i dont understand this at all and america scares the fuck out of me
This is the america they don’t want you to see
i love america
This is what you call Waffle House at 2 am when the bars close and everyone is drunk and hungry
*group of people having fun* this site: wtf this is so scary
People having safe fun at a waffle house is scary for most Tumblr bloggers, reports say.
Some context for those not familiar with Waffle House Culture:
Waffle House is one of the few chains in America that’s open 24/7/365, and where you can get both breakfast and lunch/dinner options at any time (I have had so many Breakfast Cheeseburgers at Waffle Houses). The food is really good, and people eat there at all times of the day or night, but it’s particularly popular as a late-night post-drinking spot because it’s all that’s open and it’s the kind of food that tastes especially good when you’re hammered.
Part of Waffle House Protocol is that all the servers and cooks greet every single customer as they come through the door. It sounds lame, but I’ve never been to a Waffle House where that greeting didn’t feel completely heartfelt. My mom is a health nut who could barely find anything on the menu she was willing to eat and yet she describes the Christmas Day lunch we had there one year as one of the nicest meals she’s ever had because everyone was so warm and welcoming. That sense of camaraderie gets turned up to 11, of course, at 2 a.m. when everyone’s shitfaced.
The jukeboxes have Waffle-House-themed songs on them (once you have heard “Raisins in my Toast” you will be earwormed forever) and there is an arcane system of hash brown ordering: scattered, smothered, covered, chunked, topped, diced, peppered, and/or capped. The hot sauce bottles say “Casa de Waffle.”
Once, in Oxford (UK), my husband and I walked past a kebab van very late one night and he said “why do I smell Waffle House”
The location of most Waffle Houses means there’s some… classism that tends to get tied up with Anti-Waffle House Discourse, which is probably lending itself, in part, to this being such a fraught topic. (I’m looking at a map and apparently I was born and raised right in the middle of the Peak Waffle House Density Zone)
Someone link the waffle House index here- disasters are literally measurrd by if waffle houses are open or not
I’m Canadian and when my family was driving through Ohio we stopped at a Waffle House and our server was so damn nice, probably one of the nicest servers we ever had. We definitely gave him a big tip.
“Expecting the world to treat you fairly because you’re a good person is like expecting a bull not to attack you because you’re a vegetarian.” ― Dennis Wholey.
This is fuckin dumb. Catch me being a fountain of light and compassion anyway.
I think what OP said can be interpreted in another way… I took it as “You can be a good person, but that doesn’t mean that bad stuff won’t happen to you”, like, it’s not something you can control or that you can bargain for. I’ve seen people commiserating themselves asking why bad stuff happened to them and not to other “””bad””” people. You cannot expect life to be that easy to control: whether you do good or bad things shit is gonna happen and that’s not negotiable.All you can do is to face it in the best way you can.
– Fantasy noir: Pour another one, Joe. My dragon left me for some clean-shaven cape-wearing foreign hero with an accent so thick you could hear the fake passport in his voice.
– Existential noir: these are mean streets to have an empty life in, kid. Thinkers nurse a hangover from their disgust of life for fifty years then roll over and die. This is how we run things in our city. Play it again, will you.
– Southern Gothic Noir: look at yourself, boy. They’ve got names for people who carry the Bible like that. They’ve got names for everything around here. And if you don’t get it the first time the walls will whisper it back to you.
– Noir Mythology: She was a priestess at some local temple. One of those temple only people who pray for a pint of bourbon and a life insurance go to. And she had a face that meant trouble, make no mistake. But not after Zeus turned her into a cow. Not after Zeus turned her into a cow.
– Noir meta-Shakespeare: Characters like us, Horatio. We weren’t born to grow old and mean. We faff around, we mix a stiff one, and then we die. But when we die, we die hard and we make sure we bring the whole damn city down with us.
– Noir Milton: Heaven looked high class from fifty feet away but from five feet away it looked like the kind of place meant to be seen from fifty feet away. Stay there long enough you get a double pint of Hell’s Bells. Real hell is my business now. Real hell is how I make my nickel.
– Noir William Blake: She was the sort of tiger a bishop would paint crosses on his front door against. You can’t tell anything from tigers like that. She could have had the sheriff in the back room. She could have been making millions. But you could tell she burned bright in all the right places. Oh, she burned bright all right.
– Noir Dylan Thomas: Alright, old man. Amateur hour is over. You go down kicking and screaming or you don’t go down at all, you get my meaning?
– Noir Keats: Outside, the Autumn smelled of politics: it asked only for the highest types of men and had nothing to offer them but bleating lambs and the song of crickets. The sort of autumn that shares his smokes and his wife with the maturing sun. “I don’t like Spring,” the kid said. “That’s all right, sonny boy. I ain’t selling it.”
– Noir Edgar Allan Poe: You could tell from the way he sauntered in the bird meant business. He had the kind of beak that could drive a nail through your forehead. Didn’t string more than two words together but he knew all the right ones all the same. He knew which ones stung. “I don’t want no birds in my room,” I said, loud enough for hell to hear. But birds like that don’t just scram. Birds like that stick to you like a bad divorce from a Hollywood diva.
Tagging and trigger-warning/content-noting ought to be a neutral act–after all, you’re only telling people what’s in a piece of content, you’re not censoring it. But deciding which things need to be tagged is never entirely neutral.
Imagine if every time you posted a picture of your dog, people reblogged it with “#dog cn,” “#dog tw,” “#dog phobia,” “#d-word.” And every time you posted a picture of your cat, people reblogged it with “#awww” and “#hi kitty.”
Strictly speaking, they haven’t said anything untrue or negative about your dog, and dog phobia is a real thing that exists. But you would still get the message loud and clear that these people feel differently about dogs and cats.
@bitter-bluejay tried explaining why asking disabled people to tag our literal actual selves with “#body horror” and “#medical tw” is wrong and people pitched a fucking fit about how their medical trauma is #VALID!!!!
Maybe this post explains it better.
Abled folks (including able bodied mentally ill), imagine if it wasn’t a picture of your dog. Imagine if it was your ACTUAL FUCKING FACE.
when people are like “the hunger games just stole the plot of battle royale” like listen everything steals from the plot of everything the lion king is just furry hamlet westworld is jurassic park but sexier lost is edgy gilligan’s island there are no original stories and the only good piece of media is jennifer’s body
Michael crichton wrote westworld and jurassic park tho so he just pirated himself
michael crichton keeps TRYING to tell y’all about the evils of capitalism impeding on the progress of science when will y’all LISTEN
Maybe he just doesn’t like theme parks
michael crichton in line for a roller coaster at six flags: fuck this
Urocyon's Jaunts 2.0 
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