Untitled @shinysilvergrl-blog - Tumblr Blog

cheese24k

ida-b-wells-b-whippin-yo-ass-de

anjefkjdjhff

lol how they looked at each other when the song started like oh shit th

sharknadowizard

findingallah-deactivated2015090

Reblog if you’ve ever been harassed by a man regardless of how modestly or immodestly you dressed.

4gifs

ilovefrog-deactivated20150414

and the award for the best way to avoid an embarrassing moment goes to

assgod

queenarielviolet-deactivated201

A post that brilliantly explains why “Men’s Rights Activists” are misguided and why the oppression that men face in our culture is not a result of “misandry” but of misogyny.

hitsuga

nowrunalong-archive-deactivated

common arguments against rose tyler + MORE LIKE ENTHUSIASTIC, INDEPENDENT, COURAGEOUS, CARING, AND GENERALLY DELIGHTFUL.

mrsweasley

The men in Hollywood event is every day—it’s called Hollywood. Fifty-one percent of the population should not have to have to schedule a special event to celebrate the fact that in an art that tells the story of what it means to be human and alive, we get to play a part. My husband and I do kind of the same job — a little bit. Not long ago we both had one of those magical days which we call a junket, where we both attended these lovely events where people come in every four minutes and they ask the same questions over and over again, you know the drill. We got home at night and we compared notes. And I told him every single person who interviewed me, I mean every single one, and this is true of the red carpet here tonight, Elle, asked me, ‘How do you balance work and family?’ and he said the only thing that people asked him repeatedly was about the tits on the ‘Blurred Lines’ girl [Emily Ratajkowski his co-star in Gone Girl]. As for work-life balance, he said no one asked him about it that day. As a matter of fact, no one had ever asked him about it. And we do share the same family. Isn’t it time to kinda change that conversation?

Jennifer Garner on Hollywood sexism (via lawn-of-del-rey)

cutestofthecute

johanirae

I reckon if more people understood this there would be a lot less victim blaming when it comes to rape.

iandsharman

"It appears you have a reputation for enjoying gardening, are you sure you didn’t really want him to hit you with that spade?"

pocketfulofgeek

This is possibly one of the greatest tweets ever.

milesedgworth

ahsokasshoto

#john barrowman is having none of your misogynist bullshit

mymompickedthisurl-deactivated2

i love that barrowman’s response also distances him from the contestant "hahahaha women do laundry right john? you with me, john?" "don’t lump me in with you, you fucking martian”

solarbird

This is what I’m talking about when I keep saying that men have to deny the endorsement. This guy wanted Barrowman’s tacit support or agreement for his sexism, as part of bonding through humour. John went nope.

vixyish

Bolding mine.

mumblingsage

Additionally, every time I see this I’m more and more staggered by the assumption of heterosexuality in the question—that every household has a woman (but no more than one) and that woman’s the one doing the washing.

The guy didn’t think twice of expecting John Barrowman to share that assumption?

tastefullyoffensive

prismatic-bell

HERE’S THE THING THOUGH

I used to work for a call center and I was doing a political survey and I called this number that was randomly generated for me and the way our system worked was voice-activated so when the other person said hello you’d get connected to them, so I just launch right into my “Harvard University and NPR blah blah blah” thing and then there’s this long pause and I think the person’s hung up even though I didn’t hear a click

And then I hear “you shouldn’t be able to call this number.”

So I apologize and go into the preset spiel about because we aren’t selling anything, etc. etc. and the answer I get is

"No, I know that. What I mean is that it should be impossible for you to call this number, and I need to know how you got it."

I explain that it’s randomly generated and I’m very sorry for bothering him, and go to hang up. And before I can click terminate, I hear:

"Ma’am, this is a matter of national security."

I accidentally called the director of the FBI.

My job got investigated because a computer randomly spit out a number to the Pentagon.

kuroba101

This is my new favourite story.

therobotmonster

When I was in college I got a job working for a company that manages major air-travel data. It was a temp gig working their out of date system while they moved over to a new one, since my knowing MS Dos apparently made me qualified.

There was no MS Dos involved. Instead, there was a proprietary type-based OS and an actually-uses-transistors refrigerator-sized computer with switches I had to trip at certain times during the night as I watched the data flow from six pm to six AM on Fridays and weekends. If things got stuck, I reset the server.

The company handled everything from low-end data (hotel and car reservations) to flight plans and tower information. I was weighed every time I came in to make sure it was me. Areas of the building had retina scanners on doors.

During training. they took us through all the procedures. Including the procedures for the red phone. There was, literally, a red phone on the shelf above my desk. “This is a holdover from the cold war.” They said. “It isn’t going to come up, but here’s the deal. In case of nuclear war or other nation-wide disaster, the phone will ring. Pick up the phone, state your name and station, and await instructions. Do whatever you are told.”

So my third night there, it’s around 2am and there’s a ringing sound.

I look up, slowly. The Red phone is ringing.

So I reach out, I pick up the phone. I give my name and station number. And I hear every station head in the building do the exact same. One after another, voices giving names and numbers. Then silence for the space of two breaths. Silence broken by…

"Uh… Is Shantavia there?"

It turns out that every toll free, 1-900 or priority number has a corresponding local number that it routs to at its actual destination. Some poor teenage girl was trying to dial a friend of hers, mixed up the numbers, and got the atomic attack alert line for a major air-travel corporation’s command center in the mid-west United States.

There’s another pause, and the guys over in the main data room are cracking up. The overnight site head is saying “I think you have the wrong number, ma’am.” and I’m standing there having faced the specter of nuclear annihilation before I was old enough to legally drink.

The red phone never rang again while I was there, so the people doing my training were only slightly wrong in their estimation of how often the doomsday phone would ring.