How can you NOT find this cool?
This look never means anything good is going to happen.
When you suck at something you’re supposed to be good at
My kitten printer is running low on toner. [x]
Having friends on tumblr is really great. I often refer to you guys in real life as “my friend from england/autrallia/california/new york” and it makes people think I’m very well traveled when really I’ve just spent a lot of time on the Internet.
Versatile • adj. Capable of doing many things competently.
excuse me but you’re missing the best one
I HAVE NEVER REBLOGGED SOMETHING SO FAST IN MY ENTIRE LIFE
I am surprised by how much sex I have had in my life that I didn’t want to have. Not exactly what’s considered “real” rape, or “date” rape, although it is a kind of rape of the spirit - a dishonest portrayal or distortion of my own desire in order to appease another person.
I said yes because I felt it was too much trouble to say no. I said yes because I didn’t want to have to defend my “no,” qualify it, justify it - deserve it. I said yes because I thought I was so ugly and fat that I should just take sex every time it was offered, because who knew when it would be offered again. I said yes to partners I never wanted in the first place, because to say no at any point after saying yes for so long would make our entire relationship a lie, so I had to keep saying yes in order to keep the “no” I felt a secret. That is such a messed-up way to live, such an awful way to love.
So these days, I say yes only when I mean yes. It does require some vigilance on my part to make sure I don’t just go on sexual automatic pilot and let people do whatever. It forces me to be really honest with myself and others. It makes me remember that loving myself is also about protecting myself and defending my own borders. I say yes to me.
Margaret Cho, “Yes Means Yes” (via thewastedgeneration)
This is the best.
Kitty no understand why I just sit there on the front steps and don’t come in to feed her. I keep asking her to open the door for me because I’ve lost my keys, but she doesn’t understand English or have opposable thumbs.
The hardest part about writing a memoir is that the events I am writing about happened like over a decade ago and I was also on a great deal of drugs at the time, so it’s really bloody hard to remember what the sweet hell happened correctly. I mean, I’ve got a terrible memory at the best of times….