tea


                    
                    
                
Jamesness
Jamesness

Jamesness

Your
Your

Your

Cup Of Tea
Cup Of Tea

Cup Of Tea

The
The

The

Hey Coral
Hey Coral

Hey Coral

Sipping
Sipping

Sipping

Picture Of Spiderman
Picture Of Spiderman

Picture Of Spiderman

Tea Bagged
Tea Bagged

Tea Bagged

Via9Gag
Via9Gag

Via9Gag

point
point

point

🔥 | Latest

Beautiful, Bored, and Head: Here's a prime example of "Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus" offered by an English professor from the University of Phoenix: The professor told his class one day: Today we will ex- periment with a new form called the tandem story The process is simple. Each person will pair off with the person sitting to his or her immediate right. As home- work tonight, one of you will write the first paragraph of a short story. You will e-mail your partner that para- graph and send another copy to me. The partner will read the first paragraph and then add another para- graph to the story and send it back, also sending an- other copy to me. The first person will then add a third paragraph, and so on back-and-forth. Remember to re-read what has been written each time in order to keep the story coherent. There is to be ab- solutely NO talking outside of the e-mails and any- thing you wish to say must be written in the e-mail. The story is over when both agree a con- clusion has been reached." The following was actually turned in by two of his English students: Rebecca and Gary THE STORY: (first paragraph by Rebecca) At first, Laurie couldn't decide which kind of tea she wanted. The chamomile, which used to be her favorite for lazy evenings at home, now reminded her too much of Carl, who once said, in happier times, that he liked chamomile. But she felt she must now, at all costs, keep her mind off Carl. His possessiveness was suffocating, and if she thought about him too much her asthma started acting up again. So chamomile was out of the second paragraph by Gary) Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of the attack squadron now in orbit over Skylon 4, had more important things to think about than the neuroses of an air-headed asthmatic bimbo named Laurie with whom he had spent one sweaty night over a year ago. "A.S. Harris to Geostation 17," he said into his transgalactic communicator. " Polar orbit established. No sign of resistance so far..." But before he could sign off a bluish particle beam flashed out of nowhere and blasted a hole through his ship's cargo bay. The jolt from the direct hit sent him flying out of his seat and across the ####pit. (Rebecca) He bumped his head and died almost immediately, but not before he felt one last pang of regret for psychically brutalizing the one woman who had ever had feelings for him. Soon afterwards, Earth stopped its pointless hostilities towards the peace ful farmers of Skylon 4. "Congress Passes Law Per- manently Abolishing War and Space Travel," Laurie read in her newspaper one morning. The news si- multaneously excited her and bored her. She stared out the window, dreaming of her youth, when the days had passed unhurriedly and care- free, with no newspaper to read, no television to distract her from her sense of innocent wonder at all the beautiful things around her. "Why must one lose one's innocence to become a woman?" she pondered wistfully Gary) Little did she know, but she had less than 10 sec- onds to live. Thousands of miles above the city, the Anu'udrian mothership launched the first of its lithium fusion missiles. The dimwitted wimpy peaceniks who pushed the Unilateral Aerospace disarmament Treaty through the congress had left Earth a defenseless target for the hostile alien em- pires who were determined to destroy the human race. Within two hours after the passage of the treaty the Anu'udrian ships were on course for Earth, carrying enough firepower to pulverize the With no one to stop them, they swiftly initiated their diabolical plan. The lithium fusion missile en- tered the atmosphere unimpeded. The President, in his top-secret mobile submarine headquarters on the ocean floor off the coast of Guam, felt the inconceivably massive explosion, which vaporized poor, stupid Laurie. (Rebecca) This is absurd. I refuse to continue this mockery of literature. My writing partner is a violent, chauvin- istic semi-literate adolescent. Gary) Yeah? Well, my writing partner is a self-centered tedious neurotic whose attempts at writing are the literary equivalent of Valium. Oh, shall I have chamomile tea? Or shall I have some other sort of F-KING TEA??? Oh no, what am I to do? I'm such an air headed bimbo who reads too many Danielle Steele novels!" Gary) B*tch. (Rebecca) F K YOU-YOU NEANDERTHALI In your dreams, Ho. Go drink some tea. A+ Ireally liked this one. epicjohndoe: A Very Good Example Of ‘Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus’
Beautiful, Bored, and Head: Here's a prime example of "Men Are
 From Mars, Women Are From Venus"
 offered by an English professor from
 the University of Phoenix:
 The professor told his class one day: Today we will ex-
 periment with a new form called the tandem story
 The process is simple. Each person will pair off with the
 person sitting to his or her immediate right. As home-
 work tonight, one of you will write the first paragraph
 of a short story. You will e-mail your partner that para-
 graph and send another copy to me. The partner will
 read the first paragraph and then add another para-
 graph to the story and send it back, also sending an-
 other copy to me. The first person will then add a third
 paragraph, and so on back-and-forth.
 Remember to re-read what has been written each time
 in order to keep the story coherent. There is to be ab-
 solutely NO talking outside of the e-mails and any-
 thing you wish to say must be written in the e-mail.
 The story is over when both agree a con-
 clusion has been reached."
 The following was actually turned in by two of his
 English students:
 Rebecca and Gary
 THE STORY:
 (first paragraph by Rebecca)
 At first, Laurie couldn't decide which kind of tea
 she wanted. The chamomile, which used to be her
 favorite for lazy evenings at home, now reminded
 her too much of Carl, who once said, in happier
 times, that he liked chamomile.
 But she felt she must now, at all costs, keep her
 mind off Carl. His possessiveness was suffocating,
 and if she thought about him too much her asthma
 started acting up again. So chamomile was out of
 the
 second paragraph by Gary)
 Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of
 the attack squadron now in orbit over Skylon 4,
 had more important things to think about than the
 neuroses of an air-headed asthmatic bimbo named
 Laurie with whom he had spent one sweaty night
 over a year ago. "A.S. Harris to Geostation 17," he
 said into his transgalactic communicator. " Polar
 orbit established. No sign of resistance so far..." But
 before he could sign off a bluish particle beam
 flashed out of nowhere and blasted a hole through
 his ship's cargo bay. The jolt from the direct hit sent
 him flying out of his seat and across the ####pit.
 (Rebecca)
 He bumped his head and died almost immediately,
 but not before he felt one last pang of regret for
 psychically brutalizing the one woman who had
 ever had feelings for him. Soon afterwards, Earth
 stopped its pointless hostilities towards the peace
 ful farmers of Skylon 4. "Congress Passes Law Per-
 manently Abolishing War and Space Travel," Laurie
 read in her newspaper one morning. The news si-
 multaneously excited her and bored her. She
 stared out the window, dreaming of her youth,
 when the days had passed unhurriedly and care-
 free, with no newspaper to read, no television to
 distract her from her sense of innocent wonder at
 all the beautiful things around
 her. "Why must one
 lose one's innocence to become a woman?" she
 pondered wistfully
 Gary)
 Little did she know, but she had less than 10 sec-
 onds to live. Thousands of miles above the city, the
 Anu'udrian mothership launched the first of its
 lithium fusion missiles. The dimwitted wimpy
 peaceniks who pushed the Unilateral Aerospace
 disarmament Treaty through the congress had left
 Earth a defenseless target for the hostile alien em-
 pires who were determined to destroy the human
 race. Within two hours after the passage of the
 treaty the Anu'udrian ships were on course for
 Earth, carrying enough firepower to pulverize the
 With no one to stop them, they swiftly initiated
 their diabolical plan. The lithium fusion missile en-
 tered the atmosphere unimpeded. The President,
 in his top-secret mobile submarine headquarters
 on the ocean floor off the coast of Guam, felt the
 inconceivably massive explosion, which vaporized
 poor, stupid Laurie.
 (Rebecca)
 This is absurd. I refuse to continue this mockery of
 literature. My writing partner is a violent, chauvin-
 istic semi-literate adolescent.
 Gary)
 Yeah? Well, my writing partner is a self-centered
 tedious neurotic whose attempts at writing are the
 literary equivalent of Valium. Oh, shall I have
 chamomile tea? Or shall I have some other sort of
 F-KING TEA??? Oh no, what am I to do? I'm such an
 air headed bimbo who reads too many Danielle
 Steele novels!"
 Gary)
 B*tch.
 (Rebecca)
 F K YOU-YOU NEANDERTHALI
 In your dreams, Ho. Go drink some tea.
 A+
 Ireally liked this one.
epicjohndoe:

A Very Good Example Of ‘Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus’

epicjohndoe: A Very Good Example Of ‘Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus’

Alive, Apparently, and Come Over: I'm a therapist and keep this poster in my waiting room, apparently it's saved a few lives I DONT LIKE THE PHRASE "A CRY FOR HELP"ェJuST DONT LKE HOW IT SOuNDS, WHEN SOMEBODY SAYS TO ME, "I'M THINKING ABOUT SUICIDE, I HAVE A PLAN: I JUST NEED A REASON NOT TO DOITTHE LAST THING I SEE IS HELPLESSNESS. I THINK: YOUR DEPRESSION HAS BEEN BEATING YOU UP FOR YEARS. IT'S CALLED YOU UGLY, AND STUPID, AND PATHETIC, AND A FAILURE, FOR SO LONG THAT YOU'VE FORGOTTEN THAT IT'S WRONG. YOU DON'T SEE ANY GOOD IN YOURSELF, AND YOu DON'T HAVE ANY HOPE. BUT STILL, HERE YOu ARE: YOU'VE COME OVER TO ME, BANGED ON MY DOOR, AND SAID, "HEY! STAYING ALIVE IS REALLY HARD RIGHT NOW! JUST GIVE ME SOMETHING TO FIGHT WITHI I DON'T CARE IF IT'S A STICK! GIVE ME A STICK AND I CAN STAY ALIVE!" HOW IS THAT HELPLESS? I THINK THAT'S INCREDIBLE. YOU'RE LIKE A MARINE: TRAPPED FOR YEARS BEHIND ENEMY LINES, YOUR GUN HAS BEEN TAKEN AWAY, YOU'RE OUT OF AMMO, YOU'RE MALNOURISHED, AND YOU'VE PROBABLY CAIGHT SOME KIND OF JUNGLE VIRUS THAT'S MAKING YOU HALLLICINATE GIANT SPIDERS AND YOU'RE STILL JUST GOING, "GIVE ME A STICK. I'M NOT DYING OUT HERE." "A CRY FOR HELP" MAKES IT SOND LIKE I'M SuppOSED TO AKE PITY ON YOu, BUT YOU DON'T NEED MY PITY THIS ISNT PATHETIC. THIS IS THE WILL TO SURVIVE. THIS IS HOW HUMANS LIVED LONG ENOIGH TO BECOME THE DOMINANT SPECIES. WITH NO HOPE, RUNNING ON NOTHING, YOU'RE READY TO CLIT THROUGH A HUNDRED MILES OF HOSTILE JUNGLE WITH NOTHING BUT A STICK, IF THATS WHAT IT TAKES TO GET TO SAFETY ALL IM DOING IS HANDING OUT STICKS YOU'RE THE ONE STAYING ALIVE irondad-not-ironsad: aurora-nerin: tea-rabbits: ultimate-science-nerd: positivelyqueerace: dreamsrainandwitchythings: intp-again: muslimintp-1999-girl: asexualchristian: mentalmentalhealth: girlwhorpsalot: I needed this. Thank you to all the people who posted this so I ended up seeing it. I really needed this right now. Thank you! Yeah… Not gonna lie… I cried… We need more people like this Goddamn it stop making me feel human The therapist I wanna be. Text in the image: “I’m a therapist and keep this poster in my waiting room, apparently it’s saved a few lives.” I don’t like the phrase “a cry for help.” I just don’t like how it sounds. When somebody says to me, “I’m thinking about suicide. I have a plan: I just need a reason not to do it,” the last thing I see is helplessness. I think your depression has been beating you up for years. It’s called you ugly, and stupid, and pathetic, and a failure, for so long that you’ve forgotten that it’s wrong. You don’t see any good in yourself, and you don’t have any hope. But still here you are: you’ve come over to me, banged on my door and said, “HEY! Staying alive is REALLY HARD right now! Just give me something to fight with! I don’t care if it’s a stick! Give me a stick and I can stay alive!” How is that helpless? I think that’s incredible. You’re like a marine: trapped for years behind enemy lines. Your gun has been taken away, you’re out of ammo, you’re malnourished, and you’ve probably caught some kind of jungle virus that’s making you hallucinate giant spiders. And you’re still just going, “GIVE ME A STICK. I’M NOT DYING OUT HERE.”“A cry for help” makes it sound like I’m supposed to take pity on you, but you don’t need my pity. This isn’t pathetic. This is the will to survive. This is how humans lived long enough to become the dominant species. With NO hope, running on NOTHING, you’re ready to cut through a hundred miles of hostile jungle with nothing but a stick, if that’s what it takes to get to safety. All I’m doing is handing out sticks. You’re the one saying alive. I legit cried at this. I’ve needed to hear it put this way. Bless this post. Every time I see this post I stop to read the whole image. It always helps — even on the good days. Because it wasn’t weakness. It wasn’t shameful to seek help. It wasn’t pathetic to “cry for help”. I was looking for a stick, be that from myself or from someone else. I was trying to find a way out. I was trying to heal myself. this is fuckin incredible.  I’m sorry if I repost to many of these, but if it could be someone’s “stick” then it’s worth it
Alive, Apparently, and Come Over: I'm a therapist and keep this poster
 in my waiting room, apparently it's
 saved a few lives
 I DONT LIKE THE PHRASE "A CRY FOR HELP"ェJuST DONT LKE
 HOW IT SOuNDS, WHEN SOMEBODY SAYS TO ME, "I'M THINKING
 ABOUT SUICIDE, I HAVE A PLAN: I JUST NEED A REASON NOT TO
 DOITTHE LAST THING I SEE IS HELPLESSNESS.
 I THINK: YOUR DEPRESSION HAS BEEN BEATING YOU UP FOR YEARS.
 IT'S CALLED YOU UGLY, AND STUPID, AND PATHETIC, AND A FAILURE,
 FOR SO LONG THAT YOU'VE FORGOTTEN THAT IT'S WRONG. YOU DON'T
 SEE ANY GOOD IN YOURSELF, AND YOu DON'T HAVE ANY HOPE.
 BUT STILL, HERE YOu ARE: YOU'VE COME OVER TO ME, BANGED ON MY
 DOOR, AND SAID, "HEY! STAYING ALIVE IS REALLY HARD RIGHT NOW!
 JUST GIVE ME SOMETHING TO FIGHT WITHI I DON'T CARE IF IT'S
 A STICK! GIVE ME A STICK AND I CAN STAY ALIVE!"
 HOW IS THAT HELPLESS? I THINK THAT'S INCREDIBLE. YOU'RE LIKE
 A MARINE: TRAPPED FOR YEARS BEHIND ENEMY LINES, YOUR GUN
 HAS BEEN TAKEN AWAY, YOU'RE OUT OF AMMO, YOU'RE
 MALNOURISHED, AND YOU'VE PROBABLY CAIGHT SOME KIND OF
 JUNGLE VIRUS THAT'S MAKING YOU HALLLICINATE GIANT SPIDERS
 AND YOU'RE STILL JUST GOING, "GIVE ME A STICK.
 I'M NOT DYING OUT HERE."
 "A CRY FOR HELP" MAKES IT SOND LIKE I'M SuppOSED TO
 AKE PITY ON YOu, BUT YOU DON'T NEED MY PITY THIS ISNT
 PATHETIC. THIS IS THE WILL TO SURVIVE. THIS IS HOW HUMANS
 LIVED LONG ENOIGH TO BECOME THE DOMINANT SPECIES.
 WITH NO HOPE, RUNNING ON NOTHING, YOU'RE READY TO CLIT
 THROUGH A HUNDRED MILES OF HOSTILE JUNGLE WITH NOTHING
 BUT A STICK, IF THATS WHAT IT TAKES TO GET TO SAFETY
 ALL IM DOING IS HANDING OUT STICKS
 YOU'RE THE ONE STAYING ALIVE
irondad-not-ironsad:
aurora-nerin:

tea-rabbits:

ultimate-science-nerd:


positivelyqueerace:


dreamsrainandwitchythings:

intp-again:

muslimintp-1999-girl:


asexualchristian:

mentalmentalhealth:

girlwhorpsalot:

I needed this.


Thank you to all the people who posted this so I ended up seeing it.  I really needed this right now. Thank you!

Yeah… Not gonna lie… I cried…


We need more people like this


Goddamn it stop making me feel human

The therapist I wanna be.

Text in the image:
“I’m a therapist and keep this poster in my waiting room, apparently it’s saved a few lives.”
I don’t like the phrase “a cry for help.” I just don’t like how it sounds. When somebody says to me, “I’m thinking about suicide. I have a plan: I just need a reason not to do it,” the last thing I see is helplessness.
I think your depression has been beating you up for years. It’s called you ugly, and stupid, and pathetic, and a failure, for so long that you’ve forgotten that it’s wrong. You don’t see any good in yourself, and you don’t have any hope.
But still here you are: you’ve come over to me, banged on my door and said, “HEY! Staying alive is REALLY HARD right now! Just give me something to fight with! I don’t care if it’s a stick! Give me a stick and I can stay alive!”
How is that helpless? I think that’s incredible. You’re like a marine: trapped for years behind enemy lines. Your gun has been taken away, you’re out of ammo, you’re malnourished, and you’ve probably caught some kind of jungle virus that’s making you hallucinate giant spiders.
And you’re still just going, “GIVE ME A STICK. I’M NOT DYING OUT HERE.”“A cry for help” makes it sound like I’m supposed to take pity on you, but you don’t need my pity. This isn’t pathetic. This is the will to survive. This is how humans lived long enough to become the dominant species.
With NO hope, running on NOTHING, you’re ready to cut through a hundred miles of hostile jungle with nothing but a stick, if that’s what it takes to get to safety.
All I’m doing is handing out sticks.
You’re the one saying alive.


I legit cried at this. I’ve needed to hear it put this way. Bless this post.


Every time I see this post I stop to read the whole image.  It always helps — even on the good days.  
Because it wasn’t weakness.  It wasn’t shameful to seek help.  It wasn’t pathetic to “cry for help”.  I was looking for a stick, be that from myself or from someone else.  I was trying to find a way out. I was trying to heal myself.

this is fuckin incredible. 


I’m sorry if I repost to many of these, but if it could be someone’s “stick” then it’s worth it

irondad-not-ironsad: aurora-nerin: tea-rabbits: ultimate-science-nerd: positivelyqueerace: dreamsrainandwitchythings: intp-again: mu...