Instant Mercurial

Advocating social justice & Doctor Who blog: New/classic/EU Who.

And In descending frequency: adorable animals usually cats, random funny things, Welcome to Night Vale, Star Trek TNG, VOY, TOS, Orange is the New Black, Community, Other Posts.

Read "About Me" to know about my tagging, political stances, Doctor Who stances, how i deal with asks and myself.

Do NOT reveal any personal information about me if you know me irl, nor the other way around.





The Waitressing Chronicles: Wherein Dani does not refill your soda 20 times just because she thinks it’s SO MUCH FUN.

Tonight was one of the worst kinds of nights you can have in the restaurant industry. It was a pretty busy Saturday night, the kitchen was running smoothly, my coworkers and I were coexisting peacefully, and 99% of my tables were awesome, and I really had fun serving them. (Yes, I did say ‘worst’. I’m getting to that part, hold on….).

Some of them were a little needy, but after you’ve served for a few years, you start developing a sort of spidy-sense about which guests are going to require 30 diet coke refills, 5 servings of chips and salsa and roughly 2 gallons of ranch before they even crack there menus open (seriously…I think some people have such an addiction to ranch, that if it isn’t constantly on their table, regardless of the presence of any other actual food, they start to develop anxiety. Some people need to carry around EPI pens in case of emergency….I carry around ranch dressing. You’re welcome), so I was prepared. Even my needy tables didn’t rattle me too much this evening.

Generally speaking, all of the components necessary for a pretty kick-ass shift were present and accounted for.

And then my tables started cashing out. 10%tip, 5% tip, no tip, no tip, 10%….20%, FINALLY! Oh…wait…they didn’t do their math correctly, that’s actually only a $2 tip. Wonderful.

My enthusiasm for my job and my shift plummeted rapidly and I was ready to stuff my hot towel in my apron and go home faster than the cheapskate at table 7 could say “Keep the Change” as he handed me $40 for his $38.64 tab.

Some people just genuinely don’t know any better, and I recognize that. Sometimes I’m a little off my game, and I fully own up to that as well. But tonight was not one of those nights. I was on point…and I’m good at what I do.

So let me deviate a little bit from my normal Chronicling to give something of a PSA on behalf of waitstaff everywhere.

80% of servers make under minimum wage. This is a fact. A miserable, lamentable fact. The hourly wages that our employers provide are essentially just so that the government has something to take as far as immediate taxes on our tip money, and we don’t get slammed with having to pay it all back at once in April. Our “paychecks”, therefore, are usually somewhere in the neighborhood of $30. If that. It’s a pretty crummy system, and believe me when I say that we’d probably rather be making a steady and reliable hourly wage instead of depending on tips, but unfortunately that’s not the society we live in.

So. Your tip. How much do you tip, and who gets it?

A lot of that depends on the restaurant you’re in. Look around you. Do you see hosts and hostesses? Is there a bartender? A busser? If any/all of these people are present, rest assured that your server does not get to keep all of their tips.

We “tip out” to all of the other support staff (busser, host, QA expo, bartender, etc.) at the end of every shift. The amount of money we tip out to these staff is determined, not by how much money we make, but by how much we’ve sold. For example, at Chilis, I tip out 3% of my total sales at the end of the night. (So if I sold $100 worth of food and drinks, my tip out would be $3. Last night, I had $1100 in sales, and had to leave behind $33).

What does this mean? This means, that if you don’t leave a tip, or only leave $1 or $2 (assuming your total tab wasn’t $10.) your server actually loses money on your table. We still have to pay taxes and tip out based on the amount of food YOU ordered, not to mention that you sat there, and took up one of my tables for 2 hours, which I could easily have flipped twice in that time had you not felt the need to camp out and then leave me $2 (I’M TALKING TO YOU, TABLE 36.)

It pretty much boils down to this: a 10% tip is the bare minimum. It means mediocre service, and relates a relatively neutral - bordering on negative message to your server about how they did their job.  15% indicates that you’re content and happy, and your server was proficient at taking care of you. 20% is excellent. Excellent food, excellent service, excellent everything. That’s how we read your tips.

Also, you can basically write whatever you want in the tip line. If your total bill was $45.67, and you write in a $5,000 tip, and then write “$45.67” on the total line, and sign it…..guess how much I’m authorized to charge your card for? That’s right. $45.67. So please (PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE) double check your math when you’re totaling out your bill. I lost no less than $27 in tips last night simply because people couldn’t Math correctly.  Perhaps ranch dressing in excess has an adverse affect on people’s ability to do basic arithmetic. Or perhaps it’s a complication of margarita-induced brain freezes. Either way. It sucks. Please don’t suck.

Tipping is not optional, and it is not a privilege for the server. Back in the day, it probably was, but unfortunately, that’s no longer the case. When you sit down at a restaurant there is an unspoken understanding between you and your server. It’s their responsibility to make sure you have a stellar, enjoyable and relaxing meal, and it’s your responsibility to make sure they can afford to pay their rent. And before you start in on me (because I can hear the rumbling of offended restaurant goers from here, like distant thunder…calm yourselves, beasts!) about how entitled you are to not-tip, let me tell you now, honey child, I’ve heard every retort in the book.

"Your restaurant should pay you better, that’s not my fault" - Well. Yes. I agree. But they don’t. So it sucks for both of us. But until it’s announced that tipping is no longer needed in the service industry, the burden of determining my “paycheck”falls on you Trust me, I’m not happy about it either.

"You should just be happy that I left anything at all." - If your tip was in addition to the $10/hr my restaurant was paying me, you bet your left shoe I’d be happy for any little bit you wanted to throw my way. But they don’t. And I know you know that, faithful restaurant eater. So when you walk out, leaving me $3 after having waited on your family of 6’s $130 meal, I’m going to interpret that as a direct and intentional personal insult. You may have thought you were coming out on top by not leaving the appropriate $13-$26 that your bill merited, but really now you’re just a dick. And I can promise you that every server who was working that night will know about it. Good luck getting chipper service next time you try to come to our restaurant. We remember.

"Tips are dependent upon how well you do. That’s what TIPS means. ‘To Insure Proper Service." - I almost don’t even want to respond to this one, but unfortunately it’s a very popular notion. First off, lemme just lay it out there that if you believe this, you’re a dumbass. For multiple reasons. If that acronym was in fact true, they would be called “teps” (to…ENSURE….proper service. English, for the win!) and you would give them to be at the beginning on the meal. Because that’s what “to ensure proper service” implies. How comfortable would you be if you had to tip your server at the beginning of the meal, knowing full well that you had to sit there for the next 45 - 60 minutes facing the person you just handed $2 as you ask for 3 more sides of Barbeque sauce, a 5th coke and some ranch.(Just because of reasons. Everyone needs ranch. ) You’d probably be a little uncomfortable, wouldn’t you? You’d probably shell out a lot more were that the case, wouldn’t you? How great is it for you that you get to demand special ordered food and request exactly 45 napkins one at a time from your server and then immediately slip away into the night after leaving your server $1.63. You’re such a champ, a real stand-up type of person. I hope your kids leave legos in the hallway tonight, and you step on three of them as you stumble to the bathroom at 3am.

"Why don’t you just get a real job. You’re choosing this lifestyle" - Whoa buddy, whoa. Did you really just say that to me? Let’s rewind this a little bit. I’m on my feet, running, squatting, lifting trays, clearing dishes, entertaining table after table, pretending to love being regaled by the intricacies of your oh-so-fascinating life and reassuring you that your baby IS the most adorable baby I’ve ever seen for 6-10 hours a day. Usually, unless I have time to take a bathroom break (please note that I didn’t say “need” to take a bathroom break. If. I. Have. Time.) , the first time I get to sit down after walking through those doors and clocking in is when I get back in my car to go home at the end of the night. Someone please tell me how that’s not a “real” job? Or how it’s any less “real” than your 9-5 office job? I bet that desk chair does a real number on your lower back. Your office manager should really look into providing you with the lumbar support you deserve. Please, tell me more about it as I stand at your table side balancing 30lbs of dishes on one hand that you seem to be oblivious to, as you continue to complain about your cushy job.

   You have a valid point though, in that I did choose this job. For me, personally, I know that waiting tables is only temporary. The tips I earn go towards food, gas, insurance, cell phone, car payments, my gym membership, student loans, text books and other basic life-needs (shampoo is expensive ommgggg). I’m also trying to save up so I can afford to move to New York after I finish my Master’s Degree. I’ve got a lot on my plate, but not nearly as much as some of the other wonderful people I work with. Take, for example, the 20 year old single mother of 2 who was in the section next to mine last night. I’m not sure if she finished high school or not, but her kids are her life now. She started waiting tables at 16 so that she could afford to buy diapers and formula every night before she went home. Waiting tables isn’t just her “get me through school” job. It’s her career. It’s how she feeds her kids. So go ahead, leave her no tip on your $120 check, table 23. I hope that pasta you inhaled gives you heartburn. And she’s not the only one. Every single server in any restaurant you eat in is at your mercy to provide for themselves and their family. That is the responsibility you sign up for when you walk into a dine-in restaurant. It is an unfortunate part of American culture.

Don’t like it? Go to a drive-through. That’s what they’re there for. Better yet….stay home. Cook for yourself.

If you can’t afford to tip, you can’t afford to eat out. I know that sounds harsh, but it’s completely true.

Thank you to those of you who are awesome. Awesome people and fun tables actually make this a pretty kickass job a lot of the time. Keep up the awesome. If you doubt your level of restaurant awesome, never fear! It’s totally something you can build up over time, kind of like distance running or heavy lifting. Baby steps. You’ll get there.


I have one question for all the people whose response to this kind of thing is “Get a real job” -

If everyone did that, who would bring you your food?

People say “get a real job” in the comfortably supercilious knowledge that not everyone will be able to fulfill their ever-changing goalposts of “real job”-ness. They get to have their meals out and be a raging cockbadger too.


How to defeat a Dalek in 1984


How to defeat a Dalek in 1984

(via feuertrunkenbrax)




Please reblog this and please donate if you can. Things are pretty dire. All things aside, I’d like to finish college, enter STEM, get a career, and give back to the community, things I know I can do, but not while this is in the way. 

(via b-binaohan)

1963 / A Way Forward / Walls of Confinement / Chain Reaction / Sock Pig / The Doctor’s Coat / Critical Mass / Letting Go

Read More

Cold and see-through

(via echoingclaras)

The West Wing largely managed to avoid romanticising PTSD or turning it into a fun intellectual exercise. It showed the frank, everyday reality of PTSD and the fact that with variable presentation, people experience it in many different ways. For some, it may be intense flashbacks and disabling levels of anxiety and stress. For others, it may be the ability to front, to fake it, with the acute and uncomfortable awareness that behind that front lies a part of you that feels as though it’s falling apart. Donna and Josh both try to front, with varying degrees of success, and they also experience crashes, even as they also grow, change, and learn to turn to the people around them for help.

What the show does manage to accomplish is this: At no point does it suggest that PTSD is something to be ashamed of. It doesn’t say that Donna or Josh should be perceived as weak or unable to deal with the world because of their mental health condition. It doesn’t say that PTSD is their fault, or that they should be ostracised by their colleagues. It says, simply and plainly, that PTSD is a thing that happens, that is not within the control of the person experiencing it, and that what people with PTSD need is support and compassion, respect and love. This is radical, for a society that does not understand PTSD well and often depicts it poorly in pop culture.

Doctor Who meme | two quotes [1/2]

❝ You know the sound the TARDIS makes? That wheezing, groaning? That sound brings hope wherever it goes. To anyone who hears it, Doctor. Anyone. However lost. Even you. ❞

(via echoingclaras)



Everyone is at San Diego Comic-Con but me.

And me. Have never been to a con. D:



Everyone is at San Diego Comic-Con but me.

And me. Have never been to a con. D:


this is exactly the shit i’m talking about. men literally don’t know what N-O means. so now women have to be extra fucking careful to not damage a man’s fucked up sense of entitlement when we decline their advances because we might be murdered.

(via fyeahcracker)


omg what it must’ve been like to live in England at the time. LOL the Zarbi.

See, all those years ago, when I began I was just running. I called myself the Doctor, but it was just a name. And then I went to Skaro. And then I met you lot and I understood who I was. The Doctor was not the Daleks.

(via echoingclaras)

Asker Anonymous Asks:
I try to say the traditional tribal names as much as I can. But where does the name <Sioux> come from?
feuertrunkenbrax feuertrunkenbrax Said:


It’s derived from the French word for ‘enemy.’ Its the opposite of who we are. Our real name is Oceti Sakowin, Seven Council Fires. Dakota, Lakota, and Nakota belong to this group and those words all mean ‘friend.’ Unfortunately the word Sioux is pretty well engrained in western society and sometimes we’re still forced to use it so people will know what we’re talking about, i.e. they call us The Great Sioux Nation.











It’s funny how science fiction universes so often treat humans as a boring, default everyman species or even the weakest and dumbest.

I want to see a sci fi universe where we’re actually considered one of the more hideous and terrifying species.

How do we know our saliva and skin oils wouldn’t be ultra-corrosive to most other sapient races? What if we actually have the strongest vocal chords and can paralyze or kill the inhabitants of other worlds just by screaming at them? What if most sentient life in the universe turns out to be vegetable-like and lives in fear of us rare “animal” races who can move so quickly and chew shit up with our teeth?

Like that old story “they’re made of meat,” only we’re scarier.




humans are a proud warrior race with a pantheon of bloody gods: Ram-Bo, Schwarzenegger, etc.









More seriously, humans do have a number of advantages even among Terrestrial life. Our endurance, shock resistance, and ability to recover from injury is absurdly high compared to almost any other animal. We often use the phrase “healthy as a horse” to connote heartiness - but compared to a human, a horse is as fragile as spun glass. There’s mounting evidence that our primitive ancestors would hunt large prey simply by following it at a walking pace, without sleep or rest, until it died of exhaustion; it’s called pursuit predation. Basically, we’re the Terminator.

(The only other animal that can sort of keep up with us? Dogs. That’s why we use them for hunting. And even then, it’s only “sort of”.)

Now extrapolate that to a galaxy in which most sapient life did not evolve from hyper-specialised pursuit predators:

  • Our strength and speed is nothing to write home about, but we don’t need to overpower or outrun you. We just need to outlast you - and by any other species’ standards, we just plain don’t get tired.
  • Where a simple broken leg will cause most species to go into shock and die, we can recover from virtually any injury that’s not immediately fatal. Even traumatic dismemberment isn’t necessarily a career-ending injury for a human.
  • We heal from injuries with extreme rapidity, recovering in weeks from wounds that would take others months or years to heal. The results aren’t pretty - humans have hyperactive scar tissue, among our other survival-oriented traits - but they’re highly functional.
  • Speaking of scarring, look at our medical science. We developed surgery centuries before developing even the most rudimentary anesthetics or life support. In extermis, humans have been known to perform surgery on themselves - and survive. Thanks to our extreme heartiness, we regard as routine medical procedures what most other species would regard as inventive forms of murder. We even perform radical surgery on ourselves for purely cosmetic reasons.

In essence, we’d be Space Orcs.

Our jaws have too many TEETH in them, so we developed a way to WELD METAL TO OUR TEETH and FORCE THE BONES IN OUR JAW to restructure over the course of years to fit them back into shape, and then we continue to wear metal in out mouths to keep them in place. 

We formed cohabitative relationships with tiny mammals and insects we keep at bay from bothering us by death, often using little analouge traps. 

And by god, we will eat anything. 

  • We use borderline toxic peppers to season our food. 
  • We expose ourselves to potentially lethal solar radiation in the pursuit of darkening our skin. 
  • We risk hearing loss for the opportunity to see our favorite musicians live. 
  • We have a game where two people get into an enclosed area and hit each other until time runs out/one of them pass out
  • We willingly jump out of planes with only a flimsy piece of cloth to prevent us from splattering against the ground. 
  • Our response to natural disasters is to just rebuild our buildings in the exact same places. 
  • We climb mountains and risk freezing to death for bragging rights
  • We invented dogs. We took our one time predators and completely domesticated them. 
  • On a planet full of lions, tigers and bears, we managed to advance further and faster than any other species on the planet. 

Klingons and Krogan and Orcs ain’t got shit on us

We drink ethanol (in concentrations high enough to be used as an effective as microbicide or a solvent!) for the express purpose of achieving blood toxicity and disrupting normal brain function… AS A RECREATIONAL ACTIVITY!

On the same subject, we also deliberately incinerate assorted substances and then inhale the particulate-heavy smoke and vapor resulting for the same effect. EVEN IN THE FACE OF SAID SUBSTANCES BEING CARCINOGENIC, BECAUSE WE JUST DON’T GIVE A FUCK.

Humans do not have biological castes. Kill their commander and another will take its place. Soldiers left alone on a planet will start farming and manufacturing to survive. Farmers and manufacturers will take up arms and kill you if pressed. Just because two humans look different doesn’t mean they cannot do each other’s jobs.

Breeding does not kill them. A single human can mate dozens or hundreds of times in a lifetime. They often do so as recreation. Xenobiology team six believes they do not have a mating season but this is too strange to be true.

Their appendages are not designed for hitting, so they developed special training to make them very good at hitting anyhow. 

The proteins making up their bodies are toxic and cause prion disease. Do not touch anything humans have touched. Do not consume earth foods. Fire does not adequately remove this contamination.

Humans perceive sixteen times the colors we do. Do not hide in bushes or vines from humans. They can distinguish your pelt from the foliage with ease.

We tried venting waste gas into the tunnels to kill the humans when they attacked. Turns out they breathe it. 

Everything on their planet came from a single biological strain. They developed comprehensive genetics BEFORE they developed space travel. 

They lack radio receptors and cannot be brought into compliance with right-thought simply by broadcasting to them. Even after we learned how to translate it into sound-waves one of their hatchlings drove the Great Authority mad by responding to every demand with a single question: “Why?”

#an individual human being is actually a microbiome in its own right—you are dealing with a legion each time you approach them     #they carry pathological agents inside their deep tissues and this is advantageous to their health     #one of the most widespread and resilient viruses on their planet is treated as mildly hazardous—even though it causes     #massive disruption to the body’s homeostasis     #(their young offspring endure multiple rhinovirus infections EACH YEAR yet they seem unperturbed by this)     #they have developed such long lifespans that now their primary threat is their own body’s degeneration     #humanity has literally figured out how to survive so long that their body gives out under them     #and they are not satisfied with that     #stupid willful vengeful survivalists who treat mortality like a challenge    

I love every single variation on this post, whenever it scrolls across my dash. 

Although bipedal and nominally terrestrial, humans are also capable of highly efficient climbing, brachiation, and swimming without mechanical or technological assistance.

In times of plenty, humans will ingest surplus food and metabolize it into a form of stored nutrition which permeates their tissues and forms a protective, thermally insulating layer under their skin.  Even a human with minimal ‘fat’ reserves can go for several Terran days without appreciable food intake.

Humans are highly neuroplastic, and retain the ability to learn throughout their life cycle.  Indeed, geriatric humans rely increasingly on the synthesis and application of their accumulated knowledge as their physical condition declines.

The human olfactory system is notoriously insensitive, and scents which may incapacitate other species have no appreciable effect on them.

Humans are effectively psy-null.  They possess no psionic abilities of their own, and attempts at one-way psionic contact have resulted in severe trauma to researchers due to the alien structure of human minds.

The human skeleton is composed of a hard, resilient mineral-biological composite.  This renders them capable of withstanding heavy loads and impacts, and of delivering devastating blows with all extremities.  Although somewhat brittle, the stone-based tissue of human bone retains the ability to heal when injured.

(via a-spoon-is-born)

Anybody who looked at those pictures, you’re perpetuating a sexual offense. You should cower with shame. Even people who I know and love say, ‘Oh, yeah, I looked at the pictures.’ I don’t want to get mad, but at the same time I’m thinking, I didn’t tell you that you could look at my naked body.


Robotic hand also seen in Revelation of the Daleks. When he gains lighting powers like the Sith lord.