"I'm still kicking" is such a funny way to say "I'm still alive". Like lol. I'm still thrashing. Flailing. Writhing even. The violence remains.
i don't do bad sauce passes
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

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taylor price
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art blog(derogatory)

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@falderaletcetera
"I'm still kicking" is such a funny way to say "I'm still alive". Like lol. I'm still thrashing. Flailing. Writhing even. The violence remains.

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tom nook is NOT a landlord!!! he is a construction worker! he SELLS you a WHOLE HOUSE! He is not CHARGING YOU however many bells a month to live there! You PURCHASE a HOME that he BUILDS FOR YOU and then you PAY HIM FOR HIS SERVICE. He charges no interest he sets no time limit it is a relationship built on trust. the only penalty you get for not paying off your home is that he won't build more home until you pay him for the first one. A guy that builds you a house wherever you want him to and then charges you for the cost of construction is not a landlord you own the fucking home
He is, however, in the mafia
i just need to hold on until the trees start blooming again
im curious about a specific generational divide
regardless of you being queer or not, did your parents ever gave you the "if you turn out to be gay it would be fine" talk, before you ever had the chance to say anything on your own about that?
gen z, yes
gen z, no
millenial, yes
millenial, no
gen x, yes
gen X, no
baby boomer, yes
baby boomer, no
because it happened to me and im wondering if this was a product of the ongoing cultural change around gay issues. before i ever had the chance to say to my parents "i am this" my mom was already sitting me aside to tell me "if there is anything you want to tell me, i want you to know ill accept you no matter what"
What can be done? Say who you are, really say it in your life and in your work. Tell someone out there who is lost, someone not yet born, someone who won’t be born for 500 years. Your writing will be a record of your time, it can’t help but be. But more importantly if you’re honest about who you are you’ll help that person be less lonely in their world because that person will recognise him or herself in you and that will give them hope. It’s done so for me, and I have to keep rediscovering it, its profound importance in my life. Give that to the world, rather than selling something to the world, don’t allow yourself to be tricked into thinking that the way things are is the way the world must work and that in the end selling is what everyone must do. Try not to.
“This is from ee cummings: ‘to be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best night and day to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight, and never stop fighting’. The world needs you, it doesn’t need you at a party having read a book about how to appear smart at parties – these books exist, and they’re tempting – but resist falling into that trap, the world needs you at the party starting real conversations, saying ‘I don’t know,’

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words we ought to say more often:
apocryphal
anatine
wherewithal
grotto
umstroke
posthaste
superlative
beastmode
fuck OFF. WHO ASKED FOR THY OPINION
crepuscular
peripatetic
apropos
effervescent
taciturn
Yutaka Murakami's "Foreign Books and a Kitten"
村上ゆたか「洋書と子猫」
I don't see what the-- oh gosh
certified door post
murderbot i love you

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Glimmerati, Claudia Keep
peace and love on Earth..
I see your “Rocky swears like a sailor but only in pitches humans can’t hear/refuses to teach Grace what those words mean” and raise you “Rocky swears like a sailor and now has to explain to Grace that ‘bad bad bad’ isn’t actually a sequence you play on your Eridian speech piano in polite company.”
Grace is both horrified and amused to realise that a more accurate translation for what Rocky’s been saying is “shit shit shit”.
Eridian government representative: Greetings Rocky, Saviour of Erid, and Grace, Saviour from Beyond the Stars. We are pleased to welcome you home.
Grace, haltingly on the keyboard Rocky built for him: Wassup bitches. Fucking jazzed to—
Rocky: GRACE STOP TALKING NOW NOW NOW I EXPLAIN LATER
Grace: "Huh? Rocky, are you switching languages on me? I don't know any of those words! Please, I'm trying to make a good impression on your people!"
Rocky, in dawning horror, realizes he can either 1) continue speaking polite, non-swearing Eridian and have Grace not understand his warnings or 2) he can repeat his instruction in the language Grace will understand, and every Eridian in earshot will understand exactly where the alien learned his potty mouth.
I think one of the gentlest things in the world is when a friend just gets your weird little brain. like you say half a sentence and they finish it. you reference something incredibly niche from seven years ago and they’re already nodding. they understand your strange vocabulary for emotions that don’t have real words yet. it’s being seen and known and still loved. maybe especially because you’re known. god. what a gift.
Please witness this absolutely insane video of Cindy Bruna trying to get out of a car in a Giambattista Valli dress at Cannes
There somehow just keeps being More Dress

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I've been meaning to make a post talking about my stroke because y'all got bits and pieces of the recovery but I never actually told the story of HOW it went down and the thing is the type of stroke I had is usually the type young people have and since having mine i've now heard multiple stories of people under 40 having very similar strokes and the scary thing is, is that they didn't get help right away. Because you're young and healthy and sure you feel weird but it'll pass right? but it doesn't, and it gets worse, and by the time you get to the hospital (some people literally take days to go) the deficits are worse and recovery is harder.
so here's a super long post about strokes in general, and mine in particular/what I went through.
Some of you might remember me talking about this when it happened- please read and be aware that strokes can happen at any age!
Recently managed to activate the most amazing infodump trap card.
I was driving through Vermont with a friend, and we pulled over at a tiny shop offering Maple Items. We were on the state highway, not the interstate, so "pulling over" meant "squeezing my tiny car into a parking bay the size of a broad highway shoulder."
As we got out of the car, an older woman emerged from behind the building where she had been pruning her roses. She introduced herself as Tammy.
Her shop offered the promised variety of Maple, but also a number of small antiques and a plethora of dog figurines, plaques, and clearly-hand-stitched garden flags.
A huge purple ribbon hung on the wall behind the register, along with many pictures of small dogs. This was no county fair ribbon. It was the size of my torso. The material had the soft sheen of actual silk.
As I placed my purchases on the counter, I asked, "Do you... Breed dogs?"
Yes. She does. She has bred Yorkies for the last 40 years. Her mother bred Yorkies before her. The purple ribbon was from her national championship winning Yorkie.
You may be expecting that the infodump was going to be about Yorkies.
It was not.
It was about 40 years of drama in the Yorkie breeding community. Where – you must understand – the judging at shows is often about who you're in with, not about the dogs. This is especially true when Tammy's opponents win anything.
And Tammy's mother! Well. Phyllis has been on the Yorkie scene since Yorkies were invented. Because of this, many women of equally venerable age hold deep grudges against Phyllis. The sort of grudges that result in episodes of Midsommar Murders.
This led to deep injustices against Phyllis on the part of judges and prevented her dogs from winning so often she retired from the scene. Judging is all about who you're friends with, after all.
After 20 years in hiding, Phyllis – the One True Queen of Yorkie Breeding – hatched a plot. She may have been out of the show circuit, but she was still breeding dogs. She entered an absolutely perfect bitch in the national competition, but sent her with a handler rather than go in person.
None of the usurpers knew who this dog belonged to, and in dog-breeding circles this Does Not Happen. This could have resulted in further injustices, but Phyllis was crafty. She knew this tournament was being judged by a man from the UK, who knew naught of the drama in the US Yorkie Empire.
With these advantages – and being the best dog there – Phyllis's bitch won the highest honor at the show.
Incensed by this insult to their ill-gotten supremacy, the other owners descended on the handler after the show, demanding to know for whom he was working.
"Phyllis," said he.
The name of the overthrown queen evoked horror in the usurpers.
"PHYLLIS!? She's still ALIVE!???"
Yes, Phyllis yet lived, and this bitch – the dog, not the woman – went on to mother Tammy's current dogs. One of whom, Lucy-Fur, is the reincarnation of Tammy's sister (also Lucy). This is certain for two reasons.
Firstly, Sister Lucy absolutely went straight to Hell upon her death, and Lucy-Fur the dog is positively as evil as Sister Lucy was.
Secondly, Sister Lucy always said when she died she wanted to come back as one of Phyllis's dogs because "mom treated the dogs better than us."