Nolan reacts to a video of a sloth

(via fuckyeahhst)

onlycupcakes:

Submitted by Janelle

YES PLEASE

fuckyeahprancingcera:

make my dreams come true

Prancing Cera, whatever the hell Leo is doing and (500) Days of Summer. Too much awesomeness. 

I volunteered to cover today’s Westboro Baptist Church protest at Hillel for NBN. Obviously, I’ve heard a lot about the group and was curious to see what such a protest looked like. Hillel’s Rabbi Josh sent me a link (http://vimeo.com/13466770) to a video of a similar protest that took place in the same location in July, so I thought I knew what to expect. I researched the group - reading through all the things on their website, scouring the “press release” they sent as a warning to Hillel - but things didn’t happen exactly the way anyone expected. My article is up on NBN - http://www.northbynorthwestern.com/2010/09/86305/westboro-baptist-church-protests-at-northwesterns-hillel/ - but I just want to write something about the experience. It just left enough of an impression on me that I couldn’t stop writing after the quick news story. 

The protest was small (4 people, including a young boy who was ironically playing video games on what appeared to be someone’s phone, as a woman who is presumably his mother shouted about the downfall of America). But there was this amazing gathering of students and community members, oddly enough rallied together by a UIC student who happened to be following the group around for the day. Whereas the July 19 protest was met by some questions for the rabbi and the executive director of Hillel and some quizzical looks from passers-by, this protest was met with peace signs, Beatles’ songs, and a lot of hugs. It was kind of beautiful.

I respect the right of any American to say what is on their mind when they so desire, and I was amazed that the students chose simply to ignore the words of the protesters and continue on with their own message of love. There was no fighting, there was very little jeering (other than few “fuck you’s” from drivers on Sheridan Road - and none of those came from the crowd standing on the corner). These counter-protesters were both disgusted by the WBC and surprisingly content - they greatly outnumbered the members of the WBC who were present, and they had more fun with a more powerful message. It was one of those moments that just make you think, “wow, these people really are bonding. This is what tolerance is.” 

fuckyeahhappy:

iiisabel:danielagamboa:(via people-should-smile-more)

This is cute. And it has The Beatles and My Favorite Highway in the same playlist, which is both unnecessary and awesome. 

I spent a large portion of this last week reading Gonzo (the HST oral biography compiled by Jann Wenner and Corey Seymour). And I’m going through another HST phase. The man was absolutely fascinating, and batshit insane. Anyway, it made me want to watch Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas again, especially since I now know a bit more about Johnny Depp’s research for the role. It’s all so crazy. 

Plus, this is just funny. 

fuckyeahhst:

(via strawberrycity)

In a really nerdy way, this is beyond awesome. 

fuckyeahtattoos:

An hour after finishing my leg in the same visit. An oxytocin molecule, the hormone that makes one fall in love.

Bob Lindell from Renaissance Tattoo- Woonsocket, Rhode Island

MUSTACHIOS. 

itskindoftheoppositewithlions:

fakescience:

(This is just a random thing I wrote a while back, with a few edits, of course. It’s not that great, or that long, but it’s an image I saw and couldn’t erase and had to write it. And I guess now I’m sharing it…)

He walks a couple feet ahead of her, a few steps to the left. With his angled arm and gnarled fingers, she can’t tell if he’s smoking or if his hand just naturally ends in that position. He has made promises before - no more smoke, no more nicotine breaks on the back porch or, worst of all, in the car. Hygiene, health, those were the way to go. But she can’t be sure. It wouldn’t be the first time he broke the rules. 

She speeds up and touches his elbow lightly, trying to turn him just far enough to get a glimpse at his curled fingers. “What’s wrong?” he asks, surprised by the sudden contact. 

“Oh nothing, just thought I’d catch up with you.”

He shrugs, but notices her eyes, fixed on his fingers. “I’m not smoking. You would’ve seen, well, you know, smoke.” 

She nods. Sure, he’s right. But there’s something about the positioning of his hands. His fingers look like they were made to hold cigarettes. His left hand was created specifically to raise a steady nicotine fix to his lips every hour or so. Now they looked empty, almost unnatural, curling around air, hoping for some sort of tobacco-filled relief. 

She looks away, nodding. She expects that cigarette to fill the void soon. They spend so much time fighting about his vice that she can never really imagine him without a lighter in his pocket, a puff of smoke trailing them during their walks in the park, a cigarette clenched tightly in his hand.