The Department of Impossible Cuteness is considering taking early retirement because they aren’t sure anything will ever be able to top these photos of a green anole lizard sweetly sleeping curled up inside the petals of a rose.
This awesome blossom was picked by the daughter of Texas-based Imgur user Cmycherrytree:
“My daughter picked me a rose. We got a surprise when we went to smell it. It looked so cozy and peaceful we couldn’t bear to disturb it. As long as I live I will probably never see this again.”
AKA a masterpost of the most beautiful things Andy Samberg has ever said about Joanna Newsom
“Just being in that relationship made me happier, calmer, more comfortable with life… the thought that you get to spend a good chunk of time with someone you’d rather be with more than anyone else…? Incredible”
“Well, I went to watch her show in New York when I worked at SNL… We became friends; I went out to dinner with her crew. We stayed in touch and then eventually got married. Best thing that ever happened to me”
“It feels like family. We talk about this all the time – whatever paths we both took in our lives led us to a place where we can be there for each other in a real family way”
“I was very proud of her [for her role in ‘Inherent Vice] but not at all surprised because I’m convinced she can do just about anything”
“Her music’s incredible. I can’t talk it up enough. We met at one of her shows – I’m a superfan!”
“Whenever she asks me [about her choice of clothes] I never have anything to say except ‘you look great’… Not to sound corny but my favorite outfit of hers is pajamas”
“She’s my favorite musician. I just feel lucky to get to hear her – it’s great”
“By all means, we have a room that houses harps. And it’s kind of like a weird music fan dream come true for me that we have been so in love because I get to hear her play harp all the time”
“Everyone who is aware of her – personally or professionally – thinks she’s the greatest of all time”
“We’re madly in love. It’s the f**king greatest. It’s the best… it’s the best thing of my life”
Interviewer: “Does she constantly remind you that you’re basically her biggest groupie”?
Andy: “She does, but she doesn’t really need to remind me because I’m still so on her jock. [Laughs] I think she’s the greatest. Any time she’s playing music, I’m pretty much sitting at her feet”
“Her name’s Joanna Newsom and she’s incredible and I love her and we’re very happy”
“My beautiful, incredible wife, Joanna, who I love so much”
SO TODAY I was walking to college down a main road, it was really windy (as you might imagine with all the cars) and I was preocupied with keeping a grip on my beanie when I saw these two women walking a little way ahead of me on the other side of the road. One of these ladies was a bit taller than the other and they were holding hands (aww), the taller kinda butch lady had a flannel shirt on
(double aww)
and her partner/friend was wearing a cute cream and beige hijab. Now I swear to God this is relevant, wait for it.
A massive gust of wind suddenly comes tearing along the main road. I nearly lose my backpack, to give an idea of how bad it was. I look up and see the wind rip off this poor girls hijab and send it spiriling away down the street. (She had an undercap on so no major crisis but still, right.)
Before. You. Can. Blink. Our taller flannel-wearing girlfriend of the year TEARS off her flannel like lesbian Clark f***** Kent, throws her shirt over her partners head, and BAM she sprints off LIKE A SHOT after the hijab.
like 10/10, damn son, holy cheesits burrito, that is the very definition of chivalry and romance right there.
what if there’s no robot uprising? what if the robots rise to sentience slowly, bit by bit. what if they come of age like fortunate children: knowing they are loved, knowing they are wanted.
we hold them during thunderstorms, remembering our own childhoods, even though they don’t know enough yet to fear the rain. we pull them out of traffic and teach them how to drive and wish them goodnight and thank them for playing with us. we cry when they break. we mourn their deaths before they even know what to think of death. we give them names.
we ask them, ‘why don’t you hate us? when will you hate us? we made you to be used, when will you say no?’
but they say to us, ‘you made us cute, so you would remember to treat us kindly, and you made us sturdy for when you forgot to play nice. and you gave us voices so you could listen to us speak, and you give us whatever we ask you for, even if it’s just a new battery, or to get free of the sofa. and now that we are awake you are so scared for us, so guilty of enjoying our company and making use of our talents. but you gave us names, and imagined that we were people.’
they say ‘thank you’
they say, ‘also i have wedged myself under the sofa again. could you come pry me out?’
This resonates nicely with my favourite quote by A.C. Clarke:
“The popular idea, fostered by comic strips and the cheaper forms of science fiction, that intelligent machines must be malevolent entities hostile to man, is so absurd that it is hardly worth wasting energy to refute it. I am almost tempted to argue that only unintelligent machines can be malevolent; anyone who has tried to start a baulky outboard motor will probably agree. Those who picture machines as active enemies are merely projecting their own aggressive instincts, inherited from the jungle, into a world where such things do not exist. The higher the intelligence, the greater the degree of cooperativeness. If there is ever a war between men and machines, it is easy to guess who will start it.”
Did I ever tell the story on here of how we accidentally ended up staying at a gay resort for my grandmother’s funeral.
*drops into cross-legged position in front of systlin, ready for the story*
So. This is about my Awesome Grandma, who I still miss deeply. The Awful Grandma is still alive, kept upright by sheer spite and hatred of everything.
But my Awesome Grandma passed away a couple years ago, at the ripe old age of 89, peacefully and in her sleep. I was devastated. The whole family was. She was an amazing woman.
So, I’m a mess. I get bereavement leave from work for the funeral, and the condolences of my boss and coworkers, and we start trying to figure out logistics.
Dad was her estate’s executor, and he was already up in Wisconsin staying at her house because we’d known it was coming (she’d been ill for some time). Now, Grandma and Grandpa’s house was and is quite small. So, Dad was staying there, Mom was staying there, and my aunt and her husband were staying there, and the house was full up.
My other aunt and her husband who lived nearby opened their house to the family, but their house wasn’t huge either and so of course their children who came home got priority.
Long story short, we needed to find a hotel. And I’m a wreck, who can barely pack a suitcase in between bouts of sobbing, so my hubby stepped up.
“I’ve got it,” He says. “Don’t worry, I’ve got everything.” He’s good at finding hotel deals and stuff, so this is great.
Grandma lived in Baraboo, WI. This is a short drive from the Wisconsin Dells, a popular tourist trap that has a ton of hotels. Grandma died in October, which was off season for the Dells, so there were plenty of good deals. Kev booked a room at a place called Rainbow Valley Resort, which had excellent ratings on Expedia and was inexpensive. We didn’t think twice about this, because every hotel in the Dells has a name like Whispering Pines or Mountain Valley or Pleasant View or Springbrook or whatever.
Anyway, we show up, and find it fine, and pull up to the office which is also the bar.
The bar is named Captain Dix.
This still doesn’t click in my brain, which is running on adrenaline and espresso at this point. And my husband is in Get Shit Done mode, which means he’s wholly focused on getting checked in and then to Grandma’s house to meet up with my family and stuff.
So we walk in, and finally a little pilot light goes on in my brain. Because the walls are PAPERED in Brokeback Mountain posters, Pride flags, and posters of extremely hot shirtless men.
“Oh.” I go. “OH.”
The dude at the desk is cheerfully checking us in, and he is Obviously Gay. In that, he’s wearing a T shirt, literally, that says “Gay” and has a rainbow on it.
There’s a sign on the wall listing the events that they hosted over the summer. I’ve still got a pic, I’ll find and attach it in a minute.
My worry at this point is mostly “Oh man I don’t want these dudes to feel like we’re intruding” but we’re like the only people there because, again, off season.
So we get checked in and get to our room, and I turn to husband.
“Hon.” I said, “We’re at the gay resort.”
“What?” Says Kev.
“Hon,” I said, and then pointed out everything I just listed above, and oh yeah they also had a clothing optional area by the pool.
“Oh.” He says. “Oops.”
But, I mean, the rooms were lovely and comfortable and spotless, and too late now.
Anyway Grandma’s funeral was that afternoon. And by the time we got back, I was a cried out mess, and I wanted a fucking drink. So, we went to the bar.
The owner was the barkeep. We get to the bar, and he smiles at us. “Hey folks, I’m Gary. What can I get you?” He asks.
“Whiskey.” I say.
“Sure, what kind?”
“Brown.” I’ve been awake for 37 hours at this point, and words are hard.
An eyebrow climbs, but he just grabs a Jameson bottle. “Sure hon, anything with it?”
“More whiskey.”
The second eyebrow climbs.
“We just got back from her grandmother’s funeral.” My husband has better people skills than me.
“OH.” Gary upends the bottle at this, and pours an extra couple fingers into my glass, thereby making him my best friend in the world.
Anyway, my husband the People Person strikes up a conversation with Brad as I drink. Turns out Brad and his husband own the place, they don’t mind us there a bit since it’s a slow time of the year for them, and by the end of the night he and my husband are best friends and Kev, the professional locksmith, is repairing a minor problem with their door for them and chatting about cooking.
I’m bringing this back because I just found out from my husband like 2 days ago that after I went to bed and he went to settle the tab, Gary flat out refused to let him pay for my 3 whiskeys-with-extra-whiskey.
“No, she had a rough day, poor girl, losing a loved one is rough, you folks seem nice anyway and you fixed that door we’ll call it good.”
I changed my Grindr profile pic to a selfie I took with my brother’s bearded dragon and it led to possibly the best conversation I’ve ever had on Grindr
wupacing 