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America, Apparently, and Bad: normal-horoscopes: pooraurora: postmarxed: inkandcayenne: wilfulwayfarer: rasec-wizzlbang: dalaisa-katili: local-emo-mom: anarcho-individualist: explanatorypower: 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) It is, in the words of chef Anthony Bourdain, “indeed marvelous— an irony-free zone where everything is beautiful and nothing hurts; where everybody regardless of race, creed, color or degree of inebriation is welcomed.” We’re not even gonna mention FEMA’s Waffle House Index where they determine how bad a natural disaster is by calling the local Waffle House to see if they’re open? #and wafflehouse is one of those spiritual places#2am friendships#its the same hazy feel#of cicadas and front porches with your friends Waffle House is physical and spiritual neutral territory. Starting shit in a Waffle House isn’t just bad form, it tips the entire natural balance of the universe against you.
America, Apparently, and Bad: normal-horoscopes:

pooraurora:

postmarxed:
inkandcayenne:

wilfulwayfarer:

rasec-wizzlbang:

dalaisa-katili:

local-emo-mom:

anarcho-individualist:

explanatorypower:
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)
It is, in the words of chef Anthony Bourdain, “indeed marvelous— an irony-free zone where everything is beautiful and nothing hurts; where everybody regardless of race, creed, color or degree of inebriation is welcomed.”


We’re not even gonna mention FEMA’s Waffle House Index where they determine how bad a natural disaster is by calling the local Waffle House to see if they’re open? 



#and wafflehouse is one of those spiritual places#2am friendships#its the same hazy feel#of cicadas and front porches with your friends



Waffle House is physical and spiritual neutral territory. Starting shit in a Waffle House isn’t just bad form, it tips the entire natural balance of the universe against you.

normal-horoscopes: pooraurora: postmarxed: inkandcayenne: wilfulwayfarer: rasec-wizzlbang: dalaisa-katili: local-emo-mom: anarcho-ind...

Love, Tumblr, and Blog: LET ME IN! LET ME INNNNNN!!! hxwko: katy-133: “That’s why they call me Mister Fahrenheit.” I love this fandom so much He stole Thermites Glasses
Love, Tumblr, and Blog: LET ME IN!
 LET ME INNNNNN!!!
hxwko:

katy-133:
“That’s why they call me Mister Fahrenheit.”

I love this fandom so much

He stole Thermites Glasses

hxwko: katy-133: “That’s why they call me Mister Fahrenheit.” I love this fandom so much He stole Thermites Glasses

Clothes, Money, and Old Man: See this old man? Here's why he is one of the best people in the world... This is 99 year old Dobri Dobrev, a man who lost most of his hearing in the second World War, has spent decades traveling 25 kilometers by foot every day, decked in his homemade clothes and leather shoes, from his village to the city of Sofia, Bulgaria, where he spends the day begging for money. Strangely enough, Dobrev isn't begging for himself He manages to live with an 80 euros pension (rougly 100 usd) a month. All the money that he has collected over the years (an estimated 40.000 euros) have been donated by him to orphanages unable to pay their bills. He doesn't keep a cent of the money he receives. Everything is for the orphanages. Some call him "The saint of Baylovo", his place of birth. This year he will be 100 years old. ARS ParaHecilrioc A SP CAPHI CT IOCTHNCT YPABO BECENCT CCPMO HEHO 6:Ba IPENANST borA TEHN WiseCT As one might expect, he is cherished by everybody. They call him Dyado Dobri (Grandpa Dobri) and he represents the good that can be done in the most selfless way possible. So, if you're in need of a role model, here's one. Just by being a little bit like him, the world will be a much better place. thebikingviking: useless-bulgariafacts: Dobri Dobrev passed away yesterday. He was 103 years of age. RIP Grandpa Dobri, you will be remembered. 1914-2018
Clothes, Money, and Old Man: See this old man? Here's why he is one
 of the best people in the world...
 This is 99 year old Dobri Dobrev, a man who lost most of his hearing in
 the second World War, has spent decades traveling 25 kilometers by
 foot every day, decked in his homemade clothes and leather shoes,
 from his village to the city of Sofia, Bulgaria, where he spends the day
 begging for money.

 Strangely enough, Dobrev isn't begging for himself
 He manages to live with an 80 euros pension (rougly 100 usd) a month.
 All the money that he has collected over the years (an estimated 40.000
 euros) have been donated by him to orphanages unable to pay their bills.

 He doesn't keep a cent of the money he receives.
 Everything is for the orphanages.
 Some call him "The saint of Baylovo", his place of birth.
 This year he will be 100 years old.

 ARS ParaHecilrioc
 A SP
 CAPHI CT
 IOCTHNCT
 YPABO
 BECENCT
 CCPMO
 HEHO
 6:Ba
 IPENANST
 borA
 TEHN
 WiseCT
 As one might expect, he is cherished by everybody. They call him
 Dyado Dobri (Grandpa Dobri) and he represents the good that can be
 done in the most selfless way possible.
 So, if you're in need of a role model, here's one. Just by being
 a little bit like him, the world will be a much better place.
thebikingviking:
useless-bulgariafacts:

Dobri Dobrev passed away yesterday. He was 103 years of age.
RIP Grandpa Dobri, you will be remembered.


1914-2018

thebikingviking: useless-bulgariafacts: Dobri Dobrev passed away yesterday. He was 103 years of age. RIP Grandpa Dobri, you will be remembe...