Funny hook up sayings

Suggestion by Cosmic_Light_Patch: Last time on Total Drama Not-Stars! The final eight competed to survive a real life horror movie. Whoever had the lamest death would be automatically eliminated.
At the start of the challenge the final eight finished a horror movie while Chris and Chef “left” the island.
While everyone stays to talk about the movie Anne Maria excuses herself to use the bathroom, she of course uses this time to spray her hair. Once she was finished she opened the door only to scream as “the killer” snatched her with the hook and dragged her away from the camp.
The other seven realize this is the horror challenge again and stick together, only to notice Rodney had left already. At the cabins Rodney had snuck into the girls cabin to place flowers on Sammy’s bed. Behind him a voice calls out to Rodney. “You know she isn’t dead right?” Rodney sighs and says “I know it’s just- “only to come face to face with the killer. Rodney let out a scream as he was hooked by his overall strap and taken out of the camp as well.
Dawn says she’ll go investigate what happened to Rodney. In a confessional Dawn states that she knows it’s just Chef and there’s no real reason to be afraid. At the cabin she sees no sign of Rodney. Trying to head back she bumps into the killer. Dawn doesn’t react, simply saying hello to Chef. She continues to have no reaction as he brings her to the tent Anne Maria and Rodney are at with Chris.
Trent is trying to calm the growing tension with music while Bridgette is giving out s’more’s. The two having told everyone to stay put so the killer couldn’t get them, only for the killer to leap out and scare the remaining five campers. Bridgette and Trent are both grabbed, the pair screaming while Harold, B, and Amy fled the campgrounds.
Amy is left alone in the woods, out of breath. Alone with her thoughts she thinks back on her sister and Rodney, how everyone treated her. Was there… a hint of guilt? Did she… feel bad for Rodney? She didn’t have time to think about this as Chef yanked her off the forest trail. Amy letting out a terrified scream before realizing it was just Chef.
B having lost Harold returned to the docks, he was using any scrap he could, working to craft a grand trap for Chef. He was so in the zone he didn’t notice Chef sneak up behind him and grab him. Even B let out a scream as he was taken to the tent with all the others. Chris says it looks like Harold won let’s go get him. Dawn then points at the monitors showing a killer sneaking up on Harold. Chris mumbles that Chef is working harder than usual. All the campers gesture to Chef who’s still there. Chris shouts “Not Again!” Everyone then runs off to the kitchen where Harold is facing the killer. Complementing the costume. At that moment everyone barges in to warn Harold. Harold surprises everyone by hurling his nunchucks at the killers face, causing them to cry out and complain that their nose is broken. He says that he’s just a fan of this challenge and wanted to catch it live again! He calls them jerks before stomping off. Chris awkwardly ushers everyone to the campfire without another word.
At elimination Chris says that as this challenge goes, the one with the worst death goes home, and that this time the loser is… DAWN! Dawn is shocked and complains how this can be when she wasn’t even scared! Chris says that THAT’S the problem. Her non reaction is what made the death so lame. Dawn concedes and wishes the others luck.
There were no votes this time!
Down to the final seven we are nearing the end! The campers are facing wild animals next! Who will catch theirs first? Who gets what animal? Who will clean the washrooms? And scariest of all, who goes home just shy of the final six? That’s for YOU to decide!

My wedding was a dumpster fire... literally...
I saw your wedding horror story videos and have one of my own I think a lot of people would get a kick out of. Yes, this entire story is 100% true with no real hyperbole, tall tales, etc. This all actually happened and I have witnesses that will attest to this if asked.
I'd been with my husband for about 2 years, engaged for 1, when we found out I was pregnant. Obvi, we decided to rush the wedding after we had a talk about the surprise and what we wanted to do. Flash forward a little and my original Maid of Honor and I had a falling out because the last time we had been together and gone to the church the wedding was being hosted, she had gotten disrespectful with the elders and asked questions she thought were funny, but were really just rude. The swearing really didn't help matters either. I asked her if she would be able to try to be more respectful of my beliefs and be gentle with the others that would be there. This lead to a fight and the beginning of the end of a 7 year relationship (when we tried to rekindle our relationship later, she said she hoped my son would get unalived by a cop because he is white and no one cared about it. Thank God I cut ties when I did). This was also the beginning of a new friendship between myself and the best man's fiancé (we are still bffs today) when I asked her to take over. Crisis 1 averted.
For the sake of setting some scenes, I worked at a hotel in a podunk town, right off the highway and met with a make up artist that came in for a makeup party gig with housekeeping. We talked and she agreed to work with me and MOH for the wedding. Here comes the beginning of everything going down hill, on fire, in a rickety buggy.
The night before, after the rehearsal dinner, at 11pm the makeup artist gets ahold of me saying she has to cancel because her husband got into a water bottle accident (water bottle is oilfield speak for the giant water trucks they have on site) and was in the hospital. We understood and told her to do what she has to, we can handle things ourselves.
Meanwhile, my husband's uncle was cooking the pig for the reception dinner as it doubled as his wedding gift to us (which we are extremely thankful for btw). It caught on fire. In the parking lot. Of the hotel I was working at, and everyone was staying. Luckily he was able to save it, but I got to hear about it when I got back to work. They printed the security camera image and everything. It was great.
Now it's the morning of the wedding. I realize that I am missing makeup that I need and, living in a map dot myself, needed to drive half an hour away in order to get what we were missing. Thank God for my dad needed to go out that way anyway. He got us breakfast, took us to the store, and we grabbed what we needed and started to take off. The shirt I was wearing, without my knowledge, had popped the button right over my boobs showing God and everybody my goodies and I hadn't realized it until we were on our way to grab the cupcakes and "smash" cake (it was a cheap alternative to a traditional wedding cake and actually save us a TON of money for the "event"[ note for brides on a budget, say event and not wedding to save some extra $]).
We get home and nerves take over, coupled with my already awful morning sickness, leading me to be stuck in the bathroom for a while. I finish up, brush my teeth again for the third time and decide to start getting things around and just get ready at the church. I made a Playlist in order, and wrote down the order for my brother to be able to just press play and not worry about ads or anything. I literally went as far as saying song a-c for while you wait, d for the procession, and e for my enterance with the song titles. This will become a problem apparently.
As MOH and I are getting ready, I start to freak out because the makeup I got is streaky and I can barely get anything to blend how I want it to, so my mom had my dad grab her makeup and bring it down and takes over for us. Her friend, who offered to do pictures for us along with my SIL (and I paid them both for) told my mom to give me fake lashes because it'd make the pictures prettier. I told them I wasn't comfortable with it because it was new and I didn't know if I could handle the glue smell and the glue she uses hurts my eyes as is. Mom basically said to hush and let her do it.
One thing lead to another, and my mother glued my eyes shut. 10 minutes before my wedding was due to start. Even though I had asked for no fake lashes. Hormones kicked in and I started to cry. After about 5 minutes, we are able to get my eyes opened, but still had bits of glue in my lashes that ended up scratching my eyes throughout the wedding. I included a picture where you can see even through the editing how chunky the glue made my lashes and where chunks were pulled out with the glue. My dad came down asking what was taking so long, and my mom snapped at him and told him to go upstairs and wait a second, which made me start to cry again.
I calm myself down rather quickly and get dressed (the dress ended up being too big because the morning sickness had made me lose weight without me realizing it) and we all head upstairs only about 5 minutes or so late. At the doors, I can hear the music playing. It's the wrong songs. My dad, in his usual joking fashion, said "It's not too late to run". I told him I just wanted to get this dumpster fire over with.
Speed up a bit and during the ceremony, the pastor skipped over the marriage cross ceremony (where the newly weds put a cross together as a symbol of our faith in our marriage), and called my husband Durk. Miraculously, we make it through with those being the only things amiss, besides my husband being tired and looking grumpy the entire time (I guess he and Best Man stayed up half the night BSing with his uncle and dad, my FIL, and having a couple drinks).
Now the ceremony is over and we have people heading to the hotel to set up for the reception. Pictures were a cluster, there was yelling, I started to cry again because I just wanted things to be done quickly, and my mom wanted her photographer she had come in take pictures that she promised to pay for. We still haven't gotten any of them from said photographer.
After my parents were done with their part, they took off for the hotel and someone accidentally set some of the mac and cheese on fire, setting off the smoke alarms for the hotel. Can't say I cared too much because it wasn't the recipe I'd given my mom to make that she asked me to send her because I'm a picky eater as it is with my "touch of the tism" coupled with pregnancy making things worse.
Eventually we get there, and things had gotten flip-flopped as to what was going on and when because Mom wanted it to go her way, MIL was trying to stick to the schedule I had made... It was great. Thank God for hubby's "Aunti B" that was able to take charge and be my voice and fix things where as my mom looked at MIL and Aunti B and said "I don't care, she's you're problem now". Honestly wasn't surprising from my mom. So we wait for every one to file in to the room we were supposed to start in, and I have to teach my brother how to press play on my phone for music. 🤦🏽‍♀️ Awesome.
We get the Mother Son dance and the Father Daughter dance, and by then my husband was done with everything so we just had the food blessed and proceeded to the dining area. No newlywed dance for us. Still pretty upset about that.
At this point I'm too upset to eat, but manage to nibble here and there. As things start to come down, Mom's friend (yes eyelash woman) comes up to me upset because I didn't warn her that the hotel had a pool so she didn't bring suits for her girls to swim in while everyone else was prepared. I informed her (and showed her) that on the event page for the wedding I wrote where everything was taking place and that the hotel had a pool they were free to enjoy. The same information everyone else had used before coming. Embarrassed, she left and just had her daughters swim in their underwear and diaper.
At that point, everyone had eaten, we did the cake cutting, cake smash "competition" (hubby and I each had a jar people woukd put money into as a bid to who will get the cake to the face. Hubby lost, but we ended up turning it into a little game anyway. Pictures included) and a lot of the ceremonial stuff was over so I started cleaning up (condition of being able to use the hotel for free for the event as an employee) and everyone started pitching in.
The ceremony was at 3pm, reception around 4pm. We had everything cleaned up by 6:30pm, 7pm at the latest. Everyone that was staying in the hotel hung out for a bit, and my MIL and SIL (bless them) attempted to get the rest of the eyelash glue out of my eyes and managed to get a bit out with only one piece left before I had to stop. I got chewed out about how things went and how bad my parents looked with everything by my mom (OFC) and I decided to say screw it, packed up, and left for home with hubby, MOH and BM. If you thought that was the end of it, you're mistaken.
The next day, after my amazing MOH got the last of the glue out of my eye, we saw everyone off, and we were to take off for our honeymoon (a Civil War town because there was quite a bit of fun there when I went, and Hubby hadn't been, and it was cheap). I convinced my dad to let us take the SUV because I had a bad feeling about my car. Thank God I did because despite the "new" engine, the car died on the highway not even 10 miles from home when I took it to work later on.
Anyway, we make it to the hotel that had amazing reviews online to discover stains everywhere on the bed and stuff (ew), the pool was atrocious, and the water in the shower smelled like chemicals and started to burn my husband's face. So we checked out saying we had an emergency back home and had to leave. I called a nearby hotel in my brand I worked for and managed to get a room that is usually about $170 a night or so, for $60 a night. Thank God for them.
The rest of the honeymoon went on well with almost no morning sickness, and no other issues. The only bout of morning sickness (which reiterates my desire to know why it's called that when it can happen anytime of day) happened when my husband was being sweet and shared some of his food with me he knew I generally liked. The baby decided "I don't like that", sending me to hug a trash can a little while after lunch. In the middle of the section of (Civil War Town). By the (civil war history specific) house. In the middle of afternoon traffic.
The family ahead of us glared and started saying something about drunk people in the day 🙄 and my husband started laughing at the irony of it all. He took off to find me napkins to clean up and a good Samaritan stopped to ask if I was ok. I told him "I'm fine, just pregnant" and they chuckled then left. I managed to get cleaned up when hubby came back with the napkins and we continued on our way.
For those wondering, we now have 2 healthy boys, 2 dogs, 2 cats, and have been happily married for 5 years in August. We still laugh about my eyes getting glued shut on our anniversary with our friends and how my wedding was a prime example of Murphy's Law. If it can go wrong, it will go wrong.

by Douglas Cramer
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The Dachau concentration camp was opened in 1933 in a former gunpowder factory. The first prisoners interred there were political opponents of Adolf Hitler, who had become German chancellor that same year. During the twelve years of the camp's existence, over 200,000 prisoners were brought there. The majority of prisoners at Dachau were Christians, including Protestant, Roman Catholic, and Orthodox clergy and lay people.
Countless prisoners died at Dachau, and hundreds were forced to participate in the cruel medical experiments conducted by Dr. Sigmund Rascher. When prisoners arrived at the camp they were beaten, insulted, shorn of their hair, and had all their belongings taken from them. The SS guards could kill whenever they thought it was appropriate. Punishments included being hung on hooks for hours, high enough that heels did not touch the ground; being stretched on trestles; being whipped with soaked leather whips; and being placed in solitary confinement for days on end in rooms too small to lie down in.
The abuse of the prisoners reached its end in the spring of 1945. The events of that Holy Week were later recorded by one of the prisoners, Gleb Rahr. Rahr grew up in Latvia and fled with his family to Nazi Germany when the Russians invaded. He was arrested by the Gestapo because of his membership in an organization that opposed both fascism and communism. Originally imprisoned in Buchenwald, he was transported to Dachau near the end of the war.
In fact, Rahr was one of the survivors of the infamous “death trains,” as they were called by the American G.I.’s who discovered them. Thousands of prisoners from different camps had been sent to Dachau in open rail cars. The vast majority of them died horrific deaths from starvation, dehydration, exposure, sickness, and execution.
In a letter to his parents the day after the liberation, G.I. William Cowling wrote, “As we crossed the track and looked back into the cars the most horrible sight I have ever seen met my eyes. The cars were loaded with dead bodies. Most of them were naked and all of them skin and bones. Honest their legs and arms were only a couple of inches around and they had no buttocks at all. Many of the bodies had bullet holes in the back of their heads.”
Marcus Smith, one of the US Army personnel assigned to Dachau, also described the scene in his 1972 book, The Harrowing of Hell.
Refuse and excrement are spread over the cars and grounds. More of the dead lie near piles of clothing, shoes, and trash. Apparently some had crawled or fallen out of the cars when the doors were opened, and died on the grounds. One of our men counts the boxcars and says that there are thirty-nine. Later I hear that there were fifty, that the train had arrived at the camp during the evening of April 27, by which time all of the passengers were supposed to be dead so that the bodies could be disposed of in the camp crematorium. But this could not be done because there was no more coal to stoke the furnaces. Mutilated bodies of German soldiers are also on the ground, and occasionally we see an inmate scream at the body of his former tormentor and kick it. Retribution!
Gates of Dachau Concentration Camp
Rahr was one of the over 4,000 Russian prisoners at Dachau at the time of the liberation. The liberated prisoners also included over 1,200 Christian clergymen. After the war, Rahr immigrated to the United States, where he taught Russian History at the University of Maryland. He later worked for Radio Free Europe. His account of the events at Dachau in 1945 begins with his arrival at the camp:
April 27^th: The last transport of prisoners arrives from Buchenwald. Of the 5,000 originally destined for Dachau, I was among the 1,300 who had survived the trip. Many were shot, some starved to death, while others died of typhus. . . .
April 28th: I and my fellow prisoners can hear the bombardment of Munich taking place some 30 km from our concentration camp. As the sound of artillery approaches ever nearer from the west and the north, orders are given proscribing prisoners from leaving their barracks under any circumstances. SS-soldiers patrol the camp on motorcycles as machine guns are directed at us from the watch-towers, which surround the camp.
April 29th: The booming sound of artillery has been joined by the staccato bursts of machine gun fire. Shells whistle over the camp from all directions. Suddenly white flags appear on the towers—a sign of hope that the SS would surrender rather than shoot all prisoners and fight to the last man. Then, at about 6:00 p.m., a strange sound can be detected emanating from somewhere near the camp gate which swiftly increases in volume. . . .
The sound came from the dawning recognition of freedom. Lt. Col. Walter Fellenz of the US Seventh Army described the greeting from his point of view:
Several hundred yards inside the main gate, we encountered the concentration enclosure, itself. There before us, behind an electrically charged, barbed wire fence, stood a mass of cheering, half-mad men, women and children, waving and shouting with happiness—their liberators had come! The noise was beyond comprehension! Every individual (over 32,000) who could utter a sound, was cheering. Our hearts wept as we saw the tears of happiness fall from their cheeks.
Rahr’s account continues:
Finally all 32,600 prisoners join in the cry as the first American soldiers appear just behind the wire fence of the camp. After a short while electric power is turned off, the gates open and the American G.I.’s make their entrance. As they stare wide-eyed at our lot, half-starved as we are and suffering from typhus and dysentery, they appear more like fifteen-year-old boys than battle-weary soldiers. . . .
An international committee of prisoners is formed to take over the administration of the camp. Food from SS stores is put at the disposal of the camp kitchen. A US military unit also contributes some provision, thereby providing me with my first opportunity to taste American corn. By order of an American officer radio-receivers are confiscated from prominent Nazis in the town of Dachau and distributed to the various national groups of prisoners. The news comes in: Hitler has committed suicide, the Russians have taken Berlin, and German troops have surrendered in the South and in the North. But the fighting still rages in Austria and Czechoslovakia. . . .
Naturally, I was ever cognizant of the fact that these momentous events were unfolding during Holy Week. But how could we mark it, other than through our silent, individual prayers? A fellow-prisoner and chief interpreter of the International Prisoner's Committee, Boris F., paid a visit to my typhus-infested barrack—“Block 27”—to inform me that efforts were underway in conjunction with the Yugoslav and Greek National Prisoner's Committees to arrange an Orthodox service for Easter day, May 6th.
There were Orthodox priests, deacons, and a group of monks from Mount Athos among the prisoners. But there were no vestments, no books whatsoever, no icons, no candles, no prosphoras, no wine. . . . Efforts to acquire all these items from the Russian church in Munich failed, as the Americans just could not locate anyone from that parish in the devastated city. Nevertheless, some of the problems could be solved. The approximately four hundred Catholic priests detained in Dachau had been allowed to remain together in one barrack and recite mass every morning before going to work. They offered us Orthodox the use of their prayer room in “Block 26,” which was just across the road from my own “block.”
The chapel was bare, save for a wooden table and a Czenstochowa icon of the Theotokos hanging on the wall above the table—an icon which had originated in Constantinople and was later brought to Belz in Galicia, where it was subsequently taken from the Orthodox by a Polish king. When the Russian Army drove Napoleon's troops from Czenstochowa, however, the abbot of the Czenstochowa Monastery gave a copy of the icon to czar Alexander I, who placed it in the Kazan Cathedral in Saint-Petersburg where it was venerated until the Bolshevik seizure of power. A creative solution to the problem of the vestments was also found. New linen towels were taken from the hospital of our former SS-guards. When sewn together lengthwise, two towels formed an epitrachilion and when sewn together at the ends they became an orarion. Red crosses, originally intended to be worn by the medical personnel of the SS guards, were put on the towel-vestments.
On Easter Sunday, May 6th (April 23rd according to the Church calendar)—which ominously fell that year on Saint George the Victory-Bearer's Day—Serbs, Greeks and Russians gathered at the Catholic priests’ barracks. Although Russians comprised about 40 percent of the Dachau inmates, only a few managed to attend the service. By that time “repatriation officers” of the special Smersh units had arrived in Dachau by American military planes, and begun the process of erecting new lines of barbed wire for the purpose of isolating Soviet citizens from the rest of the prisoners, which was the first step in preparing them for their eventual forced repatriation.
In the entire history of the Orthodox Church there has probably never been an Easter service like the one at Dachau in 1945. Greek and Serbian priests together with a Serbian deacon wore the make-shift “vestments” over their blue and gray-striped prisoner’s uniforms. Then they began to chant, changing from Greek to Slavonic, and then back again to Greek. The Easter Canon, the Easter Sticheras—everything was recited from memory. The Gospel—“In the beginning was the Word”—also from memory.
And finally, the Homily of Saint John Chrysostom—also from memory. A young Greek monk from the Holy Mountain stood up in front of us and recited it with such infectious enthusiasm that we shall never forget him as long as we live. Saint John Chrysostomos himself seemed to speak through him to us and to the rest of the world as well! Eighteen Orthodox priests and one deacon—most of whom were Serbs—participated in this unforgettable service. Like the sick man who had been lowered through the roof of a house and placed in front of the feet of Christ the Savior, the Greek Archimandrite Meletios was carried on a stretcher into the chapel, where he remained prostrate for the duration of the service.
Other prisoners at Dachau included the recently canonized Bishop Nikolai Velimirovich, who later became the first administrator of the Serbian Orthodox Church in the US and Canada; and the Very Reverend Archimandrite Dionysios, who after the war was made Metropolitan of Trikkis and Stagnon in Greece.
Fr. Dionysios had been arrested in 1942 for giving asylum to an English officer fleeing the Nazis. He was tortured for not revealing the names of others involved in aiding Allied soldiers and was then imprisoned for eighteen months in Thessalonica before being transferred to Dachau. During his two years at Dachau, he witnessed Nazi atrocities and suffered greatly himself. He recorded many harrowing experiences in his book Ieroi Palmoi. Among these were regular marches to the firing squad, where he would be spared at the last moment, ridiculed, and then returned to the destitution of the prisoners’ block.
After the liberation, Fr. Dionysios helped the Allies to relocate former Dachau inmates and to bring some normalcy to their disrupted lives. Before his death, Metropolitan Dionysios returned to Dachau from Greece and celebrated the first peacetime Orthodox Liturgy there. Writing in 1949, Fr. Dionysios remembered Pascha 1945 in these words:
In the open air, behind the shanty, the Orthodox gather together, Greeks and Serbs. In the center, both priests, the Serb and the Greek. They aren't wearing golden vestments. They don't even have cassocks. No tapers, no service books in their hands. But now they don't need external, material lights to hymn the joy. The souls of all are aflame, swimming in light.
Blessed is our God. My little paper-bound New Testament has come into its glory. We chant “Christ is Risen” many times, and its echo reverberates everywhere and sanctifies this place.
Hitler's Germany, the tragic symbol of the world without Christ, no longer exists. And the hymn of the life of faith was going up from all the souls; the life that proceeds buoyantly toward the Crucified One of the verdant hill of Stein.
On April 29, 1995—the fiftieth anniversary of the liberation of Dachau—the Russian Orthodox Memorial Chapel of Dachau was consecrated. Dedicated to the Resurrection of Christ, the chapel holds an icon depicting angels opening the gates of the concentration camp and Christ Himself leading the prisoners to freedom. The simple wooden block conical architecture of the chapel is representative of the traditional funeral chapels of the Russian North. The sections of the chapel were constructed by experienced craftsmen in the Vladimir region of Russia, and assembled in Dachau by veterans of the Western Group of Russian Forces just before their departure from Germany in 1994. The priests who participated in the 1945 Paschal Liturgy are commemorated at every service held in the chapel, along with all Orthodox Christians who lost their lives “at this place, or at another place of torture.”