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rusty2times rusty2times

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Maxi  So you come here often? I'm a 23 year old Writer.actor.Recovering narcissist, professional instigator.Tall and handsy. Harley Davidson enthusiast.

In 1928 Chemist Leo Lambert found this waterfall by trusting his gut and exploring this cave and ended finding a 145 foot underground waterfall. Chances are, you’ve been told to “trust your gut” more than once in life. (No, I’m not talking about refusing to apologize for the awful things you say when you’re hungry; that’s a different type of abdominal confidence.) It doesn’t matter who it came from — advice from a parent or advice from a friend — in the end, what matters is whether or not you trust yourself enough to actually fucking do it. And, trust me when I say this, you’ll regret the times you don’t side with your intuition far more than you will the times you choose to roll the dice on your inner sense of selection. Additionally, if you can’t trust yourself, who the fuck are you to believe others should ever put their trust in you? If you want to become someone who’s relied upon, learn to trust yourself more than anyone. Speaking of risky reliance, can you think of anything that requires you to trust your gut instincts more than military warfare? I mean, on the battlefield, nearly every choice is literal life or death. For fuck’s sake, your decisions are easy compared to this. (You’ve only been dating Chad for three weeks; people have cold sores longer than that.) But let's leave that story of military intuition for another day. You just learned some history, You’re welcome. Now, the next time you have a sick feeling that you’re onto something, trust your intuition and get rid of whatever it is like an embarrassing lip abrasion: As quickly as possible.

Now that we’re about four weeks into 2018, it seems appropriate to ask how you’re doing with your New Year’s resolutions. So, how are you doing? You staying strong when it comes to exercising and drinking less? I mean, a lot can happen in just two weeks, and even more can happen over the course of an entire fucking year, making it easy to become distracted and forget why you even set those ridiculous resolutions in the first place. (Seriously, who the fuck wants to exercise?) But, like most goals, nothing really worth having comes easy — not a revenge body, not sobriety (ew), and definitely not the dignity that comes from keeping your text-happy fingers under control when you’re lonely. If you want to avoid setting the same resolutions again for 2019, keep your eye on the fucking prize. Like one young man did back in 6th-century Greece, during a time when Cleisthenes, King of Sicyon, put a dozen suitors through a grueling yearlong competition for the ultimate reward: a blessing of marriage to his daughter Agariste. (Ladies, did you read that? An ENTIRE FUCKING YEAR. No way your ex would have done that. He couldn’t get off Snapchat long enough to give you even five minutes of undivided attention.) Wrestling, chariot races, music performances — nothing was off limits. (It’s worth noting, whoever married Agariste, would also someday take the Sicyon throne. So, yeah, the competition doubled as a job interview.) After a year, only two men remained: Megacles of the powerful Alcmaeonidae family, and Hippocleides, just some handsome-ass Athenian guy (kidding, this dude’s family was also fucking loaded). Anyway, during the celebration dinner to conclude the yearlong competition and announce the winner, Hippocleides got super drunk and danced around like an idiot. So Cleisthenes declared Megacles the winner — proving just how important it is to stay focused on your goals, until the very end. Well, you just learned some fucking history. You’re welcome. Now, ladies, the next time a dude thinks three dates has earned him some credibility with you, share this story with him, and tell him he better be ready to put some time in.

My life is complete. We can all definitely relate to some of the artist here. For example Van Gogh. It's nice to have your life figured out, knowing exactly what you want to do, who you want to be, and where you’d like to see yourself in nine years (this number will come back later). But, you know what? It’s perfectly fine to have no fucking clue what you want to do either. You’re looking and that’s cool. Maybe you’re still in school “exploring yourself,” maybe your options are currently limited due to some less-than-ideal life circumstances, or maybe technology just hasn’t progressed enough for your dream job to even exist. (I, too, think being a space-cowboy sounds like a badass profession, but society isn’t ready for that yet.) Now, it goes without saying, the sooner you point your life in the direction of your ultimate goal, the better off you’ll be because this will allow you to start perfecting your skillset. But don’t beat yourself up if you’re feeling lost right now; some of history’s most prolific contributors were utterly fucking lost at times as well. Take for example Vincent Van Gogh — perhaps you’ve heard of him — he didn’t even decide to become a painter until the age of 28. Before this, Vinnie was just an awkward weirdo who sucked at pretty much anything he attempted, especially dating; his first love was actually his cousin. Trust me, if you think your love life has been rough, I can assure you that you’re doing better than Van Gogh. In fact, it was a prostitute who served as inspiration for his infamous ear incident. (He gave it to her as a gift. My guess: He did this to prove he was a great listener.) You see, Van Gogh was never able to understand women, but he taught himself to understand watercolors. And, although he didn’t discover his passion until his late twenties, he created more than 2,100 works of art (in various mediums) before his death at 37. In nine years, he left a legacy. 
Well, you just learned some fucking history.You’re welcome. Now,Van Gogh was clearly crazy as fuck —you probably shouldn’t cut your ear off —but this story should make you feel a little better about feeling lost while trying to find your rhythm.#merrychristmas

I said I was going to eat a hotdog in Central Park so I did. If you say you’re going to do something, fucking do it. Life is 10% what you say you’re going to do and 90% actually following through. And your promises are worthless if you don’t demonstrate their value. Be like Queen Tomyris and ALWAYS keep your word. Now, let’s learn more of her frightening example of commitment: In 530 B.C., Queen Tomyris (ruler of the Massagetae, nomads of the East) clashed with the Persian conqueror Cyrus the Great on land that is now modern-day Kazakhstan. Thinking he could make quick work of the Massagetae, Cyrus offered to marry Tomyris as a means of avoiding the battle altogether. She rejected. (Good move; sounds like he wasn’t really in it for the right reasons, like an old-timey version of “The Bachelor.”) Disgruntled, Cyrus retreated, but not before leaving a small group behind in a camp stocked full of intoxicants (take notes for your Christmas party). And, well, Tomyris’ armies fell for it: They raided the camp, killed the men left behind, and got completely trashed in false celebration of defeating the Persians — Cyrus’ plan all along. Then, taking advantage of their inebriation, Cyrus marched back, killed a ton, and kidnapped Tomyris’ son. In retaliation, Tomyris sent Cyrus a letter calling him a bloodthirsty bitch and challenged him to a rematch, vowing to give him more blood than he could ever drink in a lifetime. He accepted, but this time, Tomyris and her armies were ready and defeated the Persian invaders. Cyrus himself was killed and his body brought to Tomyris; she proceeded to cut off his head and repeatedly dunk it in a basin of blood. Get it? True to her word, she gave him more blood than his life could handle. After which, she made his skull into a souvenir cup to use for quenching her own thirst — a customary practice among her people and proof that women have loved spooky-ass Halloween decorations long before Target was ever a thing. Well, you just learned some fucking history. You’re welcome. Now, don’t go canceling your brunch plans. Be there, be reliable — be the one who's always on time and already three drinks ahead. Always keep your word!

Best pizza pot pies in the states.Quality wants quality.Because when you know you’re better than the rest,you’re simply not going to settle for anything but the best. It’s called “having standards,”and standards allow you to live up to your potential.Now,I’m not saying close your mind off to every alternative — that’s fucking stupid and wrong — what I’m saying is,“Don’t waste your time with something (or someone) that’s clearly not worth it.” Food, fashion, or future companions — whatever it is — ALWAYS choose character over convenience.Because just like you don’t want to eat something terribly bland,you sure as shit don’t want to hold some douchey loser’s hand or have your pants split when you stand.(Hey, at least those squats are paying off.)Wait for someone on your level and tell the rest to get the fuck out.If you’re looking to form a power couple (and who isn’t?),keep your standards on the forefront of your companion hunt.Speaking of power couples,have you met Mary and Percy?Well, you’re about to...The year is 1814 and Mary Godwin, English novelist and daughter of the famous Mary Wollstonecraft, met Percy Shelley —one of the most influential English poets of all time.Together,these two word nerds travelled throughout Europe,both weird as fucking shit,both with an absolute admiration for each other’s work and talent.In 1816, the two were married.That same year, Mary wrote a little, 280-page novel titled “Frankenstein.” (Maybe you’ve heard of it; maybe you’ve dated a few monsters.) Sadly, Percy drowned in a boating accident in 1822. After which, Mary became a highly sought after woman.even actor John Howard Payne proposed to her,but Mary roasted him with this response: “I was married to a genius,I could only marry another.” She wasn’t about to waste her time with anything but the best.Instead,she went on to author another six novels, dozens of short stories, and countless literary articles (never remarried).Well,you just learned some fucking history.You’re welcome.Now, ladies, the next time a dude in white sunglasses approaches you,hit that guy with the Snow White bye.Have standards,you don’t need that kind of shade in your life. #foodgod #foodporn #pizza

Truffles attract pigs- but doesn't make them any fucking less exquisite. When you're dirty and delicious, everybody wants a bite. Anyways Summer is pretty much over. And, as we begin to move into the brisk days of fall and bitter-cold months of winter, guys, it’s time you prepare for the inevitable: Your girlfriend’s hands and feet are going to be freezing. So have your blankets and hoodies ready because you’re not getting through a movie without ‘em. — holding a wine glass like a survivalist attempting to spark a flame in a sub-zero climate. How is this even possible? With more than two layers, I heat up like a Hot Pocket left in the microwave for 30 seconds too long. Well, there are actually some biological factors that contribute to why your girlfriend is so much cooler than you (figuratively and literally). Things like metabolic rate, the use of particular birth controls, and the specific hormones that vary between men and women all help create this cool-factor disparity. (Trust me, there’s science behind the heart of every furious ice queen. Elsa didn’t choose to be that way; she was born with the icicle touch.) Now, whether metaphorically heating things up in the bedroom — or actually heating things up by thumbing the thermostat — your girlfriend isn’t going to wait for you to take a hint. And it’s this kind of independent thinking that contributed to the fact that nearly every major advance in heating was invented by a frigid female. Let’s run down a list: The first home with a built-in fireplace; dreamed up and commissioned by Eleanor of Aquitaine during renovations of her French palace sometime around 1137. The first car heater to redirect heat produced by the engine back onto your feet; invented in 1893 by Margaret A. Wilcox. The first set of plans for gas-powered central heating; designed by Alice Parker in 1919. And, the first home heated solely by solar power; built by architect Maria Telkes in 1947 . . . Well, you just learned some fucking history. You’re welcome. Now, guys, if a girl doesn’t return your hoodie, that’s just her way of inventing yet another fantastic method of staying warm without you. #winteriscoming #manbun #tomford #fallhair

People are going to doubt you; that’s just life. But with doubt, comes opportunity — the opportunity to prove your doubters wrong (one of life’s greatest pleasures). Is there anything more satisfying than making someone eat their words by doing what they thought you couldn’t do? Let me answer that for you, “No.” It can be something as major as making a serious career move, or something as simple as eating an entire taco in just two bites to let your date know exactly what they're getting themselves into. Regardless of the severity, disproving someone’s opinion is always rewarding. You know the feeling I’m talking about. But there’s a good chance you don’t know the story of Susanna M. Salter. If you do, you’re now experiencing the sudden endorphin rush of proving someone [me] wrong — isn’t it great? (I’m kind of jealous.) For the rest of us, Susan, a.k.a. “Mayor Salter,” was the first woman elected to American political office. The crazy part: She didn’t even run. Here’s what happened: In 1887, a bunch of dudes put Susan’s name on the ballot for Mayor of Argonia, Kansas, hoping the prank would result in such a humiliating loss that it would discourage other women from ever trying to run for office. (Pretty fucked, right?)Well, Susan unknowingly proved those assholes wrong and won with over 60% of the vote.When news got out, Susan, only 27 at the time, turned the joke on them and accepted the position.And she was great at it,earning the respect of many for her authoritative approach to council meetings.(She handled her meetings like a fed-up girlfriend handles an argument:No time for shit.Get to the point, or get the fuck out.)When her mayoral term ended,she opted not to run for re-election and moved to Oklahoma,where she lived to be 101 years old.“Ha. Nice try, Doc.You were WAY OFF with your 40-year guess for the life expectancy of those born in 1860.”Yet another thing Susan was able to disprove during her lifetime — such a savage.Well, you just learned some fucking history. You’re welcome.Now get off your phone and go prove some people wrong today.For starters,if someone thinks you can only handle four Mimosas at brunch —have 7. #fitness #gym #box #boxersofinsta

A good rider has balance, judgment, and good timing. So does a good lover 😉.You don’t want to be remembered as “ordinary.”Whether in the bedroom or in the kitchen,at the office or on the runway —ordinary is boring, basic, and fucking forgettable.Nobody has ever done something significant with an ordinary mindset, and who says you can’t walk into the office still wearing Friday night’s fishnets?If you want to leave your mark,don’t be afraid to break the mold.Be like Princess Pingyang...As daughter of Li Yuan —duke,military commander, and descendent of one of China’s original Sixteen Kingdoms —you could say Pingyang was born in the spotlight.She very easily could have just settled in and become the typical spoiled,rich kid,but she wasn’t about that silver-spoon princess life;she was just as clever and cunning as she was wealthy and stunning.So, in 617, when her father declared war against the corrupt Sui Dynasty, you better believe she was ready to rebel alongside him.Now, she initially fled to avoid capture when the war broke out —but like any dude with a girlfriend knows —she only went into the other room to give herself time to plan a savage retaliation...While “hiding,” Pingyang gathered weapons,war supplies,and soldiers.She also convinced other military leaders to join her and bring their armies with them. She assembled and led 70,000 men known as “The Army of the Lady,”crushing any town still loyal to Sui Dynasty rule. She met up with her father,and together, they wiped out all trace of the former regime.In 618,the duo established the Tang Dynasty,which went on to become the second strongest dynasty in Chinese history.And,all of this would not have been possible without Pingyang and her bang-bang attitude. She became the ONLY female in feudal Chinese history to be given a full military burial.When patriarchal leaders opposed of this high-ranking honor,her father (the new emperor)simply said, “She was no ‘ordinary’ woman.” Damn, there’s that word again.Well, you just learned some fucking history. You’re welcome.Now, get out there and create some history of your own —start by getting arrested at brunch or something. #sportstergram #harleydavidson #ootd

The ocean is such a big beautiful place. I think that people love to go to the beach because of the same thing, it's so big that it makes you feel insignificant and if your insignificant that means your problems are insignificant and I think that's beautiful. Alcohol , you’re probably mid-to-dead-ass hungover this morning. So, it seems appropriate to kick off this Sunday with a bit of history regarding alcohol(#Beach+#ocean+#college=drunkenness). But I don’t want to talk about the creation of Satan’s sweet tea, I want to talk about the fun part: The act of drinking the devil’s soda. For today’s lesson, we’re going to take a fermented field trip to Tenochtitlán . . . Now the site of modern-day Mexico City, Tenochtitlán was founded as the Aztec religious capital in 1325, and this city-state was home to more than just human sacrifice and sun worship — it was also home to a lot of drunks. (It was like Arizona State University, but without all the blondes.) Although it’s well known the Aztecs were incredibly faithful to their #gods, most people don’t know the #Aztecs were also incredibly forceful with their drinking laws. It seems odd to me that a civilization with religious practices that involved literally bathing the temple steps in human blood would have such harsh punishments for bathing your liver. How harsh were these punishments? Well, public intoxication was punishable by death. That is, unless you were over the age of 70 or attending a festival. (Seriously, that’s not a joke.) It would appear life six or seven hundred years ago wasn’t much different than it is today: The Aztecs turned a blind eye to intoxication during celebrations — and for certain individuals — much like we do with things like drug use at Coachella, or your grandma’s dirty old-lady mouth at a family gathering. Now, it’s probably worth mentioning the death penalty wasn’t often used on first-time offenders; it was a sentence reserved for repeated overindulgence. First-time public drunkards were generally subjected to public ridicule like property destruction or forcible head shaving. (A fate worse than death, if you ask me, because a good weave is expensive). #allsaints

Making an entrance is fucking important. Trust me, there’s a reason people continually stress the fact that you only get one first impression. Pretty much any time you decide to turn off #Netflix and actually go interact with other humans is an opportunity to make a good one. (You remember what humans are, right? Of course you do — you’ve seen them on Netflix.) Anyway, on to today's #lesson do you want to know who the literal queen of making an entrance was? None other than Cleo-motherfucking-patra. Yeah, she didn’t just master winged eyeliner; she mastered pretty much every aspect of sensory seduction. And there’s nothing more seductive or memorable than the sense of smell. For example: It’s not the sight of a particular alcohol that will make you remember every aspect of your treacherous twenties — it’s the smell. Cleopatra knew the nose knows long before scientists were running tests about smell recollection. So, before she set out on a diplomatic voyage in 41 BC to meet the Roman general, Mark Antony, she made damn sure his nose met her well before he did. How did she do this? Well, in order to ensure she made the best first impression possible, Cleopatra had her ships adorned with beautiful, purple sails that were absolutely fucking soaked in her favorite perfume prior to taking sail. Thus, allowing the same winds that would carry her boats to Rome, to carry the scent of her perfume to their shores prior to her own arrival. Goddamn, say what you want about Cleopatra being a crazy snake lady, but she basically invented the art of arriving fashionably late. I mean, when your scent gets there before you do, you’re setting quite a stage for yourself. And, well, it fucking worked. After catching wind of Cleo’s arrival, Mark was head over heels for her days before her feet even touched Roman soil, and the two quickly became lovers and allies — forming the original “power couple.” Cleo and Mark were “about that life” more than two millennia ago.
Well, you just learned some history. You’re welcome. Now, the next time somebody tells you that you’re wearing too much perfume, tell 'em you’re just allowing your reputation to precede you.

Dating is a staircase, full of missteps, slips, and embarrassing moments. So dress well; at least look good falling down that staircase. Oh and sorry for ghosting all of you beautiful people. So here's some history. “getting ghosted.” But you know what? Getting ghosted is a fucking blessing. Because anybody who won’t give you the courtesy of giving it to you straight, is somebody you don’t need in your life anyway. So, if you get ghosted, just keep doing your thing and make sure the person who ghosted you lives to absolutely fucking regret it. Be like Edith Wharton. By the year 1905, Edith had already made quite a name for herself as an author, but her literary success did not carry into her marriage. (Apparently her husband was kind of an angry shithead.) So sometime in late 1906, she began an affair with a kindred spirit she’d found in another writer by the name of William Morton Fullerton. To her dismay, the affair was short-lived when Fullerton straight up disappeared on her sometime in 1908. Yep, he ghosted her ass. Over the years, she did what she could to find him and wrote hundreds of letters — yes, hundreds — in an attempt to get some closure, but Fuckboy Fullerton never bothered to even give her a response. Realizing love was dumb, she gave up and got on with her life. In 1913, Edith divorced her husband and moved to France. There, she continued to write, and in 1916, she received a French Legion of Honor award for her work during the war. In 1921, she became THE FIRST WOMAN EVER to win the Pulitzer Prize with her novel, “The Age of Innocence.” Like a boss, she never remarried and spent the rest of her life living and writing in the French Riviera with her dogs. She even went on to receive three Nobel Prize nominations before her death in 1937. And what did Fullerton do with his life? Not much. His claim to fame was Edith, and the letters she wrote to him were eventually published in a book. Yeah, although he didn’t respond, he received and saved every one — all 400 of ‘em. (Huh, suddenly sending five texts in a row doesn’t seem so bad.) Well, you just learned some history. You’re welcome #mezlan #ootd

Breadsticks, pasta bowls, piles of fries stacked so high it requires the effort of your entire squad to reach bottom — no matter your preference: carbs are fucking delicious. And, with the exception of trendy, gluten-fearing freaks, EVERYBODY enjoys the warm embrace of a tortilla, or the emotional security that can only be found deep within ice creams lustful layers . . . However, as is often the case, too much of a good thing can definitely be bad. Drink too much? You’ll puke. Sleep too much? Goodbye, social life. Eat too many carbs? Bloating, remorse, and complete energetic collapse, also known as a “carb coma.” Or, for you medical nerds, also known as “postprandial somnolence.” (Yeah, carb comas are so common, there’s a legit medical term for it. Use that shit the next time you want to impress your girls at brunch. “You guys, I had way too many fries. I can already feel myself slipping into, like, postprandial somnolence.”) So, by now you’re probably wondering, “Why all this carb conversation, Rusty?”Well, it’s because I want to share with you an interesting fact to discuss with your carb-loving compadres at your next gluten-fueled get-together —so here it is: Now, if you thought it was impossible for anybody to love carbs more than yourself, you’re fucking wrong. Bread-fucking wrong. (Ha. Get it?Like “dead-fucking wrong,” but with gluten.) Because as far back as the 5th century, the Greco-Romans were fucking carbs —yes, literally fucking them —with something known as an “olisbokollix.”Translation: bread dildo. Created by intentionally overbaking phallic-shaped breadsticks, the Greco-Romans had an entirely different way of expressing their love for carbohydrates.I know it sounds weird,but can you blame these women?They were married to a bunch of dudes wearing togas and sandals — NOBODY wants to have sex with that. Also,there’s no such thing as a breadstick drinking too much and getting Greco-Roman “wine dick.”(Hard carbs are always ready to party.)Well, you just learned some history. You’re welcome. Now, the next time you hear somebody say,“Oh my God, I love carbs,” immediately turn it into a discussion about dildos.#blog #history #gym #bootybuilding #carbs

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