except for tacos

The signs as Tacos

Aries: Put together badly w/ stuff falling out

Taurus: A soft taco AKA the estranged cousin of the burrito


Cancer: A meat taco with a salad… PSYCH there is no salad just more meat

Leo: A taco with a dream

Virgo: Perfect taco with all the right toppings

Libra: A vegan taco… not bad but something is off about the taste

Scorpio: There is no taco just an empty plate with paper that only says “sorry”

Sagittarius: Smashed after responding yes to “do you want more tacos?”

Capricorn: A taco made completly out of gold

Aquarius: idk how but this taco somehow has anxiety

Pisces: A frozen taco being saved for late night munchies 

anonymous asked:

hi i was just wondering what you would say to people who think tyler and josh make music just for fame and dont actually care about it/are only trying to cater to depressed/angsty teens. thanks!

fuck, okay. it’s half past three am and it’s a bit tough for me to bring my thoughts together coherently but here: 

a little background story is necessary here: tyler joseph started writing songs when he was 17. if you listen to any song off no phun intended (except maybe taco bell saga), there is no denying that there’s something not okay. he wasn’t okay, and letting things out by writing was perhaps the only cathartic and healthy way for him to feel better. 

they took ten fucking years to get where they are now. ten, fucking, years. these ten years were characterised by hard work, sometimes even hopelessness, and most importantly, creativity. they grew a fanbase organically, not through any connexions that they might’ve had with people in the music industry. they did it all themselves. tyler and josh do not write music for fame, and just paying attention to the lyrics of their songs prove that. they have been on the road for two years now, playing so many shows, meeting so many fans. they could’ve played two sold out msg shows, accepted their fucking grammy, and then disappeared off the face of the earth to enjoy their money. but they’re not. they have done so much, are encouraging their fanbase to create (artopia, the clique art contest, etc.) because they know how important creating is. and this, this counters the argument that “they’re only trying to cater to depressed/angsty teens”. okay, maybe a big portion of their fanbase is mentally ill, but so are they. it’s only normal to write about your own issues: the fact that people resonate with those is just coincidence. their encouragement for us to create, is also a way to protect us: guns for hands is the exact explanation for this. turn your guns, to a fist. 

tyler once stopped a show (and possibly multiple ones) because fans were unwell. there’s a video of him out there stopping goner in a panicked voice because he thought something was happening. you can hear the concern. he cares, so much. josh does too. they never show off. their most prized possession is us. music has become a way of life for them, a way to live just as it has become a lifeline for so many of us. they have saved so many lives. the sole fact that tyler wrote friend, please shows just how much they care. i have trouble even imagining why someone would say they don’t care. they so fucking care. 

anonymous asked:

Does any of y'all like tacos? Chocolate? Or Pasta?

(They’re sleeping rn so i will answer them atm)

Non of them like tacos except for mixedswap sans, chocolates is zeffer and fell zeffer’s fave, cheese tarts is casual zeffers favourite, and corrupted zeffer likes pasta because thats the only thing he eats for 20+ years.

Girl Meets Bear One Shot

Words: 1919
Summary: The ep basically with cut and non filmed scenes, altered a little for story purposes :)

Maya wakes Riley that morning with an urgency for tacos. Riley rises with the unshakeable feeling that something is not quite right. She paces a little in front of the bay window when suddenly it hits her. Beary The Bear bear is gone. Instantly a pang hits her chest and the desperate need to find her childhood comforter takes a hold of any rational thinking. 

Maya can’t quite grasp why a faceless teddy bear is so important to the teenage girl, especially when there are twenty-five cent tacos to be eaten and bobble heads to collect.  Begrudgingly she follows her brunette friend downstairs where Riley sounds the families emergency siren and the rest of the Matthews come charging out. 

Riley is upset to find they share the same disinterest in the missing bear as Maya had. Riley makes it halfway out the door with her best friend when her fathers words made her decide she was going to stay. 

“It’s not really a big deal!” 

Not really a big deal? Riley turns around with fire in her eyes at the casual dismissal of her childhood toy.

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(Final) Show Diary of Stuff Noteworthy Only to Me, Day 28 (End of Daves)...

It is Sunday, around 1:30 pm, as I write this. If you must know, my boss of 24 years, Dave Letterman, is where he always is on this day, somewhere on Pit Row at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. His driver, Graham Rahal, is currently running ninth with 132 laps to go. Maybe by the time I finish this, he’ll be further up on the others. And so will you people….

If you must know, I feel relieved and extremely proud. But that’s all I can give you right now. Mercifully, for the purposes of this exercise, how I feel is not important. You saw it, you know how it made you feel. That’s all that is relevant, practical and real. But I can take you through the last day and maybe they will be something there. Something else. Something else, like that last 78 minutes we all had together.

THE MORNING: I am not a superstitious man, but I do love subtle symbolic gestures. So, I decided to wear the same grey glen plaid suit I had worn to the last show at NBC 22 years ago. I didn’t think of it until Chris Albers posted that photo of me on Twitter at my desk. I knew I still had the suit, and I hoped it still fit. In the spirit of rigorous honesty, I could have worn it as is, all zipped up and buttoned, but I might have passed out somewhere during the Taco Bell remote. So, I had my dry cleaners take out the pants an inch. I got a lot of compliments, and when I would tell people the significance of the suit, they would look skeptically until I produced a photo or two from my pocket.

THE WORK DAY: The final show had been lovingly built brick by brick by Barbara Gaines over the last six months. Her title was Executive Producer. Her everlasting credit will be my best friend. By the time we all turned up for work Wednesday, there’s was almost nothing to do. Almost. The four tape pieces (Kids, Taco Bell, Day In The Life and the final montage) had gone through their last incarnations and had been signed off on by Dave. The guests for the Top Ten had been booked. We knew there may be some final changes to the list, but that wouldn’t happen until rehearsal, which was five hours away….which is like a generation on a strip (nightly) show. So, for most of the morning, everyone was kinda antsy. Antsy like Alan Shepard in the cockpit of Freedom 7 (”Let’s light this candle!”). We just wanted the show to start.

The monologue, my main responsibility (along with Steve Young), had been put together the night before. We never do it this far in advance, but because there were no jokes based on topical material and Dave wanted no distractions on the final day, we compiled it just after the Tuesday night taping and just before a 7 pm technical rehearsal. We settled on 11 straight jokes and five enhancements (one live element – the giant print on the cue card, and four short tape pieces) for 16 total jokes, which is the number we usually shoot for. We knew if we got anything on Wednesday that we really liked, we could slot it and replace what we had. We monkeyed with the order a bit, but the Tonight Show joke (written by Mulholland and Barrie, aka “The Boys” even though they’re Dave’s age) was always going to be first out of the chute. In 24 years, I remember a handful of times when the opening remarks had been set a few hours before the taping (Anniversary shows, the first show at CBS, the first show after his heart surgery), but never the day before. 

For those of you who really want the complete monologue deconstruction, we started with 22 jokes under consideration (on cue cards) and we quickly got down to 12, then 10. The last two jokes cut were a mini-run, I now enter a new phase of life: Moping…. I now enter a new phase of life: Shouting out answers while I watch game shows…. They were cut because he had done a joke that day, I now enter a new phase of life: Googling “foods that help your prostate…”  which he felt was the best version of that premise and it didn’t make sense to revisit. So, we had 10. We were one short. I pitched a joke to him written by Steve Young that he had passed on: My son is not clear on what’s going on. He keeps asking, “Why does Daddy have to go to prison?” He remembered it and laughed and realized we had nothing in the monologue on his family. So, it went in. Over the years, I have pitched a lot of jokes in the eleventh hour and I would say he’ll take one for every 20 I offer up. It was especially gratifying because it was a Steve Young joke, and it didn’t sound like anything before or after. The final breakdown of jokes was also pleasing in its numerology: 3 for The Boys, 3 from Chris Belair, 2 from me, 2 from Steve Young, and one from Chris Albers, who wrote jokes at the old show when he was Paul’s assistant before moving on to a 18-year career running Conan’s.monologue. Chris was one of a half dozen former writers I invited to contribute to the final opening remarks: Gerard Mulligan, Adam Resnick, Larry Jacobson, Frank Sebastiano and Jeff Stilson. They were all touched and grateful to have the chance, and I loved that one of them scored.

Even though we had a monologue, the main opening remarks writers (me, The Boys and Belair) pretended it was just another day and turned in our submissions at the regular time, along with the freelance guys. Dave considered a couple, but nothing made it through. My last effort looked no different in format than my first, which I typed on an IBM Wheelwriter and turned in Monday, October 21, 1991, except that just under Opening Remarks  Scheft  5/20,  I wrote the last line of Catullus poem #101 (Atque in perpetuum, frater, ave atque vale.). In the makeup room, he asked me to translate the Latin, and I managed to not choke up when I said, “And into eternity, brother, hail and farewell….”). Truth be told, there was one joke of mine I would have loved him to slot in under the wire: 35 years ago, I stopped drinking. I think that’s long enough, don’t you?  

The three of us (Dave, Me and Todd Seda) ran through the cards three times, just like always. We ended up replacing one of the taped elements (”Me in 2 Weeks”) with a Steve Young piece called “Comedy We Would Have Done Tomorrow,” a beautiful last deep wink and nod to the notion that we were cluelessly continuing as if the show was not ending. We kept the hologram of Dave saying goodbye to the staff and the cultural impact moments from “The Simpsons” and “Wheel of Fortune.” For once and at last, everything was in the right order. 

Rehearsal, which I only attend if I’m in a sketch, was noteworthy for two moments, neither of which I witnessed. After the Foo Fighters had run through “Everlong” live for the first time to accompany Barbara Gaines’ epic montage, she leaped onto the stage and hugged Dave Grohl.

Six months she had worked on this, her singular swansong after 35 Dave years, with Randi Grossack, Mark Spada and a battalion of self-doubt. Can you blame her for lunging?

The other moment happened during the Top Ten rehearsal. 8 of the 10 celebrities were happy with the lines we had written for them. Tina Fey and Julia Louis-Dreyfus wanted to consider other takes. Julia settled on a line written by Mike Leech (”Thanks for letting me take part in another hugely disappointing series finale….”) which the next day was proclaimed the “winner” of the Top Ten. Tina took something a little more subtle and much more pointed (”Thanks for finally proving men can be funny….”) That line, ladies and gentlemen, ladies and ladies, was written by Caroline, whose last name I don’t know. I don’t know because she was the writer’s intern and we never got that formal. But on the last day of the last show, she scored the final two entries on the final Top Ten. Oh yeah, she already had Bill Murray’s line (”Dave, I’ll never have the money I owe you….”) We were all genuinely thrilled for her. This 21-year-old has all the resume she needs going forward. I will be happy to help her in any way I can. But I’ll need her last name. (UPDATE 6:30: My pal Brian Koppleman found her on Twitter. Caroline Schaper @carolimeschaper)

Our final day together in the dressing room preparing for the taping was remarkably similar to all that preceded it. Dave, Me, Nancy, Barbara, Jude and Matt laughing about something from another show, another year. Jane with the makeup. The only difference was Les Moonves stopping by to say hello, and at 4:26, many people yelling “Biff is coming!!!!” for the last time instead of just wardrobe person Natalie Fowles. Dave walked slowly down the stairs to the stage door, as he always does.

THE AUDIENCE WARMUP: I don’t remember much. I looked out and saw Regina and Harry, both beaming, and I had to look somewhere else. So, I looked to their right and saw Donna Reilly Roboto, who was Dave’s nurse during his heart surgery and then came to visit Adrianne half a million times when she was in the Cornell Weill Cardiac-Thoracic ICU with chemo poisoning, in Sloan-Kettering after successful esophageal cancer surgery and in our living room during the long slow recovery. So, you’ll understand if all I remember was Dave’s very last line: “This is the most important show of my life….”

THE TAPING:  You’re gonna have to believe me, there’s nothing to report. Zero. Move along. Nothing to see here. Show’s over… The taping ran 20 minutes long, which means nothing was edited out. Nothing was redone (5/27 UPDATE: Nothing EXCEPT the intro to the Taco Bell remote, when Dave mistakenly said “1976″ instead of “1996,” which is why in the redo it got a knowing inside laugh from the audience). You saw what everyone else saw. So… I’ll leave you with this incredible photo by Pulitzer Prize winner John Filo, snapped seconds before the end of the final commercial break:

It was a long long last break as they set up for the Foo Fighters. The band must have played Ian Hunter’s “Central Park and West,” Dave’s favorite New York City song, for ten minutes. Around minute ten, Paul looked at Nancy Agostini and pointed to his watch. That is where we are here. Nancy is staring at stage manager Eddie Valk, waiting for him to give the 30-second cue. Todd is holding the last cue card, THANK YOU AND GOODNIGHT, which Dave will utter at the end of his final remarks. Me? I’ve already said the last thing I will say to my boss: “You know how to do this….” I cannot tell you exactly what I’m thinking here, except I can see he’s happy. Hell, anyone can. I know he’s okay. I know he’ll be okay. So, if I had to write something in a thought bubble for me, and I’ve made my living with words, the best I could come up with is “What now?” 

(Seriously, though, can we give it up for the suit?)

You want to know if I got emotional? Just once. In the middle of the Final Montage, in the middle of that masterpiece, I looked over at the podium just as Nancy Agostini grabbed Barbara Gaines and threw her behind the podium so she could observe what she had so lovingly wrought on the podium monitor. That elegant, beyond affectionate gesture was not lost on me. Three years ago, Gaines had chosen Nancy to replace her after nine years running the show from the floor. In the 33 years between NBC and CBS, Barbara Gaines had been behind the podium longer than anyone. Barry Sand, Robert Morton, Rob Burnett, Jude Brennan and Maria Pope had toiled before her. Then Nancy, the very first writers intern at NBC who I have know since she was 20 and living in an all-women’s hotel, and who, like I have to tell you, is not from this Earth. For Barbara, giving up the tiller was not easy, but necessary and an act of supreme humility. And now, she got one last moment at the podium. The last moments of the last show. That got me. Good Christ, that got me.

Enough. Race is over. Rahal finished 5th. Didn’t get the podium. Thanks for indulging me these last 28 days.  As College Boy would say, “Some guys just live right.”

My time is up. You’ve been great. Enjoy The Truants….

Now when you are young is the time to do all the wild and crazy stuff that when you’re older you will look back on and laugh about. As long as you’re not hurting yourself or others, 14-25 is the age to get it all out of your system. Its the time to go to Taco Bell and eat 4 foot long tacos, to tie a tow line to your friends truck and get on your snowboard and have him tow your in the snow as if you were waterskiing, it is the time to have sex in a graveyard, or to drive 500 miles for a slice of pizza, and yes I did all those things and more before I was 24. Now I look back and shake my head and think wtf was I thinking. Do I think I was reckless, hell yes, do I regret any of it, hell no,(except the taco thing, passing 4 feet of taco out is no picnic.)

The point is, while you are in your youth you should be enjoying yourself. Stephen King wrote in one of his forwards about the big bad patrol boy who eventually comes around to collect. He is right, the patrol boy or girl isn’t watching you at 14 or 15 or even 24. He isn’t paying attention or at least you aren’t because from 14-24 your invincible,at least in your own mind. I read this forward of King’s when I was in my early 30’s and ignored it but he is correct because now that patrol boy was come a knocking just to let me know he is watching.

Enjoy your life, enjoy your now. Now is the most awesome time in your life no matter what your age. If your in your teens or early twenties you should be having a blast, go on a road trip, see as many concerts as you can, if your over 21 get drunk off your ass at least once to see what its like. Just have fun. There is so much cool shit to do and if it doesn’t exist use your imagination and make it happen.

Be the beautiful awesome human that you are and let your inner crazy out. No matter what walk of life you are from, do enough shit that when your 35,40,45,50 and so on you’ll still be interesting because you’ll have some pretty fucking awesome stories to tell. Be hardcore and go for it.

You are awesome and I like you. I like that you are alive, and breathing, and can do all this awesome shit. Be comfortable with being uncomfortable and try something new.

Have a kick ass day!




ramimalek  asked:

top 5 dane tweets

how dare you i can’t pick five. instead have categories

1. Wise With Good Taste Dane

my favorite president is FDR, thank you for asking. JFK is tied with teddy for 2nd.

it’s always nice to see your favorites love your favorites

hella deep

2. Philip Seymour Hoffman Fanboy Dane

3. Super Fucking Classy Dane

4. “I hate LA except for the taco trucks” Dane

it’s all downhill from here

tell us how you really feel

5. WTF Dane

blame it on the alcohol

The Marshals were a few booths away drinking their waters and watching them but making it seem like they weren’t. Then there they were, the married couple, seated at a booth with – well, Nova lost count of how many shots she had ordered. Tonight was about having a little fun and trying to be more comfortable around each other. So after their movie they ended up here, at the bar. Nova wasn’t complaining, mostly because she was actually having fun. Her hand rested on Nick’s shoulder and her lips where inches from his ear as she was whispering into it.

“I say we ditch em.” Nova giggled and shook her head, looking towards the Marshals. “We can sneak out the back..do they have a back? They should have a back that we can sneak out of and then we can call an uber and go get tacos!” Except she didn’t know where they could get tacos at this time of night but it seemed like a great idea. They (maybe) got tacos and could ditch their babysitters. Babysitters. That made Nova laugh a little more as she thought about it.