kvothe-kingkiller:

violent-darts:

the-desolated-quill:

anal-sneeze:

A man is driving down the road and breaks down near a monastery. He goes to the monastery, knocks on the door, and says, “My car broke down. Do you think I could stay the night?”

The monks graciously accept him, feed him dinner, even fix his car. As the man tries to fall asleep, he hears a strange sound.

The next morning, he asks the monks what the sound was, but they say, “We can’t tell you. You’re not a monk.”

The man is disappointed but thanks them anyway and goes about his merry way.

Some years later, the same man breaks down in front of the same monastery.

The monks accept him, feed him, even fix his car. That night, he hears the same strange noise that he had heard years earlier.

The next morning, he asks what it is, but the monks reply, “We can’t tell you. You’re not a monk.”

The man says, “All right, all right. I’m *dying* to know. If the only way I can find out what that sound was is to become a monk, how do I become a monk?”

The monks reply, “You must travel the earth and tell us how many blades of grass there are and the exact number of sand pebbles. When you find these numbers, you will become a monk.”

The man sets about his task. Forty-five years later, he returns and knocks on the door of the monastery. He says, “I have traveled the earth and have found what you have asked for. There are 145,236,284,232 blades of grass and 231,281,219,999,129,382 sand pebbles on the earth.”

The monks reply, “Congratulations. You are now a monk. We shall now show you the way to the sound.”

The monks lead the man to a wooden door, where the head monk says, “The sound is right behind that door.”

The man reaches for the knob, but the door is locked. He says, “Real funny. May I have the key?”

The monks give him the key, and he opens the door.

Behind the wooden door is another door made of stone.

The man demands the key to the stone door.

The monks give him the key, and he opens it, only to find a door made of ruby.

He demands another key from the monks, who provide it.

Behind that door is another door, this one made of sapphire.

So it went until the man had gone through doors of emerald, silver, topaz, and amethyst.

Finally, the monks say, “This is the last key to the last door.”

The man is relieved to no end.

He unlocks the door, turns the knob, and behind that door he is amazed to find the source of that strange sound.

But I can’t tell you what it is because you’re not a monk

Originally posted by disneyasastrology

BWAHAHAHAHAH. 

the way i learned this, it was always told through spoken word. And you’d do the door thing for ages. AGES. literally just making up any old material. ‘behind the foam door is a door made of spinach’ that kind of shit. Go on until whoever is listening has already begged you to stop and has now gone on to pleading, clutching your shirt on their knees pleading. And when you finally said the last line? People went fucking nuts Like there was a good chance of just getting the teeth knocked out of you after telling that joke.

A friend of mine did that shit for 30 minutes on a camp once. The entire fucking bus just exploded in anger when she finished. It was a fucking massacre. 

(Source: wagecucks, via yea-lets-do-this-shit)

malfvoys:

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this is the best twitter story i’ve seen in ages

(via slyrider)

anais-ninja-blog:

mathylibrarian:

thassalia:

vintar:

katschy:

vintar:

thegoodfightingdoctor:

vintar:

i used to get self-conscious over the smallest things but friends let me tell you that today i had to smuggle a furious 8ft python onto the bus during the school rush and not a single person noticed. not one. if people don’t care enough to notice a shopping bag writhing and seething with barely-contained reptilian hatred then i promise you that no-one will pay any attention to that blemish you’re fretting about or how you’ve done your hair

Question, why are you bringing a 8 ft python into a public bus? You know that this reptile can kill anyone inside there?

buddy she’s a snake not a flying death tentacle

snakes are not evil killers out for blood, and length doesn’t mean lethality! my biggest guy is 11 ft– if i have him around my neck, both his face and his tail touch the floor– and even his species struggles to take down anything bigger than a small-to-medium dog

the worst damage that my 8fter is capable of is when she decides to do an impression of a blood-pressure cuff and makes my arm go a bit purple, and even that’s just when i humour her dreams of being big and scary and let her squeeze her hardest before i unwind her like a bratty garden hose

as long as you’re not some sort of magical tumblring rat, you’re fine

Okay, I gotta ask…

1. Why was she angry?

2. Where were you taking her on the bus? Is there a leash-free snake park where you live?

I need to know.

1. she’s a cranky ass in general, but her mood was absolutely not improved by eating a bit of a snake hook, getting stuffed in a sack, experiencing an hour of adelaide’s finest public transport, and having a vet jam a tube into her stomach

2. i think all of australia is technically a leash-free snake park tbh

I am so glad there was follow up on this post explaining why the snake was on the bus!!!

“bratty garden hose” I’m dying

All of Australia is a leash-free snake park.

(via yea-lets-do-this-shit)

"But I will say the most drunk I’ve ever been was when I had moonshine, and it wasn’t the first time I’d ever had it, but I’d never had a lot of it ‘cause my step-dad was like ‘here’s a pinch of moonshine’ and I was like ‘I don’t like this’.
But I drank a bunch with my neighbor and then we ate, it was peach moonshine and they had a peach soaking in it, and we ate the peach. And what I remember from that night is literally not a damn thing. But I woke up the next morning, there was dirt in my bed and I had stolen a hymnal from a nearby church.
So the lesson here, kids, is please drink responsibly. Don’t break and enter into the house of the Lord."

— Molly (@ofgeography) on responsible drinking, from the most recent episode of Wait Wait What’s Icing? @waitwaitwhatsicing
(via thatwasfunwhileitlasted)

(via ofgeography)

stability:

as much as I love my mom I would let this woman adopt me

(via clockwork-mockingbird)

primarybufferpanel:

sacrificethemtothesquid:

So today started out dumb, but this afternoon was AWESOME.

I’m on the porch attempting to construct a railing for the stairs when I notice a weird noise. Like, a kind of droning or buzzing? And it’s getting loud. So I investigate. It’s coming from the neighbor’s yard. 

It is a metric fuckton of bees. I have never seen so many bees in my life. It is a fucking swarm of bees, and I have been reading about bees because I got a wild hair a few weeks back about wanting a hive of my own, but haven’t yet convinced Husbandthing, and there is suddenly a SWARMING HERD OF WILD HONEYBEES IN THE NEIGHBOR’S YARD.

I see postings on the neighborhood page all the time for feral swarm collection, but I also know the guy in the house across the alley just set up a hive. “Hey I think your hive escaped,” I text him. 

He calls me back about three minutes later. Turns out, the swarm he was supposed to get never came; the company went out of business and his order got cancelled, and he’d found out HALF AN HOUR AGO. And he says he’s got a friend who is a professional beekeeper, and he’s going to go pick her up and would it be okay if they came and got this swarm please please please?

So Bee Neighbor and Professional Beekeeper show up and immediately don bee suits. Apparently there is fierce competition for feral swarms, and the swarm in the neighbor’s tree is HUGE, and also twenty feet off the ground, and Bee Neighbor wants them very badly. 

The tree the bees are in is in a yard belonging to neither of us, so we go knock on the door, but there’s no answer. I knock on the house adjacent to it, but that guy’s not home either. Finally, I text the neighbor on the other side of me to see if he’s got contact info for the property owner, who is incredibly shy and in three years has never made eye contact. No luck. 

So…we trespass. We get my extension ladder, and Bee Neighbor climbs the tree while Professional Beekeeper stands on the ladder and walks him through the swarm collection. Turns out, you just shake the swarm into a box, and as long as the queen makes it into the box, the rest of the swarm will eventually follow. Bee Neighbor has never collected a swarm before (this is, in fact, his very first swarm of bees ever) and it takes the two of them the better part of an hour in the tree trying to shake the swarm into the box. 

Bees eventually get into the box. Bee Neighbor gets out of the tree without dying, and Professional Beekeeper examines the swarm and makes pleased noises. At this point, the box is the neighbor’s driveway, and about two thirds of the swarm is still milling around the box all confused. Since the neighbor isn’t home and we can’t contact him, he risks coming and parking right in the middle of a huge cloud of bees. Professional Beekeeper doesn’t want to move the box too far away, because we risk the milling bees losing the queen’s scent and never going into the box. An equidistant point between the current location and Bee Neighbor’s yard is the top of my recycling bin. 

So they put the box of bees on my recycling bin, and I text Husbandthing.

Now I have a box of bees that I am babysitting. They’re being all lazy and dopey and bumbling around. I think I might be in love. Bee Neighbor will pick the box up later tonight and put them in his hive, and then the bees will be MY neighbors too!!

THIS HAS BEEN THE BEST DAY EVER

#beekeeping #also we left a note on the absent neighbor’s door #hi sorry we trespassed #but as you can see from your security cam footage #there was a giant cloud of bees #and we came and got them #we figured you did not want a yard full of bees #and we will love them #yours very sincerely #the friendly neighborhood bee team [Tags by @sacrificethemtothesquid]

thetaillesseventer:

thesacredreznor:

chemtrail-liker:

kasaneteto:

loloman23:

whys zenyatta the new “uwu hes such a cute cinnamon roll” character on tumblr now

it took me a second to realize you were talking about overwatch cause at first i assumed you were talking about the retired racehorse.

why do you know a racehorse by name

Listen you, Zenyatta fucking dominated a few years ago when she was racing. She’s one of, if not the greatest racehorse in my lifetime. She won 19 consecutive races on her 20 race career. (She came in second in her final race. Lost by a few inches. Mike Smith, her jockey, broke down crying afterwards and blamed himself for the loss.)

Watching her was an incredible, exhilarating experience. Seriously look up any of her races on YouTube. She was an amazing closing finisher. She’d be dead last until the very end before just blowing past her competition and leaving them all in her dust at the last moment.

She also had serious fucking personality. Before each race she would prance and paw at the ground, like a human athlete limbering up before competition. The most star quality I’ve ever seen from a horse.

I am literally the most casual horse racing fan you’d ever meet but yeah, I know Zenyatta by name. Also I have not a fucking clue who this Zenyatta character tumblr likes is. So you know, to each their own.

This post is a gem.

(Source: parkerssblog, via menderash)

Every year I am abruptly reminded of exactly which blogs I follow are run by people who live in Europe (or Australia, or a small handful of other pertinent countries) when they all go simultaneously batshit insane.

voxeterna1:

So ,I’m a music teacher and every year we have what are called “walk through observations”. Basically, this means that 4 times a year the principal or vice principal comes into my class to assess my teaching. Fine. Sure. No problem.
Well, today I was doing an activity with my 1st graders called “Musical Groceries”. Basically, they make up a fake shopping list and then together we figure out what the rhythm of the words on the list is. To do that, a small group of students plays the beat on the conga drum while the rest of the students move around the room while chanting the word. It sounds weird but it’s a great way for the kids to figure out the relationship between syllables and rhythm.
They quickly get bored of walking the rhythm so I let them come up with their own ways of moving around the room.( skipping, hopping, etc) One student suggested they hop around the room like frogs, way down low to the ground. Okay fine.
Or it was fine until my vice principal walked in to do my observation only to find 20 seven year olds hopping around the room like a hoard of little hob-goblins, rhythmically chanting “BREAD! BREAD! BREAD!” while five other kids played ominous beats in a drum circle.
I have never seen anyone look so confused in my life and I really don’t want to know the rating I got on my observation.

(via skymurdock)

kyraneko:

radioactivepeasant:

lafemmedefandom:

radioactivepeasant:

lafemmedefandom:

radioactivepeasant:

Well out of the blue I just remembered today the time I accidentally joined the cast of a production of The Princess Bride….in the middle of the production.

And you’re gonna just leave us there

I mean, if you guys wanna hear the story, it is a pretty fun one

Originally posted by yourreactiongifs

Okay, so this is what happened,

Some years ago (6? 7 years ago, I think?) there was a pirate exhibit at the state museum. We had actual artifacts from the Queen Anne’s Revenge, creepy wax dummies, historical costumes etc, it was awesome.

I was really into Pirates of the Caribbean at the time, because I played the mmorpg with some high school friends of mine (and some of their parents sometimes, who also got addicted to it), so of course when they announced “Pirate Night at the Museum”, in which visitors were encouraged to dress up, I was over the moon. So I’m there with my friends, my parents, and my sisters, running around the exhibits after the museum is technically closed.

They replaced the creepy wax dummies with people in costume at this point, and it was pretty epic.

The highlight of the night would be a showing of The Princess Bride. The movie would play on the big screen while actors would be on a stage below, acting the whole thing out word for word and shot for shot as it happened. Any audience members who knew lines were encouraged to shout them out as they heard them.

Here’s the thing. My parents love that movie. Like you don’t understand they were quoting it to us in its entirety when we were still in highchairs. I could reenact the battle of wits scene before I ever actually watched it. So my family sits in the front row, behind the railing, quoting everything right along with the actors and film.

And then comes the part in the Pit of Despair with the Albino.
And the cast didn’t have anyone on the stage with Wesley
I don’t know if the Albino couldn’t make it that night, or if they’d never cast him, but it was really weird to see Wesley just lying on the stage awkwardly while the Albino is supposed to be treating his injuries.

I started twitching. My mom and sister look at me and they’re like “do it.” And one of the ushers is like “you know the part? do it”

So I launch over the railing, run up onto the stage, and take over from there, doing my best impression of the character. Being that I was a 5′2″ blonde girl in a corset and puffy sleeves, Wesley had some trouble keeping a straight face.

Then they got to the scene with Humperdink telling the guard to clear out the Thieves’ Forest, and…they didn’t have the guard either. So my twin sister up in the audience is like “hang on, I got this” and then she launches over the railing to make sure Humperdink isn’t just sitting awkwardly talking to thin air.

This meant that yes, I got bopped on the noggin by Fezzik, and yes, my sister got to do the
Give us the key.”
What key?”
Fezzik, tear his arms off.”
Oh, you mean this key!” 

They made up stay on stage and take a bow with the cast when it was over, it was hilarious. Then the next year, since they still had the exhibit, the museum called my sister and was like, “So….that was super fun last year. Do you and your sister want to be audience plants and do it again this year?”

The answer, naturally, was heck yes. Since we had new volunteers playing Count Rugen and Inigo this time, this also led to my sister actually choreographing their fight scene herself. Which was awesome.

That is fucking amazing.

(via windbladess)