My brain, at 6 AM on a Monday: I wonder if you can order those little soy sauce fish shaped bottles in bulk, except without soy sauce in them. You should spend 30 minutes trying to find them instead of sleeping.
Must… resist…
Cons: Waste of money, waste of time, stupid, pointless, unnecessary, foolish.
It’s my grandpa’s birthday next week and he said “I don’t want to be 85” and my grandmother, his wife of 59 and a half years, said “well your only alternative is to die”, I can’t believe how affectionate they are
I was having lunch with them today and my grandpa started throwing napkins at my grandmother, and she balled it up and looked all set to throw it back but then she put it down and said “I will not throw it because I was brought up properly, you were dragged” she has spent ¾ of her life with this man
How the heck did her hair get braided like that? Did she and the other officers just have a braiding train at night? ????
do you think Peggy carter needs anyone to braid her hair? she does it herself. The right hand’s nail polish? my girl has it covered. Zipping and unzipping the back of the dress? pff… Peggy Carter can do anything. Liquid Eyeliner? in one try. Peggy carter can do anything.
anything.
a n y t h i n g.
That’s not a braid. It’s a roll. It is one of the most beautiful hair styles to come out of the 40s and is incredibly simple. The hair styles you should be impressed with are these.
Waves: I had a 1920s themed dance last month, and I wore my hair in waves. I sat in a chair with a professional stylist for AN HOUR for FOUR of those beauties. I see at least eight. And she does those regularly for work.
Victory curls: I can do victory curls. Two, to be exact. Not counting practice, I have worn my hair in V-curls exactly twice. It took me an hour and a half last time, and I didn’t even curl the ends, just two v-curls on the top of my head, and they weren’t nearly this amazing. Again, another casual work look.
Do you think Steve curled her hair? Fat chance. Be in awe of Peggy Carter. Be in awe.
I now have a mental image of Peggy Carter doing her nightly routine, which of course doesn’t necessarily happen at night, just whenever she has a chance to lie down and sleep. It starts with sitting at her desk, where a mirror has been wedged into the right position by militarily files, but she doesn’t look at it any more. Instead she’s pouring over whatever has to be memorized for the following day, fingers working on automatic as she wedges pins into place. It takes forty seven pin curls to get the look she wants, and she’s done with it before she finishes reading the memo.
There’s little flickers of red on her gun as testament to smudged nails before she learned to check her weapons first and then paint her nails. While they dry she reads something else, filing it all away for future reference and remembering key words by which finger she was painting at the time. When Peggy Carter checks her nails she might well be looking for chips, but it’s more likely she’s remembering names.
She ran out of cold cream weeks ago, but she stills has some rose water left and uses it sparingly, careful not to get it mixed up with the other little vials in her kit.
And of course there will be that one night, when the alarm sounds and everyone is forced from their beds in a panicked hurry. Peggy Carter will not only be at the center of it, but she will be the one keeping the intruder pinned down. Dressed in a faded floral nightgown thrown over her night clothes, smelling like rose water, her hair hidden under a silk scarf to keep her curls in place, gun held steadily in a perfectly manicured hand. Everyone else is dressed, however hurriedly, but it’s Peggy who is the most put together, even in her pin curls.
I love the expression, “Hell in high heels”, but frankly Hell has never met Peggy Carter.
ALL of this ^^^. Also, the glorious queen probably does her winged liquid eyeliner in that stupid jeep, bouncing along the path to a meeting.
This is the most beautiful thing I’ve read so far about Peggy Carter. *chinhands and sighs, dreamily* Because Peggy fucking Carter.
A new report
summarizing three years of from the House Oversight and Government
Reform Committee on the TSA calls out the agency for its “toxic
leadership culture, misconduct, mismanagement, whistleblower retaliation
and obstruction,” citing these as the reason for the agency’s 20%
annual attrition rates.
The report was a long time coming, faced many hurdles and featured many
lowlights, like the 2016 testimony of Office of the Chief Risk Officer
program manager Mark Livingston, who described working for the TSA as
like “Lord of the Flies; you either attack or be attacked.”
like all electronics, robots are extremely susceptible to ghostly influence
Glumshoe, S. (2018). Getting the Ghost Out of the Machine: Practical Exorcism for Androids. North Central Positronics. 19(09), 167-188.
“Ten?” Darya whispered. “Are you alright…?”
The android shuddered and rose slowly to his feet. There was something stiff and insectoid about his movements – nothing like Ten’s usual inhuman grace. His head twisted on his neck with a sound like a creaking gate.
“Hoowee! Talk about a haunted doll!” The voice that came out of the robot was not one Darya had ever heard him use before. “I’ve never gotten to play with a toy this fancy before!”
Darya took a step back. The android’s eyes fixed on her. Even in the dim lighting of the kitchen, she could see his pupil-like ocular lenses expanding and contracting independently, whirring in protest at the unnatural function. A shiver went down her spine.
“Ten?” she asked again, her mouth dry, and raised her hands slowly in front of her.
“Sorry!” sang the android in that strange voice. “’Ten’ can’t come to the phone right now! Care to leave a message?”
It lunged without warning. Darya screamed and stumbled backwards, bruising her spine against the edge of the counter. The thing’s hands shot out and grasped her by the throat, pressing cold thumbs against her windpipe. Its face contorted into a wide, manic smile that strained the synthetic skin of its cheeks.
Darya choked and clawed at its wrists. The android, insensitive to pain and far stronger than a human, ignored her and slowly began to squeeze. The pounding in her head grew louder and louder as she felt pressure build behind her eyes. Her vision blurred and her hands slipped off the thing’s wrists, falling leadenly to dangle at her sides.
Suddenly its grip loosened. Blood rushed back into her head and Darya wrenched away, gasping for breath. Ten’s body twitched again as she scrambled for the doorway.
“Ooh, am I not supposed to do that?” it chuckled. “Looks like I forgot to turn the safety off! Hey – where are you going, little lady? Don’t tell me you’re too old to play with dolls…”
Stumbling into the hallway, Darya froze. She wanted to run, but there was no way she could make it further than the edge of the yard without support, and that support had just tried to kill her. She glanced over her shoulder at the robot. Ten – or Ten’s body, at any rate – was still standing beside the sink, twitching weirdly as if something was shifting around inside of it, trying to get comfortable.
“Ahh. Much better.” It stretched its arms. “Now… where were we?”
“I’m so sorry. If only I’d known!” Ten’s face reappeared, his hand pressed against his cheek in mock concern. “We could have had so much more fun. Just think – I could have ridden around inside him, biding my time, making him do awful little things he’d never remember. Eventually you’d have to deactivate him. I wonder whose heart would break first… yours, or his?”
Rationally, Darya knew that Ten could not feel physical pain – at least, not in the sense that a vertebrate with a nervous system could. Even his emotions were muted, limiting his ability to suffer. Theoretically.
Why is october the 10th month of the year and not the 8th? Like it literally has ‘octo’ meaning 8 in it’s name
It used to be!! But because the Romans added the month of July in honour of Julius Caesar in 44 B.C and then later in 8 B.C they added August after Augustus Caesar, they threw off the calendar and everyone is bitter about it.
we should totally just stab caesar
We already did that.
we should do it more than once
Motherfucker..
I was actually JUST having this conversation with T.
Like OCTober… but also DECEMber, SEPTEMber…. are all pretty obvious, but then like, NOVEM means nine… and the rest are a little screwy, I was expecting more numbers from SOME tradition… but no…
JANUS -god of beginnings
March for Mars, April “the opening”, and then a couple more obscure things…
But then straight up 7,8,9,10… until they fucked it up and then didn’t bother re-naming them…
But let’s be fair…. Fun as Rome was, and whatever good and bad came from it, it was a series of poor decisions and unfinished projects more than anyone gives it credit for.
