tippitv:

ultrafacts:

Source For more posts like this, follow the Ultrafacts Blog!

But the G stands for Graphics, not Giraffics! 
(Giraffics are giraffe fanfics. I’m inventing that right now.)

tippitv:

ultrafacts:

Source For more posts like this, follow the Ultrafacts Blog!

But the G stands for Graphics, not Giraffics! 

(Giraffics are giraffe fanfics. I’m inventing that right now.)

the-fault-in-our-wifi:

silentstep:

Boromir cuddling Hobbits because why not.

            (via goodshipophelia)

boromir’s character makes me so sad, because honestly, he was one of the most caring in the fellowship. he understood their mission and wanted to get it done as successfully as possible, but he wanted what was best for everyone with them as well. he felt the need to care for all the hobbits, not just frodo. and when he made a mistake, it destroyed him. he saw that he was weak and that he nearly ruined everything. and he died trying to make that right. boromir is the best.

(via wilwheaton)

agentmlovestacos:

There is no greater Guardians/Parks & Rec gif mashup than this.

via chrisisoninfiniteearths:

Fantastic.

(via timeandrelativedimensioninspaces)

I am not Mike Brown. I am white. I am middle class. I am female. I am small. I am not considered a threat. When police see me they see someone who looks like them. They see their mothers, their daughters, their sisters, themselves. I am not at risk of being shot by police for existing while black. I am not at risk of being shot while unarmed. I am not at risk of being shot while armed with nothing more than a BB gun. I am not at risk of being shot for reaching for my wallet. I am privileged.
But I am outraged. And if you aren’t outraged, then you aren’t paying attention. This is America in 2014. This is our reality. It’s so easy to get jaded and to ignore these atrocities, to act like this doesn’t affect us. It’s so easy to get apathetic. In the past it was the youth who protested. Where is the rage of the youth? Where is our rage?
Like I said, I am not Mike Brown. But I am outraged.
: I am not Mike Brown.  (via fitle-tight)

(via wilwheaton)

That’s it. That’s the show. (x)

(via peterparkrs)

queer-multifandom-antichrist:

belatedmedia:

I shouldn’t have laughed.I SHOULDN’T HAVE LAUGHED!

OH MY FUCKING GOD

queer-multifandom-antichrist:

belatedmedia:

I shouldn’t have laughed.
I SHOULDN’T HAVE LAUGHED!

OH MY FUCKING GOD

(via timeandrelativedimensioninspaces)

yolkpunk:

unacted:

girls who pretend to act stupid because they think it’s cute need to be slapped in the face with a brick

girls who pretend to act stupid because they think it’s cute need to be taught that their thoughts and opinions matter. so many girls are taught that being smart and capable is threatening to boys and will scare them away. please don’t hit these girls with bricks thanks

(via benkaling)

danagould:

Two years ago, I was performing at The Punchline in San Francisco, and Robin came to the show with our mutual friend, Dan Spencer.
This particular batch of material was the first time I had touched upon my then still-fresh divorce wounds, and big chunks of it were pretty dark. The next day, I got a text from a number I didn’t recognize. Whoever it was had obviously been to the show and knew my number, so I figured they would reveal themselves at some point and save me the embarrassment of asking who they were.
The Mystery Texter asked how I was REALLY doing. “You can’t fool me. Some of those ‘jokes’ aren’t ‘jokes.” By now I knew that whoever this was had been through what I was enduring, as no one else would know to ask, “What time of day is the hardest?”
He wanted to know how my kids were handling it, all the while assuring me that the storm, as bleak as it was, would one day pass and that I was not, as I was then convinced, a terrible father for visiting a broken home upon my children.
I am not rewriting this story in retrospect to make it dramatic. I did not know who I was texting with. Finally, my phone blipped, and I saw, in a little green square, “Okay, pal. You got my number. Call me. I’ve been there. You’re going to be okay. - Robin.”
That is what you call a human being.

danagould:

Two years ago, I was performing at The Punchline in San Francisco, and Robin came to the show with our mutual friend, Dan Spencer.

This particular batch of material was the first time I had touched upon my then still-fresh divorce wounds, and big chunks of it were pretty dark. The next day, I got a text from a number I didn’t recognize. Whoever it was had obviously been to the show and knew my number, so I figured they would reveal themselves at some point and save me the embarrassment of asking who they were.

The Mystery Texter asked how I was REALLY doing. “You can’t fool me. Some of those ‘jokes’ aren’t ‘jokes.” By now I knew that whoever this was had been through what I was enduring, as no one else would know to ask, “What time of day is the hardest?”

He wanted to know how my kids were handling it, all the while assuring me that the storm, as bleak as it was, would one day pass and that I was not, as I was then convinced, a terrible father for visiting a broken home upon my children.

I am not rewriting this story in retrospect to make it dramatic. I did not know who I was texting with. Finally, my phone blipped, and I saw, in a little green square, “Okay, pal. You got my number. Call me. I’ve been there. You’re going to be okay. - Robin.”

That is what you call a human being.

(via wilwheaton)