realgeese-blog

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my whole life is the one episode of Friends where Ross drinks all those margaritas and keeps telling everyone that hes fine when he clearly isn’t fine

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Can you tell the metronome story? Idk it

ajdlfhkajgf okay. so

in high school i was in the marching band and in my junior year i was co-section leader and i carried a metronome in my backpack to use in rehearsals after school

to preface this story, the day before The Event we had a lockdown because there was a “suspicious person” circling the building (it was a confused parent. i spent two hours in the percussion closet. can you fuckign image, with my level of anxiety. anyway) so everyone was kind of on edge

so in this particular year of high school i had math first thing in the morning, which was awful, so i liked to go visit my english teacher because she was my favourite and i liked hanging out with her in my free time. so i set my backpack down and i leave the room

it gets close to time for class to start and i start heading back to the classroom, and @starrymonk and another friend of ours come running up to me and they tell me that our math teacher thinks my backpack has a bomb in it

apparently, when i set down my backpack, the metronome was in the bottom and got turned on and started beeping

now bombs haven’t fucking beeped or ticked since the goddamn 1960s but fuck that logic, our math teacher was actually. fucking ild and had never heard of an electric metronome in her life and was shouting at students to evacuate the wing 

so im running up and trying to explain to this fucko that the beeping in ¾ time at 120bpm is not, in fact, a bomb, but a device for making sure my section is in time, but she’s fucking losing it and makes us evacuate to the cafeteria

the students in the cafeteria are losing their shit. yesterday they thought they were going to be the next victims of a school shooting and today they think they’re going to die via metronome bomb. im running around trying to find a fucking sane faculty member while simultaneously telling everyone i run into, “it’s not a bomb, it’s A FUCKING METRONOME”

i finally find the vice principal and tell him, “dude, it’s not a fucking bomb, it’s a metronome, you know me, i’m in the band, literally there are only like five hundred fucking students in this school you know exactly who i am”

so he grabs me and another staff member and we start heading back toward the wing with the fake bomb, and already the three officers that we have patrolling the school (because of the incident the previous day) and the principal are gathered near the classroom and they shout at us to stop at the end of the hall (which is no more than fifty feet from the classroom, if that, and yeah that’s totally far enough to save us in the event of a bomb going off, right)

so the vp shouts to them that i think it’s a metronome, and i’m like no, i know it’s a metronome it’s my backpack and im a band student for the love of god

so they’re like nah we’re gonna call bomb squad

so fucking, i’m sent back to the cafeteria and this is how things happen as my band director filled me in later that day

apparently, the principal calls my band director down at the opposite end of the school and he’s like “hey darren, could you identify the sound of a metronome over the phone???” and my band director has no clue what’s happening because he isn’t involved in this nonsense, he doesn’t have a class during first period and was probably napping in his office, but he’s like “yeah, probably??” and the principal holds the phone up to the noise and my band director says it sounds like a metronome

skipping about an hour of hysteria and me telling everyone repeatedly that they aren’t going to die, the intercom comes on and tells the student body to gather in the gym for an assembly, presumably so we can all die in one place when the metronome bomb goes off

i’m still telling everyone i can grab that the bomb isn’t real and we aren’t going to die, and then i sit in the bleachers, possibly the angriest i have ever been, while everyone gathers in the gym

the principal and other important faculty whoever the fuck come in and start talking about the previous day’s incident and how tensions are high, so someone may have been stressed and mistakenly thought a metronome (which he pronounced as “metrodome,” which i like to think of as a giant beeping sports stadium) was a live fucking bomb

meanwhile i see the doors to the gym open and my band director slides in. he looks around for a minute, then sees me, and fucking grins like the asshole he is and starts edging his way around the room to me

when he gets over to me, he turns to face the people talking about threats and mistakes and bullshit to cover the fact that they know nothing about music education

and then slowly and slyly he pulls my metronome out of his pocket and hands it over to me, and then separately hands me the two batteries to it and starts giggling

if you don’t believe me, i made the fucking news

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when u see ppl sexualizing a little kid character……..

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i hate being mentally ill because the first thought i have now when someone gets even remotely romantically close to me is “how will they ever like me when i’m so fucked up” followed by “they don’t deserve to be with someone this fucked up” 

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me *throwing glass of water off of table*: Damn it to piss, Susan! I already told you I can;t handle spicy food like that. Damn it straight to piss. susan

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i was on the train and 3 drunk girls saw me and said i had nice brown eyes so they sang “brown eyed girl” to me

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I hate to be the one to break this to you, dude, but as a general rule, women don’t pretend to virulently hate men they’re secretly in love with as some sort of elaborate courtship ritual. That’s a trope we made up to justify why the male protagonist always gets the girl in the end even when it’s starkly at odds with prior characterisation. In real life, if she acts like she thinks you’re a creep, it’s because she thinks you’re a creep!

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You can lead a horse to water.

You can leave your horse behind.

Because your horse don’t dance and if he don’t dance then he’s no horse of mine

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shout out to him

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After years of right-wing pundits encouraging hate, bigotry, and sexism, these same pundits freak out that Donald Trump is in charge of the GOP.

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I made a post about this but it got no notes so I'm submitting it here

PSA

Hey, this is a message from your local fast food restaurant employee. Please read and reblog it, because it’s got important information.

I’m making this post because I want to stress a point. Fast food restaurants, specifically the drive through portion, run on a timer. And I don’t mean we just have to work fast. I mean that we literally have a timer that counts the seconds it takes us to get your food to you. Which makes sense, speed of service is important to the business, it’s called fast food for a reason.

The thing is, that timer starts the second your car pulls up to the microphone to order, and doesn’t end until you are no longer in the fast food lane.

I don’t know if the times are the same across the board, but at the place I work, 3 minutes and 30 seconds is the longest amount of time an order is supposed to take. Faster is better. All the times get added up and averaged, and if that average is higher than the desired number, we, the workers, get in trouble.

So when you take three minutes to think of what you want to eat? Yeah, you’re putting someone’s paycheck on the line. When you idle by the widow after you are served? Someone who is struggling could be punished.

When we say “Please move on” or prompt you with “Will that complete your order?”, we are not being rude, do not snap at us. We are trying to protect ourselves and our coworkers, and to get your food to you in a timely manner. And for god’s sake, if you can’t decide what you want before you reach the microphone, then don’t take more than 30 seconds to think. And if you think of some things you want but not everything, tell us some of the order so we can get started on it. Time is literally money to us, and trust me, we need the money.

I wanted to make this post because no one seems to know this. I didn’t, until I started working at my current place of employment, and every customer I’ve explained it to so far had been surprised if not outright shocked and apologetic. I’m not trying to call all customers bad or attack anyone, just, please. We’re people, we’re overworked, underpaid, tired people who still manage to give you a happy smile and a warm meal. Please be brief, for our sakes.

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quick, someone who’s never seen scooby-doo 2: monsters unleashed explain what’s happening

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PSA TO ALL MEN

when a woman accuses you of sexual harassment/assault/rape, your first thought should be “what did I do to make you uncomfortable” and “what can I do to change this behavior”, not “how dare you say this” and “haven’t you thought about MY reputation?”