all the reviews for atomic blonde are like “its an empty aesthetic film where charlize theron just dresses up in nice clothes, kicks the shit out of dudes, and has random sex scenes with women” as if that wasn’t my dream action movie
Aren’t “typical” action movies just a bunch of macho guys in cool clothes/cars kicking the shit out of dudes and having random sex scenes with women?
I was at Adeevka where the Ukrainians are trying to take a strategically-located overpass from the Separs (I was there as a peaceful tourist who never even touched a firearm, of course) and the positions there are about 400 or so meters away from each other, so if you scream loud enough the fucks on the other side can actually hear you.
Up to this point, I’d observed a guy dropping his phone like it was going to bite him when I told him the Bruno Mars song he was playing was gay, and could reliably make people leave the room by asking them “would you rather sit on a chocolate cake and suck a dick, or eat a chocolate cake while getting fucked in the ass”, so it’s at this point in the trenches that a flash of inspiration hits me.
In my best Russian (which was utterly broken but “proper” Russian grammar is barbaric caveman-speak anyway) I scream out “next guy that shoots is gay”. And I swear to whatever god exists that two solid minutes of silence followed. It was some guns-fall-silent Christmas miracle shit
won tickets for the rugby tonight in the hospitality lounge
she’s just posted a post about how she’s just met met Princess Anne
it made me think of zimbits
Bitty won tickets to go to a falcs game in the nice box
totally random
and he’s DYING
because thats ALICIA ZIMMERMAN
and he’s with Lardo
who is being super chill and keeping him from puking
and for some reason, he gets into a heated argument over pie with some celebrity tv chef he dislikes over their insistence that it always has to be the bEST stuff
and he’s like
screw you, do you know how much it costs? to be good? and get good things? I live in a FRAT HOUSE you pompous ass and I bet I could bake circles around you with one hand tied behind my back AND a murder stop and shop run
and Bob is like.
this
this is the one
I want this one.
Alicia.
Please
and shes pepper potts
No
But Jack will love him, I know it!!
No
Please!!
No.
*Don’t even pull that elitist crap with me, I learned how to cook like generation before me at the KNEE OF MY MOTHER and I don’t need to go all the way to FRANCE to know that you don’t freeze the damn butter*
Alicia is like… well shit. Bobs got heart eyes, no one is watching the hockey and everyone misses Jack getting the winning goal because Lardo has started filming it
so jacks a lil pissed with bitty
bitty is soaring on righteous fury
Bob is trying to convince Lardo he needs a copy of this video
and Alicia is wondering if she can spin this into a cooking show for her new network
(she can. Bitty hosts a bargain bin / student budget cooking show that is a HUGE hit because he’s super passive agressive about EVERYTHING he uses)
*If, like MOST OF AMERICA you live in a place where hand picked olives from Tuscany are not on sale, then store bought is FINE*
50 uses for hot sauce your housemates got while couponing without your guidance.
how to make a three course meal for your girlfriend when you can’t cook and you promised her before checking that the oven was even working CHRIS CHOW, using a toaster, a microwave and an inventive use of the spin setting on your washer.
when giant canadian hockey butts slander your FOUR TIME COUNTY FAIR WINNING MAPLE CRUSTED PIES and you have to PROVE THEM WRONG. for beginners!
*bright smile*
When Hockey Butt uses the last of the milk and you’re about to go live on air.
when HB admits that he’s not feeling so great and you need to make your mamma’s chicken soup but can’t afford chicken
when you are at your wits end because a cute HB is coming over for dinner and you had class all morning and didn’t have time to prep all the food – meet my sous chef Dex!
The meal that I served to HB’s parents! First meeting food for the soul – the budget will shock you!
could you imagine The Enterprise having like a yearly inspection and Kirk bugs out every time because the best running ship in the fleet certainly doesn’t become so because they follow therules. He has to remind the crew a week in advance to actually call him Captain and use formal titles. Bones and Scotty’s shared bathroom which is one hundred percent a liquor cabinet/distillery cannot be a thing.
Sulu has to collect all of his plants out of everywhere that’s not the Botany Labs and hide the illegal ones he picked up during their journey in his quarters. Scotty has to remove all of his Scotty-Approved-Modifications from Engineering. Spock can’t work four shifts in a row and break the ensigns that challenge him in the gym to sparring matches. Bones can’t medically offer alcohol to anybody. Uhura needs to not curse every ten minutes, in any language. Chekov needs to focus more on his console and less on every pair of legs walking by his station.
Nurse Chapel needs to actually do what McCoy says, rather than agreeing with him then doing something wildly different but more productive and helpful. Bones isn’t allowed on the Bridge unless called. Spock needs to sit at his console, standing up and leaning over all coy is actually a safety hazard. Scotty can’t use scottish slang over the comm system
But then something *happens* like it always does to Kirk–the “hole in space/giant glowing hand” kind of thing–and all of that goes out the window–in the course of, say, 38 hours Jim gets called “jim” 50 times, Spock never goes off shift, the ship is hit and all of sulus plants fall out of the closet they were stuffed in, uhura is swearing up a storm and Scotty’s jurry-rigging everything, checkov gets caught staring at the pretty alien, and Chapel does her damn job thank you, and Bones appears in the bridge to yell at everybody like he does.
BUT, at the end of the day, Kirk has secured a new treaty because the culture values closeness over formality, Spock’s marathon at the science station has collected enough data to keep the academy busy for *months*, one of the aliens is fascinated by the plants ensuring a new collaboration between their scientists and starfleet, Scottys improvements to the systems prevent their new friends from getting eliminated by their enemies and uhura’s swearing intimidated the enemy into backing off, and the princess is totally ensnared with Chekov–oh, and Bones discovers the cure for the new mystery illness is the bathroom moonshine, and chapel saves the fucking day.
The inspector just throws up their hands because he’d read the Kirk file, *but he never believed it was true*
and stabby the knife wielding rumba stabs the inspector at least once
God just imagine walking the streets in 1830s France, rounding a corner and coming across a slick gang of gentlemen and ladies, all with forked beards and satin and leather outfits. They eye you lazily, like crocodiles, as you step into the alley. One is ironically playing the ukelele, the jangling notes tapering off menacingly as their attention fixes on you.
“Oh no,” you say, grabbing your companion’s arm, “Bouzingos!”
“Oh look,” says the ukelele player. “Some grocers.”
“We don’t want any trouble,” your companion says, backing away.
Snickers and sneers ripple through the surrealist gang. One of the Bouzingos takes out a croissant and bites it right in half. Another smokes a cigarette with their ear. One of them is a lobster.
“Have you culturally appropriated any tchotchkes recently?” One of them jeers.
“We’re sorry,” you apologise, “we’ll be going now.”
You and your companion stumble back into the street, dragging each other.
“these gangs are really getting out of hand,” your companion says weakly. “Do you think we’re… infected?”
You shiver. For a moment, vague longings and inconsolable regrets assail you. You feel moved to contribute to the discourse. Anxieties flicker across your heart. But the moment passes.
Guys who complain about the friendzone often don’t care about their female friends’ personal boundaries, forcing their female friends build more walls up. A good cartoon.
– submitted by Gene
why is he tearing down a wall with an axe
i hate it when your put in the friendzone and made to tear down a wall
Mr. Gorbachev…tear down this friendzone
how you gonna draw some shit that makes you look like Jack Nicholson in The Shining and still feel like you’re the victim
I DON’T *CHOP* UNDERSTAND *CHOP* WHY *CHOP* YOU CAN’T *CHOP* JUST *CHOP* LET ME *CHOP* BONE YOU *CHOP* ON AN INDEFINITE *CHOP* EXCLUSIVE *CHOP* BASIS *CHOP* WHEN *CHOP* I’M *CHOP* SO *CHOP* NIIIIIIIIIIIICE *CHOP*
“I’m going to wall you up now, Fortunato.”
“Ha ha, and then what? 😉 ”
“For the love of God, Montresor!” -Cask of Amontifriendzone, Edgar Allan Poe
Incessantly, I heard a smacking, as of some entitled dipshit whacking, whacking on my chamber door.
Resignedly, I placed another layer, voicing a quiet, repeated prayer, “This dude thinks he’s a player, but I am not a point to score, he should fuck off and bother me no more.”
The only acceptable reason for this is if this character is actually a demon who seduces men and then eats them. [source]
who wrote this, expose him
my breasts are nicely separated. Completely divided, every year they move apart by half an inch.
My breasts are nicely separated though they still fight for custody of the children.
I,,a woman,,,am WiDeR LOweR dOwN
That was difficult to read.
So ugly
My name is Ebony D’arkness Dementia Raven Way, and my breasts are nicely separated
OH MY GOD WHAT IS THAT AND HOW ON EARTH DID IT GET PUBLISHED
You can always tell when it’s a man writing a description because they focus oddly on the breasts. There will always be something about breasts and I can’t tell you how many times I’ve read historical or fantasy fiction and they talk about “her breasts hanging freely under her tunic” or what the fuck ever and it’s like…women don’t do that? We don’t describe ourselves by saying “I have blonde hair and blue eyes and my breasts hang freely under my tunic”. I kind of feel like we should counter by awkwardly mentioning all male character’s balls in their description. It’s kind of in the same vein.
“I have auburn hair and hazel eyes and my copious nicely separated balls hangs freely under my breeches”
G E T W I D E R L O W E R D O W N
“To get back to my body”
seriously tho what is the source of the original text….we have to drag him
Imagine how pissed you have to be to engrave a rock
Ok but there was this guy called Ea-nasir who was a total crook and would actually cheat people ought of good copper and sell them shit instead. The amount of correspondences complaining to and about this guy are HILARIOUS.
Are you telling me we know about a specific guy who lived 5000 years ago, by name, because he was a huge asshole
More like 4000 years ago but yes. Ea-nasir and his dodgy business deals.
And we haven’t even touched on the true hilarity of the situation yet. Consider two additional facts:
He wasn’t just into copper trading. There are letters complaining about Ea-nasir’s business practices with respect to everything from kitchenwares to real estate speculation to second-hand clothing. The guy was everywhere.
The majority of the surviving correspondences regarding Ea-nasir were recovered from one particular room in a building that is believed to have been Ea-nasir’s own house.
Like, these are clay tablets. They’re bulky, fragile, and difficult to store. They typically weren’t kept long-term unless they contained financial records or other vital information (which is why we have huge reams of financial data about ancient Babylon in spite of how little we know about the actual culture: most of the surviving tablets are commercial inventories, bills of sale, etc.).
But this guy, this Ea-nasir, he kept all of his angry letters – hundreds of them – and meticulously filed and preserved them in a dedicated room in his house. What kind of guy does that?
Okay, but imagine from the other guy’s point of view. You send angry letters about how Ea-nasir shipped you half a ton of subpar copper, and then 3800 years later—
just moving along like everyone else 