because the whole concept of the “friendzone” disgusts me. I’m particularly disgusted with how men feel like they are somehow wronged or betrayed by a woman if their friendship doesn’t end in sex, when it was ultimately the woman who was betrayed by who she thought was a friend.
maybe there’s something I’m missing here… but women can be “friendzoned” by men just as easily as men can by women. A person is NOT in the friendzone when they think their friendship entitles them to sex— a person IS, however, in the friendzone when admiree* sees the relationship between themselves and their admirer as strictly platonic and says things like, “I wish my significant other was more like you!” and/or, “but that would be totally weird if we dated because we’re such good friends… right?” Please note that neither person is in the wrong here. It’s a rather unfortunate place to be from either end.
Now, I fully agree that men who believe that any relationship with a female should end in sex are rather unfortunate human beings and tend not to respect boundaries very well (which is not cool at all), but this really has nothing to do with the friendzone.
*yes I’m making up words. Whatcha gonna do about it?
is it just me or is Thor channeling some serious Nicolas Cage here.
Verily I say BEES
Thou must forcefully acquire the Document of Freedom
We’re going to steal the Tessaract of Independence.
You want a physicist to speak at your funeral. You want the physicist to talk to your grieving family about the conservation of energy, so they will understand that your energy has not died. You want the physicist to remind your sobbing mother about the first law of thermodynamics; that no energy gets created in the universe, and none is destroyed. You want your mother to know that all your energy, every vibration, every Btu of heat, every wave of every particle that was her beloved child remains with her in this world. You want the physicist to tell your weeping father that amid energies of the cosmos, you gave as good as you got.
And at one point you’d hope that the physicist would step down from the pulpit and walk to your brokenhearted spouse there in the pew and tell him that all the photons that ever bounced off your face, all the particles whose paths were interrupted by your smile, by the touch of your hair, hundreds of trillions of particles, have raced off like children, their ways forever changed by you. And as your widow rocks in the arms of a loving family, may the physicist let her know that all the photons that bounced from you were gathered in the particle detectors that are her eyes, that those photons created within her constellations of electromagnetically charged neurons whose energy will go on forever.
And the physicist will remind the congregation of how much of all our energy is given off as heat. There may be a few fanning themselves with their programs as he says it. And he will tell them that the warmth that flowed through you in life is still here, still part of all that we are, even as we who mourn continue the heat of our own lives.
And you’ll want the physicist to explain to those who loved you that they need not have faith; indeed, they should not have faith. Let them know that they can measure, that scientists have measured precisely the conservation of energy and found it accurate, verifiable and consistent across space and time. You can hope your family will examine the evidence and satisfy themselves that the science is sound and that they’ll be comforted to know your energy’s still around. According to the law of the conservation of energy, not a bit of you is gone; you’re just less orderly. Amen.
It is seriously one of my favourite things in life when nature takes over man-made spaces.
(Source: felicitouslotus)
do you ever use a pen and you’re just blown away by how smoothly it glides across the page and how the ink flows out so beautifully like tears of jesus or something
and some mother fucker in your next class borrows it and NEVER GIVES IT BACK.
the fuck man? can’t you see this is my jesus-tear fountain pen? get your own damn pen!
