Reblog If Your Blog Is Boopable-safe So You Can Get All The (probably New) Achievements. I Don’t Care

One time in 6th grade, I was in after school care (just all the kids whose parents work late hanging around in the back field with some adults watching them), and a couple of boys and one other girl and I were playing soccer, but the boys were being douches and kept picking up the ball and running away. I told the supervisor playing with us that I wanted to tackle them.

He said go for it.

Now, I understand that I wasn't exactly threatening with my orange braces, hipster glasses, and Hello Kitty lunch box, so he might have been joking, but I WAS given permission.

Long story short, I ripped one guys shirt, everyone of them got a few bruises, and they stopped stealing the ball.

Don't mess with a girl with two older brothers and three other older boy cousins.

I painted my face with someone else’s blood 

Reblog with your own brutal events, tag some brutal ladies 

@percees @empressamy 

I know, I mean, it's the funny kinda stuff I read in fanfiction, but in canon, it's not cool. Also, Dick is usually all awkward in canon when people compliment his butt (look it up, I swear it's true). I'm just saying, Dick is by far one of my favorite comic book characters, and Grayson is a bit too focused on that "sexual undertone" it was going for.

MAN OF THE YEAR: CELEBRATING DICK GRAYSON’S HANDSOMEST MOMENTS

Going from being an introverted lurker on reddit to trying to post my own stuff here is so wild. I keep typing out a post, deleting it, then retyping because I think it's not good enough but then I look at other posts and why am I so worried?

It's like I'm at a fancy Italian restaurant and keep glancing around the room to see which hand people use to pick up the forks. But then I realize that everyone is shoveling spaghetti into their mouths using their bare hands and I'm like ah okay so I'm clearly overthinking this

Stupid, I believe is the correct answer

If I punch myself in the face and it hurts, am I strong or weak?

but on the real though, here is your guide to assyrian rice preparation from your friendly neighborhood assyrian:

start wanting rice. (or, if you are traditional, simply recognize your constant desire for rice.)

measure out two cups of rice. then one more. then two more. then another. this seems fine. you love rice. there is no way that this will backfire on you.

remember that your great-great-uncle’s recipe says it should be soaked overnight.

become consumed with despair.

decide to soak it for half an hour instead, acknowledging that the final product will be inferior and anger your ancestors but will still satisfy your now almost-overwhelming need for rice to be inside your body much faster.

remember that you should have set the water to boil when you soaked the rice. goddammit. 

once the water boils, put the rice in until it is half-cooked. the eyeballing or intuitive method is less effective than a timer but that’s how your aunt does it so you feel compelled to meet her standards.

now that the rice has fluffed up, realize how much rice six dry cups really is. holy shit. you’ve fucked up immeasurably. 

take a minute to dwell upon your failings.

grease a baking dish with butter. this will never be as elegant as you want it to and your fingers will get greasy, but the slightly shameful, self-indulgent joy of licking your fingers afterwards will make up for it.

pour the rice into the dish. wonder immediately if you actually buttered the dish beforehand and if you’ve just fucked up. 

melt approximately one thousand pounds of butter in the microwave and pour it over the rice, pondering your imminent death from rapid-onset arterial clogging. put a small pat of butter on the top to properly gild the lily.

put your pan into the oven, which you have absolutely preheated after your previous lack of foresight. shake the rice once or twice while it bakes to make sure the butter is well distributed. resist the impulse to climb into the oven with the rice. for the last ten minutes, sit next to the oven and count the seconds until it’s done.

remove the dish from the oven. shed a tear or two at the perfection laid before you. if you are dining with others, this is the time to serve the rice while making passive-aggressive statements about how oh no, you don’t need any help, you just made dinner all by yourself, you can serve everyone as well. (this is still fun if done alone, but optional.)

CONSUME THE RICE.

realize that you have eaten half of the dish in one sitting. no matter how much rice you made, this will always happen. 

put the leftovers away, if there are any, and enjoy a cup of chai while marveling at the amount of food you have just eaten. if possible, fall asleep in an armchair, sitting up, head tilted slightly back, like a grandpa.

for the rest of the evening, think fondly of how much rice you have in the fridge now and how many meals it will supplement, refusing to acknowledge that you will almost certainly eat the rest of it in a few hours for a midnight meal.

The singular form of "lice" is "louse"

If the singular form of “mice” is “mouse”, shouldn’t the singular of “lice” be “louse”?

Finals Week Mood 2

Just took anxiety medicine with an expresso

Everyone reblog this and tag it with your useless talents