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On Feb 4, 2017, I was a victim of a rabid raccoon attack. I was unloading my groceries from my car when out of nowhere a 30 lb beast was all over my feet. I had no time to react and within seconds I felt severe bites in my legs. I was able to kick it off of me and run to a neighbor's house for he...

Picture this, it's early November, 1986, I'm all of nineteen years old, I know everything about the real world, I've lived and experienced enough to believe I'm fully capable of being a contributing member of adult society and all that it offers. When someone has the audacity to mention my youth and inexperience, I scoff, loudly and quite rudely, I'm sure. I can't be told be anyone that I have more to learn, I know that I'm an adult and though I still can't buy a beer or get into a club, I am a grown up. I can do what I want, within reason of the law, of course. I can sleep when I want, within reason of my adult job that drains the life from me. I can eat what I want, within reason of trying not to become a diabetic by gorging on all the candy I can. I can stomp my feet and wave my arms and throw a fit to prove that I am an adult and can make my own choices! I'm mature enough to be responsible and I budget what little money I make to be sure that I have what I need to survive until my next paycheck, hell, I've registered to vote!

Well, it's the middle of November and unlike now, the Christmas decorations are just starting to show up in stores and malls and people are gearing up for the endless shopping and applying for new credit cards that have interest rates that can actually be claimed on a tax return and children are starting to push for the endless list of toys they want from Santa and all of us grown ups are starting to feel the excitement of the season. My betrothed and I have been living together for just over a month and have stars in our eyes about our first Christmas as a couple and we walk hand in hand through the malls and Montgomery Wards and Sears and the like, happily pointing out things we may or may not want to find under the tree this year. He points out things he needs, some new jeans, a pair of the latest Nikes, a tool box and I smile and make note in my mind of everything he looks at. Mind you, he doesn't ask for anything and I don't ask him what he wants, that's just not how it's done. No, we are subtle with our wants, we don't want to be greedy or selfish, we couldn't possibly pick up an item and turn to each other and say something like, “I really want this for Christmas”. Instead, we drop hints and I ooh and aah over certain things, a scarf here, a fancy pair of gloves there, until I walk into the toy section at Montgomery Wards, then all bets are off.

You see, as a child, Wards was the place to shop in my family. Every year, my mother would hand my brother and I the toy catalog the store put out and a marker and tell us to mark what we wanted for Christmas. Let me tell you something, that book got back to her with more marker than you can imagine and she would grin at our greedy little faces and we just knew that Santa was getting one hell of a list from her for us. Christmas morning would arrive and like the nut she was, you can bet every one of the items we circled would be under and around that tree, some years, you couldn't see the floor and it would take hours to open everything. For her, she had succeeded in making our dreams come true and for us, as you can imagine, we would be out of her hair for at least a few months, so I guess it was a trade off of sorts. Ah, the joys of the holidays.

Back to that fateful trip into the Montgomery Wards at the Glen Burnie Mall. My man and I wandered through, having not been children for so many years and we laughed and marveled at the items that we wished had been available to us as children. There were no computers in every home, I mean, we had just bought our first VCR!!! At this point, I will remind anyone too young to remember, that a VCR was a VHS tape recorder/player and had just become the hottest electronic one could buy and it was still a very novel item. They were expensive at about three hundred dollars and we were extremely proud to own one and date nights out quickly became a trip to the video rental store and Dominoes pizza was just starting to become a weekly indulgence for movie night. Essentially, it was our Netfilx and chill. But, I digress.

On that fateful night, as we wandered around, I came upon a Teddy Ruxpin doll and was blown away. As per Wikipedia, Teddy Ruxpin was an animatronic children's toy, in the form of a talking bear that's mouth and eyes moved while “reading” stories that were played on an audio tape cassette deck built into its back. In other words, it was the coolest damn thing I had ever seen and I instantly wanted one. Now, I know, as an adult, I had absolutely no reason whatsoever to have one. It wouldn't be an item that could help me be that amazing adult that I had become and in no way, shape or form would it prove my maturity and experience that I so proudly displayed at all other times, but he was the most bad-ass toy I had seen and my desire to own one was almost equal to my excitement over the wedding dresses my mother and I had recently shopped for.

I didn't come right out and ask my love to buy him for me, no, I was still an adult, dammit, but I know that I showed a level of enthusiasm and excitement over that bear that he hadn't ever seen in me and was sure that I succeeded in expressing my strong desire to see one under our pretty little Christmas tree that year. Over the next few weeks, I spoke of that bear in front of him to my parents when we visited, to the point that my mother outright asked me if I wanted her to buy it for me and privately, with hearts in my eyes, I told her in no uncertain terms, that my love would buy it. Well, I had looked at Teddy several times over the next few weeks, always stopping to play with the displays in each store that sold them, so I was very aware of how big the box was and when a similar box appeared under our tree two weeks before Christmas, lovingly wrapped in red paper with a green bow, I did a little happy dance, while he was in the shower of course, I couldn't show him that I knew what it was in that box, that would have just been rude.

Christmas eve, we happily went to his parents house to celebrate, receiving adult gifts, I remember how happy I was to receive an ironing board and beautiful luggage set and was thrilled by the pretty sweater my future mother in law picked out for me. And oh, the new under the counter can opener was amazing, you mounted it into the cabinets to save counter space and, just, wow! I am in no way being a smart-ass, (I know, me, not being a smart-ass), but I'm not. Those gifts were spectacular to me and my adult life and I knew my parents had purchased us a microwave that I would be receiving the next day, so I was extremely happy. We arrived back at our apartment just before midnight and decided we were just too excited to wait until the next morning to exchange all the wonderful gifts and once settled, started to hand each other wrapped items with grins and winks and oh, it was so very romantic. I smiled at the clothes that weren't an exact match to what I had pointed out, but close enough and in the correct sizes, so I was touched and the little stuffed rabbit that I knew cost a fortune was so sweet and would become my daughter's first stuffed animal a couple of years later. I took such pride watching him open the new jeans and shoes and manly gadgets I had lovingly picked out. He saved the large box for last and I will never forget the happy look on his face as he slid it to me as we sat on the floor in front of the tree. I restrained from tearing the paper apart like an animal, gently pulling it from the box while inside, my inner child was ready to pee myself and all I could think about was whether or not we had extra batteries in the kitchen junk drawer so I could play with Teddy right away. My fingers were shaking and I could see his reaction to my excitement and I was gearing up to show my appreciation as I slowly tore the paper from the front of the box. My eyes widened and my breath caught as I gazed upon the box, it was beautiful, exquisite even and I had to shield my reaction from him as I looked over the picture on the front of that box, the same exact size as the Teddy Ruxpin box, the same exact shape. The picture showed a gorgeous, hand crafted jewelry box and my mind took a few moments to catch up to my hands as I tilted it back to fully look at the picture on the front. He took my speechlessness as a sign of my awe at such a precious gift, my moments of silence allowing me to become fully aware of being an adult and in that moment, I matured and became the woman that I had believed I was already as I turned to him with a huge smile and threw my arms around him to show my gratitude.

The moral of the story for all you little shits out there, while you sit and confidently spout off about knowing what all the items under the tree are, be careful, you just never know what you will learn on Christmas each year. I just laughingly told my old man the Teddy Ruxpin story for the first time, expressing my disappointment and jokingly reminded him of his mistake and all he could do was laugh. I hated that damn jewelry box, with a fiery passion, though he never knew it and you know what else I hated, that damned Teddy Ruxpin!

#for fun

micdotcom

Watch: Gaten Matarazzo opens up about living with cleidocranial dysplasia — and the massive rejection he’s faced

thingstolovefor

Twitter deleted her thread. Reblog to save it. #Love it!

frontpagewoman

onlyblackgirl

Why does she keep trying to excuse this as “i have my own body image issues” when she literally attacked him directly and specifically?

#Lena Dunham #Complete ASSHOLE #needs to go away with her bullshit #pathetic excuse of an apology

angelicbreadroll

Black man: [looks at lena dunham, doesn’t talk to her bc shes a stranger]

Lena Dunham: wow i cant believe that this man,,,,doesn’t want to fuck me??? intimidated by a woman? in a bow tie? i am a very revolutionary feminist i can see why ur,,,intimidated. but you should at least want to fuck me or u HATE women. i molested my sister.

divine-noire

So now not only is Leslie Jones being slutshamed on the World Wide Web for having nude photos in her possession, but her body is being treated as though it was never something to celebrate. What’s wrong with it? Too much melanin for your eyes to handle? She too dark to be desirable? When Jennifer Lawrence’s nudes got leaked, y'all threw a party! Y'all praised the iCloud gods y'all were blessed to see such a thing while simultaneously running to her defense and preaching about how it’s not right to judge or shame her for having naked photos of herself because “she’s a gorgeous, famous actress, why wouldn’t she?”

But when Leslie Jones is hacked and her nude photos are leaked, you question why she would ever want to keep photographic evidence of her body, like its some kind of dirty thing the world should never have to come across or you say if she never took the photos in the first place, she wouldn’t have this problem. Funny how Jennifer Lawrence and the tons of other White female celebs who had their nudes leaked weren’t met with the same unforgiving rhetoric and logic. If she bleached her skin* or tracked a mile of Brazilian hair to her scalp, would you suddenly defend her? Because she chose to look nothing like White consumer America, suddenly she asked for it. Looks like Black women always ask for it in this country, even when we never got to open our mouths. Even when we are begging to be left in one piece somehow we are still asking to be ostracized in front of the general public just by existing.

Leslie Jones has NOTHING to apologize for. Leslie Jones has NOTHING to be ashamed of. Leslie Jones is BEAUTIFUL. Leslie Jones is unapologetically BLACK and America hates her for it.

White Feminism has made it well known that if you are not making yourself palatable for White consumption, or disowning your Blackness altogether, they will not fight for you, they will not say your name with the same urgency as their own or another White one, or at all.

some-days-we-get-sundays

The way she is being treated is unspeakable. It makes me ache. I want to just look at how beautiful, talented, lovey, gorgeous, kind, funny, and genuine she is. So here is a Leslie Jones appreciation post.

roseroadkingsroad

Damn straight. She’s amazing and deserves 10000x better than any of this b******* she’s had to put up with.

vikander

Chris Hemsworth on the set of ‘Thor: Ragnarok’ on August 23, 2016 in Brisbane, Australia.

micdotcom

Trans rights activist Hande Kader was raped and burned to death in Turkey

In Turkey, the LGBTQ community is mourning the loss of transgender rights activist and sex worker Hande Kader. Kader’s body was found raped and brutally burned on Aug. 12 in Istanbul and now activists across the world are demanding justice for her death and the greater violence inflicted upon the the LGBTQ community. While homosexuality is not illegal in Turkey, discrimination and violence against the LGBTQ community is staggering.

c0ffeekitten

I don’t give a flying fuck what you look like. If you tell me you’re a woman, then you’re a woman. If you tell me you’re a man, then you’re a man. If you tell me you’re more than one gender or non-binary or agender or anything else, then that’s what you are. That’s your call to make, not mine.

If you’re not telling the truth for some reason, I’ll still respect that, because I understand that it’s sometimes easier to misgender yourself than to endanger yourself, or maybe you’re just not comfortable coming out to me or the other people around you. Again, your call.

And if the next time we meet you tell me you’re a different gender, then guess what! I’m going to respect that, too.

postingwhileblack

There’s no way to be good in the evil system.

swagintherain

BOOST

noahsegans

i don’t use snapchat a lot but when i do….

beepboop-its-a-robot

STORY TIME:

I work in a decent sized, local, indie bookstore. It’s a great job 99% of the time and a lot of our customers are pretty neat people. Any who, middle of the day this little old lady comes up. She’s lovably kooky. She effuses how much she loves the store and how she wishes she could spend more time in it but her husband is waiting in the car (OH! I BETTER BUY HIM SOME CHOCOLATE!), she piles a bunch of art supplies on the counter and then stops and tells me how my bangs are beautiful and remind her of the ocean (“Wooooosh” she says, making a wave gesture with her hand)

Ok. I think to myself. Awesomely happy, weird little old ladies are my favorite kind of customer. They’re thrilled about everything and they’re comfortably bananas. I can have a good time with this one. So we chat and it’s nice.

Then this kid, who’s been up my counter a few times to gather his school textbooks, comes up in line behind her (we’re connected to a major university in the city so we have a lot of harried students pass through). She turns around to him and, out of nowhere, demands that he put his textbooks on the counter. He’s confused but she explains that she’s going to buy his textbooks.

He goes sheetrock white. He refuses and adamantly insists that she can’t do that. It’s like, $400 worth of textbooks. She, this tiny old woman, bodily takes them out of her hands, throws them on the counter and turns to me with a intense stare and tells me to put them on her bill. The kid at this point is practically in tears. He’s confused and shocked and grateful. Then she turns to him and says “you need chocolate.” She starts grabbing handfuls of chocolates and putting them in her pile.

He keeps asking her “why are you doing this?” She responds “Do you like Harry Potter?“ and throws a copy of the new Cursed Child on the pile too.

Finally she’s done and I ring her up for a crazy amount of money. She pays and asks me to please give the kid a few bags for his stuff. While I’m bagging up her merchandise the kid hugs her. We’re both telling her how amazing she is and what an awesome thing she’s done. She turns to both of us and says probably one of the most profound, unscripted things I’ve ever had someone say:

“It’s important to be kind. You can’t know all the times that you’ve hurt people in tiny, significant ways. It’s easy to be cruel without meaning to be. There’s nothing you can do about that. But you can choose to be kind. Be kind.”

The kid thanks her again and leaves. I tell her again how awesome she is. She’s staring out the door after him and says to me: “My son is a homeless meth addict. I don’t know what I did. I see that boy and I see the man my son could have been if someone had chosen to be kind to him at just the right time.”

I’ve bagged up all her stuff and at this point am super awkward and feel like I should say something but I don’t know what. Then she turns to me and says: I wish I could have bangs like that but my darn hair is just too curly.“ And leaves.

And that is the story of the best customer I’ve ever had. Be kind to somebody today.

shrewreadings

I didn’t reblog earlier.

So I am now.

cluegrrl

Be kind. It’s worth the effort.

jackthebard

Just remember. There is no such thing as a fake geek girl. There are only fake geek boys. Science fiction was invented by a woman.

sourcedumal

shuttersmiley

Specifically a teenage girl. You know, someone who would be a part of the demographic that some of these boys are violently rejecting.

foxsan-deactivated20140515

Isaac Asimov.

sim0nbaz-deactivated20170205

yo mary shelley wrote frankenstein in 1818 and isaac asimov was born in 1920 so you kinda get my point

fancyeliza-deactivated20200804

If you want to push it back even further Margaret Cavendish, the duchess of Newcastle (1623-1673) wrote The Blazing World in 1666, about a young woman who discovers a Utopian world that can only be accessed via the North Pole - oft credited as one of the first scifi novels

Women have always been at the forefront of literature, the first novel (what we would consider a novel in modern terms) was written by a woman (Lady Muraskai’s the Tale of Genji in the early 1000s) take your snide “Isaac Asimov” reblogs and stick it

even in terms of male scifi authors, asimov was predated by Jules Verne, HG Wells, George Orwell, you could have even cited Poe or Jonathan Swift has a case but Asimov?

PbbBFFTTBBBTBTTBBTBTTT so desperate to discredit the idea of Mary Shelly as the mother of modern science fiction you didn’t even do a frickin google search For Shame

cryptovalid

And if you want to go back even further, the first named, identified author in history was Enheduanna of Akkad, a Sumerian high priestess.

gunthatshootsennui

Kinda funny, considering this Isaac Asimov quote on the subject:

Mary Shelley was the first to make use of a new finding of science which she advanced further to a logical extreme, and it is that which makes Frankenstein the first true science fiction story.

deathcomes4u

Even Isaac Asimov ain’t having none of your shit, not even posthumously.

velocigrey-deactivated20160825

You know what else was invented by women? Masked vigilantes, the precursor to the modern superhero. Baroness Emma Orczy wrote The Scarlet Pimpernel in 1905. The character would later inspire better known masked vigilantes such as Zorro and Batman.

geekinlibrariansclothing

Got that?

bettieleetwo

Stick that in your international pipe and smoke it

la-knight

I have literally been telling people this for over a year.

athenadark

the first extended prose piece - ie a novel, was not, as many male scholars will shout, Don Quixote (1605) but The Tale of Genji (1008) written by a woman