solar-citrus:

You would be surprised with how many people in your life could be going through depression at this very moment.  People hide it like a paper bag over their heads out of fear of being judged, made fun of, seen as weak, or just not taken seriously.  Depression should not be taken lightly, it holds us down from our purpose and potential in life.  Those who tell you that it doesn’t exist have never experienced depression in their life, therefore not understanding the symptoms and how it’s something that cannot be fixed in a day!  So if you think you are depressed or if you think you know someone else who is, please talk to a friend, a family member, or anyone else in your life that you trust - never overlook the possibility of seeing a doctor for more professional help!!  Your feelings are real, your feelings are shared upon millions.  Don’t hide it, talk to someone about it.  With the right help, you can rediscover your confidence and begin life anew with our undying love and support!

We are right here!!

faithandfury:

harmonihalo:

literarydisneyprincess:

rabbittwalter:

gamtav88:

brooklyn-knight:

jalexintheimpala:

god bless gordan ramsey 

Dude is only a dick to adults, awesome.

because, those adults should know what they’re doing, they’re cooks these are kids hes teaching to cook, therefore he is patient. 

gordon ramsey is one of my favorite people in the whole world ok

The only reason he gets so angry is because the people he’s yelling at claim to know what they are doing and are charging people accordingly. If you listen to why he’s actually angry more than half the time you’d realize you’d be furious too. This man is beyond patient and kind toward people in normal circumstances, but he is really serious about his profession and what should be demanded of it. He’s one of my favorite people too

But have you seen “Hotel Hell” tho.

There was an elderly couple on there who lost EVERYTHING and he bought them a FREAKING APARTMENT.

The guy has a huge heart, no kidding.

Gordan Ramsey is my favourite person in the entire world

benedictcumberbatchsgirlfriend:

deathfrisbeeofbakerstreet:

Some fandoms are waiting for season 10, others for episode 10.

I love how people just
know

nintendontdodrugs:

Chris Ramsey calling out Katie Hopkins for her views on fat people.

please elaborate on how you got a substitute teacher to quit within one day. I'm genuinely curious.
Anonymous

mysticmoonhigh:

mamalovebone:

all right everyone sit down, shut up and listen closely because I’m about to tell y’all the tale of Ms. Mormino.

Seventh grade is a time most people don’t look back on fondly. I know I sure don’t—I tend to regard that era as nothing more than an unpleasant, acne-filled haze of fall out boy and poor attempts at pseudo-zooey deschanel fashions. But enough about me. Let’s talk about my math teacher. 

Ms. Isom. Poor old Ms. Isom. Well in her 60’s, always plagued with some illness or injury, she was hardly ever even at school. Since many of her absences were the result of short-notice incidents—“falling down the stairs” was popularly cited— it wasn’t all that uncommon to not have a substitute on hand. Being a smartass honors class, we’d gotten away with several successful evasions of administration, walking cavalierly into class  to pass the next 48 minutes doing just about nothing. Hell, for good measure, we’d sometimes even toss in a friendly “hey, Ms. Isom!” if any administrators were anywhere within earshot. So incredibly anti-establishment, you could basically call it another Project Mayhem, except instead of Brad Pitt and Ed Norton concocting homemade bombs, it was a bunch of tweenyboppers with iPhone 3’s and Justin Bieber 2009 haircuts. 

 We got pretty accustomed to our own little self-governing system that rolled around every second period, so we naturally weren’t exactly thrilled when administration caught on to our little Anarchy Act and strictly enforced the presence of a substitute every day. 

Most of our subs weren’t terrible—most were friendly, gave us participation grades, and didn’t object to the independent attitude of our class (which, mind you, only had about ten students in it) 

That is, until Ms. Mormino came along. 

Four feet, ten inches of raw, undiluted evil, Ms. Mormino walked into class with a scowl on her face and a chip on her shoulder. When the girl behind me sneezed, Ms. Mormino’s immediate response was “NO INAPPROPRIATE NOISES!” 

 Although we all suppressed our laughter, we all knew from that moment on that, try as she might with her despotism and her draconian anti-sneeze policy, Ms. Mormino didn’t stand a chance. 

 The arguable beginning of the end for Ms. Mormino’s all-too-brief reign of terror was the moment I asked for a calculator; mine was broken. Mormino asserted that I could only borrow a calculator if I loaned her something of mine; at that moment, the girl next to me chimed in, saying she, too, needed a calculator. “I have a folder I can give you,” I offered. “I have a highlighter,” added the other girl. 

 At that moment, a puberty-creaking voice from the back of the room piped up. 

Max. 

We all know certain people have certain gifts. Michelangelo saw angels in every block of marble and devoted his life to setting them free; Einstein had a mind which saw the potential of the entire universe; F. Scott Fitzgerald wove intricate tales of decadence and depravity. Max, however, had a different kind of gift: he could make anything—anything at all—into a “that’s what she said” joke. More on that later, though. 

Max pried off a Nike sneaker and held it proudly in the air, like a coveted trophy. 

"I have a shoe." 

Tottering in one-shoe-one-sock, Max dumped the sneaker on Ms. Mormino’s desk, retrieved a calculator, then tottered back to his own desk, a sort of smirk playing on his face. And, as to be expected—the rest of us quickly followed suit. 

 A small pile of shoes on her desk, Ms. Mormino grit her teeth and glared at us as we all sat back down, quietly victorious, a calculator in each of our hands. It wasn’t long, however, until we all began to silently plot our next act of minor mayhem. 

"Can I go to the bathroom?" asked Tyler, who, despite being in seventh grade, was approaching his sixteenth birthday. In a combination of verism and admiration of Tyler’s devil-may-care boldness, we unequivocally accepted him as our leader. For reasons unknown, Ms. Mormino denied his request. Tyler, much like his Fight Club namesake, heeded no rules but his own and left anyway—Ms. Mormino, furious, locked the door behind him and smugly insisted that "administration will take care of him." 

Tyler, however, was not one to be caught, and stayed close by, appearing in the window of the door whenever Ms. Mormino wasn’t looking. Waving, smiling, laughing, making faces and obscene gestures, Tyler had us all in stitches, but cleverly avoided Ms. Mormino’s sight—when she asked us what was so funny, we all refused to give Tyler away. 

A girl asked to go to the bathroom, stating she “really really really” needed to go. Ms. Mormino, again, denied her request. Ms. Mormino, however, seemed to be uninformed about the side door—leading right outside, always locked from the outside but always open from the inside. 

"Well, I’ll go myself," the girl responded, and took off, hurdling three desks and darting out the door. Right behind her, two other students took off, pursuing freedom. The door slammed behind all three students, and they were gone. 

 Six of us were left. Among us, importantly, was Chris. 

Chris was thirteen, but looked half his age; scrawny, wiry, he probably measured in at about four-foot-three, but no taller. “Late Bloomer” are words that come to mind. 

Despite his diminutive size, Chris possessed the gall of someone like Tyler.

"I have to use the bathroom," said Chris, standing. 

 ”Do you think I’m going to allow you to go to the bathroom?” snapped Ms. Mormino. 

 ”It’s an emergency!” Chris pleaded. 

"Sit down," Ms. Mormino growled. 

Meanwhile, the entire class borders on hysteria. We have tears in our eyes, almost suffocating from choking back laughter. 

"It’s an emergency," repeated Chris, but it sounded more like a warning.

"Sit."

Silence. Silence, Silence and more silence, until we all began to notice a dark stain on Chris’s khakis. The stain grew. And grew. And grew.

 Fists at his sides, stoicism in his face, and a cold, proud, triumphant glint in his eye, Chris locked eye contact with Ms. Mormino. 

And pissed right in his pants. 

The entire class erupted into a laugh only comparable to the detonation of a bomb. 

We laughed so hard for the next five, ten, fifteen minutes straight that Ms. Mormino gave up. Surrendering, putting her head on her desk, she waited until the hysteria finally subsided. 

Finally looking up, defeated, pathetic, Ms. Mormino glared at us all and wailed: 

 ”This is too much, this is too hard, too hard, Jesus Christ, this is too much for me!” 

 A lone voice sounded from the back of the room. Guess whose it was.

"That’s what she said."

Ms. Mormino officially retired from teaching that afternoon.

FUCKING READ IT IT’S WORTH IT

I’m a disruptive influence

lemopi:

salsamanders:

whoa livin on a prayer

OH

lemopi:

salsamanders:

whoa livin on a prayer

OH
lemopi:

salsamanders:

whoa we’re half way there

what

lemopi:

salsamanders:

whoa we’re half way there

what
abrokenraggedyman:

fuchsiaring:

a-weeping-angel-just:

disneytreblemaker:

miss-atomicbomb:

how the hell did he jump that high

he’s david tennantt that’s how

hes a timelord
timelords have springs in their feet

A wonderful thing is a Time LordA Time Lord is a wonderful thingTheir tops are made out of rubberTheir bottoms are made out of springsThey’re bouncy, bouncy, timey-wimeyfun, fun, fun, fun, funAnd the most wonderful thing about Time Lords isI’m the only—
oh.

THAT LAST COMMENT I JUST DIED AND WHAT ARE YOU EVEN CAN YOU NOT PLEASE THAT IS AMAZING YOU ARE AMAZING I LOVE YOU PLEASE NO 

abrokenraggedyman:

fuchsiaring:

a-weeping-angel-just:

disneytreblemaker:

miss-atomicbomb:

how the hell did he jump that high

he’s david tennantt that’s how

hes a timelord

timelords have springs in their feet

A wonderful thing is a Time Lord
A Time Lord is a wonderful thing
Their tops are made out of rubber
Their bottoms are made out of springs
They’re bouncy, bouncy, timey-wimey
fun, fun, fun, fun, fun
And the most wonderful thing about Time Lords is
I’m the only—

oh.

THAT LAST COMMENT I JUST DIED AND WHAT ARE YOU EVEN CAN YOU NOT PLEASE THAT IS AMAZING YOU ARE AMAZING I LOVE YOU PLEASE NO 

"I am terribly clumsy, so there is a plethora of walking into lamp-posts, falling over, dropping things, and ruining sofas." - Matt Smith

the graham norton show ft. diehard whovian peter capaldi

thebabbagepatch:

snazziest:

snazziest:

snazziest:

snazziest:

I FOUND A BABY PINEAPPLE image

They grow up so fast image

He was so dear to me :’( image

hallelujah he is risen indeed! image

i just want to see the footage of this pineapple being thrown into the air repeatedly in an attempt to get this photo

famdoms-and-bandoms:

famdoms-and-bandoms:

capturethebodhi:

unadulteratedconcept:

It just kept getting better

The longer you watch it the better it gets

IM FUCKING CRYING

There will never come a day that this doesn’t make me laugh

famdoms-and-bandoms:

famdoms-and-bandoms:

capturethebodhi:

unadulteratedconcept:

It just kept getting better

The longer you watch it the better it gets

IM FUCKING CRYING
There will never come a day that this doesn’t make me laugh

marchqueen:

gigglewhatsit:

runyouclevertimelord:

dryadgurrl:

himapapaftw:

finally, it has appeared on my dash

Well that was unexpected.

I was not expecting this

no one ever does