crusherccme:

found this gem in the 1996 Cornell Women’s Handbook. it’s what to say when a guy tries to get out of using a condom

crusherccme:

found this gem in the 1996 Cornell Women’s Handbook. it’s what to say when a guy tries to get out of using a condom

(via nightmarenosh)

punkwarren:

striderdaves:

i love catfish so much because they act like theyre fbi agents or something when theyre really just using reverse google image search

i thought you meant the animal and let me tell you that was a wild minute of me trying to figure out the psychology of fish thinking they’re federal law enforcement

(via yolowonder)

jhameia:

annaham:

Duke University Press has around 1,600 of their academic titles available to read online FOR FREE on eDuke Books. You can search by title, author and/or subject! Here is their general list of subjects.

This is a fantastic option for students who need…

america-wakiewakie:

The boy who clung to the paramedic: the story behind the photo | Electronic Intifada 
This photo of a boy injured in an Israeli strike clinging to a medic at al-Shifa hospital went viral on the Internet.
Thursday night, 17 July, was the heaviest yet since Israel’s bombardment of Gaza began almost two weeks ago.
Dozens of people arrived to Gaza City’s al-Shifa hospital, where I was on shift that night. Some arrived torn to pieces, some beheaded, some disfigured beyond recognition, although still alive and breathing.
Seemingly indiscriminate artillery fire, a new element in Israel’s assault, had exacted a heavy toll on civilians.
The medical staff were lucky to get a break of less than half an hour. Some spent it watching the flares and bombs Israel was raining on the eastern neighborhoods of Gaza City, while others refueled with coffee or lay down for a few moments.
The relative calm did not last long. At around 3am, about eight or nine casualties arrived at the emergency room all at once. The last to come in were four siblings — two of them little children, both about three years old, with relatively superficial wounds. But it was clear they were pulled from under rubble, their faces and clothes covered in dirt and dust.
Then came the older of the four siblings, a boy in his early teens. His head and face were covered in blood and he was pressing a rag to his head to stanch the flow. But his focus was on something else: “Save my little brother!” he kept screaming.
The last to arrive was his brother, the child in the above photo that circulated around the world.
"I want my father!"
He was carried in by a paramedic and immediately rushed to the intensive care unit, which is right next to the ER. He clung to the paramedic, crying, “I want my father, bring me my father!” until he had to be forced to let go.
As I stood by, alert for orders, a group of four medical personnel immediately started to treat the boy. But he kept kicking and screaming and calling for his father.
His injuries were serious: a wound to the left side of his head which could indicate a skull fracture and a large piece of shrapnel in his neck. Another piece of shrapnel had penetrated his chest and a third had entered his abdomen. There were many smaller wounds all over his body.
Immediate measures had to be taken to save his life; he was sedated so the medics could get to work.
Upon carefully examining the wounds, it appeared that the explosion from the artillery round sent flying small pieces of stone from the walls of his house, and that some of his wounds were caused by these high-velocity projectiles.
He was extremely lucky: his neck injury was just an inch away from a major artery, his chest injury penetrated all the way through but failed to puncture his lung, and his abdomen was struck by shrapnel that just missed his bowel.
Luck
He had a stroke of luck denied to many that night.
The medics performed heroic measures in a remarkably short time, and the little boy’s life was saved.
Meanwhile in the emergency room, the elder brother was stitched up and the younger two siblings were washed and thoroughly examined for possible hidden injuries.
Somehow, despite the horror and the pain, they were sleeping. I don’t know how they did it, but I felt envious and grateful for the divine mercy that found its way to them.
Their brother with the most serious wounds will almost certainly survive, but with many scars and a difficult recovery period, both physical and psychological.
Too many casualties came in that night, too many for me to get this boy’s name, to know whether he was reunited with his father, or even what became of the rest of his family.
But there’s one thing that I know for sure, which is that hundreds of children just like him suffered similar or worse injuries, and up to the moment of this writing, nearly eighty children just like him have been killed as Israel’s merciless attack goes on.
Belal Dabour is a recently graduated doctor from Gaza, Palestine. He blogs at belalmd.wordpress.com.
(Photo Credit: Ezz al-Zanoun / APA images)

america-wakiewakie:

The boy who clung to the paramedic: the story behind the photo | Electronic Intifada 

This photo of a boy injured in an Israeli strike clinging to a medic at al-Shifa hospital went viral on the Internet.

Thursday night, 17 July, was the heaviest yet since Israel’s bombardment of Gaza began almost two weeks ago.

Dozens of people arrived to Gaza City’s al-Shifa hospital, where I was on shift that night. Some arrived torn to pieces, some beheaded, some disfigured beyond recognition, although still alive and breathing.

Seemingly indiscriminate artillery fire, a new element in Israel’s assault, had exacted a heavy toll on civilians.

The medical staff were lucky to get a break of less than half an hour. Some spent it watching the flares and bombs Israel was raining on the eastern neighborhoods of Gaza City, while others refueled with coffee or lay down for a few moments.

The relative calm did not last long. At around 3am, about eight or nine casualties arrived at the emergency room all at once. The last to come in were four siblings — two of them little children, both about three years old, with relatively superficial wounds. But it was clear they were pulled from under rubble, their faces and clothes covered in dirt and dust.

Then came the older of the four siblings, a boy in his early teens. His head and face were covered in blood and he was pressing a rag to his head to stanch the flow. But his focus was on something else: “Save my little brother!” he kept screaming.

The last to arrive was his brother, the child in the above photo that circulated around the world.

"I want my father!"

He was carried in by a paramedic and immediately rushed to the intensive care unit, which is right next to the ER. He clung to the paramedic, crying, “I want my father, bring me my father!” until he had to be forced to let go.

As I stood by, alert for orders, a group of four medical personnel immediately started to treat the boy. But he kept kicking and screaming and calling for his father.

His injuries were serious: a wound to the left side of his head which could indicate a skull fracture and a large piece of shrapnel in his neck. Another piece of shrapnel had penetrated his chest and a third had entered his abdomen. There were many smaller wounds all over his body.

Immediate measures had to be taken to save his life; he was sedated so the medics could get to work.

Upon carefully examining the wounds, it appeared that the explosion from the artillery round sent flying small pieces of stone from the walls of his house, and that some of his wounds were caused by these high-velocity projectiles.

He was extremely lucky: his neck injury was just an inch away from a major artery, his chest injury penetrated all the way through but failed to puncture his lung, and his abdomen was struck by shrapnel that just missed his bowel.

Luck

He had a stroke of luck denied to many that night.

The medics performed heroic measures in a remarkably short time, and the little boy’s life was saved.

Meanwhile in the emergency room, the elder brother was stitched up and the younger two siblings were washed and thoroughly examined for possible hidden injuries.

Somehow, despite the horror and the pain, they were sleeping. I don’t know how they did it, but I felt envious and grateful for the divine mercy that found its way to them.

Their brother with the most serious wounds will almost certainly survive, but with many scars and a difficult recovery period, both physical and psychological.

Too many casualties came in that night, too many for me to get this boy’s name, to know whether he was reunited with his father, or even what became of the rest of his family.

But there’s one thing that I know for sure, which is that hundreds of children just like him suffered similar or worse injuries, and up to the moment of this writing, nearly eighty children just like him have been killed as Israel’s merciless attack goes on.

Belal Dabour is a recently graduated doctor from Gaza, Palestine. He blogs at belalmd.wordpress.com.

(Photo Credit: Ezz al-Zanoun / APA images)

midstorm:

I think Hiccup and Astrid are the best animated couple ever.

I love how their relationship isn’t a major plot point for the films. Astrid isn’t there as a reward for the hero, she is also his best friend (next to Toothless of course). She didn’t stop being a warrior after she became a love interest (and Hiccup wouldn’t want her to, he loves her for it).

They talk about their problems. They fight their enemies together. And they trust each other.

(via yolowonder)

taboo-but-tasty:

lydiduh:

In 15 seconds of dialogue Francis Wilkerson sums up what’s wrong with how women are criticized in our society and it’s great

amen

(via apfelgranate)

picklepup:

do you ever just

(Source: spacejailer, via doubleatotheflynn)

friendlytroll:

astrakiseki:

prokopetz:

mikhailvladimirovich:

bogleech:

It’s funny how science fiction universes so often treat humans as a boring, default everyman species or even the weakest and dumbest.

I want to see a sci fi universe where we’re actually…

congalineofdurin:





dear god, let it be enough

congalineofdurin:

dear god, let it be enough

(Source: anarcho-gallifreyan, via doubleatotheflynn)

the-wolfbats:

"No wonder Tenzin broke up with you."

image

"I’m more spiritual than you’ll ever be!”

image

"I heard she even ate her father’s bear."

image

(via sherbies)

'You held your head like a hero, on a history book page, It was the end of a decade but the start of an age.’

(Source: omgistaylor)

soflyniggaswannastalkme:

gardendwarf:

eaglebeaver:

oh my god

gay since day one

…just now got it

damn usagi

(via k-y-h-u)

We didn’t win, but I’m proud, I’m proud of my country, I’m proud of what we did, because it wasn’t just a team, it was TEAM WITH 40,000,000 MEMBERS. It was a full country, with the same feelings, supporting just one thing. I’m proud because we didn’t even be in the final since 24 years. I’m proud of all the team, I don’t have the enough words to thank.

See that? That is 'The Obelisco', it’s a famous building in Buenos Aires.

When the match finished, many people went there to celebrate like we win. Because the emotion was there, the emotion of achieve or reach something that we didn’t in so many years. Unfortunatelly, after where some incidents caused by people that always have to do something bad.

He’s Romero, ‘Chiquito’ Romero.
Some people said that he wasn’t enough for the team, that he is a bad player.

Thanks to Romero, we passed to the final.

He is Mascherano. He was very important because he encourage the players, he told Romero 'You are the hero'. After that, we passed to the final. I love Messi, but I think that Mascherano deserved the Golden Ball.
Higuain when the goalkeeper hit him and almost hurt in a way very dangerous. For the referee it wasn’t a penalty, the goalkeeper almost kill him but it wasn’t a penalty, YE$, OF COUR$E IT WA$$$N’T (u can all go to hell)

That’s Di Maria. He was injured or wounded (no se como se dice lesionado en ingles gggg) and he was very important but he couldn’t play. He wanted to play, he was going to play undercover, but when Real Madrid find out that, they called to Sabella or someone and said that they have to take care of him and don’t let him play because it was dangerous.

Anyway, you know what? I’m so proud of my country, Argentina. I don’t care if we lost, WE PLAYED WITH EVERY HEARTBEAT AND WITH THE PRIDE OF BEING ARGENTINIAN. Best players in the world, I don’t care what other people think. We stopped the country. Drinking mate, eating facturas, JUST LIKE WE ALWAYS DO. I LOVE ARGENTINA AND I’M SO PROUD. We could win and so? We didn’t and we cried.

I can assure that it broke our hearts. But still proud of where we got and what we are.
Germany won the world cup, but we won the true glory, the heaven, because we leave our hearts, our soul, everything. We wanted the cup, but we have to realize that the cup doesn’t make you the best. Be the best is leave your soul in the stadium and never give up, and fight ‘till the end. Argentina did it, and we can’t be more proud of it. We achieved something that we didn’t since 24 years.

And… ¿Who says that we can’t be champions?

(Source: damonsblood)