ryeisenberg:

skunkbear:

Randall Munroe of xkcd put together an amusing/fascinating set of gifs showing the relative frequencies of various events.  This is just a small sample - see them all here.

Oh this is really cool.

It’s like I hit the jackpot and won a million anxieties.

(via touchporogetdizzy)

24,802 notes

It’s time to say goodbye to Chief Wahoo
Andrew Schnitkey, waitingfornextyear.com
I have spent a lot of time and energy in my life defending Chief Wahoo. In many ways, I love Chief Wahoo. It’s an image that reminds me of my youth, of my mom and dad taking my brother, sister, and I to a game every year. It reminds me of talking…

Agreed, not just for the reasons stated, but also for the debacle that would be the week after the decision. Knowing Cleveland, there would be extra respectful protests.

It’s time to say goodbye to Chief Wahoo
Andrew Schnitkey, waitingfornextyear.com

I have spent a lot of time and energy in my life defending Chief Wahoo. In many ways, I love Chief Wahoo. It’s an image that reminds me of my youth, of my mom and dad taking my brother, sister, and I to a game every year. It reminds me of talking…

Agreed, not just for the reasons stated, but also for the debacle that would be the week after the decision. Knowing Cleveland, there would be extra respectful protests.

0 notes

Posted by Ricky Davis
First time seeing the Browns and they win…I didn’t even get the full experience.

Posted by Ricky Davis

First time seeing the Browns and they win…I didn’t even get the full experience.

0 notes

I live with douchebags.

I should preface this by saying that I am aware of how paranoid and self-centered I can be.

So, I don’t know if I have to tell you this, but I’m pretty sure I’m weird. Sometimes, I blurt things out and people look at me like I just professed a love for drawing chalk dicks on playgrounds. I like pro wrestling, which is somewhere between childish and gay. I don’t care for the work of Adam Levine and liking Adam Levine is the most normal thing a person can do. So, I occasionally project that feeling onto other people.

If I’m walking down the street and someone laughs, it’s because I did something stupid. They could be looking in the opposite direction with their finger pointing at whatever they’re laughing at and I’ll be convinced that they were holding in their laughter while they came up with another thing to laugh at so they wouldn’t hurt my feelings. This makes it hard for me to meet people and make friends, especially in the last month I’ve spent living away from home for the first time.

There’s this one guy in my building who is always smiling and I’m convinced that it’s because he’s laughing at me. He’s a seemingly well-adjusted man of good nutrition and workout habits, so why wouldn’t he laugh at the out-of-shape mental wreck living down the hall from him? Without fail, he’s always smiling. That dick. Being happy and shit. Jerkoff.

Today, he gets on the elevator with this girl. I just want to do my laundry and this dickhead shows up with a girl to rub in the fact that I’m lonely and he’s not. The girl looks at me and says something, but I can’t hear her because I have my headphones in, so I pull them out. “No, not you,” she says, so I put them back in. “Hey, what do you think of this girl’s ass? Yes, you.” She points her iPhone at me and there’s a picture of a pale, single-pimpled ass shining at me.

the fuck, man?

I’m already certain that I’m a fucking weirdo. Don’t rub it in by assuming that I’m going to be all hunky dory with you showing me a picture of what I’m sure was a man’s ass. Fucking be normal. I don’t even know your name. Why am I face to face with someone’s asshole? Why the fuck do you have a picture of some random ass on your phone? Why am I weird one in this equation? Is it because you have a friend to have a giggle fit with when I look annoyed? So, if I have two friends to your one friend and we giggle when you look stupid, I win? Is that how life works? Obviously, I am absolutely dumbfounded by this entire…I can’t even call it a conversation. Encounter? Burden? I took my headphones out for you and you had nothing of worth to offer. Why do you exist?

I’m taking the stairs from now on. It doesn’t make much of a difference, but if someone in the stairwell shows me a picture of an ass, at least I can throw their phone down the stairs.

0 notes

Posted by Ricky Davis
MY IDEAS ARE BETTER THAN YOURS

Posted by Ricky Davis

MY IDEAS ARE BETTER THAN YOURS

0 notes

http://flip.it/TD7XR

Couldn’t have asked for better seats. #ImpactLive

0 notes

Posted by Ricky Davis
Cleveland Grays Armory. I came here and watched @WWEDanielBryan defend his ROH World Championship on five different occasions. Now, I live a few blocks away and I get to watch Daniel Bryan wrestle for the WWE Championship. Sometimes, life works out alright.

Alt. Caption: “Cleveland Grays Armory: Where I Learned To Stop Worrying and Love Not Having A Girlfriend.”

Posted by Ricky Davis

Cleveland Grays Armory. I came here and watched @WWEDanielBryan defend his ROH World Championship on five different occasions. Now, I live a few blocks away and I get to watch Daniel Bryan wrestle for the WWE Championship. Sometimes, life works out alright. Alt. Caption: “Cleveland Grays Armory: Where I Learned To Stop Worrying and Love Not Having A Girlfriend.”

0 notes

Posted by Ricky Davis
A ticket for switching my hangtag a day early. I don’t even care if it’s for zero bucks. That just makes it condescending.

Posted by Ricky Davis

A ticket for switching my hangtag a day early. I don’t even care if it’s for zero bucks. That just makes it condescending.

0 notes

Posted by Ricky Davis
The view from my toilet

Posted by Ricky Davis

The view from my toilet

0 notes

Posted by Ricky Davis
Crying at this sign from an old Sgt. Slaughter match.

Posted by Ricky Davis

Crying at this sign from an old Sgt. Slaughter match.

0 notes

Posted by Ricky Davis
The view from my bed

Posted by Ricky Davis

The view from my bed

0 notes

Shop at Ollie's

youtube.com

This what I get for shopping at Ollie’s.

0 notes

Online Dating

I’ve never been one for romanticism. It’s a process that forces me to cater to a woman’s needs and that makes me feel vulnerable, so no. With that said, I’m very lonely, so I decided to join the world of online dating. I’ve heard that a lot of these sites are filled with crazy people or try to charge you for little to no results, so I decided to join an upstart network with a select userbase.

image

Perfect. This is my story.

I answered the questionnaire as honestly as a bad boy can.

image

image

image

I fibbed a little bit on my age. What’s a year to the open-minded lady that I tend to attract? On the negative side, this website obviously wanted to invade my privacy and I can’t have that…or can I?

image

image

image

Enter, don’t mind if I do…it.

image

My picture with Daniel Bryan was apparently too hot to be a profile picture, so I settled on this.

image

Aw yeah.

I’ll let you know when the results come rolling in.

0 notes

Political discourse on YouTube is my favorite thing in the world.

Political discourse on YouTube is my favorite thing in the world.

0 notes

Fuzz

So many people come here looking for help. I can’t be helped. I want to help. Please don’t be like me.

I’m getting ahead of myself. I’ve been a neat freak my entire life. I’ve been told I have OCD. I own three dusters, so it’s hard to disagree. It wasn’t bad enough to keep me from living a normal life. Generally, it didn’t bother me if something was unclean as long as it didn’t belong to me, but my home was my domain. The other day, I came home from classes. Everything was in its place. Everything was spotless. Everything was perfect, just the way I left it. I sat down at the computer and started to work on an essay. I was in an Intro to Psych class and, with a promise for more hours from my supervisor echoing in the back of my mind, I decided to start my final essay early. It was going to be about obsession. If I could write about anything, it would be that, right? No. Something was off. Something was making me uncomfortable.

Fuzz. A bit of fuzz in the upper right quadrant of my monitor. I got a tissue and wiped the fuzzy bit from my monitor. No water necessary. Besides, I didn’t want to leave streaks. I wrapped the tissue around the fuzz so it couldn’t escape and I threw it into the garbage can. Everything was right again.

The next day, I went to my classes. When I came home, everything was as I left it. Perfect. Not a hair out of place, that is, if I were normal and owned pets that could displace their fur. If I could allow myself to just enjoy dirty things, I’d be fine, but the mere thought of being unclean makes my skin crawl. The thought of myself sitting amongst the fuzz and the dirt is worse than death. Sorry. I want to help you. I’ll stop indulging myself. It’s not like I have the time for it.

I came home from my classes. Nothing had changed. Nothing had been moved. Nothing had been sullied. My home was perfect except for one thing: that goddamn computer screen. More fuzz. Maybe the static electricity was attracting it, but that didn’t explain where it was coming from. I must have neglected a spot in my daily cleaning sessions. So, I checked. I looked under the couch. I looked under the bed. I looked under everything. I looked on top of the blades of the ceiling fan. I checked to see if anything was hanging out of the vacuum cleaner. Anything I could have missed. Nothing. Nothing at all. I gave up. I got a tissue. I went back to the computer screen. I wrapped the tissue around the fuzz. I took the tissue to the kitchen and put it in the garbage. I closed the lid down. When I went to bed, I turned off the computer and the monitor. That should have taken care of it.

When I woke up yesterday, everything seemed fine. I did my usual morning routine. Got out of bed. Stretched. Ate breakfast. Took a shower. Brushed my teeth. I watched myself in the mirror. My face was unblemished as usual, but I looked tired. Worn out. I had no idea what worn out was then. I leaned over to spit out the toothpaste. Made sure to rinse every bit of it away. When I looked up, there was some fuzz on the upper right corner of the mirror. I had to climb halfway onto the sink just to get it down. How did I miss it? I couldn’t have. It wasn’t there when I looked down. It was fucking with me. I put it in the toilet. I flushed it. It should have stayed away.

You know the routine by now. I went to classes. I came back home. It was worse. The fuzz had travelled to the kitchen. The sink had bits of fuzz in it. The counter was coated in dust, fuzz sent through the wringer until even the pretty wispiness disappeared in a dearth of dryness. That wasn’t too horrible. Dirty, sure, but it wasn’t impossible to fix. I vacuumed up all the fuzz and washed off the counter with a cloth. I filled the sink with hot soapy water and vinegar and let it sit for an hour. While I waited, I mopped the floor. By the time I finished, it was already 10. I had wasted my entire evening. I wanted to work on my paper, so I got a TV dinner out of the freezer. I took it our of the box and made sure to dispose of all the plastic it was encased in. As I walked to the microwave, I thought I might be getting better. I had never thought of cleaning as a waste of time before. I opened the microwave. Fuzz.

I woke up on the kitchen floor. I don’t know how long I was out, but it was enough time that my tortmenter had tired of subtlety. Every monitor. Every mirror. Every window. Every glass surface was covered in fuzz. I had enough. I skipped my classes. I called off of work. I cleaned every inch of it. Every glass surface. Every surface that touched the glass surfaces. Every surface that touched those surfaces. Eventually, I settled on cleaning the entire apartment. As I went along, I found fuzz hidden in nooks and crannies. Every drawer had a little bit of fuzz in it. A smidge of fuzz hid inside every lampshade. Fuzz was wedged into the crevice on the underside of the milk jug in the fridge. As I tried to remove every bit of fuzz from between the tiles on the bathroom floor, exhaustion set in. I passed out again.

When I woke up, it was back. Every surface. Glass. Wood. Plastic. Porcelain. All had been replaced by fuzz. Once I stood, I looked down at the fuzz outline that had surrounded me. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a small opening in the fuzz that had covered the mirror. This had to be deliberate. Whatever the fuzz wanted me to know, it was in that hole. I leaned over the sink and looked into the mirror. I thought I’d see an answer or a solution, maybe even some kind of fuzz world with fuzz creatures that I’d have to conquer to end my fuzzy torture. All I saw was an even tinier bit of fuzz. I blew at it. It didn’t budge. None of the fuzz moved. I tried to touch the fuzz that had covered the mirror. I couldn’t. It was inside the mirror. I know what you’re thinking. That solves it. Get rid of the mirror. Get rid of everything inhabited by fuzz and it’s gone.

I put my eye back up to the opening in the mirror. The tiny bit of fuzz remained in the middle of the opening, but it wasn’t like the fuzz that covered the rest of the mirror. Framed against my pupil, it looked finer than the fuzz I had been seeing, but it was still just as white and wispy as the rest of it. I thought there had to be something to this fuzz. I tried to moving my eye within the confines of the opening to look at the little fuzz from an angle, but it remained framed against my pupil. I thought I was seeing things. I rubbed my eyes and blinked a few times. I felt the fuzz. I got the message, so you’ll have to excuse me now. I have some tidying to do.

0 notes