this wasn't in the script

65,705 notes

nodamncatnodamncradle:

burningbrooklynbridges:

grown. ass. men.
you scared she gonna strike out yr precious baby boy? OH TOO LATE.

they were doing a special on her on one of the news channels at the gym. i didnt have the headphones so i couldnt hear the story, but one of the photos they showed was of a little girl in the crowd holding up a sign that said “I want to throw like a girl.” For every pathetic, insecure grown man who is threatened by this amazingly talented girl, hopefully there is another little girl who is inspired. But that she has to put up wit this kind of abuse even though she is OBJECTIVELY the best pitcher in the league right now and can throw a ball SEVENTY MILES PER HOUR is absolutely uncalled for. She is truly phenomenal, and those dads can all go eat shit and live

nodamncatnodamncradle:

burningbrooklynbridges:

grown. ass. men.

you scared she gonna strike out yr precious baby boy? OH TOO LATE.

they were doing a special on her on one of the news channels at the gym. i didnt have the headphones so i couldnt hear the story, but one of the photos they showed was of a little girl in the crowd holding up a sign that said “I want to throw like a girl.” For every pathetic, insecure grown man who is threatened by this amazingly talented girl, hopefully there is another little girl who is inspired. But that she has to put up wit this kind of abuse even though she is OBJECTIVELY the best pitcher in the league right now and can throw a ball SEVENTY MILES PER HOUR is absolutely uncalled for. She is truly phenomenal, and those dads can all go eat shit and live

(Source: kingjaffejoffer, via ameliaaabedeliaaa)

70,715 notes

professorfangirl:

prokopetz:

This is the one time of year that I love wasps.
Not because the wasps themselves get any nicer. They’re horrid little creatures year round. No, it’s because I have a couple of big apple trees out back, and late August, early September is when the apples start ripening.
Now, if you don’t harvest your own fruit, there are two things you need to know about apples.
The first thing you need to know about apples is that, when apples get ripe, they tend to fall from the tree at the slightest breeze.
I often work late at the office; by the time I get home, there are piles of apples scattered everywhere - and sure enough, the wasps are out in force, gorging themselves on the fruit. When I go to clean up the windfallen apples, the wasps naturally do the “rawr, I’ma fuck you up!” routine for which wasps are known.
The second thing you need to know about apples is that they ferment very rapidly in the late August heat.
So: the wasps try to come at me, but they’re too drunk to fly. They get about an inch off the ground, then faceplant directly into the turf, flip over onto their backs, and lay there, legs twitching in the air as they try in vain to find something to sting.
Perhaps I’m a man of simple pleasures, but I bust up laughing every. single. time.
Fucking wasps.

I tried to reblog this with a witty tag, but Tumblr took it as serious advice:

professorfangirl:

prokopetz:

This is the one time of year that I love wasps.

Not because the wasps themselves get any nicer. They’re horrid little creatures year round. No, it’s because I have a couple of big apple trees out back, and late August, early September is when the apples start ripening.

Now, if you don’t harvest your own fruit, there are two things you need to know about apples.

The first thing you need to know about apples is that, when apples get ripe, they tend to fall from the tree at the slightest breeze.

I often work late at the office; by the time I get home, there are piles of apples scattered everywhere - and sure enough, the wasps are out in force, gorging themselves on the fruit. When I go to clean up the windfallen apples, the wasps naturally do the “rawr, I’ma fuck you up!” routine for which wasps are known.

The second thing you need to know about apples is that they ferment very rapidly in the late August heat.

So: the wasps try to come at me, but they’re too drunk to fly. They get about an inch off the ground, then faceplant directly into the turf, flip over onto their backs, and lay there, legs twitching in the air as they try in vain to find something to sting.

Perhaps I’m a man of simple pleasures, but I bust up laughing every. single. time.

Fucking wasps.

I tried to reblog this with a witty tag, but Tumblr took it as serious advice:

image

(via poussezvous)