The Bible was not written by God. It was written at least 17 years after the death of Jesus Christ… They are quoting God, but the Bible says that none of them has ever seen God. In fact, if you claim to have seen God, you are in urgent need of psychiatric care.
See you need more people like this in the government to provide some good old fashioned crazy sense.
I am for the RH Bill.
When you're dreaming with a broken heart
Waking up is the hardest part
You roll out of bed and down on your knees
And for a moment, you can hardly breathe.
Wondering, "Was she really here?"
Is she standing in my room?
No she's not.
Coz she's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone.
Here’s a fantastic way to wake up in the morning!
Edgar Mueller is an artist who has been designing city sidewalks and transforming them into amazing works of art. And it’s not just simple art. It’s 3D art. He copies these breaktaking scenes and paints them on sidewalks, bringing the scenery to the ordinary pedestrian.
I know right! Sheer genius. It’s absolutely sheer genius. If people cannot afford to see these places, Mueller’s work literally brings the scenery at their doorstep. Well, not really doorstep, more like sidewalk, but you get what I mean.
Watch as he transforms this street into waterfalls. WATERFALLS. No joke.
A plaza in Moscow
A spectacular plaza in Moscow!
I wonder if we’ll ever get around to creating something as artsy as this. I guess it would require a lot of people respecting the sidewalk instead of propping up stores and stalls everywhere. But while we wait for our good ol’ country to get there, let us be enthralled by the mad artistry of Edgar Mueller. You have to admit, this is pretty brilliant.
Prepping a street in Ireland
I'd love to "fall" into the deep!
Canadian water edge
The Cave Project (Germany)
Another cave in London
And now, it's in Slovenia!
You have to admit his work is pretty extraordinary. To learn more about Edgar Mueller and his incredible transformation of the most boring pavements created by man (hahahaha I am so dramatic), click here.
I wonder if he can paint the rice terraces in EDSA. I mean, can you imagine how freaked out the drivers would be? LOL.
I have always known Tina Fey’s wit and pure genius will somehow be the direct reflection of women everywhere. Or in this case, mothers. Here’s her prayer to God for her daughter.
“First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.
May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.
When the Crystal Meth is offered, may she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half And stick with Beer.
Guide her, protect her when crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.
Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels. What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.
May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.
Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen.Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short – a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day – And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.
O Lord, break the Internet forever, that she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.
And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.
And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back. “My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.
Amen.”
-Tina Fey
What a gem of a lady. :)
I think it’s a lie each time people say they can die now and they’d be okay with it. I think a person will always wonder what happened next when he/she died. How people reacted. How they looked. How they were buried. What were given away and left behind. Everything remains a wonder to a person even if he/she has already passed away.
The most difficult death I have ever had to live through was my grandfather’s. To date, I cannot talk about it without tearing up. It was just so devastating that I cannot imagine losing anyone else. And I can’t talk about it anymore because I am at work.
So yeah. If I die tonight, I want everyone to listen to Coldplay and wear something gray. I think out of all the colors, I’ve come to love gray the most. It looks so somber. Green is a close second. I am just assuming that the grass would be so lush when I am buried, so I won’t really miss it.
But really how many will cry? How many will not visit? How many will choose to give flowers? Who will choose to spend the night? It’s a question of sorts and I will be surprised if you have not asked these questions yourself.
It’s a pensive Monday morning, folks. I think it’s because the sun is frying my brain each time I walk out and I am beginning to think I can seriously die just waiting for the stoplight to change. Makati needs more trees.
the salt of your skin 