Gordon Ramsay doesn’t care about your gender, race, or creed. All he cares about is that you can cook.
The contestant, Christine, is blind, and he lets her know exactly what he thinks of her dish.
gordon ramsay is not allowed to make me cry from not-laughter or not-insults
SPICY, WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS.
DID IT RAIN ON YOUR FACE
this is a perfect example of treating someone with a disability LIKE A PERSON
look y’all gone have enough of making me cry with no warning cuz of stuff on my dash
I remember watching an episode of Kitchen Nightmares where this Black woman ran a Jamaican restaurant. It came out that this woman had a lot on her plate that she felt she had to deal with all by herself. There was a lot riding on the success of the restaurant, and she didn’t have a support system. What surprised me was how he did not force her into this Strong Black Woman role. He made it clear that she needed people around her who could truly help her with the burdens she had instead of adding to them. It was obvious from that episode was that what she needed was someone who could show her the real potential of her restaurant and how to maintain that.
But I also love how he has no fucks to give for silver spoon motherfuckers who just opened a restaurant because they thought it would be cool and fun then proceed to act like nobody needs to know anything about food or business to have a successful restaurant.
I love that episode! He was so pleasant to her and he LOVED her food!
I once went to a concert with a friend (I don’t remember the band, she dragged me along) when I was 16. They were starting a wall of death and this guy who was flirting with me decides it would be funny to pull my top down, exposing my breasts, then throw me in the middle of this wall of death right as it’s about to meet. When I stumble in the middle and hit the wall someone screamed “STOP! EXPOSED GIRL!” and I thought they were all going to oggle at me. Instead, one guy quickly helped me cover up, three more helped me to my feet, and another asked who did that. When I pointed out the guy, two of them looked at him, me, each other, then nodded and punched the guy in the face before forcing him into the wall that was about to form again.
Metal men are gentlemenly as shit.
that was actually such a pleasant plot twist *-*
some metal heads are the most down to earth people you will ever meet to be honest
its like a known rule by most people that go to metal concerts (mainly guys) that if theres a girl who could potentially get hurt they get them out of the way
this one time i got caught up in a mosh pit and i get hit in the face, and one of the guys in the mosh pit ran over, bear hugged me, picked me up, and brought me out of the pit. he asked me if i was ok and i said i would be fine so he patted me on the head and told me to be more careful
The purest of metals are always covered by a healthy coating of earth.
I’ve been in a lot of pits and EVERY time I’ve fallen/ben knocked down, instead of getting trampled, four or five people immediately rushed to help pick me up and make sure I was okay. Metal heads are the best
Are we going to ignore the “coating of earth” joke? ‘Cause I don’t think we should.
i love everything about this post.
I’m personally not into metal, but I have so much respect for you guys.
On Easter, we had this tradition where an old man down the road would paint little ‘bunny’ prints along the sidewalk, as well as up to the door of every house where a child lives…and he’s done this every year, without fail, since before I was born.
Over the summer, that old man passed away, so no one in their right mind expected to see the tracks this year. However, when I woke up- there they were!
Turns out that his eighteen year old grandson (who happens to be known as the badass of our school) got up at three this morning and spent four hours- by himself -painting the prints; just to make sure that the neighborhood kids wouldn’t be disappointed.
My faith in our generation = restored.
We enter a little coffeehouse with a friend of mine and give our order. While we’re aproaching our table two people come in and they go to the counter:
‘Five coffees, please. Two of them for us and three suspended’ They pay for their order, take the two and leave.
I ask my friend: “What are those ‘suspended’ coffees?”
My friend: “Wait for it and you will see.”
Some more people enter. Two girls ask for one coffee each, pay and go. The next order was for seven coffees and it was made by three lawyers - three for them and four ‘suspended’. While I still wonder what’s the deal with those ‘suspended’ coffees I enjoy the sunny weather and the beautiful view towards the square infront of the café. Suddenly a man dressed in shabby clothes who looks like a beggar comes in throught the door and kindly asks
‘Do you have a suspended coffee ?’
It’s simple - people pay in advance for a coffee meant for someone who can not afford a warm bevarage. The tradition with the suspended coffees started in Naples, but it has spread all over the world and in some places you can order not only a suspended coffee, but also a sandwitch or a whole meal.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful to have such cafés or even grocery stores in every town where the less fortunate will find hope and support ? If you own a business why don’t you offer it to your clients… I am sure many of them will like it.
Source : [x]
this is so great
15 year old student jumps from a 5th story window at school because of being bullied. Stop bullying.
I just sat here and watched the reactions of the people who were walking past, not once did one of them keep walking, they went straight over, It was overwhelming when I saw the guy in the background in the far right just suddenly start running as fast as he could towards the kid. These people are complete strangers and they care about you. Never think no one gives a shit, because I can guarantee they do
I became a mother, and I placed my son up for adoption. This choice gives me no sadness, only joy, because I have blessed two people’s lives with the chance to be parents. The couple I chose for my son happens to be gay.
The moment they saw Ian, they both burst in to tears.
“Would you like to hold him?” I asked. (He was born premature, with clefts in his brain, so he remained in Infant Special Care until he was four weeks, hence our lovely yellow gowns.)
Both John and Doug couldn’t stop staring at him, thanking me, telling me how gorgeous he was.
I spent my nights in the hospital holding Ian and staring at him, completely in wonder at how much he looked like his dad, and trying to decide what the right decision for him was. I had never felt so much love for something in my entire life.
In my heart, I knew I was not yet a parent—I hardly know who I am as person—and after hours of silent tears and rocking him back and forth in my arms, I made the choice to give him the family that he deserves, and one that is capable to, not only take care of him, but give him opportunities I could not, even if I had all of the money in the world.
Some will criticize my choice to place my son with a gay couple, but I believe they not only deserve the chance to be parents, but that they will be two of the best parents in the entire universe.
John and Doug email me weekly, with pictures and medical updates. I am allowed to visit any chance I can get (we, unfortunately, are 2000 miles apart), and they have completely made me a part of their family. My son will always know I am his mother, his mhibu (a word loosely translating to “dear one” in Swahili).
When people hear my story, the first thing they tell me is how “strong” I am, and how “hard” it must have been. My reply will always be the same:
I am just a mother who loves her son very, very much.
Some brothers from the fraternity I recently pledged (and am now in) banded together and started an indiegogo after they found out insurance rejected my surgery claim. They raised their short-term goal of $2000 and are now aiming towards $4800, the amount I need to completely cover the rest of my $8125 procedure with Melissa Johnson in Springfield.
Today, one of my brothers, Ben Lindsay, published a piece in Out.com about the fundraiser.
Check it out here: Boston Fraternity Raises money for Trans Brother
And you can learn more/donate here: FtM Top Surgery
Seriously I think this is the coolest most wonderful thing in the world and I just want to share it with everyone. I can never say thank you enough for all the help I’ve gotten these last weeks and months, particularly from Tumblr too. LOVE.
Filed under: Things that help re-establish my hope in humanity.