5.15 Bash: ‘Not While I’m Around’ - Blaine Anderson
Apparently, I fought well.
Make me choose - Anonymous asked: Tyrion Lannister or Jaime Lannister?
To see how much I can display my talent without going over the “limits” of a third son… That is like having a canvas already set inside a formidable frame, and trying to create the best painting atop it. That is my role.
being a feminist is like trying to fix a giant hole in the wall and discovering that the entire wall is rotting and filled with termites and you have a lot more work to do than you thought you did
And also the termites verbally attack you while you fix the wall.
"NOT ALL TERMITES ARE LIKE THAT"
Congratulations on your brain!
Robert Liston was an nineteenth century pioneering Scottish surgeon who, in one surgery, achieved a 300% mortality rate. Liston was famous for the speed with which he was able to carry out procedures, which was pivotal in a time before anaesthetics, when speed made all the difference in terms of pain and survival. Indeed, he is described as “the fastest knife in the West End. He could amputate a leg in 21⁄2 minutes”. Indeed … he is said to have been able to perform the removal of a limb in … in 28 seconds”.
However, in his most famous surgery Liston’s patient, who’s leg had been amputated in under 21⁄2 minutes, died afterwards in hospital, and, whilst carrying out the procedure, Liston also managed to cut off the fingers of his assistant, who also died later of gangrene, and, Liston also slashed through the coat tails of a distinguished surgical spectator, who was so terrified that the knife had pierced his vitals he dropped dead from fright. This was the only operation in history with a 300% mortality.
Another noteworthy surgery performed by Liston is one in which he quickly and successfully amputated the leg of his patient but, in his enthusiasm, also managed to amputate the man’s testicles.
I can’t. CAN’T.
HOW ANGRY DO YOU HAVE TO BE, THOUGH
My dad credits this as his favorite photo of me.
When I was younger, I was very socially anxious. I hated crowds, hated attention, hated being up on stage. In preschool there was this little Halloween show that we put on, and man, I did not want to do that shit, let me tell you. All those parents watching me sing some stupid song? Nah, that ain’t me.
But I was forced to, and I was pissed about it. My dad was in the audience, taking pictures and enjoying the show. In that moment, I swear, my tiny four year old was pure rage and resentment. I felt the word “fuck” years before I knew what it was.
My dad pointed the camera at me, and I turned, and I looked. I gave him the look that summed up all the anger, all the absolute fury that was brewing inside me. He says that he had never before seen such a perfect depiction of total and complete hatred. In his four year old son.
To this day whenever I get pissed, he calls me “Buzz Lightyear”.