bring them to the Brunch. Brunch happens to be in a run-down apartment on the edge of a bad neighborhood, at five in the morning, in costume. Nightwing introduces himself as Batman’s lovechild with justice.

“I did not realize Batman had a child,” Martian Manhunter says, calmly enough that no one’s sure if he’s accidentally plucking a really loud thought out of the air or if he’s trying to make a joke.

Nightwing stares for a moment falling over laughing. He doesn’t get up. Batman starts trying to apply anti-Joker venom but Nightwing just kicks him and laughs until he cries. He keeps trying to wipe his eyes and his mask keeps getting in the way, so he asks everyone to leave so he can please get a hold of himself

He is still laughing when they leave. Everyone is confused. Batman is furious.  Nightwing manages to breathe long enough to say, “We’re just so glad you’re socializing now, Batman.”

Superman turns to look at Batman very slowly. “…’we’?”

Keep reading
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let’s reflect on this

fun fact! mirrors reflect each color equally, except for green. if you have ever seen a mirror perfectly aligned in front of another mirror, a.k.a. an infinite mirror, you can look through it and see that it becomes greener and greener. therefore, mirrors are technically green!

holy shit

The glass is greener over here. Not a typo.

If you look edgewise through a sheet of glass you see that it’s green because of iron impurities (Google for it). Reducing the iron reduces the green.

Perfectly aligning mirrors to multiply reflections also multiplies the apparent thickness of the glass, and the green tint becomes more apparent the “deeper” each reflection seems to be.

Science is like history: it was never this interesting at school. :-)

Yep! And this is because - I’m sorry to say - mirrors are not a unique or separate substance with magical properties. Mirrors are silvered glass. They have two colors: the color of the silver, and the color of the glass. The “silver” doesn’t have to be silver, though it usually is because mirrors are traditionally made with silver nitrate, because it’s a whitish metal. You can have mirrors silvered in gold or black or red. You take literally any piece of glass, pour a coating of silver on it, seal it, and call it a mirror.

You have to seal it because otherwise it tarnishes and spots. Even though the glass protects it from air, the silver oxidizes just like any other silver, which is why antique mirrors have that funky age-spotted look.

Mirrors used in science are usually pure clear glass with no impurities (so the glass has no color) and are silvered in gold or aluminum, so they are white or gold. A warm-toned mirror would have a pink glass and would make things have a rose-gold look. Phryne Fisher, in the books, has a mirror with pink glass.

(Mirrors silvered in silver - that is, most mirrors you’ve seen - are probably faintly grey from the silver and faintly green from the cheap glass, but it doesn’t need to concern you at all - even if you noticed a strong color, you’re often so used to looking in them that your brain edits out any discrepancy - like how your nose doesn’t get in the way of your vision even though it’s right in front of your eyes all of the time.)

My grandmother had a mirror that was silvered in gold. It was a little disconcerting. The silver in mirrors is why vampires don’t have reflections. (And why the cutlery at Castle Dracula was made of gold.)


It’s true!  (Source is The Journal Of I Read It Somewhere One Time, so take it with a truckload of salt, but I’m pretty sure it was a published book and not the internet, so like, only a pickup truck, not a dump truck.)

Watsonian explanation:  Silver as an entity and/or concept was upset about being used to pay Judas, so as some kind of compensation God gave it evil-fighting powers, and this is why vampires don’t have reflections in silvered mirrors as well as why werewolves are killed by silver bullets.  (Also works for vampires not showing up on film, because silver nitrate, although obviously that isn’t part of the ~*~original folklore~*~ and also doesn’t explain digital cameras.)

Doylist explanation:  A lot of things that are traditionally anti-vampire turn out to have antibacterial properties- the only ones I remember are garlic and silver, but I think there were others- so supposedly when anti-vampire treatments helped somebody out of a decline or whatever they were actually helping fight off an infection.


Ahahaha I love the conversations we have

A lot of things that are traditionally anti-vampire turn out to have antibacterial properties

So would that mean vampires are weak to antibacterial soap?

The power of hand sanitizer compels you!

antimicrobial soaps were just banned by THE VAMPIRE CABAL
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my sister-in-law, who has no kids and does not spend time around children ever, decided she wanted to take my kids on an “outing” yesterday. (she sees them like 4 times a year usually). she took them to some weird historical u.s. military fort museum thing, it’s like a big compound with like 15 buildings enclosed by a fence. anyway my 5-yr-old saw one of those red metal fire alarm boxes on the wall and asked his aunt “what does that say?”

now the correct answer to this question, in my opinion, would be “that is a fire alarm. we only touch fire alarms if there is a fire. if there is a fire, you would pull the handle and it would make a very loud noise so that other people know to get out of the building.”

according to several reliable sources, my sister-in-law’s answer to the question was, “it says ‘pull.’”

so anyway that’s how they managed to evacuate all 15 buildings at the museum and why this is probably their last “outing” for a while.
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miscommunication as a plot device makes me angry

if you just talked to each other but no

on the one hand i agree with this but on the other hand one of my coworkers rented an alpaca from a petting zoo and brought it to work because my boss said she wanted an alpaca sweater but the guy didn’t hear her say sweater and didn’t want to upset her by asking why the fuck she’d want an alpaca

I think that highlights a good genre difference: miscommunication in drama is frustrating, overused, and just kinda shit. Miscommunication in comedy is fucking hilarious.
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Steves on a Plane

come on bring it

If it flies, be it in air or space, Chris Pine will crash it.

if it flies, chris will crash it

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So I’ve been training this neural network to generate cookbook recipes by letting it look at tens of thousands of existing recipes.

The generated titles can get a bit odd.

There’s a creativity variable I can set when the network is generating new recipes, and when I set it low, it comes up with its best guess at the most quintessential recipe titles:

Cream Cheese Soup
Cream Of Sour Cream Cheese Soup
Chocolate Cake (Chocolate Cake)
Chocolate Chocolate Chocolate Cake
Chocolate Chicken Chicken Cake
Chocolate Chocolate Chocolate Chocolate Cake
Chocolate Chips
Chocolate Chips With Chocolate Chips

When I tell it to get creative, things get even weirder.

Beef Soup With Swamp Peef And Cheese
Chocolate Chops & Chocolate Chips
Crimm Grunk Garlic Cleas
Beasy Mist
Export Bean Spoons In Pie-Shell, Top If Spoon and Whip The Mustard
Chocolate Pickle Sauce
Whole Chicken Cookies
Salmon Beef Style Chicken Bottom
Star *
Cover Meats
Out Of Meat
Completely Meat Circle
Completely Meat Chocolate Pie
Cabbage Pot Cookies
Artichoke Gelatin Dogs
Crockpot Cold Water

menu at the Moonlite All-Nite Diner

I would definitely be up for Chocolate Chocolate Chocolate Chocolate Cake

Oh same.
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Jul. 5th, 2017 01:22 am
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It’s often been remarked that Spider-Man’s schtick wouldn’t work nearly so well if he didn’t live in a town with so many tall buildings, but consider: how well would Batman’s “I am the night” routine work if he was operating out of a normal city where people actually live, rather than a perpetually twilit urban hellscape that looks like the Art Deco movement had a one-night stand with Soviet Brutalism in a wrought-iron-and-gargoyle factory?

That is my favorite description of the Batman aesthetic ever.

OMDFG that’s a perfect description.
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Or, how Tony Found Out About Bucky’s Blog. 

Tony couldn’t seep. Sometimes he managed a few hours if he was tired enough, so usually he went to the gym and worked out until he was exhausted. Tonight, though, he found the gym already occupied: Barnes, with his hair tied up, working steadily at the heavy bag. Normally Tony would make an awkward comment and leave him to it, but instead he just heads for the opposite side of the gym. After setting up at one of the far treadmills, Tony worked his way to a easy run. Barnes was laying his fists rhythmically into the bag, and the quiet thumping was sort of strangely soothing. Between the running and the thumping, Tony slipped into a near-trancelike state.

 And then Barnes let out an ungodly howl, drew back his left fist, and slammed it straight through the heavy bag with a roar of, “DIE A THOUSAND BURNING DEATHS!”

Tony fell off the treadmill, scrambled to his feet, and booked it to the elevator.

kingofmemes posted:

holy shit you guys there was a spider on my punching bag !!! thanks to my many years of combat experience & martial arts training things are okay now

Posted at 4:47 AM, 37294 notes

Keep reading

kingofmemes posted:

have you ever met someone so incapable of taking care of themselves that you have to physically stop yourself from picking them up and bundling them in blankets??? yes i know you are a big strong man but you just walked into a door and said sorry to it without noticing that it had bloodied your nose. this is clearly a cry for help

Posted at 8:26 AM, 36850 notes

Bucky and Tony are friends now, and I wanted to draw something like I did for Closet Softie. Tony got a little handsier than I had planned, but… This drawing will eventually be available in the Coloring Buck.

(This fic is also here on AO3.)
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Jews wanting to know if someone is Jewish is very different from goyim wanting to know if someone is Jewish

There’s an old Jewish joke about that, because of course there is.

dare i ask what it is

(look, I left that wide open, somebody had to ask what it is)

So it’s sometime in late-19th-century Europe, and a little old Jewish man is taking a journey by train.  Where’s he going? I don’t know where he’s going, that’s not part of the story.  He’s just sitting there in the train car with his little suitcase, minding his own business, maybe watching the scenery go by, when suddenly –

– suddenly the door between cars opens, and a big burly guy swaggers in and plants himself in the middle of the aisle, and bellows “Are there any Jews in this car?”

Of course there’s dead silence, and of course our guy is frozen, because all his personal and cultural experience tells him that answering yes automatically to that question is not a survival-oriented behavior.

“Any Jews in this car?” the big man repeats, getting impatient – and he looks like the kind of man who gets angry when he’s impatient.

Except our guy is suddenly angry himself, because it’s not right that this kind of question should make him so afraid.

So he drops his suitcase on the floor, thump, and he gets to his feet and he shouts “Yes!  I’m a Jew!  What do you care?”

And the big man looks at him and beams like the sun coming up, and says “Chasdei Hashem!  Come with me, reb yid, we need a tenth for a minyan in the next car.”

Okay, I’ll bite, what do those words mean in English? (“Reb yid”, “chasdei hashem”, “minyan”)

Because I’m raised by a Lutheran Christian and a reform Jew and I don’t actually have a good grip on any culture to begin with.

Translations ahoy!

A minyan is a quorum of ten adults (in Orthodox and other more traditional circles, ten male adults), required for communal prayer.  Certain parts of the liturgy can only be said in communal prayer, which means it’s fairly common for a group of nine to be looking for a tenth.

Chasdei is the plural-possessive of chesed, which can be translated as “kindness".  Hashem literally means “the Name”, and it’s used as a stand-in for God’s name in casual conversation (which is to say, essentially any mention of God outside of prayer).  The phrase “chasdei Hashem” means “kindnesses of God”, more or less, and is used in the exclamatory sense of “God is good!” upon experiencing or hearing of good fortune.

Reb yid literally means “Rabbi Jew”, which sounds super weird in English and will call for some unpacking.  Reb is used in most Yiddish-speaking communities roughly the way sir is used in English; while its original meaning denotes a specific formal title, it also has a casual courtesy meaning that one uses instead of saying “hey you.”  Yid, when used by native Yiddish speakers, means not just “Jew” but “fellow Jew”.  The phrase together is thus used as polite address to a stranger whom the (Jewish) speaker knows to also be Jewish.

seeing the phrase “chasdei hashem” always makes me start singing miami boys choir, it’s a serious affliction. #dayschoolproblems
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tim drake’s snapchat is 90% him making bruce wayne do normal middle-class american things and filming the results. popular youtube compilations include the one where they’re at denny’s at two in the morning and tim keeps trying to get bruce to order a moon over my hammy just so he’ll have to say it, the one where they’re at disneyworld and bruce gets increasingly frazzled culminating in him actually physically picking up gaston for reasons no one can entirely recall, and everyone’s favorite series “bruce wayne doesn’t understand walmart”

having thought about it the best part is probably when a pranking fails because bruce has such a bizarre patchwork of knowledge/skills and it does not occur to him to hide most of it. tim puts a ghost pepper in bruce’s food but bruce just eats it like nothing is wrong. the same thing happens with the chocolate-covered crickets. it turns out bruce can lick his own elbow. bruce can lasso a runaway robot lawnmower like it’s a calf at a rodeo. whenever tim expresses shock that bruce knows how to do something he says “i did go to college, tim” as if that explains anything and it becomes a meme. whenever anyone does something fucking absurd it just gets tagged “i did go to college, tim”.

The camera came uncomfortably close to the face of a man ignoring it. He was very good at it. He was reading a book about, of all things, the history of denim. It was not the sort of book that made it easy to ignore cameras, but he remained stoic.

The caption said helpfully: [been doing this for 30 mins]

“Bruce. Bruce. Bruce. We need to go Walmart. Bruce. I need it.”

“Ask Alfred.”


“It’s a surprise for Alfred.”

“You can’t surprise Alfred.”

“Bruce, please.”


“It’s not a matter of permission, I’m saying you literally can’t surprise Alfred.”


[he hates when i say that]



“This is bullroar.”

Bruce finally set down his book with an expression of the most profound disgust.


[oh no now we’ll be here all day]

“—either curse or don’t, just commit one way or the other instead of—”


The camera took its time panning over a black BMW.

“Can I drive?”



[after this he took away my music privileges]

Bruce was driving, looking stoic again. His face lent itself well to stoicism. The radio played, at high volume, “Sandstorm” by Darude.


“I’ll play something different this time.”

“You had your chance and you blew it on a meme.”



“I’m boooored.”

“Hi, bored,” Bruce said, eyes still on the road, and Tim groaned loudly. “I don’t give a shit.”

The view shifted and audio clattered as Tim dropped the phone, barking a laugh.


The phone was wobbly as Tim followed Bruce into the store. “Can I get a trampoline?” he asked, camera pointed to one outside the store.

“We have three trampolines.”

“But I want that one.”


They were in the chip aisle. “Have you ever had a Dorito? One Dorito? In your whole life?”

“I am a person. I eat food for people.”


The camera followed a bag of Nacho Cheese Doritos into the cart.

“We’re not getting those.”

“We need to get sour cream, too.”


“You’ll love it.”



Tim had put the seatbelt of the cart’s seat, intended for toddlers, around a giant plastic jar of orange cheese puffs.

“I thought you were getting something for Alfred.”

“I’m getting groceries while we’re here.”

“None of this is food.”


[$3 pickles blowing his mind rn]

Bruce was holding a gallon jar of pickles with an expression of incredulity.

“—costs extra to not waste food?”

“It’s Walmart.”

“Even taking into account the economies of scale—”


[putting his degree to use in the pickle aisle]

“—it just makes no sense even as a loss leader, unless the goal is to drive the competition out of business and hope they don’t go bankrupt in the—”


[i think he’s buying a pickle company??]

Bruce had every appearance of furiously texting on his phone, or possibly composing emails.


[lmao he did]

Bruce was now on his phone, looking impassive as ever as he contemplated the giant jar of pickles.

“—the business itself is perfectly sound. Yes. Obviously. Dead serious. Look, if you—”


Tim put a gallon jug of ranch dressing into the cart.

“Absolutely not.”


Tim was in the frozen section, his reflection visible in the glass.

“I bet Alfred would love some pizza rolls.”

“Your lies demean us both, Tim.”


Bruce was standing in the toy aisle, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I understand the concept of blind boxes perfectly well, thank you.”

“Then why are you acting confused?”

“Why does Thomas the Tank Engine—”



Bruce was making a face of disgruntled bafflement at a display of baby clothes.

“—disturbed by the amount of aggressive heterosexuality being foisted on these babies.”

“Yeah,” Tim agreed. “What about the gay babies?”

“I can’t tell if you’re joking but I’m unironically concerned.”


[gotham pride]

The camera panned over a display of hero-themed hats. Most of the Batman hats had sold out, while the Superman display was nearly full. It panned back to Bruce, who was taking a picture with his own phone.

“Who you texting it to?”

“Friend in Metropolis.”

“Metropolis sucks.”

“Yes. Yes it does.”


[no escape]

The camera peered out slowly from behind a clothing display. Bruce was surrounded by enthusiastic and friendly women. It was impossible to tell what they were talking about.



Bruce was holding a dress up against himself. The women around him seemed delighted and were nodding their approval.


[i’ll strike while he’s distracted]

Tim dropped another two four-movie collections of Shrek on top of the considerable pile he’d already amassed. He panned up to check that Bruce had not caught him before grabbing another.



While Bruce put DVDs back on the shelf, Tim surreptitiously grabbed a Shrek coloring book.


[he’s gonna get a fish]

Bruce was frowning at the wall of fishtanks in silence. Finally he said, “These fish are very unhealthy.”



The man attempting to help Bruce looked baffled. Bruce gestured to the entire display of fish with a nod. The man shook his head. Tim brought his phone close to a betta, blue and red with a tattered and graying tail.

“We’re here to save you,” Tim stage-whispered to it.


Bruce was now engrossed in conversation with multiple employees.

“—if I bought some tanks — they’re much too small but as a temporary measure — we could transfer them directly and it might be less distressing for the fish.”

“Maybe I could get one of the big dolly carts from the back?” one young man suggested.


The low camera angle suggested Tim was trying to be surreptitious.

“—for trying to unionize is completely against the law,” Bruce was saying, his voice low. He was helping three other employees transfer fish into large plastic tanks.

“At-will employment,” one woman said.

“We’d have to prove that was why they fired us,” someone clarified. “Otherwise they can say it was for no reason.”

“You’re shitting me.”


“—fucking with my hours hoping I’ll quit.”

“What? Why?”

“If they fired me, they’d have to pay unemployment.”

“That’s why they won’t let me work full-time.”

“What the fuck.”


[omg he’s stealing the employees now]

“—in Gotham, but there’s more opportunities outside of manufacturing if you’re willing to move.”

“Wait, so do you mean like for management?”

“No, no, that’s the starting wage for someone working assembly, quality control, that kind of thing. We’re all unionized, none of this at-will bullshit.”

“So if I—”


The woman from earlier was showing Bruce her phone while the others continued moving fish.

“You painted this?” Bruce asked. She nodded. “That’s fantastic. Are you showing it anywhere? I know a guy with a gallery — actually I know pretty much everyone with an art gallery in Gotham. I think I have a friend who’d really love this, if you don’t mind me making some calls for you.”


Four more employees had joined the menagerie.

“—almost always hiring in Gotham. People are always moving to cities with fewer evil clowns.” Everyone laughed. Tim snorted. “Employee insurance totally covers acts of supervillainy, though.”


[trying to crush the revolution]

The employees had not dispersed. In the distance, someone managerial was talking to Bruce. He looked much less amused than Bruce did.



Tim had switched to the selfie camera, his face pure glee. He turned bodily to show the employees wheeling out tanks of fish out of the store, police lights in the parking lot.

“The manager tried to make Bruce leave but he insisted on paying for his fish and he wouldn’t stop giving people better jobs so the guy said it was corporate espionage and threatened to call the cops and Bruce called his bluff so he did it.”



Bruce was laughing with the police officers about something. The manager from earlier had been joined by men in suits. None of them looked happy. Some of the employees from earlier were yelling and flipping them off. One man pulled off the shirt of his uniform and started setting it on fire.


Bruce was on the phone in the parking lot.

“They’re small, most of them are tropical. You can figure out what they are when you get here. How is that racist? I’m not suggesting you already know them, I’m well aware you don’t personally know every single fish—”


“Either you take these fish or I toss them in the sewer and Killer Croc can eat them. It will be a merciful death compared to what they were getting. It doesn’t matter where I found them.”


[i’m not allowed near toxic waste]

Tim held the betta from earlier in front of his phone, bringing it dangerously close to Bruce’s face. Bruce had hung up, but seemed to be dialing another number.

“I’m keeping this one,” Tim said.


“If I drop him in toxic waste do you think he’ll get powers?”

“We’ve already had this discussion.”


[the pettiest man in gotham]

Bruce was on the phone again, looking out at the empty field beside the Walmart parking lot.

“Yeah, just buy the whole thing. Yeah. Absolutely sure. Green Market’s doing good, we’ll build another one of those. Can we put up a billboard while it’s under construction? A really big billboard.”


“First of all, if it’s in writing, it’s libel. Second, figures taken directly from their report to shareholders aren’t defamatory. What’s the most they could even sue me for? See, that’s nothing. Bad PR for them, good for us, it's—”


Tim had switched to the selfie camera again, and was using a sparkling purple filter that made his eyes look huge. He backed into Bruce so that Bruce’s face would be in the shot. “Bruce, look! You’re a pretty pretty princess!”

Bruce raised an eyebrow as he looked at his face on the screen. “I’m always a pretty princess,” he said seriously.


[he picked the music this time]

Bruce was driving again. He was listening to 100 Little Curses without any apparent irony. This did not mean there wasn’t any irony.


[i named him wally]

The Walmart betta was now in a tank that held at least a hundred gallons. His underwater castle was resplendent. His tail had grown in, a shimmering gradient of red and blue. Bruce could be seen in the background through the tank, sitting on the couch and reading a book.

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Question on Quora: Why is English the global language although it is not the most spoken native language?
Quora user: Long, intelligent response about the etymology of words and the commonalities between English and the many languages it's borrowed from.
Me: Once there was a tiny country called England that unzipped its trousers, peed all over everything it could find, and screamed, "MINE NOW!!"
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today at work i let someone into a dressing room and they said “thanks” and half of me tried to say “you’re welcome” and the other half tried to say “no problem” and i ended up saying “your problem”

this post had me in tears

I was hoping the notes would be full of similar stories, but they’re not, so I’ll add my story for anyone else looking for more laughs:

I had to go to a library to pay a fee and I was practicing in the car between “I have to pay a fine” and “I have to pay a fee” and I walked in and firmly stated “I have to pee” and slapped a five dollar bill on the counter (the fee was like ten cents), and walked out. This was like three years ago and I still haven’t been back,

My friend was driving and we were almost past our turnoff so I tried to say “quick” and “fast” at the same time and I ended up screaming “QUACK” which ended up with him judging me very hard and missing the turn

Recently someone in class asked me how I was doing and I started off saying I was good but switched to I’m okay in the middle and ended up saying “I’m gay.”

Which, while kind of accurate, was not what I meant to announce to my classmate.

This Halloween I was handing out candy and a child said “trick or treat” and I smiled gave them their candy and apparently my mouth betrayed me and I said “Merry Christmas” and proceeded to sit down and look up to the sky for answers while their mother laughed at me :)))))

I was switching between “Bye Deanna” and “Goodbye” and I ended up saying “Go Die”

Sometimes I try to say “I fucking love you” but it comes out in the wrong order and then everyone’s uncomfortable.

When I first started my coffee shop job, I was still getting used to greeting customers as they came in the door. A man walked in, and in the jumble of trying to say, “How are you doing?” and “What’s up?” I ended up demanding “What are you doing here?!”

something really cool happened once at the office and i started to say “i’m so amazed” but halfway through my mind changed to “that’s really amazing” and i just ended up saying “i’m really so amazing”

one time i was out in the woods in the spring when the birds were just beginning to come out again and i went to say “i’m so pumped for the birds” and “i’m so hyped for the birds” and instead i said “i’m so humped for birds”

Once I was walking to school and there was a guy walking his dog and the dog came to me and started sniffing me and I was in such a good mood and when I passed by his owner I wanted to say like “hello” or “good morning” or “cute dog” or something like that and I ended up looking up at him, smiling real big, and saying “thank you”. 

I was at the convenience store and I was going to buy a drink, but i dropped my keys and the drink when I got to the register so I got caught between “my drink!” and “my keys” and ended up screaming “MY KINK.”

I walked up to this register,in a target. When the cashier finished checking me out she said have a good day, and i wanted to say “You have a good day” and “You too” so it came out “You have a good do do”


This post is too good. I once tried to say have a nice day or have a good day to a customer and said ‘Have a nude gay!’. Still haven’t recovered.

OOC: i get really used to working nights or days at my work so i’m often jumbled between “have a nice night” and “have a good day” so often it comes out as “have a nice neigh” or “have a good date” or occasionally even “have a night die”

in first grade someone apologized to me and i responded by saying “you’re welcome” and i still haven’t recovered

one time while working at a summer camp I poured milk into some kids cereal looked him straight in the eye and said, “thank you”

I almost pissed myself

At my job I usually work the night shift, so when I work mornings I sometimes say “have a good night” at 9 AM

one time in primary school my class was playing number soccer and my friend got back in the line after losing their match and i tried to say ‘bad luck’ and ‘good try’ at the same time and it came out as ‘bad try’ and they haven’t let me live since then
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Fun Story: My director kept telling me and my tenor sax buddy to play softer. No matter what we did, it wasn’t soft enough for him. So getting frustrated, I told my buddy “Dont play this time. Just fake it” 

Our Band Director then informed us we sounded perfect. 

To my readers: “p” means quiet, “pp” means really quiet. I’ve never seen “pppp” before haha.

On the contrast, “f” means loud, and “ffff” probably means so loud you go unconscious.

I had ffff in a piece once and my conductor told me to play as loudly as physically possible without falling off my chair…

Me and my trombone buddies had “ffff” and he sat next to me and played so hard that he fell out of his chair.

The lengths we go for music.

Okay yeah so I play the bass clarinet and the amount of air you have to move and the stiffness of the reed means it only has two settings and that is loud and louder, with an optional LOUDEST that includes a 50% probability of HORRIBLE CROAKING NOISE which is the bass equivalent of the ubiquitous clarinet shriek.

One day, when I was in concert band in high school, we got a new piece handed out for the first time, and there was a strange little commotion back in the tuba section — whispering, and pointing at something in the music, and swatting at each other’s hands all shhh don’t call attention to it. And although they did attract the attention of basically everyone else in the band, they managed to avoid being noticed by the band director, who gave us a few minutes to look over our parts and then said, “All right, let’s run through it up to section A.”

And here we are, cheerfully playing along, sounding reasonably competent — but everyone, when they have the attention to spare, is keeping an eye on the tuba players. They don’t come in for the first eight measures or so, and then when they do come in, what we see is:

[stifled giggling]

[reeeeeeally deep breath]


The entire band stops dead, in the cacophonous kind of way that a band stops when it hasn’t actually been cued to stop. The band director doesn’t even say anything, just looks straight back at the tubas and makes a helpless sort of why gesture.

In unison, the tuba players defend themselves: “THERE WERE FOUR F’S.”

FFFF is not really a rational dynamic marking for any instrument, but for the love of all that is holy why would you put it in a tuba part.

This is the best band post 

Everyone else go home

Oh man, so I play trombone, and we got this piece called Florentiner Marsch by Julius Fucik, and we saw this

which is 8 fortes. We were shocked until,

that is 24 fortes who the fuck does that

Who does that?

This guy. Take a good look - that is the moustache of a man with nothing to lose.

Julius IdontgivaFucik

More like Julius Fuckit

this post just kept getting better and better

I’ve heard the 24 fs, it’s nothing special because most of the piece is practically 21 ps either that or the sane conductors I’ve seen treat it as play as loud a harmoniously possible.

Since we’re on the topic, Vivaldi, I know you masturbate to cellos and violins, but would it have killed you to give the harpsichord some fs?
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when i was a breeze i blew four dozen treesevery morning to strengthen my galesand now that i’m grown i just raze them with ease,so i’m seven times bigger than wales!

Just gonna leave this here… 
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wait do those tin can phones really work?? I thought this was all a myth.

I just looked up a video this is wild I’m making one tomorrow

in my high school Art 4 class while we were no doubt supposed to be getting ready for a Very important Art Show, two of my friends made one of these phones but instead of talking into it they would write messages and clip it to the string and slide it across the string to the other and when the art teacher asked why they said “we’re texting” and she could not BELIEVE it, this was the FUNNIEST thing she’d heard all year
so she got on her office phone and called the principal and said “two girls are texting in my classroom I need you to come take their phones and issue them detentions” and we all waited like assholes for him to show up and when he asked where they were she gestured at my friends “texting” on their tin can phone and my principal was already a pretty tired dude but that was the most exhausted I think he ever looked.
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That’s hilarious.
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I love how it’s “The Strange Case of Doctor Jekyll and MISTER Hyde” as in, yeah, they are basically two sides of the same person but only ONE has a doctorate

#unless your bitch ass second personality helped you write that thesis it is your fucking doctorate 
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“really?” I say to inanimate objects that are not working like they usually do

“Stay.” I glare at inanimate objects that continuously fall over

“Thank you!” I say exhasperatedly to the inanimate objects when they do finally work right/stay put

“Sorry! I say to the table I bumped into

“SHHH” I say to the inanimate object that keeps making noise

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” I huff at the persistent kitchen timer.

“Don’t take that tone with me!” I exclaim at objects that make strange and sudden unknown noises.

“Stop crying, you’re fine,” I snap as I’m looking for the charger cord for the electronic device beeping demandingly at me.

“Oh nice, real mature,” I snarl at devices that suddenly stop working after I berate them for not working properly.


“Just shut up,” I groan when the alarm clock across the room goes off.

“No, no, don’t be dead,” I plead with the infamous Blue Screen of Death

“I trusted you,” I whisper, staring at the app that just restarted and deleted everything that I spent two hours writing with tears in my eyes.

“SHUT UP!” I screech as i accidentally walk into the same table for the fifth time in as many minutes. It’s not making any noise, but the sentiment still applies.
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