#humor I guess

[flyingdidii]

Day 4 - Accidental Crime

[nightmaresyrup]

The "Twink death" of a creepy pasta icon.

Btw I hate the term "twink death" its made by creeps full of excuses that doesnt want to admit they're gross.

[talvin-muircastle]

Post from an old blog

From the days before Tumblr:

(Also, I don't go for stiff peaks anymore. I just get it well and truly frothed up and it does fine.)

Quiche Me, You Fool! The following is something I found while I was cleaning out my email boxes, in this case, my "Sent Mail" folder. It was funny then, it's still funny now.

Tonight I find out that my wife promised all her blind friends (we are talking several email lists worth, here) that I would share my recipe for Quiche.

Well, she promised, I had to deliver. So, I emailed it to her.

Dear Heart,

Here is how I make quiche.

Step 1) Select the main ingredients. I use cheddar cheese, either pre-shredded or a block that has been diced, along with one of the following:

A) Diced pre-cooked ham B) Strained ground beef or C) Cooked bacon that has been thoroughly crumbled. I usually cook it crisp, cram it in an old (clean) butter tub, and shake the heck out of it. Instant bacon bits.

There are lots of other possibilities, ask around or look online.

Step 2) Procure a crust. You want a deep one. You either:

A) Get the Jiffy Crust Mix, follow the directions, roll it out, lay it in the pie pan and trim the edges, OR

B) Buy a frozen premade crust, and lie and say I did it using the method found in A.

I run about 50/50 on these methods, you don't seem to notice the difference.

Step 3) Preheat your oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit. I don't know what that is in Celsius, I am an American, and my educational system teaches me just enough to know that if I visit another country the temperature will sound different, but really be the same. In any case, ovens vary, so use your best judgement.

Step 4) Throw the cat off the counter.

Step 5) Grab 6 eggs and a half pint of heavy whipping cream. Crack open the eggs into a mixing bowl, add the cream. Whip this mixture until it forms stiff peaks. If you cannot see and you don't know when it is at stiff peaks, just whip it good and hard and hope you broke up all the yolks. If you can see and you are not sure when you have reached stiff peaks, you must be me. Do as for cannot see and you'll survive.

Step 6) You are using eggs and cream, and probably there is cooked meat to be had. Yell at the cat, smack her on the rump, and toss her off the counter again. You surely feel better now.

Step 7) Place the main ingredient in the bottom of the crust. Add a layer of cheese. Pour the whipped mixture on top of that. About half the time, it will overflow some. Be prepared to deal with this.

Step 8 ) The cat is on the counter again. You know what to do.

Step 9) Carefully place the quiche on the middle rack of the oven. Set the timer for 30 minutes. With our oven, after 30 minutes, you have about a 60% chance of it being done, otherwise try it about 5 to 10 minutes more.

Step 10) Your quiche is done. Grab a knife or pizza cutter, resist the urge to use it on the cat, toss her off the counter, and serve. Careful, it's hot.

Step 11) If you are a man, never, ever, ever let the redneck with the pickup and pit bull down the street know you eat, never mind make, something called quiche. Yes, Real Men Eat Quiche, but opinions differ, and we need harmony in our lives.

Bon appetit.

Love, Talvin

[luciole445]

Ok, but imagine this.

The Ten Minute Power Hour…

With Undertale characters.

Doing the Pancakemon Art video.

Undyne : He’s gonna think it’s a mouse, dude.

Frisk, putting the pancake in the cardboard : Here’s the head… here’s… parts… And there’s… bits.

Papyrus : You better get this right !

Asgore, after a minute : Looks like he’s having a hard time…

Toriel : Shall we give him a hint ?

Sans : it’s a pokemon.

Alphys : It’s number 25.

Flowey, with pure horror : It’s Pikachu ???

[scuro-sideblog]

[ukiyoebirds]

Dreadwing did not, in fact, understand the assignment.

Megatron is ringmaster of a clown circus and only Soundwave went to a professional clown college.

May need to click on the image for better resolution.

Joke workshopped with @krazycat6167

[olailamajnoon]

Dick on the phone, at 3 pm in the afternoon: Forgive me father for I have sinned.

Bruce, just woken up, squinting at the alarm clock: Dick it's 3 pm. what is this.

Dick, tearfully: My confession! I couldn't sleep, Bruce. I was the one who drove my hamster to suicide! I didn't feed him malt cookies like I was supposed to! He climbed on the exercise wheel and didn't stop running until he died.

Dick: *continues sobbing*

Bruce: okay so first of all.

Bruce: I'm not a priest.

Bruce: And second of all. Animals don't commit suicide.

Dick: Mari did!

Bruce: You named your male hamster after your mother...?

Dick: NOT THE POINT, BRUCE!

Dick: but yes.

Bruce, sighing: There's so much to unpack here I don't know where to start.

Dick: I killed him, Bruce. I should have died along with him!

Bruce:...

Bruce: It's possible that you've associated your hamster's death with the trauma of your parents' death, possibly because of shared names, and you've displaced your survivor's guilt from the first onto the second.

Dick:...

Dick: So what should I do.

Bruce: In my experience, the best way to deal with survivor's guilt is to save as many people as you can, possibly people in the same situation as the loved ones you have lost, hoping that the heroic nature of your deeds lets you sleep at night.

Dick: And what if that doesn't work?

Bruce: Then you drink. Get shitfaced drunk every time you feel a pang. Or you can pray to a nonexistent god and an uncaring universe.

Dick:...

Dick: If I come over, will you break out the good whiskey.

Bruce: I thought you'd never ask.

[wavewavethoughtsonly]

IlLogical

Shockwave revealing one of his many creations to overthrow the Autobots.

While everyone assumes Shockwave is being uncharacteristically stupid, Soundwave knows he’s trying to please him.

[deep-space-netwerk]

So Venus is my favorite planet in the solar system - everything about it is just so weird.

It has this extraordinarily dense atmosphere that by all accounts shouldn't exist - Venus is close enough to the sun (and therefore hot enough) that the atmosphere should have literally evaporated away, just like Mercury's. We think Earth manages to keep its atmosphere by virtue of our magnetic field, but Venus doesn't even have that going for it. While Venus is probably volcanically active, it definitely doesn't have an internal magnetic dynamo, so whatever form of volcanism it has going on is very different from ours. And, it spins backwards! For some reason!!

But, for as many mysteries as Venus has, the United States really hasn't spent much time investigating it. The Soviet Union, on the other hand, sent no less than 16 probes to Venus between 1961 and 1984 as part of the Venera program - most of them looked like this!

The Soviet Union had a very different approach to space than the United States. NASA missions are typically extremely risk averse, and the spacecraft we launch are generally very expensive one-offs that have only one chance to succeed or fail.

It's lead to some really amazing science, but to put it into perspective, the Mars Opportunity rover only had to survive on Mars for 90 days for the mission to be declared a complete success. That thing lasted 15 years. I love the Opportunity rover as much as any self-respecting NASA engineer, but how much extra time and money did we spend that we didn't technically "need" to for it to last 60x longer than required?

Anyway, all to say, the Soviet Union took a more incremental approach, where failures were far less devastating. The Venera 9 through 14 probes were designed to land on the surface of Venus, and survive long enough to take a picture with two cameras - not an easy task, but a fairly straightforward goal compared to NASA standards. They had…mixed results.

Venera 9 managed to take a picture with one camera, but the other one's lens cap didn't deploy.

Venera 10 also managed to take a picture with one camera, but again the other lens cap didn't deploy.

Venera 11 took no pictures - neither lens cap deployed this time.

Venera 12 also took no pictures - because again, neither lens cap deployed.

Lotta problems with lens caps.

For Venera 13 and 14, in addition to the cameras they sent a device to sample the Venusian "soil". Upon landing, the arm was supposed to swing down and analyze the surface it touched - it was a simple mechanism that couldn't be re-deployed or adjusted after the first go.

This time, both lens caps FINALLY ejected perfectly, and we were treated to these marvelous, eerie pictures of the Venus landscape:

However, when the Venera 14 soil sampler arm deployed, instead of sampling the Venus surface, it managed to swing down and land perfectly on….an ejected lens cap.

[galaxymagitech]

Jason (Age 12): I’m not gonna die from inhaling cigarette smoke, quit worrying, B.

Jason (Age 15): *dies from smoke inhalation*

Jason (Age 19): Well, it wasn’t the cigarettes.

[cowardlykrow]

Stop light shenanigans

Extra:

[poor-lil-eggplant]

I just wondered, what's it like to be a Hot pocket.

Just rotating there in my lil cardboard tomb

It sounds kinda cozy ngl

[vanished-viral-hit]

Apparently last night I got drunk and I got in an argument over whether or not I had a strong bite, anyways my friend now has a neat scar and a story to bring up at parties

[slozhnos]

breaking news: local girl commits manslaughter after classmates refuse to help on group project

[pricegouge]

Thinking of nanny!reader x daddy!price once again... You really ate there, damn

[fic]

oh ms. messy... wonder what she's been up to...

"fuckin' call me messy," you grumble under your breath, the pre-wetted wipe in your hands going dry with overuse. emily squirms, her chubby little cheek gone red with the attention.

"not s'ppose'ta say tha'word." face squished in your hand as it is, the accusation comes out too muffled to hold her usual attitude. like this, she's almost cute. or would be, if not for the garish colors still staining her eyelids.

"and you're not supposed to use markers like makeup, but here we are."

she rolls her eyes, the brat, smudgy purple lines fading up into her eyebrows raising with the effort, as if everything in her tiny little body was put into the motion. "wha'ss'a diffr'nce anyway?"

"well for one, makeup comes off with makeup wipes," you snark, tossing another stained towelette into the bin, tie-dye collection starting to overflow. "for another i don't think 'bluetiful' is really your color."

"blue is a primary color," she informs you, apropos of nothing, as if that should explain why she'd tried using it as as a highlighter.

you pause in your endeavor, the bright red 'blush' on her cheek bleeding down the crease of her nose. "that is true," you agree sagely, and then damn near jump out of your skin when a gruff voice behind you asks if she knows her other primaries.

emily lists off a good fourteen colors - far too many from your understanding, though it had been a long time since you were in preschool; maybe they'd added some. you used the time to check yourself out in the bathroom mirror covertly, though you catch him catching you, eyes meeting somewhere around the fourth shade of yellow. "mr. price," you greet him casually, voice too meek in your effort not to interrupt emily's learning.

he doesn't even nod, eyes heavy on you as he lets his daughter prattle off every shade of the crayolla box she'd become overly familiar with. you'd say he's getting worse but he's always been like this - too intense, too direct - and saying as much felt like a jinx, like a dare to the universe at large to make him, impossibly, more driven. "ms. messy," he drawls quietly, the title a low purr as he lets his eyes drag over you. you'd worn shorts today, confident and cheeky in the privacy of your room. he always managed to wrangle that control from you this easily, with barely more than a pointed look that set you back to basics, suddenly remembering the game you're playing. who with.

attempting to save face, you turn back to emily and whisper to her, thick as thieves. "coulda told me he was right behind me. now i look bad, not using this as a teaching opportunity."

emily tells you it's actually your job to know when her dad's home because she's a little shit, but you barely hear it because john takes that opportunity to assure you you don't look bad, doubles down when he sees how flustered he's made you. "emily, doesn't ms. messy look nice?"

and maybe there is a reason you keep coming back for more (other than her hot father and his seemingly bottomless pocket) because she just nods animatedly, sloppy bun you'd piled her hair into bobbing. you start to murmur your thanks, but she ruins the moment just as suddenly as she'd started it, motioning to her colorful face and proudly announcing she'd been trying to look like you.

"oh," you hedge, unsure how you feel about a child thinking drunk drag makeup was the key to stealing your look.

john, thankfully, comes to your rescue. "oh, munchkin. you know ms. messy doesn't need all that to look pretty."

well, maybe 'thankfully' was a strong word. "and neither do you. you're pretty just the way you are," you assert, trying to steer the conversation into something more manageable just as you steer the girl before you back your way, tilting her head so you can get a particularly well saturated bit on her brow.

"prettier than you?" she asks, cheeky, and you roll your eyes much like she had, far too exaggeratedly. let her dad have fun with that bad habit.

"well of course!"

she giggles, turns to face her father as best she can when you've got her whole jaw cupped in your hand. "daddy, am i prettier than ms. messy?"

you don't think he's mean enough to give his kid a complex in the name of flirting with someone half his age, but your breath catches anyway, waiting in anticipation as he lets the moment drag on.

surely your heart's racing because you want him to say no. right?

"now that you mention it, ms. messy sure could use some sprucing up, hm?" you scoff and flick the dirty towelette at him and huff when he catches it easily, palm completely engulfing it without even really trying. he's unbearably smug when he continues, whiskers practically twitching with a barely contained grin. "what do you think, munchkin? a pretty necklace? a bracelet?"

unfortunately, he looks perfectly serious. "maybe a ring?"

if emily responds, you don't hear it, too busy side eyeing him, trying to figure out how serious he is. if you get tipped with a tennis necklace next time you watch his kid, you might just drop out of school.

divider by @/cafekitsune

[thatguywhodoesstuff]

I Saw The New HB Short & I Had A Cursed Idea.