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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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@jasminethefifth
sometimes, when i want to really treat myself, i turn my phone brightness up juust a little bit. i feel like i’m splurging. like i’m living a king’s life. sometimes i turn it up all the way and i’m like, “this is what god’s phone screen looks like.”
What a legend. (via Kirby Jenner / Imgur)
Manspology
I don’t know what you text to a girlfriend this morning and I sure don’t want to find out through trial and error. Last night, she never came over because an hour into the election, at the sight of the first numbers, she stopped knowing how to interact with the world and couldn’t get out of bed. I share that deeply private fact without fear of embarrassing her, not because embarrassing women was legalized in last night’s referendum, but because she’s numb. If I texted her for permission to share her numbness, I’d get the same response as if I asked her to eat a submarine. “Okay,” she’d reply. “I’m going to try to sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
I had no part in doing this to her, right? My state is blue, we legalized weed and protected Riley Reid’s workplace last night, and between being called an MRA, a douche and a pig by folks that remember me comparing Season 4 of Community to rape, I’m more often these days called an SJW cuck, which I like, because it sounds like someone younger than me. I want to be relevant and woke and lit and Pokémon to the max. Which is why I quietly rooted for Bernie but saw the Democratic primaries as being too sensitive to benefit from my loud mouth, and when Bernie conceded, I quietly switched to the only candidate that wasn’t anti-vaccination, anti-immigration or that Gary guy. I played my part in this whole thing just fine from beginning to end. So I’m off the hook with my shell shocked girlfriend, right?
No, because I played my part begrudgingly. And if I had known these results were possible, I wouldn’t have put an adverb on my playing of it. Except maybe “humbly” or “apologetically” or “extra cuckily” Because, at the risk of riling up anyone that will only see the political aspect of this personal confession: I know this wasn’t about emails.
If you feel it was, nothing bad is going to happen to you if you walk away from this post. I can assure you, I’m not challenging or invalidating the results of an election you see as a win. Fair play and all that. I’m glad we didn’t have a civil war.
But I want to leave a message here to my numb girlfriend that can’t work as tweets or texts or my trademark pillow talk babbling. And I guess there’s a few ex-lovers and coworkers that I hope read this too. Women that have reason not to believe I’m on their side.
The message starts with the obvious, I’m sorry. But what I’ve learned in my cuck SJW workshops is that saying “I’m sorry” isn’t an apology. A full apology is an acknowledgment of the offense, an expression of remorse and a commitment to change.
The remorse, that’s easy. I feel bad she lost and that I assumed she’d win and therefore was a dick about it. I’m all remorse this morning, I’d cut a pinky off if it let my girlfriend face the world today, smiling the way she was the last time I saw her. I don’t know if I’d be capable of actually doing the pinky cutting, I think that’s something a full on Trump guy would be better at, and if it were possible, I would like to be knocked out or at least anesthetized for the removal, because I’m a cuckity cuckimus maximus beta mega cucksuck. But I’d donate the finger and more to make this unhappen. Remorse expressed.
Acknowledgment of the crime is the one that’s going hurt and upset people because it’s confession to a crime that is life long and confusing and that won’t stop just because I confessed it.
I acknowledge that until this election, I have always felt, on some level, that although women weren’t getting a fair shake, it probably “kind of evened out” in other ways. No I can’t tell you what that means in detail because I’ve never actually consciously parsed the thought, and that’s the crime, I’ve just walked around with it. “It’s clearly harder to be a woman in this society,” I’d think, “but it’s probably easier in other ways. And in any case, one thing we know for sure…it’s different.” I do a podcast every week in which I’m constantly running my mouth about race and gender but my goal in doing so, I see now, has always been less to investigate, grow or connect and more to figure out how to make people like me (yes that last 43 years was me trying to make you like me, yes I know how sad and funny that is). I’ve kept one eye on the ever morphing fashion of gender discourse and the other eye on my own survival as a primate and figured I was, underneath it all, a feminist because my thoughts about women were never “they suck” or “they’re dumb” or “I want to hurt them.”
Now I see the crime starts so much earlier in the thought process than that. In figuring out how to survive as a frightened man, I’ve built every thought about people on a foundational assumption that the sexually reproductive dichotomy we inherited from life as old as plants was a more important dichotomy, regardless of context, than any other difference between two humans you could name.
And hey, sometimes that emphasis on sexual dichotomy is fun, or benign, or even progressive feeling, like when two men of two different complexions are so busy bonding about how women be shopping that they’re accidentally something other than racist for a second.
And then last night this thing happened. This thing that we know was not about emails. And not about the tangled roots of semi-documented corruption and not about revoked promises of walls or recanted suspicions about birthplaces, or anything you could name outside of that one thing that has us more divided than all our divisive specialities put together. This thing that has had us all so divided since before this country was a glint in its explorers’ eyes, that last night, with no ways left to express the division subtly, we walked up to the concept of our first lady president, gave it some thought, and walked away having opted for the first President to call Mexicans rapists in the same year he was charged with raping a 13 year old girl.
And I really hope you’re not still reading this if it’s making you want to argue with me. I don’t want to argue. There is no debate here to be had and we can all agree debates have stopped mattering because we also just elected the first President to blame flaming out in a debate on the moderator’s menstruation.
There I go to my comfort zone. Anger, babbling, competition, show everybody what a dramatic underdog hero you are. That’s the part of me represented by this election, that’s the part of me that got our first David Duke endorsed President into an office where he has access to the camera in your laptop and that’s the part of me I want to apologize for, which means to express remorse for, acknowledge the existence of, and finally, most importantly, to commit to changing.
I’m never going to secretly suspect anyone of exaggerating again when they tell me they don’t feel supported, or that they feel attacked. I’m going to take everything people tell me about the challenges facing them at face value and make it my goal to help them get their elusive fair shake however they can. And I’m going to take that part of my thought process that recognizes another human’s gender or race, and rather than nobly ignoring it or hilariously calling it out, I’m going to remove it from the foundation of my thoughts and just put it over to the side, where it’s as significant as someone’s horoscope and says as much about their needs as their height or weight or number of limbs, which is to say, sometimes a lot, sometimes not at all, but never by default. I am going to stop trying to find meaning in chaos by categorizing people, no matter how optimistic or supportive those categories might seem. They’ll never be fair and they’ll never lead to me doing right by anyone.
I’m not going to achieve this new thinking by typing it, I’m going to change it the way my therapist says change works: by behaving and speaking like a person that already lives in that world and letting my neurology gradually adapt. By slowing my thoughts down at the top of judgments and practicing the observation of my own brain in even the most common moments. By disrupting my mental routines even when I don’t perceive them as existing, in every encounter I have with every human being, even while I’m just laying in bed alone, running simulations of others. I’m going to stop expecting things like fairness and respect from the world and start seeing what happens when I become the source of those things. I’m going to stop making it my business to punish and reward others and defending myself. I’m going to try to figure out what the people that enter my life need in the moment of their entrance and make unique real time decisions about my relationship with them. No, I’m not going to be nicer to anyone on Twitter. Twitter is a fucking toilet. Don’t meet people in a toilet if you want to have a healthy encounter. I go there to shit on the planet and make jokes.
And if it takes me until the moment before I randomly die, I’m going to focus on making the space around me an effective advertisement for a decent world. Without expecting the world to buy into it. I don’t control the world. I don’t control other people. I control whether or not I surrender. I control when my walls come down, when the bullshit stops and whatever’s behind the walls joins whoever’s near me.
Whatever this is isn’t going to get better by getting longer. It also stopped behind honest in the last paragraph because my girlfriend came over and is now sitting next to me and I’m not interacting with her because I’m trying to finish this. I don’t know how to finish writing things. And I don’t know what people need or what they’ve been through or what hurts them and when it’s me. Cody, I’m sorry about last night, about the thing with the guy with the hair and the stuff. I acknowledge my role in it, I feel bad about it and I’m going to change the only part of it I can change. I love you. You deserve better.
Everybody reading this deserves better. Maybe this is how we end up getting it.
Or maybe this is how the statue of liberty ends up buried on a beach up to its armpits in Planet of the Apes. I always wondered what the hell could make that happen.
*assumes typical california boi pose where i am sitting on a curb with my feet resting on my longboard, gently rolling it from side to side* *takes a sip of my arizona green tea* *takes off my beanie and runs my hands thru the front of my bleached undercut* so are we getting in and out later
hey anyone want some Vegan Nut Mylk
this is literally a bottle of shitpost put it back
what, so you can have all the Vegan Nut Mylk for yourself?
Fafther may I go to Whýöle Fjüds?
gaymilesedgeworth:
gaymilesedgeworth:
sometimes i think about the fact that Dreamworks was working on the Prince of Egypt and Shrek at the same time and would apparently send people to work on Shrek instead of the Prince of Egypt as a form of punishment
the night i posted this i couldn’t find a source and i’ve been wondering ever since if maybe it was just some kind of fucked up fever dream or something. but no, it’s real:
Being in a mid-2000s High School Health class and they show you this on DVD
Didn’t that turn out to be a load of bullshit that no-one can replicate the results of to this day?
Yep! His results were faked, and the entire film was basically anti-McDonald’s scaremongering, “poor people are stupid” and “fat people don’t get any sex”. It’s also thanks to this asshat that McDonald’s can’t advertise fuckin’ Happy Meals anymore and had to get rid of all their characters and their super size option, particularly because he claimed without evidence that they have a kid-fattening agenda, don’t list their nutritional info anywhere and have a mission statement from their CEO to make people sick and unhealthy from eating there for every single meal. On top of this, he actually tried to claim in a bonus experiment that McDonald’s fries aren’t actually fries because they don’t rot when left in an airtight container for a long time but all the burgers do–which is thanks to the oil and salt they’re loaded with, not some big conspiracy where the fries, which are processed and supplied by McCain in Canada, aren’t actually goddamn chopped potatoes–and equated the containers to a human stomach. Yes, cause the human stomach is an airtight container that food sits in for months, right? Spurlock, did veganism turn your brain completely off or something? Hell, the fucker even tried to claim credit for McDonald’s having salads, falsely stating at one point they didn’t have any before he “exposed” their EVIL PLANS.
Yeah, that’s another thing to remember, he’s apparently a vegan. He didn’t let anyone know he’s one, of course, he only mentioned his girlfriend is one, because it would’ve made his vomiting after a single McDonald’s meal, something literally no one else on the planet has done, seem less ZOMG SCARY.
Want a good film of this nature? Try Tom Naughton’s Fat Head instead, a film where a guy actively proves Spurlock wrong by actually losing weight while eating nothing but fast food for a month. He accomplishes this by NOT fucking gorging himself on the unhealthiest food choices, eating more meals than he claims or cutting out his usual physical activity. While he’s at it, he also exposes exactly why Spurlock is a total fraud. In the process, he gets actual doctors and nutrition experts to help him explain why everything you know about healthy eating is probably wrong or half-true, inform us about good and bad cholesterol, expose the real reasons behind the so-called “obesity epidemic” and point out why fat =/= unhealthy by default. Yeah, Naughton encourages viewers to try the paleo diet in the end, but at least it comes off more as a suggestion and doesn’t demonize anyone in the process.
Wow, everything I know is now a lie.
He Must Be Cleansed
There was no context to this.
it’s literally 2016 why did i just come across a buzzfeed video about snacks that “only 90s kids will recognize” like….. i watched the video and one of the snacks was literally a can of coke….. they poured a can of coke into a glass…
But did you recognize it?
i……….. did…………
okay but you thinking it tastes good doesn’t excuse how fucked up the milk industry is or make it okay to support lmao y’all selfish
Is this the last meme of 2016? Paul blart style clapbacks?
Hmm? What have McDonald’s been up to recently that could be more on topic than the American Ele-
WHOA HOLY BALLS THIS IS HUGE
this is why Ariana Grande said she hates America
Ariana grande can fall off a cliff I need the grand mac
My god Parks and Rec foreshadowed this fucking election
INTRODUCING: SOPHOMORIC, TRASH QUEEN’S FALL 2016 COLLECTION
this collection was inspired by all things you would find in the margins of a young art student’s notebook–fun doodle-like patterns, bright energetic colors, rainbows, hot rod flames, smiley faces, netpunk inspired pointer cursors and grids, funky lettering and more.
plus, just like all my other collections, all pieces that i sell are available in sizes XS through at least 3XL, with some pieces being available up to 5XL!
definitely go check it out, i’ve worked really hard on this collection and the new website and i can’t wait for people to see it!
