If you’re reading this, chances are very high that your home has at least one — and maybe more! — magic appliance that produces clean water suitable for drinking. That’s one reason to avoid paying for bottled water.
Another reason? There’s a good chance the water you’re buying at the supermarket was bottled in California, a state currently enduring a severe drought.
(Images via MotherJones)
EVERYONE PLEASE AT LEAST TAKE A QUICK SECOND TO LOOK AT THIS
BECAUSE IT IS EFFECTING THE EXACT AREA I LIVE IN
Lots of people believe bottled water is safer and cleaner than tap water, when in reality there’s no evidence proving such a thing.
Penn & Teller’s Bullshit!: Bottled Water segment, gives a very good and thorough summary of the bottled water culture https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MHx6BX3HZJc
You want better water? Buy a Zero filter. SRSLY. Stop buying bottled if possible. You need water with you? Get reusable acrylic or glass water bottles (wrapped in a silicon sleeve) and fill it up from your filter pitcher. SAVE MONEY, SAVE MY STATE
This is all incredibly important, some cities have as little as 60 -120 days left. Try using a refillable water container, and if you’re a California resident, make sure to report water waste in public spaces.
also there were like way too many sexual jokes in teenage mutant turtles. not that there were A LOT but hearing a teenage mutant ninja turtle say “she’s so hot i can feel my shell getting tight” is not something i ever wanted to hear and now that i have i cannot unhear it
And since I am already in full Inception fanart mode, here’s Ariadne!
starstrucklucky said: I've started reading poetry by Rainer Maria Rilke: Like birds that get used to walking / and grow heavier and heavier, as in falling: the earth sucks out of their long claws / the memory of all / the great things that happen high up, and makes them almost into leaves that cling tightly to the ground
Oh lord. Oh Christ. What a beautiful poet. I love poetry so so much. I couldn’t actually find the poem that you were linking, but I looked the man up and WOW.Maybe my soul is straight and good,but she’s got to lug my heart, my blood,which all hurts because it’s crooked;its weight sends her staggering.She has no bed, she has no home,she merely hangs on my sharp bones,flapping her terrible wings.And my hands are completely shot,shriveled, worn: here, take a lookat how they clammily, clumsily hoplike rain-crazed toads.As for all the other stuff,it’s all used up and sad and old—why doesn’t God haul me out to the muckand let me drop.Is it because of my mugwith its frowning mouth?So often I would itchto be luminous and free of fogbut nothing would approachexcept big dogs.And the dogs got zilch.
i am so fuckign stressed out i jsut had to take all of the clothes down from my closet again because i couldnt shake the feeling that somethign was hiding behind thme even tho i knew that the weird lump when i pushed them back was from the lumpy leather jacket i have
i think part of it is slightly induced by the fact that im reading house of leaves
but def a huge part of this is jsut stress i never get this bad unless im rly stressed out i hate how much my stress makes it impossible for me to sleep when i know that sleep will help me calm down
So, the Labyrinth is a piece of cake, is it? Well, let’s see how you deal with this little slice. Labyrinth (1986)
broadway antique market
i bought this telegram, because it’s probably the best thing i’ve ever seen. i’m framing it. it cost $1.