glumshoe:

glumshoe:

People (including my own parents) are constantly telling me I look like Buster Keaton and have been for years, and while I’m flattered, I can barely see it. I’ve cosplayed him and I still don’t see it. All the features of his that I can identify as distinctive or recognizably “Keaton” are not ones that I share, apparent from a generally similar skull shape.

I put on makeup and tried to emulate Keaton’s #look but as I took a picture I accidentally leaned into a cactus and hurt myself. Thank you, iOS live-capture.

Hey Glumshoe,

This is actually a really good example of how easily color can throw off the eye.

You immediately picked up on the face shape, probably in large part because he has a very similar skin tone to you (as far as old film skin tones go lol).

The main differing feature you two seem to have is the nose.

However, if you change the color of your eyes, darken your lips and outline your eyes to match…

You’re already starting to look like his stunt double.

Thank you for protecting the ghost of Buster Keaton from a cactus, btw.

That expression is PRICELESS. Good to know I’m not the only one who does that sometimes.

here’s a gif of me starting to lose my balance and deciding that hopping to turn the camera off is a better course of action than putting my leg down

i open tumblr and find info about ants. I get confused. I look to see who posted. It’s you. Surprise surprise it’s the bog mummy camp dabbing transmasculine pants anxiety sphinx riddle queer supporting cool anon rebuker T H I C C veil newly crafted skeleton lovin semi-political in a respectable n’ informed way imposter syndrome local pseudo dentist necromancer witch spirit cryptid vintage chosen straw teat drinker weak garlic eating tea making voodoo aesthetic rebloggin friendly neighbor, Ship!

glumshoe:

“Orange you glad I didn’t say Dipper?”

glumshoe:

glumshoe:

My method of getting kids not to swear at camp was just to appeal to their sense of fairness.

Child: “Fuck!”

Me: “Hey! I’m not allowed to swear in front of you guys. It’s not fair if you swear in front of me, is it?”

Child: “I guess not… sorry…”

Sometimes I’d work with teenagers and facilitate activities like giant swing or zipline, which involve full-body harnesses that get Wildly Uncomfortable in the crotch areas. The younger kids didn’t mind it, but those burdened by more of the wonderful gifts of puberty had some things to complain about.

And complain they would! I think 15 year old boys are contractually obligated to shout “THIS HURTS MY BALLS!” at the top of their lungs every time they’re in a harness. To combat this, I’d warn them about the pain ahead of time and tell them that if they need to come down, I’ll help them down immediately. “However, I don’t get paid enough to listen to teenagers scream about their genitals for an hour. If you have to scream, we’re gonna call them ‘your honor’, okay?”

Teenagers screaming “OH NO! MY HONOR!” while swinging through the canopy? Hilarious.