And in case you wanted to know why Leia was kicked out of boarding school.
[text referring to Princess Leia from a database, likely as a bonus/flavor text in a videogame:
Letter to Senator Bail Organa:
To the Most Respected Senator Organa,
It is with the deepest regret that I must return to you your thirty-thousand credit bond, and your Princess. Our institution has existed for several thousand years. It prides itself in molding young girls from Alderaan’s finest families into young women whose behavior and decorum is the pride of those families.
However, we believe that Princess Leia is incapable of conforming to our standards. This is the unanimous decision of the Board of Directors, and was arrived at due to three separate infractions.
a) The Princess led a sit-in rebellion of students during breakfast, when they were served bottled juice instead of freshly squeezed.
b) The Princess re-programmed the PA system to play the Anthem of the Republic (in direct violation of Imperial Edict 2.33b) during assembly.
c) The Princess sliced a secure mainframe and swapped every reference to Emperor Palpatine with Emperor… well, let us just say that is is a word seven year old Princesses should not know.
Yours, with respect, Madam Nestor, Govorness, Grevasse City Colloglum for Young Ladies]
LEIA ORGANA GOT KICKED OUT OF BOARDING SCHOOL BC SHE WAS A LITTLE ANTI-IMPERIALIST PUNK
Often says the first thing that comes to his mouth.
Hyperfixation. Major hyperfixation
Reliance on caffeine
Trouble paying attention to things that don’t interest him
Impulsive and often reckless behaviour
Loses attention of things easily
Cannot fucking sleep and is a literal ball of anxiety
Excessive talking and physical movement
Constantly multitasking to keep stimulated
Unable to make or keep friends because of high energy levels and hyperfixation drives people away/is too ‘high maintenance’ for people
vacillates between paying too much attention to friends and no attention
Can’t keep track of simple social details but understands every little detail of a concept when hyperfixated on it. (feels so bad about not being able to keep track of friend’s details but unable to turn off brain T_T)
“Here in the Pacific, 200 metres down, we enter an alien world… This is barreleye a fish with a transparent head filled with jelly so that it can look up through its skull.”– Sir David Attenborough
Blue Planet II
most fish just grow their eyes on the sides of they head but okay
They do that because it lets them look up and spot fish that are silhouetted against the light coming from above, and because it gives them a really wide field of vision, but keeps their eyes tucked inside and protected.
I can’t do justice to one of the weirdest camp stories I know. My friend tells it so well, and I can offer only a pale shadow of his story.
Last summer, he was working with one of the younger units comprised of ten year old boys. They had spent the night camping on another beach and were just readying themselves to depart. “Make sure you have all your things!” called my friend. “Don’t leave anything behind!”
One small boy came up, dragging a massive tangle of decomposing seaweed behind him. “But… what about me boy?” he asked, lip trembling.
“…what is ‘me boy’?”
The child held up the stinking wad of bull kelp. “This is him. This is Me Boy.”
“Me Boy is not coming back with us,” said his counselor. “You’re going to leave Me Boy behind on the beach where he belongs.”
The campers loudly mourned the loss of Me Boy. They insisted on giving him a Viking burial at sea, which just consisted of pushing him solemnly off the back of the rowboat into the water and watching him drift away in the surf.
That was only the beginning. Me Boy would be back.
The campers, in true camp fashion, possessed some kind of cultic hive-mind and a predisposition for bizarre memes. Me Boy would not be forgotten. They started telling each other stories about Me Boy and how he would one day rise again. There were warring factions with contradicting dogmas about Me Boy. Only when the gardener allowed them to take home a zucchini she had harvested did they find their god, born anew.
Me Boy, The Zucchini That Was A God, became the whole unit’s mascot. The kids would bicker over who got to carry him. They built nests and carriers for Me Boy and brought him to different activities, fiercely defending him from those that would do him harm. One child appointed himself the Voice of Me Boy and would translate the zucchini’s divine wishes into human speech.
It got out of hand. Me Boy had become a distraction, a fixation, a violent controversy. Something had to be done.
My friend, their counselor, took it upon himself to kill Me Boy. The children wailed in despair as he chopped their God into refreshing slices. With this sudden turn of fortune, followers of Me Boy turned to theophagy. “We must eat him to preserve his power!” they cried. Boys who would otherwise never have touched a vegetable ate greedily of this sacrament, eager to let Me Boy live on within them.
For a time, it seemed that peace and order had been restored, and the religion had already faded into its silver age. But only for a time.
In the last few days of camp, the religion of Me Boy splintered into several denominations. Every meal yielded new vegetable matter said to be a reincarnation of Me Boy, only for opposing groups to dismiss these as false prophets. Some believed that Me Boy was gone. Others believed his spirit lived on, intangible, omnipresent. Some believed he had found a new vessel inside a carrot, a pear, a slice of cantaloupe… even inside a child. There was chaos, and strife, and heartbreak without the guidance of Me Boy.
The tags on this post are very polarized. Half of them are “#I’m glad I never went to camp” and “#reasons why I never want kids”, the other half are “#BOY I LOVE CHILDREN CAMP IS SO GOOD AMIRIGHT?”
Why do grown ass adults want to eat Tide pods so much?
Because a ton of the visual/olfactory/textural sensory information these pods give me the match nutritionally-dense fruit. It’s got the oleic gleam of something high-fat like an avocado, but bright carotenoid-rich coloration like a berry that wants to be eaten by red-seeing primates and birds. It tends to smell sweet and slightly floral, enhancing that effect. Similarly, when you hold it, it is quite dense (denser than water), but very soft and liquid, once again reaffirming that this “fruit” has either high sugar or high fat content and almost no cellulose to it.
As a result, within me is a less-clever monkey just screaming to eat this delicious fruit in my hand about to go into the laundry, and it does in fact take willpower to tell him he’s a stupid monkey and this is a bubble of foul-tasting poison. But every time I do laundry, this fucking limbic monstrosity rises again and assures me it’s basically like a cherry but Even Better. I have legitimately debated just biting down on one in the hopes of inducing a deterrent memory to forestall this urge in the future, but that’s what my goddamn mammal-brain wants me to fucking do and I refuse to let it win.
Human Brain: Don’t eat the posion pod its fucking posion Monkey Brain: Eat the fruit pod its fruit Lizard Brain: The Washing Machine Is Vibrating Give It The Sex Fish Brain: Climb inside the washing machine it is safe.
BettSplendens Tumblr Evac 