Existing isn't a crime!

men just love to run their fucking mouth about what women do or do not want without even once considering consulting any actual women on the matter

He’s eating it.

I can tell because the bags are nearly empty except for a few small clumps.

We had him tested and in the course of that vet visit he stole

6 tips

3 of the ear light cover things

Our other cats collar

the ear bud of the vets stethoscope 

several hearts

a plastic glove

the vet techs hair tie

This is his ledge

His ledge is taller then my husband who is 6’2”

I am 5’5”

My nephew is very allergic to eggs, peanuts, tree nuts, and sesame. Last year my sister discovered all hot dogs and hamburger buns now contain sesame. Not "may contain", but listed in the ingredients. This year basically every brand of sliced bread also now contains sesame, making it very difficult to find bread items he can eat.

They're just adding it to their products, so they can just list it as an ingredient and not bother with worrying about cross contamination. And they aren't even bothering with telling anyone. Capitalism is going to kill us all.

"Which brings us back to Kellogg’s. Back in 2016, the company found a way around the added burden and expense of complying with the FSMA: they simply began adding trace amounts of peanut flour to their cracker products. Doing so allowed them to list peanuts as an ingredient of the product, freeing them from having to prevent cross-contact.

And then I went to the USAmerican Midwest

Rains frequently, but the worst is like standing under a bathroom shower. Genuinely inhospitable rainstorms are uncommon.

Along the coast, it's pretty easy in most areas to walk to at least one store, or else there's usually a bus or shuttle available. There are sidewalks and bike lanes everywhere.

It's a temperate boreal rainforest, so while there are many freshwater lakes and rivers, they're usually pretty cold. The biggest danger is typically getting caught in a strong current, and the most dangerous animals in swimming distance are on land.

Earthquakes happen almost every day, but the vast majority go unnoticed. Buildings are designed to withstand bigger seismic activity, so unless it's a 5 or higher it just kind of feels like having low blood sugar for a second. There are no tornados

Rural Illinois, USA:

One minute it's sunny, then ten minutes later that distant smudge on the horizon has swallowed the entire sky in black clouds and the water is coming down like waterfall and you literally CANNOT SEE. Then there's a crash like cymbals and you need to get indoors because the thunder and lightening are on TOP of you

No sidewalks until you are in the smack dab center of town, which is a three hour walk or twenty minute drive from wherever you are.

There aren't many natural bodies of water other than small ponds and creeks, and because the environment is so much warmer, those are filled with snapping turtles that can grow bigger than a nine year old child and water snakes that are incredibly venomous. These are paired with leeches and mosquitos for that sweet umami flavor.

You would've just moved into a new small town. You had managed to start up a convenience store and were working your way up in the world already (at least, that’s what they knew). You had ended up meeting a lovely older woman. You two hit it off immediately. She gets your sense of humour perfectly and is able to throw more than a few jokes back at you, something you admire. It's obviously not love but it's a start.

And then you learned she's got an ex-husband, with kids to boot. You weren't intimidated, (you ran a whole store, you had the responsibility) you would make her days better and keep the fridge stocked (at least mostly, if not for your favourites) and you two could stay up all night joking and laughing and maybe getting a bit too drunk but it'll end up all right. You'd have already met her youngest and while they were never your biggest fan, you could understand the reasoning. (you didn't exactly know things would get more serious between you and their mom when you made that poorly timed mom-lover joke) Either way, you'd keep things light, maybe try to help out the kid on their third-wheeling trip during the festival, but mostly just let their mom handle the interactions.

Either way, this woman made you really happy. You're pretty sure you made her happy too. There's a chance you had promised her a lot. Promised that town a lot. Maybe you were thinking of introducing her to your brother. Maybe you already had. Maybe things were going your way for once. `

And then something happens.

You're somewhere completely different. There's a ceiling above you no matter where you walk, with stuffy air and cold and snow when you were just enjoying autumn, and everyone is familiar, but they aren't, but they are. You just wanna go home.

Your home stays the same. At least you think. You hope. Your brother is the same. Or maybe he's different. You love him all the same, but it feels different. Is it? Still, he's your brother. You just wanna go back and run the store, having to work be damned.

Your store's still run by the previous guy. He's not putting it up for sale anytime soon, and you'd never make him. At least he has a damn fine ketchup though, and it's the closest thing to the food you used to love. So you go there everyday. Maybe if you close your eyes at the counter, you could imagine you're back there. In fact, that's what you model your work station after too. Might as well. You just want to see her again.

The cherry on top is that she's gone. Sure, you only knew each other a couple days but she made you happy, and maybe it'd be a comfort. You don't know. All you know is that everything's gone. The only thing you have to remember anything by is a poorly drawn scribble of three kids, one of them hers. The human. You remember that much. Them or not, her children here are dead. Not that hard to find out, considering she was royalty here. You wonder what they'd have been like if you knew them more. It still hurts. There's days where you just stand in that lab, staring at the words right below like you could etch them onto your eyelids. A permanent reminder.

Still, life goes on. You have a new job, new town, (new brother?), new...

You take solace in one of your old hobbies, knock knock jokes, after finding a large door in the forest. It becomes a habit again. Reminiscing on one of the best nights of your life before it all went downhill. It's comforting. You can't forget this way.

Then you hear her voice.

It's her in the same way your brother is your brother. But it's her voice and her laugh and her same jokes. She sounds older. Wearier. It's fine, you do too. For the first time in a long time, things feel right again.

But it's not her. She's still a replacement for the person you knew. But somehow, you feel like you're replacing something too. You kind of need her and she kind of needs you but you can't need her and it's all so complicated so why not tell just tell jokes through a door, thinking about the rain and knowing it's snowing.

Hanahaki, but it's someone whose friends have started ghosting them.

Hanahaki, someone's wife is cheating on them.

Like I said, the museum was a pretty snotty institution. It’s got a LOT of objects it’s way famous for possessing, but nobody knew about the absolutely massive collection of Moche erotic pottery it had because the curators were totally embarrassed by this stuff.

Some examples:

Pretty hot shit, right? They never, ever put any of this stuff on public view or published it in any catalogues but - we legit had like several hundred pieces of Moche ceramics in the “dirty pots” category. Anyway, I was left alone to just do my job with regard to the database for several years, ok? And I figured, well, these’re accessioned objects in the museum’s collection - better get down to bidness. 

I catalogued every goddamn bestiality, necrophiliac, cocksucking, buttfucking, detached penis, and giant vulva drinking cup in that collection. I’d be like, 

A drinking vessel in form of a standing man wearing a tunic and cap. He holds an oversized erection in his hands and stares into the distance (note I did not say “like he’s hella-constipated”). The vessel has a hole at both the tip of the penis as well as around the rim of the figure’s head, thus forcing the drinker to drink only from the penis or risk spilling wine all over themselves from the top of the vessel. Red and orange slip covers the surface of the piece.

Pretty straightforward, right? Apparently the deep seated fear of these objects that the curators exhibited was meant to spread to me as well, but - no one ever gave me that memo, because I guess Midwesterners reproduce asexually. When the curators understood that I had catalogued all of these objects in addition to the other, non-sexy pieces in the collection, they were apparently livid, but knew they had no legs to stand on in terms of getting pissed at me for it. 

I visited the museum’s online public access database a few years back and - every single description I wrote of these pieces has been totally neutered to say something like Male figural vase. 

Tenna art by @9Aaaalt29 on twt

i can recognize white people as a whole have systemically oppressed POC in america, which is where i live 

most people when they make white people jokes only mean the shitty white people and i am not a shitty white person