in case you ever wanted to know what mambo number 5 sounds like with all the instruments (including the drums) replaced with bike horns
it sounds like the song is going to kill you and it’s perfect
i smiled through the whole thing because i just don’t understand what would compell someone to do this but thanks
i cannojt bretahe
I…I cannot describe the emotion I’m feeling right now.
i cant. breath hhhhhhhhhh
Clown Orgy
I’m so upset that tumblr refuses to let me add a poll to this reblog. Give me your yes/no answers in writing instead? 😂 (mambo no 5 is poll #372 for reference)
I saw a post saying that Boromir looked too scruffy in FotR for a Captain of Gondor, and I tried to move on, but I’m hyperfixating. Has anyone ever solo backpacked? I have. By the end, not only did I look like shit, but by day two I was talking to myself. On another occasion I did fourteen days’ backcountry as the lone woman in a group of twelve men, no showers, no deodorant, and brother, by the end of that we were all EXTREMELY feral. You think we looked like heirs to the throne of anywhere? We were thirteen wolverines in ripstop.
My boy Boromir? Spent FOUR MONTHS in the wilderness! Alone! No roads! High floods! His horse died! I’m amazed he showed up to Imladris wearing clothes, let alone with a decent haircut. I’m fully convinced that he left Gondor looking like Richard Sharpe being presented to the Prince Regent in 1813
*electric guitar riff*
And then rocked up to Imladris a hundred ten days later like
Some people have been wondering about the raccoon. Listen. Listennn. Don’t ask about the raccoon.
But does the racoon survive the Uruk-Hai? Does he curl up on Aragorn’s head, or does he go straight to Faramir? Does he bite Denethor?
My friend. My colleague. My brother my captain my king. I too have been pondering this question, and in my mind there can be only one ultimate outcome.
A few months later
All hail the High Warden of Gondor.
Epilogue: It ADORES Faramir.
Every time I see this post I’m obligated to reblog and make it your problem too!
At work there used to be a sign on a few things that would say like “if this bubbles, run for your life” and “if you hear thumping run for cover” and “bears can and will kill you” and really in general I wish the park service was more willing to say “you are not at home, you are not at disneyland, you can die here and you can die so badly your family will have to bury an empty casket because no one will risk their own life to collect your idiot corpse.”
If we’re gonna make people more scared of something, it should probably be cars, infections, and heart conditions, not “outside”.
THESE FACTS WILL BE RELEVANT I SWEAR:
Boiling point of water: 212°F
Crock pot temperature: 140°F-180°F
Crock pot depth (commercial, 100 gal): 3 feet, could not submerge most humans.
Meat begins to cook: 105°F
Water burns skin within 3-6 seconds: 140°F
Steak/chops/roasts are safe to eat: 145°F
Collagen melts into gelatin, meat “falls off the bone”: 160-180°F
Average tourist: 30% collagen
Stomach acid: pH 1.5-3.5 (lower is more acidic)
YELLOWSTONE FACTS!
Max recorded temp of a Yellowstone pool: 280°F in Norris Basin
Depth of spring that dissolved a man: 10 feet, Norris Basin, could and did submerge an adult human
Lowest pH (most acidic) pH of a Yellowstone pool: pH 2-3 in Norris Basin
Yellowstone pools:crock pots full of stomach acid
I think if people ARE outside – say, tourists near a spring – they should be warned that the spring will cook them, then dissolve what is left. Because you CANNOT tell by looking.
We should be a LOT more afraid of some parts of Outside, actually.
I love the contrast between the lyrics and the melody this is art
pfffffffft nooooo I didn’t just learn this song on ukulele… at midnight…
Lyrics:
I’ve tried, tried, tried And I’ve tried even more I’ve Cried, Cried, Cried And I can’t recall what for I’ve pressed, I’ve pushed, I’ve yelled, I’ve begged In hope of some success
But the inevitable fact is that It never will impress
I’ve no more fucks to give, My fucks have runneth dry, I’ve tried to go fuck shopping But there’s no fucks left to buy
I’ve no more fucks to give, Though more fucks I’ve tried to get, I’m over my fuck budget and I’m now in fucking debt
I strive, strive, strive To get everything done I’ve played by all the rules
I’ve rallied my fuck army but
It’s been fucking defeated!
The effort has just not been worth The time or the expense I’ve exhausted all my energy For minimal recompense The complete lack of acknowledgement Has now begun to gall And I’ve come to realise that I Don’t give a fuck at all!
I’ve no more fucks to give,
My fucks have flown away,
My fucks are now so fucked off
They’ve refused to fucking stay!
I’ve no more fucks to give,
My fucks have gone insane
They’ve come back round and passed me
While they’re fucking off again!
I’ve no more fucks to give,
My fucks have all dissolved,
I’ve planned many projects
But my fucks won’t be involved!
I’ve no more fucks to give,
My fucks have all been spent,
They’ve fucked off from the building
And I don’t know where they went!
I’ve no more fucks to give, I’ve no more fucks to give, I’ve no more fucks, I’ve no more fucks, I’ve no more fucks to give!
I love the contrast between the lyrics and the melody this is art
pfffffffft nooooo I didn’t just learn this song on ukulele… at midnight…
Lyrics:
I’ve tried, tried, tried And I’ve tried even more I’ve Cried, Cried, Cried And I can’t recall what for I’ve pressed, I’ve pushed, I’ve yelled, I’ve begged In hope of some success
But the inevitable fact is that It never will impress
I’ve no more fucks to give, My fucks have runneth dry, I’ve tried to go fuck shopping But there’s no fucks left to buy
I’ve no more fucks to give, Though more fucks I’ve tried to get, I’m over my fuck budget and I’m now in fucking debt
I strive, strive, strive To get everything done I’ve played by all the rules
I’ve rallied my fuck army but
It’s been fucking defeated!
The effort has just not been worth The time or the expense I’ve exhausted all my energy For minimal recompense The complete lack of acknowledgement Has now begun to gall And I’ve come to realise that I Don’t give a fuck at all!
I’ve no more fucks to give,
My fucks have flown away,
My fucks are now so fucked off
They’ve refused to fucking stay!
I’ve no more fucks to give,
My fucks have gone insane
They’ve come back round and passed me
While they’re fucking off again!
I’ve no more fucks to give,
My fucks have all dissolved,
I’ve planned many projects
But my fucks won’t be involved!
I’ve no more fucks to give,
My fucks have all been spent,
They’ve fucked off from the building
And I don’t know where they went!
I’ve no more fucks to give, I’ve no more fucks to give, I’ve no more fucks, I’ve no more fucks, I’ve no more fucks to give!
So tonight I joined my parents, and the neighbours, at the local pub quiz. We won, and won the bonus round, much to the annoyance of the other teams. Apparently my parents and their friends win every other week. Nerds. So to prank them the landlord had a special “Super Hard Pub Question” for us for double or nothing on our prize (vouchers for a gallon of beer) to let the rest of the pub feel better because we were “guaranteed to lose” since there was “no way we could know the answer.” I got picked to answer it because I’m the youngest and have less General Knowledge.
The question?
“What is the word for beer in Ancient Egyptian?”
Pub: *loud raucous laughter and cheering*
Landlord: *looks smug*
Me: Do you want that in English or in the original Hieroglyphs?
Landlord: The hieroglyphs of course!
Pub: *more laughter*
Me: *scribbles quickly in the 10 seconds I had to answer*
Landlord: Fuck. Me.
Pub: *utter silence broken only by someone at the back exclaiming WTF*
Landlord: How did you even know that?
Me: You picked the one person here who can read them?
Landlord: Oh shit it’s you isn’t it?
Dad yelling from the back: SURPRISEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
It’s safe to say we’re simultaneously fucking legends/not very popular at the local right now.
amhrancas 