U were once thrilled abt Cas became human, I'm curious if U still feel the same aft watching how bad the writers depicted human Cas. TBH, I don't like Cas became human aft S8 finale coz if I like badass angel Cas. The remaining eps will probably still be written by those writers with awful bad writing skill, I don't want Cas losing his grace agn coz if Cas stays as an angel, at least the writers can't make him doing some stupid, meaningless human things. I can't put my faith in them anymore. :/
I was really really REALLY excited about Cas been human. In fact, I was totally on board for it happening BEFORE 8x23, and I was convinced they will make him fall waaaaaay before 8x23.
Sadly, tho, they made this. Instead of what I was looking forward too.
I was waiting for Cas to have more important and meaningful experiences than peeing, brushing his teeth or being tortured (and of course, more than having sex with no point, no character development, no plot necessity, and problematic lectures everywhere…). CAS DESERVES MORE THAN THAT!
The problem, tho, is I was really confident the writers’ team, even when their mistakes, was a team, you know. A group of people working with different personalities but a common goal. And the SPN writers disappointed me when I realized they are not working as a team.
So, they approached Cas humanity as they approach everything else: lightly, as a joke, as something that does not deserve a deep treatment. So, as a result, they did it HORRIBLY. And Cas is the one suffering the consequences, because even when Misha is a talented artist and actor, most of the time it’s really difficult to realize this is Cas…. because dialogues and behaviours and EVERYTHING are not in place.
They lost an unique opportunity, a gold opportunity. They cheapened a deep plot-device into something that even a sitcom would do better. They attempted to assassinate a character, but Castiel is stronger than 2 writers and a complete lack of supervision so he is resisting. As we are resisting.
I think, personally, that Cas will come back been a human in the end of the season, for personal decision. After all, this one is not his grace and this season was highly promoted as the season the boys (S/D/C) would decide who they are.
But sadly the path they chose to make Cas self-aware he prefers being a human than an angel was atrocious…. and that only can be fixed with excellent episodes in the 2nd half.
“I wanted to show that men and women can be friends without having a relationship,” says del Toro of the relationship between the two main characters Mako (played by Japanese actress Rinko Kikuchi) and Raleigh (“Sons of Anarchy” star Charlie Hunnam). “Theirs is a story about partnership, equality and a strong bond between partners. It’s important for little girls to know not every story has to be a love story and for boys to know that soldiers aren’t the only ones to triumph in war.”—Guillermo del Toro (via koscheisdrums)
I’m just curious and counting heads here. There was some discussion about whether the people disappointed with this season so far are actually just a small number. I don’t think so. My casual viewer friends are even disappointed and they’re my barometer for the general tone of the show. So if you’re disappointed with any aspect of the current season, reblog or like this post so I can kinda feel it out.
Benefit of the doubt, it is only a mid season finale. But there has been so much wasted potential and sloppy writing. That’s okay though. I’m moving back to casual viewing of spn and getting involved in ‘Almost Human’ instead. I struggled through season 6 and 7; 8 was good which had my hopes up for 9. Ah well.
I am often grilled or ridiculed for my lifelong inability to manage money, and occasionally asked outright why or how I could choose to spend over a decade racking up tens of thousands of dollars in credit card debt by traveling the world. This line of questioning is an immediate tell that the person interrogating me has never been poor, because when you’re poor for your whole life, your “immediate benefit vs. long-term cost” meter gets broken. I wanted to have those experiences before I died, and there was no other way for me to get them: that’s it, that’s the only reason why. It was either maxing out yet another Visa card or shuffling off this mortal coil having never set foot in my beloved heart-home of Birmingham (UK), and I chose the former. And I am so happy that I did. I feel so lucky every day. I don’t care how long it takes me to pay it all off or how much more I end up spending than I would have if I would have just worked for decades to save up — I did not want to die without those experiences, being poor means feeling like you have no future so I grew up thinking I might die at any moment, but now those experiences cannot be taken from me no matter how much debt I have. Mission fucking accomplished
Besides, what was I supposed to do, open a savings account? Jesus, I was making $6.50 an hour. And what the fuck was I supposed to save for, a fucking college education? Man, you might as well have told me to start saving for my next trip to Mars. Poor people don’t go to college, we don’t know how to do that shit! It really feels like scholarships and financial aid are for well-connected, motivated, and intelligent poors with stronger bootstraps or better families than the rest of us. Because the rest of us were born and raised to internalize exactly one piece of knowledge: you must do whatever you need to do to be able to eat and keep a roof over your head. Everything else is for rich people. If we are lucky, we will be able to grind away at entry-level jobs until we keel over and kick the bucket and if we are not, we will starve and die on the street.
While I do know EXACTLY how much money I have available to me at all times, tangible and intangible, every second of every day, money has never felt numerable or even finite to me. It just feels like access. The balance in my checking account is nothing more than an indirect display of how much power and influence I will ever be able to have on the world. I’ve been out of the projects for over a decade now but the relentless grind of poverty, only getting to live like a normal person in those brief moments when other folks felt like being charitable? That still informs my every waking thought.
I watch how my wealthy friends navigate in the world and it is just so fucking foreign to me — they can literally afford to make their lives easier. It runs the gamut from being able to hire people to assist them with basic tasks and purchasing items whose sole purpose is to minimize stress and hassle to being able to spend lavishly on high-quality personal accoutrements that last for years and indicate to the world at large that you are monied enough to be thoughtful and patient with your purchasing decisions. This stands in stark opposition to poor folks who have to shell out for the very first barely-affordable apartment/car/jacket/pair of shoes that comes along without having the luxury of worrying about whether it’s going to completely fall apart on you a few months or even weeks later.
One of the many tiny wisdoms that have occurred to me as I’ve gotten older is that money greases the very gears of life. When I was a kid, I used to think that the way you could tell a poor person and a rich person apart is that the rich person would have more and better stuff. As an adult, I know that the way you can tell poor and rich folks apart is that the rich folks are just less worried about everything. They are so secure in their belief that they will wake up each day housed, clothed, and fed that it doesn’t even register on their radar screen. It creates this impenetrable, invisible insouciance that is at once overwhelmingly enviable and goddamned infuriating. I honestly can’t imagine what that must feel like.
A romantic comedy where a girl meets a guy and really likes him, then later on meets a girl she also likes and she is tearing herself up trying to choose between the two, only to find out in the end that they were the same, genderfluid, person
1. There is no use in trying to be honest with an emotional manipulator. You make a statement and it will be turned around. Example: I am really angry that you forgot my birthday. Response - “It makes me feel sad…
“This actually did happen to a real person, and the real person was me. I had gone to catch a train. This was April 1976, in Cambridge, U.K. I was a bit early for the train. I’d gotten the time of the train wrong.
I went to get myself a newspaper to do the crossword, and a cup of coffee and a packet of cookies. I went and sat at a table.
I want you to picture the scene. It’s very important that you get this very clear in your mind.
Here’s the table, newspaper, cup of coffee, packet of cookies. There’s a guy sitting opposite me, perfectly ordinary-looking guy wearing a business suit, carrying a briefcase.
It didn’t look like he was going to do anything weird. What he did was this: he suddenly leaned across, picked up the packet of cookies, tore it open, took one out, and ate it.
Now this, I have to say, is the sort of thing the British are very bad at dealing with. There’s nothing in our background, upbringing, or education that teaches you how to deal with someone who in broad daylight has just stolen your cookies.
You know what would happen if this had been South Central Los Angeles. There would have very quickly been gunfire, helicopters coming in, CNN, you know… But in the end, I did what any red-blooded Englishman would do: I ignored it. And I stared at the newspaper, took a sip of coffee, tried to do a clue in the newspaper, couldn’t do anything, and thought, what am I going to do?
In the end I thought, nothing for it, I’ll just have to go for it, and I tried very hard not to notice the fact that the packet was already mysteriously opened. I took out a cookie for myself. I thought, that settled him. But it hadn’t because a moment or two later he did it again. He took another cookie.
Having not mentioned it the first time, it was somehow even harder to raise the subject the second time around. “Excuse me, I couldn’t help but notice …” I mean, it doesn’t really work.
We went through the whole packet like this. When I say the whole packet, I mean there were only about eight cookies, but it felt like a lifetime. He took one, I took one, he took one, I took one. Finally, when we got to the end, he stood up and walked away.
Well, we exchanged meaningful looks, then he walked away, and I breathed a sigh of relief and sat back. A moment or two later the train was coming in, so I tossed back the rest of my coffee, stood up, picked up the newspaper, and underneath the newspaper were my cookies.
The thing I like particularly about this story is the sensation that somewhere in England there has been wandering around for the last quarter-century a perfectly ordinary guy who’s had the same exact story, only he doesn’t have the punch line.”—Douglas Adams (via revolverwife)
It’s coming up on a year now since I got my current job as a pizza delivery girl, and I thought this would be a good time to delve into the little ever-expanding “WTFPIZZA” note I keep on my cell that helps me remember some of my more, uh - interesting deliveries.
So without further ado and in no particular order, here’s some pizza customers who left a lasting impression on me thus far:
- A bearded man who answered the door and periodically spat blood into a crusted Harley-Davidson coffee mug while counting out his cash.
- A woman who slipped me a business card (in lieu of tip) for a laser tattoo removal clinic, explaining “In case you want to bring your mutilated skin back to how God intended it to be.”
- At least three Batmans so far, but only one who did the voice.
- An elderly Spanish woman who meekly presented me with a (rather classy) pearl-handled .32 snub nosed revolver and asked if I knew how to load it (I do) and also, if I could load it for her (I didn’t).
- A group of EMT’s hanging out in the back of an ambulance at a recently extinguished (but still smouldering) house fire.
- A man with a thick Alabama accent who admonished me for standing in front of his mailbox while I waited for him to answer the door. He then explained how this was a federal offense because I was “obstructing the mail system” and demanded my social security number so he could “report me to the proper authorities”.
- A group of young teenage girls (like 14-16) who begged me to buy a case of Bud Light (ew why) and bring it back to them.
- A hotel room full of badass middle-aged women all dressed as Professor McGonagall from the Harry Potter films, who were also completely wasted on Jello shots. They kept encouraging me to stay and party with them.
- A 20-something dude who answered the door with an unsheathed katana dangling through a belt loop on his jeans.
- Multiple instances of people asking if I would sell them pot. (bitch get your own dealer sheesh)
- A guy who slipped a twenty directly into my shirt because I apparently was the “spitting image” of his deceased daughter.
- A woman who admonished me for driving a Mazda, and wrote “get a real car” in the tip portion of my credit receipt.
- A very drunk dude who gave me his iPhone and had me take a bunch of Myspace-esque pictures of the both of us. He did the duck lips thing in every shot.
- Multiple prank deliveries (joke’s on you motherfucker, I get paid for the gas AND I eat the pizzas you ordered)
- An elderly man who wrote “FUCK OFF” as his signature on a credit receipt.
- A thirty-something guy who begged to get his order for free because he “works so hard”. He visibly teared up and sniffled when I told him I couldn’t do anything.
- A dudebro wearing a bath robe and socks + sandals (indoors) who straight up wordlessly yanked the pizzas out of my hands without paying and shut the door. Multiple knockings were of no avail.
- A woman who angrily demanded to see my ID because she refused to believe my claims that I’m female. She proceeded to snatch my driver’s license out of my hand, run back into her house and show it to her children while pointing back at me.
- A kid no older than 14 who desperately tried to convince me to play WoW on the free custom server he was playing on. (But it has double XP!)
- A guy who spent the entire time I was there digging a (impressively large) booger out of his nose. He proceeded to smear it on, thankfully, HIS copy of the receipt.
- An on-duty cop who flagged me down by intercepting me on the road before I got to the police station and pulling me over to get his pizza.
- A drill instructor looking-guy who filled out his entire credit card receipt, specifically wrote “0.00” in the tip portion, then proceeded to write out a check for seventy-eight cents and handed it to me. It said “pizza tip” in the “For” section.
- A furious lady who yelled at me for a solid five minutes (I kept track) all about how long it took for her delivery to get to her. She then tipped me an extra ten bucks on a six dollar order. I dunno.
- An incredibly stoned teenager trying and failing to look sober. When I complimented his Adventure Time wallet (which was super cute) and asked where he got it, he immediately looked terrified, sat down on the floor and muttered “I… I don’t know….”
- Obligatory naked man with unimpressive penis
- A chick at a house party who answered the door and immediately turned to vomit into her mailbox.
- A surly Korean mom with an amazing shoulder tattoo of a baby giving birth to a full-grown woman.
- A man who lived in one of those mini-mansions inside a gated community, who sported a seemingly massive collection of what appeared to be solid glass spheres of varying size and color. I only got a quick glance in his house but there had to be hundreds of them in display racks, tables, shelves - everywhere.
- A group of 20-something guys who challenged me to sing the original Pokemon theme song, which I did. And perfectly, I may add.
- A completely iced-out musclebound gangster kid who was blaring Regina Spektor so loud and with so much bass I actually couldn’t hear anything he was saying.
- An elderly guy who deadpan asked me if I knew anyone who could score him hollowpoint bullets.
- An adorable older lesbian couple who were mortified that they didn’t have any extra money for a tip, so they gave me a big sack of pistachios instead. It took me three weeks to finish the bag.