Tony: *sees knocked over pile of trash*
Tony: *glances at peter*
Peter: *glowing with pride*
Pat McGrath became a billionaire when Kylie Cosmetics was worth $800 million. Yet the media was still obsessed with “Kylie is almost a self-made billionaire!” rather than talking about this woman who already was an actual self-made billionaire.
Never forget: twice as good for half the credit.
Literally was the embodiment of “be gay, do crimes” long before it was a meme
This man knew that if he was caught THE BARE MINIMUM he could expect was hard labor, because homosexuality was illegal in Nazi Germany.
Remember his name as righteous among nations: Willem Arondeus. May his memory be, as his actions were, for a blessing.
I hate how my mom keeps bring up me not going to Wisconsin for college. I changed majors and decided I shouldn’t go to school there. I literally broke down in tears to let mg parents know, and my mom makes it seem like I did it on purpose. I didn’t, I changed majors, I didn’t want to be a English major anymore. I’m a teaching major now, I love working with children. It’s not working to me, it’s fun and making kids happy makes me happy. My mom has to bring it up and make it sound like I slapped her or something. And the fact that I have fibromyalgia, I am sure being in Wisconsin in the cold would not have been good for me. It’s been about two years since I changed my major and she still brings it up. Will she keep brining this up everytime she’s mad at me? I do not need that in my life if she does.
Sorry this took a minute to respond to, things have been nuts over here…
Okay! So, it’s actually a very simple design! The whole thing comes in two parts, like this:
On the left is the lock-shaped housing, on the right is the lockpick, which has all the numbers 1-20 arranged around the outer edge of the disc. The bottom of the lockpick disc comes to a point, like a spinning top, which is exactly what it is.
You thread the lock over the pick so the pick emerges from the keyhole in the lock, like this:
Now your lockpick die is all set. When it’s time to do a skill check, you hold the lock down with one hand for stability, and you twirl the lockpick with the other like a spinning top. After a moment, use your finger to nock the lockpick firmly down and reveal the result of your “roll”.
The window above the keyhole shows the number. In this case, I “rolled” an 18.
From behind, you can see the disc has teeth all around the edge, and there’s a point at the bottom of the lock that will catch between those teeth when you nock the pick to ensure it lands properly on one number instead of coming up between them.
And that’s how the lock-and-pick d20 works!
Please, reblog! IIt’s called self defense. Apart from having here, in the US, one of the highest cases of homicide and rape in the world and high rate of GBV, think about how this could help your mother or sister
If you’re shorter than the assailant, what I usually do is use the ground to anchor myself and use my legs for any movements
Having gone to this University, and having personally played hide and seek in the Harris Fine Arts Center, I guarantee you that NOBODY finds hiders unless they, too, are familiar with the bowels of the HFAC. Once you get down to the practice-room levels, time stops completely and you could walk up the back stair and end up in 1967. The halls change at least 8 times an hour, there’s no way you’re getting back out the same way you came in. When the lights start going off at 10 the whole bottom 3 floors descend into some subsection of the fey realm. I once hid up on the balcony stage access fire-escape thing of a lower-level theater, and 3 faculty walked by under me and not a one of them noticed the hulking, wheezing asthmatic lurking above them, half dangling off a rickety metal ladder that probably wasn’t supposed to be climbed. A fellow hider friend came and found me, and we sat up there for 30 minutes listening to some distant clicking sound before we realized nobody was actually going to find us. We had no cell service, and no internet to reach anyone. We got lost trying to get back out, and once we resurfaced, everyone else was gone, the building was empty, and we just went home to eat ice cream. Nobody knew where we had disappeared to, and nobody bothered to check if we were there before leaving. For all I know, they just assumed we had been lost to the gaping maw of the HFAC basement and when they saw us at church on Sunday it was probably like they’d seen a ghost. None of us ever mentioned it again.
Basically what I’m saying is Campus Police had no hope of finding them in the first place and probably lost an officer or two if they actually conducted a real search, because nobody except Senior art majors or veteran custodians actually knows how to navigate that building and make it out in the same dimension they entered from. Not at 11pm anyway.
This is better than any horror story and it’s all fucking real apparently
And I thought I had a bad relationship with my dad.
What choice does she have?
Um, to *not* vote for the guy who said her dad is in hell?
Write in someone if your really can’t bear to vote democrat.