Do you ever eat popcorn out of the palm of your own hand with such ardent desperation that you feel like both a wild horse and the gentle schoolgirl feeding it treats to gain its affection 

Hey there guys. It’s me, in 2022, commenting on this post from 2016. There’s been a lot of people on this site lately being like “oooh no don’t make viral uwu I’m so pathetic, little, and defenseless and my poor notifications can’t handle 10k reblogs” well first of all ALL of us are pathetic, little, and defenseless and secondly none of our notifications can handle 10k reblogs and thirdly I’m not a coward and I think this should have a million notes. Not because of its own merit as a post, I just think it’d be funny if when I turn 30 this year and I reflect on the greatest accomplishments of my life thus far, I have to at least consider putting “famous tumblr popcorn post” on the list

Hey there guys. It’s me, in 2023, in May specifically, I’m 30 and for the record it rules, I had a lil aging crisis and now I’m past that and I’m just like goddamn it is great being in my thirties and I had a wonderful birthday NO THANKS TO YOU GUYS

actually, much thanks to you guys. Some of you were inspiringly crazy about this post. Frankly you worked harder for this than I did, and your efforts were touching and inspiring and funny and yet we STILL FAILED. GUYS WE GOTTA PUT OUR EYES BACK ON THE BALL. We have ehhh about six months before I turn the big three-one, which is actually the most important birthday because now you’re in your thirties For Real, and I personally can’t think of a better way to ring in my 31st year of life than by trying and failing to do something that I was hoping to knock out in my twenties.

Wizard: Oh, I like your Goblin detecting sword! That's funny.

Goblin who thought they just had a cool glowing sword: ... My what now?

i dont think i posted these but here i made a little frog pattern to make tiny frog toys with my grandma

this is the first lil guy I made while still learning how i should sew it

AAA ok so a lot of people have been asking for the pattern to this, tho I’ve been using just these two little papers to do the cut outs lol

i tried my best to translate it into digital so that people get a bit more accurate look at them. Tho bear with me I’ve never done an actual pattern design sheet before!

so basically my hope is that anyone could print these out to any size of their choosing and get the same result, but ive never tried anything larger than approx. 3 inches with these sooo idk if you try it tag me!

the goal is to sew the backs together to the lines at the tip of the head to the middle of the butt. then leaving a space along the belly piece near the butt end and sewing from one side of the butt including all the legs and the “mouth” to the other side with its legs to get back to the butt. if that makes sense

i usually pause sewing up the body once the head is fully sewn together,, usually after ive sewn both arms and ill yank it inside out where ill start sewing on the little poofball eyes so i know theyre in a good place, then resuming the body, and then pulling the whole thing inside out and pushing out the tips of the limbs with a skinny blunt object like a dull pencil until i can see the stitches. if you attempt this piece definitely make sure you stitch up the arm and leg crevices very well!!!!

then just stuff the lad and sew up his back end and its done :)

one suggestion for fabric is always try to use a stretchy soft fleecy fabric with these because its much easier if mistakes are made during sewing and to hold the ROUND shape better

Overall its a very good use of scraps if you’ve accumulated a lot and don’t know what to do with them 👍👍

So I made a frog (huge)

I literally can’t I’m losing my mind over the sheer girth of this frog.

Absolutely incredible.

11/10 and godspeed.

This post has absolutely everything I could ever want.

rb to give the person u rb'd this from transgender swag

being a writer like: ok get all your ideas together and start writing!

nope, that’s too many ideas. put some ideas back. no honey that’s still too many. pick fewer. pick fewer ideas

When you buy too many ideas and they sit at the back of the fridge expiring

Or in the Storage Unit that you’re still paying to keep open for storing all the ideas then rummage through them to see which ones are still good and which ones you might need to throw out.

*opens my garage which is piled to the ceiling with cardboard boxes overspilling with google docs and crumbled sticky notes*

*slowly closes garage door and goes to read/watch something*

(goes back to the garage eventually to grab ONE of the ideas, but it’s between a bunch of other ideas and by trying to pull said idea out everything falls down on you at once)

reblog to send your writer friends a pat on the back and to let them know you're proud of them. a tremendous writer. you got this

self-indulgent cause i have so many writing projects and i am sure there are a bunch of other writers who could benefit from a little random love on the dash so there you go . you guys got this

I know a few writers, RPers and Dungeon Masters that follow me, you guys are the goat. I love y'all's faces and wish you the best in any and all of your projects <3

Also hydrate yourself >.>

No, sorry, that footnote is wrong, and you get to be one of today’s lucky 10000 who learn something new. (Unless you don’t want to, in which case you can skip this reply, I suppose.)

A ream of paper does not weigh the same as its basis weight, unless you’re using super-large sheets. The basis weight is calculated from 500 sheets of the paper before it is cut into the sale size. (That is, great big poster-size sheets.) For almost all standard paper sizes, that means a ream as sold in stores is one quarter of the basis weight. For 140-pound paper, that would be about 35 pounds, which is heavy for a pack of paper but not unbelievably so. (140 pounds is a plausible approximate average weight for college students! Paper can be surprisingly heavy but not that heavy!)

A quick check on Amazon confirms this — a pad of 12 sheets of 140 lb hot-press watercolor paper, size 11.69x16.53 inches, has a ship weight of 15.8 ounces. 15.8 ounces per package × 500 sheets per ream/12 sheets per package × 1 pound/16 ounces is 41.146 pounds per ream. That’s a bit higher than the 35 pounds I predicted, but the ship weight includes the weight of the front and back cover sheets (the back probably being made of cardboard) and a plastic wrapping, none of which is included in the measurement of the raw paper; it’s not surprising that duplicating that the 40 or so times it would take to make a ream from packages would increase the weight to make up the 18% difference.

(This calculation is not always true of art paper, because high-quality non-office-size papers are sometimes manufactured in sheets which are not the usual 4-times-the-saleable-product size, but it’s the most common ratio in the US. In fact, you can certainly get 140 lb hot-press watercolor paper in smaller sizes, which must be less than a quarter of a manufactured sheet. But it’s certainly true for just ordinary letter-sized office paper, which is the most common size: a ream of letter-size copier paper is something like 4 to 6 pounds, not 18 to 24, even though the latter is the standard range of basis weights for copier paper, and a carton, which is 10 reams, is usually about 50 to 60 pounds.)

Ta-daa! Now you know way more about paper weights than you ever wanted to!

Man, the paper fandom is intense. I don't know if i can get into all this lore

WE DIDNT START THE FIRE

I lived and worked in a lighthouse at a previous job.  There was a thick line painted in a circle around the shack where the fog signal was kept.  The line represented how close you could get to the fog signal without experiencing physical harm in the form of eardrums shattering or worse.

Even in the house it was LOUD.  Probably the loudest thing I have ever experienced but at a normal, predictable interval.  You would begin to time your sentences with little pauses with the rest of the lighthouse crew so you would talk like this while making your………..HORN…………. tea and then carry on talking because you knew when it would go off.  It rattled the walls and the dishes in our cabinet.

At least one girl had died there. They kept photos of her everywhere “in honor of her sacrifice” because she had decided to take the winter watch alone and died in a storm where bounders the size of mini vans had been lifted out of the ocean and left scattered across the island, to say nothing of the ice chunks.  People weren’t allowed to be alone on the watch after that.

One day a dead moose washed up on shore and it took my entire crew all day but we managed to rig up a line to hang it up to dry because we thought having a moose skeleton in the house would really spice the living room up a bit.  It did.  Weird shit happens when six of you are left alone, like ALONE ALONE, no cell reception, no wifi, just a radio to contact the real world and not a lot of reason to do that.  People don’t go on lighthouse jobs if they want to stay connected, I’ve found.

That said Id do it all again, I really do treasure those days

Placing these one after another makes it look like he left got a lighthouse job and came back six months later to update the drive through employee

[footage of the inside of an ordinary Eastern-European home, taken with a handheld phone camera, the man filming is walking from the living room to the back door of the house]

man, narrating in russian: Every fucking year, this time of the year, the pond at my backyard gets infested. What do ponds get infested with? Frogs? Poisonous weeds? Geese? No. Not my pond.

[The man opens the back door, stepping out into a garden. Three or four nude, human-like figures dash from the borders of a pond back into the water.]

man: Rusalki! I don't know where they come from or how they get here, and I can't afford to hire an exterminator every year. I can't let my cat outside anymore. Last year a rusalka managed to drown a whole deer in my pond, the stench was unbearable.

[He walks as he speaks, approaching the pond. There are several eerily beautiful female beings peering at him from under the surface, their long hair floating in the murky water. Their eyes are gleaming in an unhuman way. The man holding the camera stops to film them.]

man, calm and deadpan: What the fuck are all of you staring at. Get jobs or something.

[One of the rusalki, smaller than the others and clearly not a fully matured adult, slowly reaches out of the water with her white, thin hand, grasping his ankle. He appears unconcerned.]

man: You can't drown me, you little idiot. You're too small. Shoo!

[A loud thud startles the rusalki, making them scatter. A second thud makes it clear these are the approaching footsteps of something massive. The man turns around and points the camera at what appears to be a house, walking past above the treeline with chicken-like legs]

man, now yelling: IF YOUR HOUSE SHITS ON MY YARD AGAIN I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD-

This post is a joy and a delight.

eXCUSE me who is this cat

the return of the Weibo cat

full emotional spectrum

@princessbunnibun HEY LOOK TIS U. YA UNRIVALED FLIRT.

can you imagine how freaky shark mermaids would be like unlike sharks, shark mermaids would have actual arms/hands and could rely on touching things with their hands to see if they’re prey rather than having to bite like sharks do. like youre just swimming in the ocean and suddenly you feel a strong grip on your leg, you freak the FUCK out because uh what????? the fuck??? youre swimming alone in the ocean??

a head pops out of the water, dorsal fin pointed from its back and it just points at you and says in a low whisper: “i thought you were a seal. please dont swim alone like this, im sorry i scared you i just wanted to see what you are” and then disappears back into the depth. what the fuck.

no come back ma’am

*under my breath* underwater girlfriend

underwater wife

Underwater love of my underwater life

I suppose I should have guessed that offhandedly mentioning my father was in several year feud with a parrot in the tags of that post would make my inbox go nova.

Anyway, my dad was involved in a feud with an African Grey parrot for several years. No one knows how said parrot came to be in our Scottish village, it simply showed up one day at the rescue and the local hairdresser, Sharron, adopted it. 

Now if you don’t know much about African Greys, they’re chatty buggers. They’re also wicked smart and incredible mimics. Which was how Marty the Parrot became an infamous feature of our wee town; frequently escaping his enclosure to perch above the barbershop door, hurling Scottish colloquialisms at unsuspecting tourists and whistling the ice cream truck song whenever kids walked past. One time, some construction workers drilled through the water pipe that ran through the village square, and above the roar of water spewing forth into the street and alarmed swearing, Marty could be heard cackling like a demon through the window. Right until the water reached the barbershop door and flooded the ground floor room he was sitting in, and then he started screaming, “help! help! murder murder polis*!”** until he was rescued and offered a plain digestive biscuit. 

After that and many, many more escape attempts and being asked politely by the local tourist board if Marty could stop telling hikers to “away and pish!” Sharron took him to see some sort of bird whisperer who told her Marty was lonely and needed company. So she moved his cage into the barbershop during the day so he could see and talk to her and the customers. 

Which is where my dad comes in.

You should know that my dad is the epitome of a wee auld Scottish granda. He’s had a full head of white hair since his early forties, and wouldn’t look out of place in a Norman Rockwell painting in Norman Rockwell ever took a wander doon the Barras and got swindled into buying a TV that quite-very-probably fell off the back of a truck. He’s got the gift for the gab, and everyone likes him. Sometimes against their better judgement. Everyone, that is, except Marty.

Marty hated my dad.

At some point, Marty picked up the habit of complimenting customers. He’d wait till Sharron was done with their hair, then wolf whistle and demand “who’s a pretty boy then?” in a broad Scots accent that ought to have defied avian vocalities. Sometimes he’d even do it before if he liked the customer. But regardless, he’d always chat with customers, even if it was just nonsense phrases like “Oh aye?” *whistles* “Iz at right?” *click click.* 

Now my dad knew this about Marty. He knew it from local chat and from watching the bird fawn over customers as he and my brother waited their turn. So it came as quite a surprise when my dad sat down in Sharron’s chair and was met with stony silence. The way he tells it, Marty stared at him dead on in silence, methodically cracking seeds between his talons. When my brother was done with his haircut in the neighboring chair, Marty turned and gave a shrill whistle, followed by his customary “who’s a pretty boy then?” before resuming his death glare at my dad, who by now was feeling a bit unnerved by the unwavering eye contact and the nut cracking. The uncharacteristic silence continued, even when my dad was getting ready to leave. There was no whistle, no “who’s a pretty boy then?” just silence and the sound of seeds being crushed. And then my dad tripped over the step on the way out of the shop, and Marty let out a demonic peal of parrot laughter*** like water circling an open drain. And that was the start of the feud.

After that, whenever my dad went to get a haircut, Marty would talk to him, but only ever in insults. The one time my dad tried asking “who’s a pretty boy?”, the bird replied “naw youse!” before cackling himself into a whistling fit. And every time my dad would come away, determined to get that bloody parrot to whistle at him and ask “who’s a pretty boy then?” 

Seeds were bought. Parrot appropriate biscuits were offered up as tribute. All to no avail. But eventually there became a sort of camaraderie in the insults. Like two enemies who know the steps to the dance they’re treading, and who welcome the familiarity of it. Sometimes my dad would just stick his head round the door on his way to work, just to hear the indignant squawk followed by a litany of insults that’d make a tea kettle whistle. And this went on for years, possibly close to a decade. 

Parrot and man locked in an ongoing battle of wills to see who would give up first.

Sadly, my dad never got his “who’s a pretty boy then?” whistle. Marty was already old when Sharron rescued him and is no longer with us. I’d like to say he’s looking down on my dad, hurling loving insults, but given that bird’s panache for stealing ice cream cones from unsuspecting children and general flare for terror, it’s probably more likely he’s looking up. Either way, he’s fondly remembered. Especially by my wee auld dad, who while never having got a “who’s a pretty boy then?” did get a “see youse later” one time, which probably counts for more.

*Scots for police. **A line from an old Glasgow Street song. ***Not Marty, but this is close to how I remember him sounding.

“Naw youse!” sent me, that bird just commited a murder, holy shit

This is THE MOST SCOTTISH story I have read in… Goodness only knows how long, and all thanks to a wayward tropical burd.

OSHA safe stimboard for anon!

Credit:

🦺 🦺 🦺

🚧 🚧 🚧

🦺 🦺 🦺

The masonry saw depicted in the bottom-center gif does not appear to be properly guarded, a violation of OSHA Standard 29 CFR 1928.702(i)(1):

By claiming that this stimboard is “OSHA Safe” you have provided false information about the safety of your workplace and may be subject to a fine of up to $10,000

actually, if you look at the full gifset linked, it is indeed OSHA safe as a semicircular enclosure over the blade is fully visible there. you can also check out the Instagram video here, where you can see the saw being used. i apologize for any misunderstanding, i take my workplace safety very seriously.

Thank you for your cooperation! You are no longer required to keep the above citation posted for the usual 3 Day period and you will not be charged a penalty fee.