Rise Up, Oh Heart, For There is Another Battle to Win

theworldasweknowit16 asked: Will you please me a funny story? I got dumped yesterday, and I think a story will make me feel better

leupagus:

ofgeography:

oh man. listen, @theworldasweknowit16​ first of all, as evidenced by the fact that i am only answering this now, i hope that someone way funnier and WAY better at managing their inbox was able to make you laugh when you needed it. hopefully by this point you don’t even need dumb, tardy ol’ molls ofgeo who has turned up to her own comedy special 25 minutes late with a box of donuts and gets belligerent with the audience when they don’t appreciate her turning all the lights off and making them watch all 8 episodes of the blue planet, consecutively.

• “THIS WILL MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER!!!! SHUT UP AND LET DAVID ATTENBOROUGH TALK!!!!“ - me, almost certainly getting fired and definitely not getting any royalties
  

anyway, the point is, i’m very sorry that your relationship ended. that sucks, buddy. for what it’s worth, i think there are bigger things out there for you. single or doubled up, i think you’re gonna be amazing. 

ANYWAY, i don’t have any funny, like, ~breakup stories~ because although i know this will come as a shock to all of you, since i am incredibly charming and not at all neurotic, i haven’t had that many relationships that were serious enough that somebody needed to like, Officially End them??

that being said, i have seen destruction in my time, so this story is about the time @urgirlmontana and i walked in on a robbery-in-progress and tried to buy some wine. 

so the thing you have to know about me is that fundamentally, to my core, the only thing i really want out of life is to never be gauche or rude, ever, ever. every single one of the mistakes that haunt my dreams are times where i blithely said or did something that violated a rule i didn’t know or maybe just forgot.

• i live in constant fear of getting sent to the Principal’s Office of Life, where i imagine an old lady with all of the characteristics of a cat i once had (half an ear, a snaggletooth) makes me sit in detention highlighting all the parts of Emily Post that i don’t have memorized.*
• *so like, all of Emily Post. what was the final word about elbows on the table?

the other thing you have to know about me is that i really, really love wine.

luckily for me, there is a convenience store within a couple blocks of where i live that sells two of my favorite things: junk food and wine. and it’s not like i live in a bad part of chicago; like, chicago is chicago but i live in a pretty quiet neighborhood. i mean, i know the neighborhood dogs by name, you know what i’m saying? 

• my favorite is named maggie she’s a black lab she loves me and if there was a god she would be mine. i mean–what?
• haha.
• just jokes.

my point here is i never think twice about leaving my house at night to pop to the store or go for a walk or go to this all-night diner place that is like, for sure gonna give me some kind of terrible disease but makes surprisingly good milkshakes. and i extra never think twice if i have someone with me! it’s the buddy system! nothing ever goes wrong when you use the buddy system.

literally the only child at that summer camp NOT destined to die in a terrible water-related accident. DID WE LEARN NOTHING FROM THE MANDATORY SCREENING OF THE BLUE PLANET?

so off we go to purchase our late-night booze & candy–my candy vice of choice at the time was a 3 Musketeers bar–and the short but brisk walk gave me just enough time to like, really get into the zone in terms of thinking about the food i was going to get. like you know when you’re preparing to buy candy and even thought you’re a grown ass adult who can spend however much you want to on whatever the hell you want to, there’s still that tiny voice in the back of your head that sounds like your mom that’s like you can get ONE of those ten candy bars in your hand? 

anyway, we get to the store and when we walk in there’s a guy standing right in front of the door. he’s got his arm extended and he’s holding on to another guy who is also standing in front of the door, and honestly, my first reaction was like, “rude??? this is an entryway and an exit??? move like 7 inches to stand in front of the cheese.”

• except don’t stand in front of the cheese. i may want some of that later.
  

my second reaction was: wow, that dude is covered in blood.

now, you would THINK that at this point, my third thought would be something along the lines of, “ABORT ABORT ABORT,” but because of that thing where i never want to be rude to anybody, ever, i instead panicked about Blood Guy noticing me staring at him. so i averted my eyes and skittered past them pretending like i hadn’t noticed.

• “HAHA, BLOOD? WHAT BLOOD? I DIDN’T SEE ANY BLOOD. I WAS LASER-FOCUSED ON THIS SHIRAZ.”
  

when we got to the back of the store where the wine was–and i would like to say, in our defense, nobody actually IN the store at ANY point was like, “don’t come in, we’re busy robbing this establishment,” or even, “if you’re going to be here you have to contribute.” they just sort of let us go to the back of the store and loudly debate what kind of wine we wanted. 

while montana read off labels and prices, i wandered up the candy aisle, thinking to myself that i was soooo great for letting that guy bleed without staring at him or making him uncomfortable. like, we’ve all bled profusely in convenience stores before, haven’t we? no need to make him feel uncomfortable.

“um,” montana said suddenly. 

“what?”

she pointed. the entire front of the store looked like it had been the victim of the home alone kid. shelves were upended, that weird vat of soup i don’t trust was splashed everywhere, and the very sweet young man who works the register was standing kind of frozen behind the counter, alternating looking at Blood Guy and then back at us. 

nobody said anything. it was like all five of us realized at the same time that we had walked in and not noticed what was happening. but like!!! who eXPECTS A ROBBERY? nobody expects a robbery. that’s why they’re effective!!!!

“i don’t…think they’re going to let us buy wine,” said montana.

here’s the thing: how do you get out of a store that’s being robbed but doesn’t…seem interested in robbing you? well, i don’t know what Emily Post would tell you to do, but what we did was put the candy and wine back (IN THEIR PROPER PLACE, because we’re not assholes) and just……excused ourselves.

literally, we just walked back to the door, told everybody goodnight, and left. and like, they let us go? nobody stopped us? i’m pretty sure the sweet boy that mans the register said “have a nice night”? 

“so…….wanna go somewhere else?” i asked as a police car pulled up and two cops ran into the store. 

“sure,” montana said. “i could go for some pop tarts.”

HOW ARE YOU NOT DEAD YET

duhdean:

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duhdean:

omg this dude is like yelling a phone conversation outside im pretty sure his gf is breaking up with him 

i have discovered her name is sarah and he “loves her so fucking much” and that “these words should not be leaving her mouth right now”

this has been going on for like an hour he just keeps going around in circles

i think its finally over because he just screamed and threw is phone

now hes cursing up at the gods and petting his own hair i feel like i should do something

hes like walking around screaming and sobbing and cursing idk what to do

i just yelled out the window “its okay dude dont worry you’ll find someone else” and he went totally silent i dont think he knows where my voice came from because he looks really freaked out now …what have i done 

HE JUST SCREAMED “HOW DO YOU KNOW?!” WHAT DO I DO I STILL DONT THINK HE KNOWS WHERE MY VOICE IS COMING FROM BC IM SCREAMING FROM MY UPSTAIRS BATHROOM

OH MY GOD I PANICKED AND REPLIED WITH “because you are a very good looking young man and any woman would be lucky to have you” I SOUND LIKE A FUCKING GRANDMA

he seems satisfied with this reply

i think i actually calmed him down he seems almost okay now

he just picked up his phone i think hes going home now. i hope his phone is okay

goodbye random heartbroken dude i wish you luck on your journey home.. wherever your home may be

(via thepainofthesass)

agavebadger asked: Could I ask about the drunk zombie geese story that only 35% happened?

vrabia:

Ah yes, the drunk zombie geese story.

This one only 35% happened because it happened to my grandparents’ neighbours like 50 years ago and I heard it from my dad. So since there are so many go-betweens that I can’t personally guarantee to you that this otherwise exceptionally hilarious story is true, I’m going to play it safe with modest percentages.

Also, it involves mentions of dead animals (spoilers: they’re not really dead, which is kind of the point as you’ll see) SO if this is something that upsets you, it’s probably best if you don’t read it.

Like pretty much all of my other rl stories, this one also involves Evil Commie Land and food shortages, except it takes place in a village. The thing with romantic countryside living in Evil Commie Land is that it was both worse and better than living in the city. It was worse because the State took your land and declared it Official State Land and then made you work on it and only gave you a fraction of what you produced, and that pissed people off (we’ll get to that in a bit); but also better because you could raise some chickens and maybe a pig or two for yourself, so you wouldn’t have to go around working the Official State Land while malnourished.

Once upon a time when my dad was a small, carefree and, judging by this story, a tad impressionable child, my grandparents’ neighbours had a bunch of lovely geese which they loved because these geese laid eggs on the regular and occasionally became soup. And the way they kept these geese fed was, like pretty much everyone else, they’d let them loose to graze on Official State Land while the administrators either looked the other way or were forced to confront a cheerful, intractable innocence of the ‘Why comrade, they’re just a bunch of dumb animals that wander off sometimes’ variety.

So these geese would go out in the morning, spend the whole day eating and then come back home in the evening the same way they’d gone, which they knew by heart because they’d been doing this every single day of their placid lives. These geese didn’t get lost because they weren’t smart enough. So one evening when they didn’t show up, my grandparents’ neighbours went looking for them, and about halfway they found the whole flock lying limp, motionless and apparently very dead in the dirt. Cue oh no, our beautiful birds, what shall we do come winter etc. etc.

What they didn’t know was that someone in the village had made moonshine that day and thrown away the leftovers - we’re talking fruit that’s been fermented to shit in a giant barrel for weeks, distilled twice in someone’s basement and then thrown out in a ditch with other leftovers. So any wandering, say, birds that were used to taking their lunch anywhere they could find it might be excused for helping themselves.

The geese weren’t dead. The geese were blackout drunk.

In the absence of this knowledge though, my grandparents’ neighbours thought their birds had been struck dead by some terrible insta-kill virus and decided that, food shortages be damned, they’re not about to eat things that had died in such mysterious circumstances. But this was also a time when people had learned to waste as little as possible. So my grandparents’ neighbours picked up every goose and, with minimal physical contact, plucked them. But like, not completely. They just took the little soft down feathers that are so nice and comfortable in pillows and left the patchy, half-plucked and still apparently super-dead geese in a ditch outside village limits.

And as the story goes, the geese woke up sometime the next day, decided that since they were in surroundings other than they familiar yard it meant that they probably had gone out to graze, so they ate for a while and then went home as usual. So now imagine a bunch of patchy, half-plucked, supposedly dead as fuck geese that the entire village had heard about because my grandparents’ neighbours were really upset. Imagine them waddling home all well-fed and chill and completely oblivious of people’s utter horror because zombie fucking geese

Hungover zombie geese.

So, that’s the story. Presumably.

Today I became a Jedi

drossna:

So, I work at a movie theater…

And when you work at a movie theater, there’s a myriad of jobs you can be given. My favourite by far is running theater checks, which is basically following a list and making sure that all the screens are running A-okay the entire day, ducking in and out of theaters, and occasionally radioing in if something is wrong–I get paid to watch movie trailers for eight hours–and its glorious.

Then Star Wars comes out and everything is thrown into chaos. The AVX theaters are constantly packed, fans swirl around the lobby in their cloaks and robes, children have lightsaber duels in the arcade, and you have lines in the hall twenty-people-strong of guests trying to snag the perfect seats. To level with you, it’s pretty amazing and magical.

Naturally, any theater showing Star Wars gets put on priority for theater checks–God forbid something happen to mess up your perfect viewing experience, I understand. 

When you do theater checks, you need to make sure that the picture is framed correctly, all the guests are quiet, and that the sound for the film is playing properly. You listen to a the first few notes of the opening logos and boom you’re free to move on. 

The first bit of audio for The Force Awakens is the earth-shattering and iconic Theme that plays as the yellow text scrolls into its starry infinity. 

After seeing the opening to the film for the up-teenth time, I could predict without fail exactly when the music would cue up, and I would often snap my fingers just for laughs, as if I were the one making the music play on command.

It’s my last Star Wars check of the day. I’m standing in the front, ready to go down the list.

In the aisle seat next to me is this kid, and I can see him staring at me behind his 3-D glasses, kids pack of popcorn clutched in his hands.

I give him a little wave, and he waves back. He won’t stop staring at me though, maybe because its just so scandalous to see someone stand in a movie theater.

The theater hushes. On-screen, the Lucasfilm logo glints–and here people clap, I’m still confused about that–fades, and is replaced by ‘a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away’ in blue.

The kid is still staring, and I think, You know what, what the heck?

The blue text fades.

 I count, “One Mississippi, two Missip–”

Right before the music blares, I thrust my hand out Force-wielder style, fingers splayed with effort, and the walls vibrate with the opening chords of the Theme.

The kid’s eyes go wide like saucers. Ignoring the opening scroll completely, he mouths to me, “You can Force?”

I nod at him. Hell yeah I can Force, kid. Hell fucking yeah

tldr: I used my intense movie theater knowledge to convince a kid I was a Jedi.

(via fuckyeahisawthat)

sad-jew-with-cake:

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.

(via johanirae)