soldier's Butt

“and this, is what I use to protect trans women”

“How am I gonna stop some big mean transphobe from disrespecting both dysphoric and non-dysphoric trans people? The answer…”

booty shorts that say “baguette” across the back end of ‘em because he got class

Hmm…. 3 week, yes.

We all have 3 weeks to live.

WOOOOO!

WOO-O!

Woo…

It’s been alive for a while but Haunted House season started so I was swamped with work

ASK THINGS

REQUEST THINGS

Hot cocoa in a Styrofoam cup but there’s not enough room in the cup for a full packet of hot cocoa so it’s either too strong or too weak

A piano that hasn’t been played since the 1980s

A room that’s always closed and has adults talking behind it but you’re not quite sure who they are or if they ever leave

Donuts that you’re not allowed to eat

Scented markers and multicolored craft sticks in an old basket

Veggie tales on VHS and two rolling tvs on ancient tv stands

A room behind another room that has christmas decorations in it

This table:

that one bitch who’s always always wearing tights and a dress even though the basement never gets above like 55 degrees 

Dusty ass bibles and one lone dusty ass hymnal

Old programs for concerts, baptisms, events, and VBS printed with black ink on colored 8.5″x11″ paper folded in half 

Little acrylic bead craft projects in the shapes of lizards or cats that some girl made at church camp and forgot to take home 

Glitter but not in the joyful gay way

I’m sorry?

That’s a challenge.

Oreos aquired.

I’m going to hide them in a super simple place at first

And find a new hiding spot

Hehehe

Now to hide them right under her nose

Aaaaand put them where she would never find them in a million years

:)

You get some cookies! You get some cookies! Everyone gets cookies!

Then a devious idea struck me…

I put the remaining Oreos in a baggie to hide by themselves. Now to “hide” the package where it will probably be found…

And pin the actual stash to the inside of the closet wall

Look at that. So sad. So few Oreos left

Guess I’ll just pin em right to the middle of the wall in the middle of the living room. She’ll never find em there

Oh, guess I should put this back up

Bwa ha ha ha! You guys! You guys don’t understand! I was planning on doing this and when I got home and looked at it I was like “aww, it’s too thin. They won’t fit.” I even TOLD my wife this and how I was disappointed that I wouldn’t be able to hide them back there.

But then I looked again. They dooooo

Thank you all so much for the love. I knew y'all would like this, but I had no idea you would like it THIS MUCH. People calling us “goals” and stuff… Man…. It’s kinda hard to take in ya know? Anyways: if this post gets Over 9000™ before I get off work today I will pick up Halloween Oreos on my way home and this will not stop

And, as promised, a dopey grin

She is so happy that the Oreo Saga continues. Just look at how happy she is

But she never looked inside the blue chair

Good stuff, but it’s time for some cookies

Gotta have some while I think about where these guys are going next

Hmmmmm

Got it.

Wife and I were sewing Elly’s Halloween costume up

Yea, she is going to be a spider and it’s super cute and all but. But. Loooook

Holy actual shit the Oreos fell out from the table literally next to her.

The moment she got up I threw them into the closet

Also:shout out to whoever it was that lost a follower for this post

no, your friend probably has not noticed they cut you off four times in this conversation. 

no, your brother didn’t realize his music was that loud while you were studying. 

no, your bff or S.O. doesn’t remember that you’re on a tight deadline right now.

no, no one else is paying attention to the four power dynamics at play in your friend group right now.  

a habit of abused kids, especially kids with unstable parents, is the tendency to notice every little detail. We magnify small nuances into major things, largely because small nuances quickly became breaking points for parents. Managing moods, reading the room, perceiving danger in the order of words, the shift of body weight….it’s all a natural outgrowth of trying to manage unstable parents from a young age. 

Here’s the thing: most people don’t do that. I’m not saying everyone else is oblivious, I’m saying the over analysis of minor nuances is a habit of abuse. 

I have a rule: I do not respond to subtext. This includes guilt tripping, silent treatments, passive aggressive behavior, etc. I see it. I notice it. I even sometimes have to analyze it and take a deep breath and CHOOSE not to respond. Because whether it’s really there or just me over-reading things that actually don’t mean anything, the habit of lending credence to the part of me that sees danger in the wrong shift of body weight…that’s toxic for me. And dangerous to my relationships. 

I live in a state where you “have to” report anyone you suspect of being undocumented (that wonderful hellhole of Arizona). Now in practice this law has fallen far short, thank goodness. But if you live in such a place and they start enforcing it, here is how you get around it:

Assume everyone who doesn’t speak English is visiting.

Never ask about their job, because if they tell you they work here then you know they’re not visiting. You see them a lot for several weeks or months? Hm. Someone in the family must be ill. That’s terribly tough. They always dress in old, ratty laborers’ clothes? I feel you, my dude, I can’t afford new clothes either, and my dad has the fashion sense of an aardvark, so sometimes it’s not even about “affording” them. They say they’ve been here for years? You must have misunderstood. Spanish isn’t your first language, after all. First and last name? It never came up, or you don’t recall–you meet a lot of people.

Don’t do more than is expressly asked of you, and do what you are asked with such an intense attention to protocol that not asking you at all becomes more effective than even bothering.

In this case:

“Have you seen an illegal immigrant?”

“Could you describe an illegal immigrant, officer?”

*officer describes a person who is in the country without appropriate paperwork, or who has crossed the border illegally*

“No, sir, I haven’t seen any illegal immigrant.”

“…do you want one of these, mate.”

“WHY ARE YOU OFFERING ME LOLLIPOPS”

“…Pyro said they’re ‘happy food’ now do you fucking want one”

“LOLLIPOPS ARE FOR LITTLE SISSY GIRLIE-”