cumbertveit98

deathbymorning:

eggsnogging:

in my senior drama class i had to play gordon ramsay for a film project but we could only film in school so we had to try to find a closed off room to use. the thing is the room wasn’t exactly soundproof and apparently someone heard us and that’s the story of how the vice principal and four freshmen walked in on me wearing a chef’s hat and yelling at my friend because her squid was so raw i could still hear it telling spongebob to fuck off

did you get an A

huntersdontconsultamateurs

themarchrabbit:

onsheka:

thepioden:

gessorly:

tyrror:

ruingaraf:

themarchrabbit:

Seriously, it kills me when I see people hold scientists up as pinnacles of logic and reason.

Because one time the professor I was interning for got punched in the face by another professor, because mine got the funding, and told the other professor his theory was stupid.

This same professor told me to throw rocks to scare the “stupid fucking crabs” into moving so we could count them properly.

SCIENCE

thank you

this is one of the best comments this post has recieved

I have witnessed:

Two professors hiding around a corner and snickering, “Shhh, here she comes!” While a female professor approached and, when she finally found them, she proceeded to scream while pointing from one to the other, “You! I called your office but you weren’t there! So I tried to call YOUR office to figure out where HE was but YOU weren’t there!”

Two grad students standing outside a closed and locked door yelling, “Come out of the damn office. You haven’t left for days. If you didn’t have a couch in there I’d be concerned as to where you were sleeping!”

A religious studies professor apologizing for being late to class because, “security stopped me because I’m dressed like a hobbit”

Watched a professor snort the results of my experiment to determine if I had the right final compound.

Two archeology professors toss priceless fossilized teeth back and forth in an attempt to figure out who is smarter by “guessing the type of tooth and species of animal before it lands”

Multiple fully degreed individuals throw dry ice at one another in an attempt to be first to use the lab/get that piece of equipment/or change the iPod song.

A genetics professor build furniture out of stacks of paper and planks of wood because she is that far behind in grading papers/responding. One of the impromptu furniture pieces housed a fish tank.

I could go on but I think that covers the larger portion of the insanity…

Every time it comes around on my dash, it gets better.

I have had a professor buy a huge fuckoff bottle of rum during fieldwork in Costa Rica and let the undergrads get wasted because “you’re not underage in Costa Rica and we’ll be up all night with the bats anyway!”

- Same professor hung a bat from her headlamp and wore it as a decoration for an entire night. 

- A whole swarm of older women - and these are women with PhDs and world-renown bat experts, the bigwigs - all, to a woman, go to the formal charity dinner at an international research symposium in Toronto in late October dressed in skimpy Batgirl costumes. Because Halloween was that weekend, you see.

- At a different conference, a professor get blackout drunk and pass out on the side of the road. 

- “Yeah, we have to say we did it properly for the grant but to be really honest, Miracle-gro works better.”

- Teaching lab: we had liquid nitrogen for a demo, and after class the professor, the other TA, and I spent a good two hours freezing and breaking things in it. 

a chemistry class begins with 30 students nine months later just six of us left sitting on tables dipping paper into contaminated chemicals to see what happens when we burn it teacher making idle suggestions while he marks our work

"go to the fume hood thing, yeah now put some potassium in chlorine" can i burn the results sir? "fuck it sure whatever its tainted anyway"

The prof I’m working for just asked me if I knew how to pick a lock, and when I responded “yes” she replied, “see, this is why I hire the former delinquents instead of the suck-ups. You’re actually useful.”

I then let her into her office.

probalicious
jennonthewire:

Hiatus Drabble Project 3/13: Made In America (what 4th of July between S11 and S12 looks like in my headcanon…)
————
“Tony.” The rasp in her voice has him smirking as he nips gently at her collarbone. Her nails dig into the bicep of one arm, as her other hand tries and fails to fist into his much shorter than usual hair. He has her trapped between his body and the bathroom sink, the porcelain causing an uncomfortable ache in her back.
When she wraps one leg around his waist, he helps her the rest of the way as both of his hands find firm grips on her thighs and hoist her upward, planting her ass on the rim. There is only a moment’s pause before she has him in a grip between her thighs, using her ankles for leverage to force him closer. He, however, has the vantage point. His fingers trail across thigh, pushing higher the already short hem of her jean cutoffs. Even though her mind is telling her to slow down, not now, not here; her body is on fire. Lately, she hasn’t been able to get enough of him – in the shower, on the couch watching a movie, before work, after work, and one almost problematic incident in the office men’s room. Not that he’s complaining, and neither is she for that matter. But the upstairs bathroom in the home of one Leroy Jethro Gibbs during a Fourth of July barbecue attended by all their friends and family is not exactly an ideal make-out location.
Trailing his lips from her collarbone to chin, he leaves wet kisses in his wake. She sighs against his mouth when he finally finds his way back to hers. Her tongue slowly traces the inside of his bottom lip, and he practically whimpers. A huff of laughter escapes her as she drags her hand from the back of his neck to fist in his shirt, holding him to her. Not one to idle, he palms her thigh with one hand, fingers massaging her taut muscles. He uses his other hand on the small of her back, arching her forward and lifting her shirt in one fluid motion.
Pulling back from her mouth, he bumps his nose with her chin urging her to give him access to the column of her neck. Every touch, every kiss, every point of contact feels electric. She darts out a hand to steady herself against the sink, knocking the soap dish into the basin with a loud clatter neither of them notice. Slowly working his way down, he makes a mental note of his fondness for v-neck shirts; particularly like the one she’s currently wearing that gives him easy access to the swell of her breasts. A low of hum of appreciation escapes her at the same point her free hand finds the back of his head, gentle pressure letting him know he’s hit the right spot.
When his fingertips drag low across her belly, she sighs softly. His hand splays out unconsciously, and she leans forward to press a kiss to the top of his head. The heat between them suffocates slowly, leaving a warmth that feels so natural tears begin to prick her eyes. She blinks quickly, regaining her composure just as he pulls himself up to rest his forehead against hers.
“I want to tell them,” he says before placing a gentle, sweet kiss to her lips. Both his arms are around her waist, holding her tightly. Her hands cradle his face, thumbs brushing across his cheeks as she speaks.
“I know. So do I. But,” she pauses, “not yet.”
“How much longer?” She brushes her fingertips lightly over his temples, and he briefly closes his eyes.
“Soon. I just need to be sure it’s…” He doesn’t let her finish.
“Ok. Yeah, I know. Me, too. I’m just…I’m…” He shrugs his shoulders and she can only smile, knowingly.
“I am excited too, my love. And I want nothing more than to tell the whole world, or at least our little corner of it that we are having a baby.” His eyes light up at her acknowledgement, and she brushes her lips against his lightly.
“The doctor just confirmed for us last week. I, well, you know I was concerned this may not happen for us.” His grip on her waist tightens as she speaks.
“I think I will feel better when we pass the first trimester. Not saying we need to wait that long, of course. We will need to tell Gibbs at least before then.” He is strong in every way that counts, but in this moment she is most grateful for his tender understanding.
He leans in then to kiss her, and she wraps her arms around his neck pulling him in close. She indulges him for several moments, before finally pulling back with quick pecks to the corner of his mouth and cheek.
“I love you, Ziva.”
“Good,” she replies playfully, dropping a kiss to the tip of his nose. His laughter reverberates through her. She feels lighter and somehow fuller than she has in years, maybe ever.
“We should probably head back downstairs before they send up a search party.” He rolls his eyes while stepping out of their embrace, and she jumps down from the sink with ease.
He entwines their fingers as he heads for the door, reaching for the handle when she stops, pulling him back gently. Her head is cocked to one side, as she studies her reflection in the mirror.
“How do you think I would look with short hair?”
“Hot.”
She snorts subtly, turning in his direction. “Is that your honest opinion?”
“Yes,” he replies, nodding vigorously.
“I did not realize you were in to women with short hair, Tony,” she says with a laugh, amused smile turning up the corners of her mouth.
“I am into you, Ziva. Short hair, long hair, no hair. Whatever.” He tugs her hand, urging her along. When they exit the bathroom, she grabs his forearm with her free hand and rests her cheek gently against his shoulder.
He leans sideways to plant a kiss to her forehead. “Good because I have an appointment next week.”
“Of course you do” is all he can reply.
 —————
(gif source: sexual-passion) ((sorry guys, didn’t realize this Tuesday’s drabble wasn’t on the queue. Better late than never!))

jennonthewire:

Hiatus Drabble Project 3/13: Made In America
(what 4th of July between S11 and S12 looks like in my headcanon…)

————

“Tony.” The rasp in her voice has him smirking as he nips gently at her collarbone. Her nails dig into the bicep of one arm, as her other hand tries and fails to fist into his much shorter than usual hair. He has her trapped between his body and the bathroom sink, the porcelain causing an uncomfortable ache in her back.

When she wraps one leg around his waist, he helps her the rest of the way as both of his hands find firm grips on her thighs and hoist her upward, planting her ass on the rim. There is only a moment’s pause before she has him in a grip between her thighs, using her ankles for leverage to force him closer. He, however, has the vantage point. His fingers trail across thigh, pushing higher the already short hem of her jean cutoffs. Even though her mind is telling her to slow down, not now, not here; her body is on fire. Lately, she hasn’t been able to get enough of him – in the shower, on the couch watching a movie, before work, after work, and one almost problematic incident in the office men’s room. Not that he’s complaining, and neither is she for that matter. But the upstairs bathroom in the home of one Leroy Jethro Gibbs during a Fourth of July barbecue attended by all their friends and family is not exactly an ideal make-out location.

Trailing his lips from her collarbone to chin, he leaves wet kisses in his wake. She sighs against his mouth when he finally finds his way back to hers. Her tongue slowly traces the inside of his bottom lip, and he practically whimpers. A huff of laughter escapes her as she drags her hand from the back of his neck to fist in his shirt, holding him to her. Not one to idle, he palms her thigh with one hand, fingers massaging her taut muscles. He uses his other hand on the small of her back, arching her forward and lifting her shirt in one fluid motion.

Pulling back from her mouth, he bumps his nose with her chin urging her to give him access to the column of her neck. Every touch, every kiss, every point of contact feels electric. She darts out a hand to steady herself against the sink, knocking the soap dish into the basin with a loud clatter neither of them notice. Slowly working his way down, he makes a mental note of his fondness for v-neck shirts; particularly like the one she’s currently wearing that gives him easy access to the swell of her breasts. A low of hum of appreciation escapes her at the same point her free hand finds the back of his head, gentle pressure letting him know he’s hit the right spot.

When his fingertips drag low across her belly, she sighs softly. His hand splays out unconsciously, and she leans forward to press a kiss to the top of his head. The heat between them suffocates slowly, leaving a warmth that feels so natural tears begin to prick her eyes. She blinks quickly, regaining her composure just as he pulls himself up to rest his forehead against hers.

“I want to tell them,” he says before placing a gentle, sweet kiss to her lips. Both his arms are around her waist, holding her tightly. Her hands cradle his face, thumbs brushing across his cheeks as she speaks.

“I know. So do I. But,” she pauses, “not yet.”

“How much longer?” She brushes her fingertips lightly over his temples, and he briefly closes his eyes.

“Soon. I just need to be sure it’s…” He doesn’t let her finish.

“Ok. Yeah, I know. Me, too. I’m just…I’m…” He shrugs his shoulders and she can only smile, knowingly.

“I am excited too, my love. And I want nothing more than to tell the whole world, or at least our little corner of it that we are having a baby.” His eyes light up at her acknowledgement, and she brushes her lips against his lightly.

“The doctor just confirmed for us last week. I, well, you know I was concerned this may not happen for us.” His grip on her waist tightens as she speaks.

“I think I will feel better when we pass the first trimester. Not saying we need to wait that long, of course. We will need to tell Gibbs at least before then.” He is strong in every way that counts, but in this moment she is most grateful for his tender understanding.

He leans in then to kiss her, and she wraps her arms around his neck pulling him in close. She indulges him for several moments, before finally pulling back with quick pecks to the corner of his mouth and cheek.

“I love you, Ziva.”

“Good,” she replies playfully, dropping a kiss to the tip of his nose. His laughter reverberates through her. She feels lighter and somehow fuller than she has in years, maybe ever.

“We should probably head back downstairs before they send up a search party.” He rolls his eyes while stepping out of their embrace, and she jumps down from the sink with ease.

He entwines their fingers as he heads for the door, reaching for the handle when she stops, pulling him back gently. Her head is cocked to one side, as she studies her reflection in the mirror.

“How do you think I would look with short hair?”

“Hot.”

She snorts subtly, turning in his direction. “Is that your honest opinion?”

“Yes,” he replies, nodding vigorously.

“I did not realize you were in to women with short hair, Tony,” she says with a laugh, amused smile turning up the corners of her mouth.

“I am into you, Ziva. Short hair, long hair, no hair. Whatever.” He tugs her hand, urging her along. When they exit the bathroom, she grabs his forearm with her free hand and rests her cheek gently against his shoulder.

He leans sideways to plant a kiss to her forehead. “Good because I have an appointment next week.”

“Of course you do” is all he can reply.

 —————

(gif source: sexual-passion)
((sorry guys, didn’t realize this Tuesday’s drabble wasn’t on the queue. Better late than never!))

hierrohombre
People always say that it hurts at night and apparently screaming into your pillow at 3am is the romantic equivalent of being heartbroken. But sometimes it’s 9am on a Tuesday morning and you’re standing at the kitchen bench waiting for the toast to pop up. And the smell of dusty sunlight and earl gray tea makes you miss him so much you don’t know what to do with your hands.
Rosie Scanlan, “On Missing Them”  (via earnestly)