buy me a boa and drive me to reno

Mind of a sixteen-year-old trapped in a body of a thirty-something, with the difference that at sixteen I imagined knowing what life was about. I post things that make me laugh or cry or nod my head in agreement. You know. Cats. Feminism. The occasional Martin Freeman.
I’ve always wanted not to give a fuck. While crying helplessly into my pillow for no good reason, I would often fantasize that maybe someday I could be one of those stoic badasses whose emotions are mostly comprised of rock music and not being afraid of things.
Allie Brosh, Hyperbole and a Half (via quoted-books)

(via naturalshocks)

My response to the ‘I am not a feminist’ internet phenomenon….

First of all, it’s clear you don’t know what feminism is. But I’m not going to explain it to you. You can google it. To quote an old friend, “I’m not the feminist babysitter.”

But here is what I think you should know.

You’re insulting every woman who was forcibly restrained in a jail cell with a feeding tube down her throat for your right to vote, less than 100 years ago.

You’re degrading every woman who has accessed a rape crisis center, which wouldn’t exist without the feminist movement.

You’re undermining every woman who fought to make marital rape a crime (it was legal until 1993).

You’re spitting on the legacy of every woman who fought for women to be allowed to own property (1848). For the abolition of slavery and the rise of the labor union. For the right to divorce. For women to be allowed to have access to birth control (Comstock laws). For middle and upper class women to be allowed to work outside the home (poor women have always worked outside the home). To make domestic violence a crime in the US (it is very much legal in many parts of the world). To make workplace sexual harassment a crime.

In short, you know not what you speak of. You reap the rewards of these women’s sacrifices every day of your life. When you grin with your cutsey sign about how you’re not a feminist, you ignorantly spit on the sacred struggle of the past 200 years. You bite the hand that has fed you freedom, safety, and a voice.

In short, kiss my ass, you ignorant little jerks.

Libby Anne (via dillondean)

(via madlori)

glowcloud:

i love the Women Against Feminism that are like “I dont need feminism because i can admit i need my husband to open a jar for me and thats ok!” cause listen 1. get a towel 2. get the towel damp 3. put it on the lid and twist. BAM now men are completely useless. you, too, can open a jar. time to get a divorce

(via geardrops)

silent-fun:

LOOK HOW CUTE HE IS

silent-fun:

LOOK HOW CUTE HE IS

larrycoincidences:

whenever i get low on money i start thinking really irrationally like what if i hadn’t spent that $10 back in 2004 

edgebug:

instead of watching the 50 Shades trailer, why not just make awkward eye contact with a total stranger at the grocery store for a solid 2 minutes and 34 seconds? you get the same skin-crawling, uncomfortable feeling but without the shitty writing, terrible acting and massive dose of rape culture

gryffinpoor:

dudemanbropants:

gryffinpoor:

thepreciousthing:

the-ordinary-nerd:

ask-or-rp-with-will-petrisous:

squad16:

finalellipsis:

bestnatesmithever:

What if it bites me and it dies?

that means you’re poisonous. jesus christ, nate, learn to read.

What if it bites itself and I die?

It’s voodoo.

What if it bites me and someone else dies?

That’s correlation, not causation.

what if we bite each other and neither of us die

that’s kinky

oh my god

(via geardrops)

moniquill:

Kitten: I shall groom you, friend dog!
Kitten: I have made a tactical error.

moniquill:

Kitten: I shall groom you, friend dog!

Kitten: I have made a tactical error.

(via littlemisshamish)

mattmcguigan:

how to make friends