Number 4

I talked to the McElroys for 15 goddamn minutes and Griffin told my parrot to go fuck itself

Buckle up kiddos, this is a story for the ages

Last night, I went to the Chicago live show, and in short it was one of the best nights of my life. I laughed so hard I choked on my Fancy Theater Sprite™. Cosplayers frolicked amongst people in Shrimp Heaven T Shirts amongst people in their Sunday best.

Towards the end of the show, the boys traditionally asked for questions from the crowd, and immediately over 1000 hands shot up. I was up in the balcony, but I raised my hand anyways for kicks. No waving, no movement. My hand was a beacon, a goddamn lighthouse in the middle of a swarming sea of desperate fans. Travis and I locked eyes. I felt my stomach drop.

“The person in the…purple hoodie?”

“You mean this?” I said as I stood and my crimson cosplay robe fell around my shoulders.

“Yeah!! Come on down!”

In a blur I made my way to the aisle as quickly as possible, people clapping me on the back and whispering “don’t mess up” all the while. My hands were shaking so bad that I couldn’t hold on to the railing as I climbed down three flights of stairs and walked down the aisle to the microphone.

And immediately caused someone to face plant into said microphone out of our combined clumsiness and panic (she was ok but boy shitting howdy do I feel bad). I waited for my turn slowly being consumed by blind terror. Everything I said was going to be forever embedded into podcast history for all of eternity. I Could Not Mess Up.

As they called me forward I mustered up every drop of comedic timing within me, every tactic of improv I could remember. I stepped up to the microphone. “So a little over a year ago, we bought a parrot, and it was, like, a cool pet…”

“yeah, AS OPPOSED TO THOSE SHITTY DOGS, RIGHT?” Griffin interjected. The crowd roared for what felt like years, until it was finally quiet enough for me to continue. Dead silence.

“Boys, now I have 7 parrots. Please help.”

In all my years, I will never forget the look on Griffin Andrew McElroy’s face as the realization hit him. It was like he was hit by a motherfucking monster truck, and the monster truck was being driven by my seven birds of the apocalypse.

For the next 15 minutes I talked to three of the coolest people alive as all four of us ragged on my 7 horrible, horrible birds. Highlights include:

“WHAT MADE YOU THINK, AFTER SIX GODDAMN BIRDS, THAT YOU NEEDED A SEVENTH?”

“YOU HAVE A FUCKING BIRD NAMED PIKACHU?”

“BIRD NUMBER 4 WAS LONELY?”

FUCK SADIE

It was the best night of my entire life and I physically cannot wait until the episode comes out.

9

ennotana week day 1: third year

the world: #taylorswiftisdead
taylor: *deletes all of her previous social media posts causing mayhem*
taylor: *announces an album causing mayhem*
taylor: *goes number 1 on iTunes with her new single in less than an hour (35 minutes), breaking a record*
taylor: *led sales of her single by 95% on iTunes, breaking a record*
taylor: *breaks spotify record of most streams in one day with 3.8 million streams*
taylor: *sold over 200k (PURE SALES WITHOUT STREAMING) of her single in 24 hours, expecting to sell over 500k in the first week which will be the highest selling first week single sale since “Hello” by Adele*
taylor: *broke the 24 hour Vevo record for lyric videos with over 10 million MORE views than the previous record holder*
taylor: *broke the 24 hour Vevo record for her actual music video beating adele’s previous record of 27.7 million views*
taylor: *now holds the record for most views in 24 hours on a lyric video and a music video*

sorry, guys. i don’t think she’s going anywhere.

i’m not saying exo’s lay zhang yixing would be the best at doing the eve choreography but exo’s lay zhang yixing would be the best at doing the eve choreography

anonymous asked:

You’re too young to hate the world or we’re designed to be disposable with Keith and lance please and thanks

“Ya know, we’re designed to be disposable.” Lance idly pushes the glass spiral hanging by his head. Otherwise, he holds still, spread out on the floor, cheek pressed in the cold metal.

“What?” Keith asks, looking down at his companion. The other paladins are probably listening in the mostly silent common room, Pidge tapping on her keyboard on the couch and Hunk tinkering, but he wants Lane to elaborate. That’s not just something you say to the silence without forethought.

“Like, us. Humans. Materials. Blood and bones, and stuff, man. It just gets made into things, like us, and then we get hit and lose some or we use it, and we heal or take some from something else. It keeps going, round and round in this giant cycle, breaking and coming together and leaving and everything. We’re disposable, as in the form we are now, but our materials aren’t. They design us to break and bend and die and come back. Nothing’s permanent, not us, not the Castle, not this war, not Earth, not the sun, but it all keeps happening, coming back.”

“That’s …pretty heavy.” Keith says, looking down at the head of tousled caramel hair by his hip. He runs his fingers through it, playing with the locks. That put a lot of things in perspective. Lance put a lot of things in perspective, especially when they were drifting through space and stars.

“The one who makes the matter the lightest often has the heaviest weight to carry.”

Lance pushes the glass spiral again, eyes looking at it, but far away in thought.

Keith’s not sure how to pull things out of perspective for Lance when he thinks too much.