Originally posted on in transit:
#YesAllWomen Because all women have walked to their car in the dark, keys clutched tight in hand, one poking out between two fingers. Because when I go out to bars or clubs, I have to think about whether what I’m wearing is too suggestive, instead of putting on whatever I…
Originally posted on Waiting for Satan:
I keep getting in trouble with my English teachers for being too mean. This has been going on for a while. There’s something very uncollegy about the check-plus, check, check-minus system. Like they’re afraid to tell us if something is good or bad. Like we’re children. In my early-level…
Yes, yes I’ve copied that from The Fault In Our Stars, so what? Sue me. Actually considering that I’m in India that wont work The trial would be scheduled so far ahead that by the time the date roll by we would have murdered our planet through global warming or some jazz. So yeah Exam… Continue reading Exam is such a slut, she screw everyone.
The US prisoners were growing weary of having their photo taken by North Koreans during the war. The North Korean photographers were using the photos as propaganda, and the US prisoners knew it. They had to come up with a way to rebel against their captors.
The idea was first conceived when the prisoners were shown a film about the North Korean soccer team visiting London for the Olympics. An image was seen of a man flipping off the Korean soccer team. At that moment, the prisoners had realized the Koreans didn’t know what that hand sign meant!
From that day forward, the prisoners agreed that they would give “the finger” to the propaganda photographers any chance that they had. When the Koreans realized the hand signal was always being used, they asked the prisoners what it meant. The prisoners told the Koreans it was a Hawaiian good luck gesture!
I was at one of those weddings. The ones which you are forced to attend because they are your family. But I wouldn’t know I couldn’t even recognize the names of the lawfully wedded couple. Ugh.. The once in which you need to smile and answer the stale question ‘Do you remember me?’ as diplomatically… Continue reading Those Motherfucking Days