i'm armed and i'm equal more fun for the people

WARNING: UGLY BABY ALERT teach me something, and i will love you forever. ~They/Them/Theirs~


"Back" by C.K. Williams

First I did my thing, that’s to say her thing, to her, for her,
then she did her thing, I mean my thing, to me, for me,
then we did our thing together, then again, the other way though,
then once more that way again,
then we were done, and we were at dinner,
though I desperately missed the other things now,
and said so:
"Don’t you know I can’t enjoy anything else now?"
and, still love-tipsy, love-stunned,
"Ever," I said: "I’ll never enjoy anything else, ever again."

Except I also meant this,
I mean this being together thinking of that,
or not even her thinking—who knows what she’s thinking—
I mean me thinking of that, of her, thinking and thinking,
but now that I’ve told her , told you, are we then,
back to, again, that?
Yes, and thank goodness I’m back there, we’re back there,
I missed you out here by myself, even thinking of that,
which is why I had to do all this thinking
to take us even in such a partial way back.


"The Pony Problem" (from I Was Told There’d Be Cake) by Sloane Crosley

     As most New Yorkers have done, I have given serious and generous thought to the state of my apartment should I get killed during the day. Say someone pushes me onto the subway tracks. Or I get accidentally blown up. Or a woman with a headset and a baby carriage wheels over my big toe, backing me into some scaffolding, which shakes loose a lead pipe, which lands on my skull. What then? After the ambulance, the hospital, the funeral, the trays of cheese cubes on foil toothpicks…

     Back in the apartment I never should have left, the bed has gone unmade and the dishes unwashed. The day I get shot in a bodega (buying cigarettes, naturally) will in all likelihood be the day before laundry Sunday and the day after I decided to clean out my closet, got bored halfway through, and opted to watch sitcoms in my prom dress instead. I have pictured my loved ones coming to my apartment to collect my things and I have hoped that it would only be “lived-in” messy—bras drying on the shower curtain rod, muddy sneakers by the door. But that is never going to happen. My dust balls alone have a manifest destiny that drives them far beyond the ruffle of the same name.

     I like to think that these hypothetical loved ones would persist in their devotion to dead me no matter what. They would literally be blinded by grief, too upset putting sweaters in boxes to notice that I hadn’t dry-cleaned them in a year. That is, until one of them made his or her way to the kitchen.

     ”Where are you going?” my father would ask.

     ”Packing up her bedroom’s much too painful,” my mother would tell him, choking back tears. “I’m going to start on the kitchen.”

     This is the part I dread. This is the part where my mother would open the drawer beneath my sink only to discover my stash of plastic toy ponies. There are about seven of them in there. Correction: one’s a Pegasus, blue with ice skates. The rest vary in size, texture, and realism. Some are covered in brown felt, some have rhinestone eyes. Some come with their own grooming brushes; others with the price sticker still on their haunches. If they arrived in plastic and cardboard packaging, they remain unopened as if they will appreciate like Star Wars figurines. Perhaps they are not the dirtiest of dirty secrets, but they’re about as high as one can get on the oddity scale without a ringer like toenail clippings.

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#youre a better woman than me riri

(Source: asvpfentz)





what?? piE ? i gotta see this


ohhhh it says “piece” not “pie”

wait a second…


omfg no




my anaconda dont

(Source: lizardmanlizardmanlizardman, via supersagan)

“When I started making those weird voices, a lot of people told me how whack it was,” she says, “‘What the fuck are you doing?’ they’d say. ‘Why do you sound like that? That doesn’t sound sexy to me.’ And then I started saying, Oh, that’s not sexy to you? Good. I’m going to do it more. Maybe I don’t want to be sexy for you today.


Nicki Minaj  (via dirrtyfilthynasty)

Excerpt from Nicki Minaj: Conquering Hip Hop

(Source: youwantsum, via misandry-and-maskharah)


Don’t want nudes leaked? Don’t take nudes. Don’t want to be robbed? Stop owning things. Wanna avoid being killed? Buddy, quit living already!

(via susiethemoderator)


this is your daily reminder to not forget about ferguson. Keep it going!

(via dasfreefree)

i looked at an old blog and made myself really sad

maybe i should never do that again

“Why do white people own so many pets?
Because we’re not allowed to own people anymore.
What is the scariest thing about a white person in prison?
You know he did it.
how many Chicago cops does it take to change a light bulb? None, they just beat the room for being black.”
A good looking 50 year old white man is trying to get laid on reality TV. What show are you watching?
To catch a predator.
Why do white girls travel in groups of three or five?
They can’t even
What do you call 64 white people in a room? A full blooded Cherokee.”


from various reddit threads

at dinner last night, a coworker was talking about hanging out with his white friends and getting fed up with the racist jokes, and asked them to tell a white people joke.  nobody had any, so he googled and found these. after a few of them, people were a lot less comfortable.

white folks, next time you hear a racist joke, maybe lead with one of these in response.  tag this “I’m white” when you reblog it, if you are.

(via cuterpillar)

(Source: transascendant, via susiethemoderator)


i’m like an npc i won’t do anything unless you interact with me

(via dasfreefree)

Makoto Tachibana → requested by yamazakisoussuke

(via dasfreefree)





I’m so excited because I found out today that this little guy exists

He’s a Western Blind Snake and he looks like a very shiny earthworm


There are three species here. The first two photos are, as far as I can tell, quite rightly identified as the western blind snake, Leptotyphlops humilis. The third photo is of Rhinotyphlops lalandei, Delalande’s Beaked Blind Snake. Note the differences in the scales and the presence of a scale between the ocular and nasal scale in this species, compared to the nasal scale being in contact with the ocular scale in the first two photos. The last snake is also a different species - the photo was taken in Western Australia. L. humilis, is endemic to the United States.

I feel obliged, now that this post has returned to my dash, to just say that the genus Leptotyphlops was broken up into a number of genera in 2009, and what was formerly L. humilis was moved to the genus Rena Baird and Girard, 1853, and is therefore now Rena humilis. See Adalsteinsson et al. 2009 Zootaxa 2244:1 for more details. The snake from Australia almost certainly isn’t even a scolecophidian, but is probably a true Typhlopoid.


She pointed out the sexism in video games, so men threatened her until she fled her home

On Monday, Anita Sarkeesian posted a segment titled “Women as Background Decoration.” It examined how gratuitous sexual abuse and violence permeates contemporary video games. By the next day, she had received so many violent threats that she had to flee her home. And these weren’t idle Internet threats — some contained accurate identifying information about Sarkeesian’s home and family, enough for law enforcement to get involved.

But she’s not wrong | Follow @micdotcom

(via susiethemoderator)