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After succumbing to a fever of some sort in 1705, Irish woman Margorie McCall was hastily buried to prevent the spread of whatever had done her in. Margorie was buried with a valuable ring, which her husband had been unable to remove due to swelling. This made her an even better target for body snatchers, who could cash in on both the corpse and the ring.

The evening after Margorie was buried, before the soil had even settled, the grave-robbers showed up and started digging. Unable to pry the ring off the finger, they decided to cut the finger off. As soon as blood was drawn, Margorie awoke from her coma, sat straight up and screamed.

The fate of the grave-robbers remains unknown. One story says the men dropped dead on the spot, while another claims they fled and never returned to their chosen profession.

Margorie climbed out of the hole and made her way back to her home.

Her husband John, a doctor, was at home with the children when he heard a knock at the door. He told the children, ?If your mother were still alive, I?d swear that was her knock.?

When he opened the door to find his wife standing there, dressed in her burial clothes, blood dripping from her finger but very much alive, he dropped dead to the floor. He was buried in the plot Margorie had vacated.

Margorie went on to re-marry and have several children. When she did finally die, she was returned to Shankill Cemetery in Lurgan, Ireland, where her gravestone still stands. It bears the inscription ?Lived Once, Buried Twice.?

Should thou or thy belov?d be distinguished by judgement of a physician of the four humours to have become bestruck by that most terrifying of spectres, that which is known in our physical realm only by his unholiest name ?Mesothelioma?, thou may be selected by writ of the law to receive financial benefit at the behest of thy king and kingdom. That unholiest of spectres be one of great recherch?, and is beckoned by thy brandishing of, or otherwise exposure to, that material which is called salamander fur. Brandishing of salamander fur within the realms of seaborne nobledom, dockyards, mills, warmthcasting, carpentry, or equine husbandry may bear upon thee that spectre. We insist that thou mustn?t lose haste, summon us by use of the code 1-800-99-THE-LAW-2 within this day to assemble a conference of writ at no financial forbearence upon thee and receive print regarding affairs of the related capital. Bearers of that unholiest spectre beckon now! 1-800-99-THE-LAW-2

WHAT DO BOYS EVEN FIND ATTRACTIVE ABOUT BOOBS THEY ARE LITERALLY A BALL OF FAT ON A GIRLS CHEST LIKE IF YOU CAN LOVE ME FOR THE FAT ON MY CHEST WHY CANT YOU LOVE ME FOR THE FAT ON MY STOMACH YOU PIECE OF SHIT

GOD today i served a family of 3 and the dad was like “i’ll have a cappuccino” and the kid, a girl of about 11, was like “PLEASE.” and he was like “uh yeah. please” and the kid goes “well you’re always telling me to remember my manners!!! you should too!!” and i was cracking up

and then she was standing there w her mum while i made their drinks and i asked if the mum wanted chocolate sprinkles and she was like “yes please” and the kid goes “well at least SOMEONE remembered their manners” and then sighed dramatically and HEELYED AWAY and honestly? not sure how to go on knowing i’ll never be as cool as this 11 year old

RACHEL TIPPED 100 CORAL FOR THIS POST

How to escape after being buried alive in a coffin.

It could happen to anyone. People bury a person alive to scare them or to get rid of them. In this situation, rely only on yourself.

1. Do not waste oxygen. In a classic coffin there’s only enough oxygen for about an hour, maybe two. Inhale deeply, exhale very slowly. Once inhaled - do not swallow, or you will start to hyperventilate. Do not light up lighters or matches, they will waste oxygen. Using a flashlight is allowed. Screaming increases anxiety, which causes increased heartbeat and therefore - waste of oxygen. So don’t scream.

2. Shake up the lid with your hands. In some cheap low-quality coffins you will be able to even make a hole (with an engagement ring or a belt buckle.)

3. Cross your arms over your chest, holding onto your shoulders with your hands, and pull the shirt off upward. Tie it in a knot above your head, like so:

This will prevent you from suffocating when the dirt falls on your face.

4. Kick the lid with your legs. In some cheap coffins the lid is broken or damaged already after being buried, due to the weight of the ground above it.

5. As soon as the lid breaks, throw and move the dirt that falls through in the direction of your feet. When it takes up a lot of space, try pressing the ground to the sides of the coffin with your legs and feet. Move around a bit.

6. Whatever you do - your main goal is to sit up: dirt will fill up the empty space and move to your advantage, so no matter what - do not stop and try breathing steadily and calmly.

7. Get up. Remember: the dirt in the grave is very loose, so battling your way up will be easier than it seems. It’s the other way around during a rainy weather however, since water makes dirt heavy and sticky.

How to escape after being buried alive in a coffin.

It could happen to anyone. People bury a person alive to scare them or to get rid of them. In this situation, rely only on yourself.

1. Do not waste oxygen. In a classic coffin there’s only enough oxygen for about an hour, maybe two. Inhale deeply, exhale very slowly. Once inhaled - do not swallow, or you will start to hyperventilate. Do not light up lighters or matches, they will waste oxygen. Using a flashlight is allowed. Screaming increases anxiety, which causes increased heartbeat and therefore - waste of oxygen. So don’t scream.

2. Shake up the lid with your hands. In some cheap low-quality coffins you will be able to even make a hole (with an engagement ring or a belt buckle.)

3. Cross your arms over your chest, holding onto your shoulders with your hands, and pull the shirt off upward. Tie it in a knot above your head, like so:

This will prevent you from suffocating when the dirt falls on your face.

4. Kick the lid with your legs. In some cheap coffins the lid is broken or damaged already after being buried, due to the weight of the ground above it.

5. As soon as the lid breaks, throw and move the dirt that falls through in the direction of your feet. When it takes up a lot of space, try pressing the ground to the sides of the coffin with your legs and feet. Move around a bit.

6. Whatever you do - your main goal is to sit up: dirt will fill up the empty space and move to your advantage, so no matter what - do not stop and try breathing steadily and calmly.

7. Get up. Remember: the dirt in the grave is very loose, so battling your way up will be easier than it seems. It’s the other way around during a rainy weather however, since water makes dirt heavy and sticky.

good life advice

would have never thought about using a shirt as a dirt barrier

Was trying to ignore the pack of whiteboys behind me but one of them said “Mickey Mouse’s ears are round from whatever angle you look from, therefore they are spheres” and its honestly ruined my entire week. This will haunt me and now itll haunt you too

My favorite is people who send me unsolicited dick pics and then they’re like, “uh, hi? Are you ignoring me?”

It’s just so funny to me. Like one minute I’m designing bioreactors and getting published for heat dissipation in polymers and then I open this godforsaken app to dudes hanging brain who can’t even pronounce “saponification” calling me a slut because I won’t give attention to their limp excuses for existence.

3 billion years of evolution and the greatest form of communication you can conjure up in your fermented omelet of a conscience is submitting your wrinkly ball sac to a stranger on the Internet to substitute the attention your parents never gave their mistake of an offspring.

My favorite is people who send me unsolicited dick pics and then they’re like, “uh, hi? Are you ignoring me?”

It’s just so funny to me. Like one minute I’m designing bioreactors and getting published for heat dissipation in polymers and then I open this godforsaken app to dudes hanging brain who can’t even pronounce “saponification” calling me a slut because I won’t give attention to their limp excuses for existence.

3 billion years of evolution and the greatest form of communication you can conjure up in your fermented omelet of a conscience is submitting your wrinkly ball sac to a stranger on the Internet to substitute the attention your parents never gave their mistake of an offspring.

if Breath of the Wild didn’t want me to fall in love with Prince Sidon they shouldn’t have made him chivalrous, earnest, kind, loyal, brave, a little dumb, and 9 feet tall with a mouth full of knives

I'm a film maker from south africa, almost no independant film media is released here , sometimes even mainstream stuff (and when it does it arrives months after the release in the west), Piracy is literally the only way i can find some older films by auteur directors like Tarkovsky, Bela Tarr, Robert Altman, Lars Von Trier , etc... I once asked a director on instagram if he minds me pirating his work since ill never see a digital copy of his films here ever, he said "go ahead" its not really hurting him or his crew who made the film. Most people here have capped internet so streaming would waste our data especially when streaming in 4k or 1080p. Piracy is miraculous amongst us 3rd worlders its how we access media that we cant ever see

if they didnt want us to stream stuff illegally they shouldnt have made it sound so cool, fun & sexy by calling it “piracy”

My mom didn’t know what thot meant (she thought it was something like “lazy”) and my brother kept putting off taking out the trash and she called him a thot and he looked so betrayed

*snap chalkzone voice* You see Rudy. Chalkzone is where every chalk drawing goes after it’s erased, kapiche? so… there’s a lot of cartoon penises. we needed an entire landfill just to dispose of the penises. At least five times a day a giant cartoonish penis falls from the sky and hits me in the head rudy. Life in chalkzone is pain

i stroll into the little saltwater store in the city. a border collie comes barreling over and begins nibbling my toes through my open heels. the dude behind the counter introduces himself and asks me if i have any tanks at home or if he needs to set one up for me. i tell him that i have 16 tanks and ask him if he has any personal ones before he can comment on that number. he proceeds to say “yeah, i have a 120 in my office. it has a clam in it.” i cautiously respond “oh, a clam?” and he whips out his phone which already has a livestream up on it. it’s centered on the biggest clam i’ve ever seen, just chillin’ in this tank and taking up half of the available floorspace in a 120 gallon. “that’s my baby,” he says, and points at the unholy bivalve in case i didn’t notice it on my own. there are now two border collies snorfling at my toes while i stare in awe at this dude’s gigantic fucking clam