Pizza As Birth Control

hey man, come on. take it easy.

[gentlesleaze]

someone needed to

[snigumoogle]

Dear Moon, We blame you for floods for the flush of blood for men who are also wolves and even though you could pull the tide in by its hair we tell people that we walked all over you we blame you for the night for the dark for the ghosts you cold unimaginable thing following us home, we use you to see each others frail naked bodies beneath your blue light, we let you watch; you swollen against the glass breath a halo of steam as we move against one another wet and desperate like fish under a waterlogged sky

Warsan Shire (via snigumoogle)

[oliviacirce]

After learning my flight was detained 4 hours, I heard the announcement: If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic, Please come to the gate immediately. Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there. An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress, Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly. Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she Did this. I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly. Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick, Sho bit se-wee? The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used— She stopped crying. She thought our flight had been canceled entirely. She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the Following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late, Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him. We called her son and I spoke with him in English. I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and Would ride next to her—Southwest. She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it. Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and Found out of course they had ten shared friends. Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours. She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering Questions. She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered Sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag— And was offering them to all the women at the gate. To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California, The lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same Powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies. And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers— Non-alcoholic—and the two little girls for our flight, one African American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar too. And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands— Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing, With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere. And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought, This is the world I want to live in. The shared world. Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped —has seemed apprehensive about any other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too. This can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost.

Naomi Shihab Nye (b. 1952), “Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal.” I think this poem may be making the rounds, this week, but that’s as it should be.  (via oliviacirce)

[the-glitter-clit]

[puddles-of-moonlight]

WHY IS THIS SO HARD TO UNDERSTAND

[chelsea-eve69-deactivated201509]

So for all you feminists out their who think that all men should die, remember, you are not a feminist.

[basilsilos]

reblogging for the last comment

[republicangarbage-blog]

Yes

[xtheycallmeslimshadyx]

Legit question, I’m not trying to hate on feminists or anything. Why is it called feminist if they’re for equality?

[rockymightartsometimes]

castiel-knight-of-hell:

That’s a very good question and thank you for asking so politely. 

The word feminism was coined by Charles Fourier in 1837, a French philosopher who advocated for the emancipation of women because he believed society treated women as slaves. We weren’t allowed to vote, own anything, or work a real job. Women were ruled by their fathers/household patriarch until they married at which time they’d be under the rule of their husband. If a woman did not belong to male household she was shunned by society and had very little means to make money, most of them unsavory. You know the idiom “rule of thumb”? That comes from a running joke that started in the 1600s, and was still around in Fourier’s time, that said it was okay for a man to beat a woman with a stick as long as it wasn’t any thicker than his thumb. 

The point of the word feminist, and the feminist movement, has never been to say that women are better than men. The point is that women and things associated with women have been given a lesser place in society and we want to bring those things up to a place of equality. The focus is on the feminine because that’s what’s being pushed down. However, focusing on the feminine does not mean we’re focusing only women. Men are belittled and called “less of a man” anytime they portray a trait that is associated with femininity. If women and the feminine were equal to men and masculinity then that wouldn’t happen. Feminism is about raising up things associated with females to have an equal place in society as the things associated with males. It’s called feminism, not equalism, because the focus is on raising up not tearing down. Equalism would suggest that male things need to come down to a lower level so that female things can meet it in the middle. That’s not the point. The point is to raise up the feminine so that it’s on the same playing field that the masculine is already on. We don’t want men to lower themselves, we just want them to make room for us.

[glenn-griffon]

This needs to be spread far and wide to everyone on tumblr. 

[alyssumax-blog]

!!!!!!!!!!!!!IMPORTANTHOLYSHIT!!!!!!!!

[sarcastic-monkeys]

THANK YOU

[anotherdayinthe-life]

This needs more notes

[itsvondell-deactivated20180104]

you can take one man’s trash to another man’s treasure but you can’t make it drink

[stack--trace]

Fun fact: the blending of idioms or cliches is called a malaphor.

My personal favorite is “We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.”

[chromalogue]

I’m rather fond of “It’s not rocket surgery” and “not the sharpest egg in the attic,” but my all-time favourite is, “…until the cows freeze over.”

[upslapmeal]

View this post on Instagram

LOOK INTO MY EYES AND LOOK INTO MY MOUTH

[busterposeys]

at what point in history do you think americans stopped having british accents

[libby-on-the-label]

[lesbian-state-of-mind]

Actually, Americans still have the original British accent. We kept it over time and Britain didn’t. What we currently coin as a British accent developed in England during the 19th century among the upper class as a symbol of status. Historians often claim that Shakespeare sounds better in an American accent.

[tyleroakley]

[fanboyingoverdemigods]

whAT THE FUCK

[nopeabsolutelynot-deactivated20]

I’m too tired for this

[nethilia]

Always add in the video that according to linguists, Native southern drawl is a slowed down British.

T’ be or not t’be, y’all.

[sogayitwrites]

Fun fact: Same thing happened with the French accent. French Canadians still have the original French accent from the 15th century.

Êt’e ou n’pô zêt’e, vous z’auts.

[monticellomarshmallow]

I’ve been trying to find this post for months. I’m freakishly obsessed with this and want the truth of what early colonists sounded like.

[tastefullyoffensive]

[obviousplant]

I made a book of “magic spells” and left it at a metaphysical shop. See more spells on Facebook.

[jimzub]

SOURCE: http://www.danvojtech.cz/blog/2016/07/amazing-how-focal-length-affect-shape-of-the-face/

When they say “The camera adds 10 pounds” they’re not kidding. Here’s the effect with different camera lenses while keeping the subject the same size.

[androginking]

People don’t understand film/pictures compress a 3D world onto 2D and sometimes things don’t read the same - hence why some people are photogenic and why some aren’t. It has nothing to do with beauty and everything to do whether or not your facial angles compress well onto a 2D surface.

[chadleymacguff]

[thetalkingleadstotouching]

I’m walking everywhere like this from now on.

[cleromancy]

a thing to learn about cooking is, that isnt enough garlic. there is not enough garlic in there. yeah i know you already put garlic in but shhh, listen, listen to the pot, it says it wants more garlic.  seriously more garlic come on i said put in some more garlic fucking dO it you piece of shit. what do you mean that that’s all the garlic you had well i suppose theres nothing for it we have to go pick up some more come on then

[angelmutual]

@principarty

[digg]

[pizzaasbirthcontrol]

paul rudd: *does literally anything*

me: BOBBY NEWPORT'S

me: NEVER HAD A REEEEEEAL JOB

me: IN HIS LIFE

[likeafieldmouse-deactivated2015]

[sevendbloom]

Herbs!

I’ve been looking at this too long, don’t know how I feel about it really.

Ink, digital color

[mrsmeadows]

“Lemonade” poetry bits

Intuition

I tried to make a home outta you. But doors lead to trapdoors. A stairway leads to nothing. Unknown women wander the hallways at night. Where do you go when you go quiet? You remind me of my father, a magician. Able to exist in two places at once. In the tradition of men in my blood you come home at 3AM and lie to me. What are you hiding? The past, and the future merge to meet us here. What luck. What a fucking curse.

Denial

I tried to change. Closed my mouth more. Tried to be soft, prettier. Less…awake.

Fasted for 60 days. Wore white. Abstained from mirrors. Abstained from sex. Slowly did not speak another word.

In that time my hair grew past my ankles. I slept on a mat on the floor. I swallowed a sword. I levitated… into the basement, I confessed my sins and was baptized in a river. Got on my knees and said, “Amen.” And said I mean. I whipped my own back and asked for dominion at your feet. I threw myself into a volcano. I drank the blood and drank the wine. I sat alone and begged and bent at the waist for God. I crossed myself and thought… I saw the devil. I grew thickened skin on my feet. I bathed…in bleach and plugged my menses with pages from the Holy Book. But still inside me coiled deep was the need to know. Are you cheating? Are you cheating on me?

Anger

If this what you truly want. I can wear her skin…over mine. Her hair, over mine. Her hands as gloves. Her teeth as confetti. Her scalp, a cap. Her sternum, my bedazzled cane. We can pose for a photograph. All three of us, immortalized. You and your perfect girl.

I don’t know when love became elusive. What I know is no one I know has it. My father’s arms around my mother’s neck. Fruit too ripe to eat.

I think of lovers as trees… …growing to and from one another. Searching for the same light. Why can’t you see me? Why can’t you see me? (Why can’t you) Why can’t you see me? Everyone else can.

Apathy

So what are you gonna say at my funeral now that you’ve killed me? Here lies the body of the love of my life, whose heart I broke without a gun to my head. Here lies the mother of my children both living and dead. Rest in peace, my true love, who I took for granted, most bomb pussy, who because of me, sleep evaded. Her shroud is loneliness. Her God was listening. Her heaven would be a love without betrayal. Ashes to ashes…dust to side chicks.

Emptiness

She sleeps all day…dreams of you in both worlds.

Tills the blood in and out of uterus. Wakes up smelling of zinc. Grief, sedated by orgasm. Orgasm heightened by grief. God was in the room when the man said to the woman, “I love you so much. Wrap your legs around me and pull me in, pull me in, pull me in.” Sometimes when he’d have her nipple in his mouth, she’d whisper, “Oh my God.” That, too, is a form of worship. Her hips grind pestle and mortar, cinnamon and cloves, whenever he pulls out.

Loss. Dear moon, we blame you for floods…for the flush of blood…for men who are also wolves. We blame you for the night, for the dark, for the ghosts.

Every fear… Every nightmare…anyone has ever had.

Accountability

You find the black tube inside her beauty case. Where she keeps your father’s old prison letters. You desperately want to look like her. You look nothing like your mother. You look everything like your mother. Film star, beauty. How to wear your mother’s lipstick. You go to the bathroom to apply the lipstick. Somewhere no one can find you. You must wear it like she wears disappointment on her face. Your mother is a woman. And women like her can not be contained.

Mother dearest, let me inherit the Earth. Teach me how to make him beg. Let me make up for the years he made you wait. Did he bend your reflection? Did he make you forget your own name? Did he convince you he was a God? Did you get on your knees daily? Do his eyes close like doors? Are you a slave to the back of his head? Am I talking about your husband or your father?

Reformation

He bathes me… …until I forget their names…and faces. I ask him to look me in the eye when I come…home. Why do you deny yourself heaven? Why do you consider yourself undeserving? Why are you afraid of love? You think it’s not possible for someone like you. But you are the love of my life…love of my life…the love of my life…the love of my life.

Forgiveness

Baptize me… …now that reconciliation is possible. If we’re gonna heal, let it be glorious. One thousand girls raise their arms.

Do you remember being born?

Are you thankful? Are the hips that cracked… …the deep velvet of your mother… …and her mother… …and her mother? There is a curse that will be broken.

Resurrection

You are terrifying… …and strange… …and beautiful.

Hope

The nail technician pushes my cuticles back… …turns my hand over, stretches the skin on my palm and says: “I see your daughters, and their daughters.” That night in a dream the first girl emerges from a slit in my stomach. The scar heals into a smile. The man I love pulls the stitches out with his fingernails. We leave black sutures curling on the side of the bath. I wake as the second girl crawls headfirst up my throat. A flower blossoming out of the hole in my face.

Redemption

Take one pint of water, add a half pound of sugar, the juice of eight lemons… …the zest of half lemon. Pour the water from one jug, then into the other, several times. Strain through a clean napkin.

Grandmother, the alchemist. You spun gold out of this hard life. Conjured beauty from the things left behind. Found healing where it did not live. Discovered the antidote in your own kitchen. Broke the curse with your own two hands. You passed these instructions down to your daughter. Who then passed it down to her daughter.

My grandma said, nothing real can be threatened. True love brought salvation back into me. With every tear came redemption. And my torturer became my remedy.

So we’re gonna heal, we’re gonna start again. You’ve brought the orchestra. Synchronized swimmers, you are the magician. Pull me back together again the way you cut me in half. Make the woman in doubt disappear. Pull the sorrow from between my legs like silk, knot after knot after knot. The audience applauds… …but we can’t hear them.

Warsan Shire