I may be rancid butter but I'm on your side of the bread.

 

bootsnblossoms:

femininefreak:

Gloria Steinem and Dorothy Pitman-Hughes, 1972 and 2014

Both by Dan Bagan

Wanna see my cry like a baby? Ask me who these women were.

Hughes’ father was beaten nearly to death by the KKK when she was a kid, and what does she do? Become an activist to try and stop that from happening to other people. She raised money to bail civil rights protesters out of jail. She helped women get out of abusive situations by providing shelter for them until they got on their feet. She founded an agency that helped women get to work without having to leave their children alone, because childcare in the 1970s? Not really a thing. In fact, a famous feminist line in the 70s was “every housewife is one man away from welfare.”

Then she teamed up with Steinman to found the Women’s Action Alliance, which created the first battered women’s shelters in history. They attacked women’s rights issues through boots on the ground activism, problem solving, and communication. They stomped over barriers of race and class to meet women where they were: mostly mothers who wanted better for themselves and their children.

These are women are who I always wanted to be.

maratini:

ineptshieldmaid:

notcuddles:

valkyrien:

aflyingmotorbike:

synekdokee:

anglepoiselamp:

Is that the weather report?

*sighs*
Everyone knows we get lesbians every goddamn year, and yet every time they arrive people act all shocked. “I’m not ready for lesbians yet! I haven’t put lesbian tyres on my car!” Lady, it happens every year. You were warned beforehand. It’s your own damn fault if you end up in an accident because you weren’t prepared for lesbians.

seriously. so tired of being late for school just because the subway can’t handle lesbians. it’s norway! what do they expect

On the bright side, learning institutions will close in their droves as nations shut down due to the overwhelming presence of lesbians.

:sigh: But you have to make up lesbian days at the end of the school year…

I’ve been waiting for lesbians ever since the weather turned cold. I was promised 5cm of lesbians and DID I GET ANY? NO I DID NOT. Oh sure, there are lesbians up on the hills, but where’s my gorgeous carpet of lesbians, huh?

#how am I supposed to feel like it’s christmas time when there aren’t any lesbians outside at all

maratini:

ineptshieldmaid:

notcuddles:

valkyrien:

aflyingmotorbike:

synekdokee:

anglepoiselamp:

Is that the weather report?

*sighs*

Everyone knows we get lesbians every goddamn year, and yet every time they arrive people act all shocked. “I’m not ready for lesbians yet! I haven’t put lesbian tyres on my car!” Lady, it happens every year. You were warned beforehand. It’s your own damn fault if you end up in an accident because you weren’t prepared for lesbians.

seriously. so tired of being late for school just because the subway can’t handle lesbians. it’s norway! what do they expect

On the bright side, learning institutions will close in their droves as nations shut down due to the overwhelming presence of lesbians.

:sigh: But you have to make up lesbian days at the end of the school year…

I’ve been waiting for lesbians ever since the weather turned cold. I was promised 5cm of lesbians and DID I GET ANY? NO I DID NOT. Oh sure, there are lesbians up on the hills, but where’s my gorgeous carpet of lesbians, huh?

(Source: mechaendo)

I’ve always pretended to improv. Sneaking in a joke like I’ve stumbled on it, coming up with good comebacks for things that haven’t even happened… My whole life i’ve done that.

(Source: chrisprattsource)

caramelcheese:

adventuresofcesium:

let’s all take a minute to stop and think about how Hagrid gave Harry his homemade birthday cake, told him how much he looked like his parents, and fed him sausages before he even started to explain that he was a wizard

let’s stop to think about how his absolute first priority was to let harry know that he was loved and cared for

 (via grapegoat)

(Source: theadventuresofcreepium)

freshprinceofthefayz:

fangpants:

best part is that it’s even scarier when they lift the cup and nothing is there and they think it got out

i think you need a nap satan

freshprinceofthefayz:

fangpants:

best part is that it’s even scarier when they lift the cup and nothing is there and they think it got out

i think you need a nap satan

fuckyeahthespianpeacock:

saltheria:

yeffyaboyuice:

mythchief:

So there I was, ready to take a shower. I mean, I was dirty, a little greasy, a shower was not such a horrible idea. People take showers, amiright? Of course!
I get naked.
FULL naked.
REAL naked.
I’m talking the exact opposite reason why you ever went to your grandmother’s house.
No cookies. Blatant nudity.
That’s how folks take showers these days, right? Well, I pull back the curtain…
And there it was.
This…thing…sitting on the little soap/shower/pube shelf. Not a care in the world, like it’s been there for years. “What the fuck is that?” I think to myself.
Now, what follows is the exact pattern of thought that took me from rational human being to Sloth in 3.4 seconds.
“Is that a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit? Holy fuck that’s a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit. OMG why would someone leave that unattended. Those things are so delicious. I’m gonna eat the fuck out of it. Man, I can’t wait to see whoever left it’s face when they come back to find that someone ate their cheesy biscuit’s fuck. Ohhh boy.”
Then my brain sent a message to my arm that said, “Reach for that cheesy biscuit, bitch. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!?”
As you must already know, we are all contractually bound to make a dickload of mistakes throughout our lifetime. Some of those mistakes are so big that they forever hinder our world and warrant entire chapters in our children’s history books. However, most mistakes have the dubious providence of merely haunting one’s soul and festering amidst the subconscious for always and eternity.
This was, nearly, one of those.
If my adjacency to failure could be measured, the only possible unit of measurement to appropriate it would be “baby condoms”. And no, I do not mean those horrendous papoose-like titty-cribs that the slovenly carriage their spawn around in in Wal-Mart, I mean condoms that a baby would wear.
My adjacency to failure was roughly 1 and a half Kiddie Trojans.
I’m not sure what stopped me, be it cosmic or supernatural, but it gave my brain just enough time to ask itself some rather important questions regarding this little tub treasure. Questions like:
“WHO, THE FUCK, WOULD LEAVE A CHEESY BISCUIT IN MY SHOWER?!”
And inquiries such as:
“AND WHY WERE YOU GOING TO EAT IT, MORON?!”
Seriously, was I so hungry that I would wantonly disobey all the integral conditioning and survival imprinting my parents bestowed upon me like the ever important, “Um, don’t eat that biscuit, you don’t know where it’s been or whose it is and also you found it in the shower.” in order to satisfy something so benign as a munchie?
That, I’m sorry to say, was pretty much my reality.
An early morning introspective psychological evaluation of a sad, hungry, naked man who almost ate a bar of soap.

OMG ITS BACK

This shit needs to be published.

This is going in the monologue section and I’m not even sorry.

fuckyeahthespianpeacock:

saltheria:

yeffyaboyuice:

mythchief:

So there I was, ready to take a shower. I mean, I was dirty, a little greasy, a shower was not such a horrible idea. People take showers, amiright? Of course!

I get naked.

FULL naked.

REAL naked.

I’m talking the exact opposite reason why you ever went to your grandmother’s house.

No cookies. Blatant nudity.

That’s how folks take showers these days, right? Well, I pull back the curtain…

And there it was.

This…thing…sitting on the little soap/shower/pube shelf. Not a care in the world, like it’s been there for years. “What the fuck is that?” I think to myself.

Now, what follows is the exact pattern of thought that took me from rational human being to Sloth in 3.4 seconds.

“Is that a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit? Holy fuck that’s a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit. OMG why would someone leave that unattended. Those things are so delicious. I’m gonna eat the fuck out of it. Man, I can’t wait to see whoever left it’s face when they come back to find that someone ate their cheesy biscuit’s fuck. Ohhh boy.”

Then my brain sent a message to my arm that said, “Reach for that cheesy biscuit, bitch. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!?”

As you must already know, we are all contractually bound to make a dickload of mistakes throughout our lifetime. Some of those mistakes are so big that they forever hinder our world and warrant entire chapters in our children’s history books. However, most mistakes have the dubious providence of merely haunting one’s soul and festering amidst the subconscious for always and eternity.

This was, nearly, one of those.

If my adjacency to failure could be measured, the only possible unit of measurement to appropriate it would be “baby condoms”. And no, I do not mean those horrendous papoose-like titty-cribs that the slovenly carriage their spawn around in in Wal-Mart, I mean condoms that a baby would wear.

My adjacency to failure was roughly 1 and a half Kiddie Trojans.

I’m not sure what stopped me, be it cosmic or supernatural, but it gave my brain just enough time to ask itself some rather important questions regarding this little tub treasure. Questions like:

“WHO, THE FUCK, WOULD LEAVE A CHEESY BISCUIT IN MY SHOWER?!”

And inquiries such as:

“AND WHY WERE YOU GOING TO EAT IT, MORON?!”

Seriously, was I so hungry that I would wantonly disobey all the integral conditioning and survival imprinting my parents bestowed upon me like the ever important, “Um, don’t eat that biscuit, you don’t know where it’s been or whose it is and also you found it in the shower.” in order to satisfy something so benign as a munchie?

That, I’m sorry to say, was pretty much my reality.

An early morning introspective psychological evaluation of a sad, hungry, naked man who almost ate a bar of soap.

OMG ITS BACK

This shit needs to be published.

This is going in the monologue section and I’m not even sorry.

wickedclothes:

HALLOWEEN SALE: The biggest discount ever at Wicked Clothes!

As a small business, we’re so grateful for the support of each and every one of you. Every single purchase is appreciated. Thank you.

Just because you’re so wonderful, use coupon code ‘HALLOWEEN’ to get 30% OFF your entire order! It doesn’t stack with any other coupons or free shipping, but it is the largest discount we’ve ever offered. 

Hurry and order now!