Today in a debate I told the entire class the friendzone doesn’t exist and three boys gasped like I told them their parents had died
i was so gonna do a giveaway when i hit 500 followers but i forgot so i guess ur just gonna settle for 666 (;
first place gets 2 things from any internet store, as long as the total is less than or equal to $65 :D
second place gets 1 thing from any internet store, with the maximum price being $35 (:
and i really dont have any rules except you gotta follow me :D
i dont rly have a limit either, u can like/reblog as many times as u want (:
this ends friday may 23rd 2014 (my dad’s bday holla holla)
don’t trust people who get angry at the thought of their money being used to feed people and keep them healthy
don’t trust people who care more about money than people
A lot covered in one book….
where have you been, jack douglas
what kind of things have you seen
i want to meet my favorite celebrity and then fight a mountain troll with them because then we’d have to be friends because there are some experiences you can’t share with someone without ending up friends and knocking out a mountain troll is one of them
Jacobs by Marc Jacobs for Marc by Marc Jacobs in collaboration with Marc Jacobs for Marc by Marc Jacobs
they call us boys and girls.
And there’s no wiggle room in titles like that.
And maybe it feels a little suffocating,
and maybe it feels right.
But I grew up, found my curves and my voice—
hair in the places we’re not allowed to talk about.
And all I hear about are, even now, all these men
Like while they were busy growing up,
I got stuck in this prepubescent wet dream,
where boys with hungry hands run fingers
down my hairless thighs
and leave humid breaths at the seam of my neck.
I noticed men have this way
of using infantile language like love poems.
You’re his “girl”—
You’re always gonna be his “girl”
He rattles it off like the sweetest kind of promise,
and dresses you up in your best doll clothes,
and this is what you’ve got.
This is what you’re given.
Ladies! How many of your fathers ever told you
you would always be Daddy’s Little Girl,
even after you were paying your own mortgage?
And exactly how many eight year old boys
have watched fathers go off to work,
go off to war,
to get told they’re man of the house, now.
Even though they’ve got two older sisters,
with high school diplomas,
even though they’ve got a mother
with hands made of the same kind of marble
they build monuments out of—
That little boy, can’t even reach over the counter,
that little boy, he’s a man, now.
I don’t know how many years I’m expected
to stave off the rougher parts of womanhood.
I gotta buff out my wrinkles,
I gotta paint on my face.
They don’t get to see all of the things that make me.
See, I’ve got these beautiful stretch marks
that break like creamy tributaries
over my thighs.
So I wanna know, what makes me girl
and what makes me woman?
And how come I’m not the one
who gets to decide?
Mary Bowser, former slave of the Van Lew family, infiltrated the Confederacy by working as a servant in the household of Jefferson Davis. Bowser was assumed to be illiterate, and as a black woman was below suspicion. Practically invisible, she was able to listen to conversations between Confederate officials and read sensitive documents, gathering information that she handed over to the Union.
This needs to be a movie. Like, now.
I’d watch this movie.
How is this not a movie?
*throws money at Hollywood*