Jennifer. 25 Glasgow. Generally just reblog Doctor Who, puns and animals.

 

mr-mononucleosis:

lunalovegouda:

The intro cards for Futurama have always been one of my favorite parts of the show because people always talk about the old Simpson’s couch gag but this is just pure gold… I mean-

It goes from everything from 

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and then they made fun of how much everyone reacted to the the infamous ‘dead dog episode’ that I cried about…

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And then one time when the show got canceled…

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and then when it came back..

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you’re missing my favorite one though

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eh whatever it’ll be fine

me right before making a horrible decision (via kirstybaggins)

(Source: meloetta)

formerlyknownastoeshoemezzo:

cliche-blog-title:

catertothehollow:

fem-blog:

thenewwomensmovement:

diloolie:

neurosciencestuff:

A 12-year-old schoolgirl has been accepted into Mensa after discovering she is brainier than both Albert Einstein and Stephen Hawking.
Olivia Manning, from Liverpool, managed to get a whopping score in an IQ test of 162 - well above the 100 average.
Her score is not only two points better than genius German physicist Einstein and Professor Stephen Hawking, but puts her in the top one per cent of intelligent people in the world.

FUCK YEAAAAAH!!!
(and of course the mainstream media won’t even acknowledge this because women doing smart things in math or science? GEDOUTTATOWN.)

This is so awesome!

SIGNAL BOOST! This is AMAZING!

woah

“she
managedto get”
Please tell me I’m not the only one seriously irked by this wording.


She’s a kid who got higher on Mensa than two adults revered by the scientific and intellectual community world wide. SHe should be their god. Her brain’s not even done cooking yet; when she’s finished, she might be 180. 230!

formerlyknownastoeshoemezzo:

cliche-blog-title:

catertothehollow:

fem-blog:

thenewwomensmovement:

diloolie:

neurosciencestuff:

A 12-year-old schoolgirl has been accepted into Mensa after discovering she is brainier than both Albert Einstein and Stephen Hawking.

Olivia Manning, from Liverpool, managed to get a whopping score in an IQ test of 162 - well above the 100 average.

Her score is not only two points better than genius German physicist Einstein and Professor Stephen Hawking, but puts her in the top one per cent of intelligent people in the world.

FUCK YEAAAAAH!!!

(and of course the mainstream media won’t even acknowledge this because women doing smart things in math or science? GEDOUTTATOWN.)

This is so awesome!

SIGNAL BOOST! This is AMAZING!

woah

“she
managedto get”

Please tell me I’m not the only one seriously irked by this wording.

She’s a kid who got higher on Mensa than two adults revered by the scientific and intellectual community world wide. SHe should be their god. Her brain’s not even done cooking yet; when she’s finished, she might be 180. 230!

desirethepositive:

fuckyeahthespianpeacock:

saltheria:

yeffyaboyuice:

mythchief:

So there I was, ready to take a shower. I mean, I was dirty, a little greasy, a shower was not such a horrible idea. People take showers, amiright? Of course!
I get naked.
FULL naked.
REAL naked.
I’m talking the exact opposite reason why you ever went to your grandmother’s house.
No cookies. Blatant nudity.
That’s how folks take showers these days, right? Well, I pull back the curtain…
And there it was.
This…thing…sitting on the little soap/shower/pube shelf. Not a care in the world, like it’s been there for years. “What the fuck is that?” I think to myself.
Now, what follows is the exact pattern of thought that took me from rational human being to Sloth in 3.4 seconds.
“Is that a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit? Holy fuck that’s a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit. OMG why would someone leave that unattended. Those things are so delicious. I’m gonna eat the fuck out of it. Man, I can’t wait to see whoever left it’s face when they come back to find that someone ate their cheesy biscuit’s fuck. Ohhh boy.”
Then my brain sent a message to my arm that said, “Reach for that cheesy biscuit, bitch. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!?”
As you must already know, we are all contractually bound to make a dickload of mistakes throughout our lifetime. Some of those mistakes are so big that they forever hinder our world and warrant entire chapters in our children’s history books. However, most mistakes have the dubious providence of merely haunting one’s soul and festering amidst the subconscious for always and eternity.
This was, nearly, one of those.
If my adjacency to failure could be measured, the only possible unit of measurement to appropriate it would be “baby condoms”. And no, I do not mean those horrendous papoose-like titty-cribs that the slovenly carriage their spawn around in in Wal-Mart, I mean condoms that a baby would wear.
My adjacency to failure was roughly 1 and a half Kiddie Trojans.
I’m not sure what stopped me, be it cosmic or supernatural, but it gave my brain just enough time to ask itself some rather important questions regarding this little tub treasure. Questions like:
“WHO, THE FUCK, WOULD LEAVE A CHEESY BISCUIT IN MY SHOWER?!”
And inquiries such as:
“AND WHY WERE YOU GOING TO EAT IT, MORON?!”
Seriously, was I so hungry that I would wantonly disobey all the integral conditioning and survival imprinting my parents bestowed upon me like the ever important, “Um, don’t eat that biscuit, you don’t know where it’s been or whose it is and also you found it in the shower.” in order to satisfy something so benign as a munchie?
That, I’m sorry to say, was pretty much my reality.
An early morning introspective psychological evaluation of a sad, hungry, naked man who almost ate a bar of soap.

OMG ITS BACK

This shit needs to be published.

This is going in the monologue section and I’m not even sorry.

caffeinatedredhead
you needed to read this I’m crying

desirethepositive:

fuckyeahthespianpeacock:

saltheria:

yeffyaboyuice:

mythchief:

So there I was, ready to take a shower. I mean, I was dirty, a little greasy, a shower was not such a horrible idea. People take showers, amiright? Of course!

I get naked.

FULL naked.

REAL naked.

I’m talking the exact opposite reason why you ever went to your grandmother’s house.

No cookies. Blatant nudity.

That’s how folks take showers these days, right? Well, I pull back the curtain…

And there it was.

This…thing…sitting on the little soap/shower/pube shelf. Not a care in the world, like it’s been there for years. “What the fuck is that?” I think to myself.

Now, what follows is the exact pattern of thought that took me from rational human being to Sloth in 3.4 seconds.

“Is that a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit? Holy fuck that’s a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit. OMG why would someone leave that unattended. Those things are so delicious. I’m gonna eat the fuck out of it. Man, I can’t wait to see whoever left it’s face when they come back to find that someone ate their cheesy biscuit’s fuck. Ohhh boy.”

Then my brain sent a message to my arm that said, “Reach for that cheesy biscuit, bitch. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!?”

As you must already know, we are all contractually bound to make a dickload of mistakes throughout our lifetime. Some of those mistakes are so big that they forever hinder our world and warrant entire chapters in our children’s history books. However, most mistakes have the dubious providence of merely haunting one’s soul and festering amidst the subconscious for always and eternity.

This was, nearly, one of those.

If my adjacency to failure could be measured, the only possible unit of measurement to appropriate it would be “baby condoms”. And no, I do not mean those horrendous papoose-like titty-cribs that the slovenly carriage their spawn around in in Wal-Mart, I mean condoms that a baby would wear.

My adjacency to failure was roughly 1 and a half Kiddie Trojans.

I’m not sure what stopped me, be it cosmic or supernatural, but it gave my brain just enough time to ask itself some rather important questions regarding this little tub treasure. Questions like:

“WHO, THE FUCK, WOULD LEAVE A CHEESY BISCUIT IN MY SHOWER?!”

And inquiries such as:

“AND WHY WERE YOU GOING TO EAT IT, MORON?!”

Seriously, was I so hungry that I would wantonly disobey all the integral conditioning and survival imprinting my parents bestowed upon me like the ever important, “Um, don’t eat that biscuit, you don’t know where it’s been or whose it is and also you found it in the shower.” in order to satisfy something so benign as a munchie?

That, I’m sorry to say, was pretty much my reality.

An early morning introspective psychological evaluation of a sad, hungry, naked man who almost ate a bar of soap.

OMG ITS BACK

This shit needs to be published.

This is going in the monologue section and I’m not even sorry.

caffeinatedredhead
you needed to read this I’m crying

allthingstechtheatre:

whitehairkun:

uhhsage:

petitiontobringbackthedodobird:

"Mom, Dad…I’m a thespian."

*aggressively snaps while dramatically exiting stage right*

december-whether-or-not

"The Bible says Adam and Eve,

not *snap snap* *jazz hands* and *dramatic leave*”

Mom: “your just going through a stage”

Me: “no mom, I’m going on stage” *strikes dramatic pose*

significantmelancholy:

fish-fingers-and-fezzes:

lizardbirdthing:

qima:

This is a damn smooth gif.

Wow I can’t find the seam.Also magma’s pretty rad.

i want to touch it

I strongly advise you not to touch it

significantmelancholy:

fish-fingers-and-fezzes:

lizardbirdthing:

qima:

This is a damn smooth gif.

Wow I can’t find the seam.

Also magma’s pretty rad.

i want to touch it

I strongly advise you not to touch it