My new favorite phrase, I've been putting it on t-shirt, crop-tops, temporary tattoos, etc. It's been very useful in conveying the message and getting other kinky queer people to help solve that condition.
I personally enjoy it in the open-use font Trade Winds for a nice flare, with #ffade5 pink on black
If you want a more-broken font look at crackhouse
or for a more curved font check out Timberline
Snell Roundhand has more of a sweeping style,
while Nelson Engraved has almost an Old West flare
No matter which font you like, wear this one to telegraph your intentions, and who knows, maybe you'll get a lucky nip or two!
I’ve already posted something longer on my blog because I was trying to avoid spoiling the fun but (as loud as I can - not reflected on you): THIS IS AI. IT’S NOT HIERATIC (that looks different) IT’S BARELY EVEN CURSIVE HIEROGLYPHS.
Look closely:
Do they really look like hieroglyphs? No.
Do they really form things other than birds? No.
Do they distinct groups that could be words even if you can’t read them? No.
When you spot the same sign on another part of the door, why does it look like the person carving them (because Reddit OP says an exacto knife was used) suddenly forgot a script they are apparently fluent enough in to carve on a toilet door? Because it is AI.
TL;DR: Reddit op was karma farming using AI to generate nonsense “hieratic” onto what is probably a real photo of a toilet door. Because Hieroglyphs in the public consciousness are considered a funny ha ha picture script rather than a real script belonging to a real language capable of literature, people’s brains skip over the obvious faults. If you searched for “hieratic examples” or “cursive hieroglyphs examples” and compared them to the above image, it’d be very quickly apparent that it wasn’t real.
"calypso delivers a monologue about the unfair double standard applied to gods vs. goddesses when it comes to slutting around with mortals" really does sound like a scene someone would insert into an odyssey adaptation to make it more woke and "odysseus grabs a branch to cover his dick so he doesn't scare off the teenage girls he's about to stumble on naked" really does sound like a scene someone would insert into an annoyingly modernized odyssey adaptation that would get criticized for marvelesque humor. but beautifully and happily these are both things that simply factually happen in actual homer's* actual the odyssey
I’d like to entertain and enliven you now with the saga of my Slut Era.
I’ve always been a serial monogamist and my shortest long term relationships clocked in at three years. So perhaps that’s why when I finally broke it off with my ex I went insane on dating. Part of it was definitely just that between anxiety and loneliness I wanted to fill up my time.
This happened when I was living alone for the first time, no roommates, just me and my little cat Leeloo. I didn’t want to come home to an empty house so instead I set up dates.
Most of these were disastrous. I’m not everyone’s cup of tea and I had a lot more first dates than second because they’d seen enough, including the one where people aggressively complimented me.
But after a few months I had four people I was seeing simultaneously. I was up front with all of them that things were not exclusive, and they all agreed, so no infidelity took place here, just a lot of hijinks.
Here’s who was on the dating roster:
• An apprentice woodworker that we’ll call Jill. I honestly thought at 26 years old that her being 21 wasn’t a problem age gap and I quickly learned that there was a vast gulf of both maturity and life experience between us. Jill described herself as “heteroflexible” and had just dumped her first boyfriend to flirt it up with me.
• A married woman looking for a friends with benefits. We’ll call her Alice. I insisted on meeting her husband first to be sure I wasn’t part of a cheating mess and he gave me his blessing when I stayed over at her house. Years later when he and Alice had divorced I would go on to sell him and his new fiancée an engagement ring and we both realized at the end how we knew each other and it was wildly awkward. Alice was nice, but a hardcore vegan who insisted I brush my teeth if I so much as ate string cheese before I could kiss her. She was also unhappy in her marriage and was feeling out if I’d want to get serious.
• A bartender dubbed Snakebites, so called because of her signature piercings. She cooked me a steak so raw it was still mooing and some of the best asparagus I’d ever had. In our singular sexy encounter she bit my nipple and I never got over it. Really don't bite someone if you don't know their preference and work up in pressure. We weren’t terribly compatible but neither of us were willing to admit it yet. Truthfully I considered still dating her solely because I desperately wanted her bathroom. It had all black tile, black toilet, black sink, a rain shower in the corner and a jacuzzi tub. I may not have loved her but god I loved that bathroom.
And finally,
• My beloved, who I would go on to marry, who was dealing with a lot of personal stuff at the time. Obviously that meant I liked them the best of all the people I was seeing because we were both disasters at the time.
So that’s the cast of this little misadventure. Now, our story begins with Jill.
Jill was someone who heightened my anxiety. Each of the three times she came to my home she brought and left more stuff. A self help book, a ramen kit, the entire Teen Titans collection of DVDs. It was like she was trying to move in. She also liked to deride my taste in things, frequently calling me a pleb when I mentioned a band or show I liked.
She was working on a gorgeous little decorative table in her woodworking program. The main wood for the top had a beautiful dapple of knots like jaguar spots, and when she showed me a picture I exclaimed how pretty it was.
“Do you want it?”
“Oh- I mean it’s lovely, I wouldn’t mind having it, but you should sell it and make some money!”
But she was adamant. She’d give me the little side table. At about this time, Alice was starting to get awfully lovey for a FWB. I knew she wasn’t happy with her husband but I also knew we were not a good fit. Fun fact: Alice and her husband were step siblings with a pretty hefty age gap. They got together when he stumbled upon a kink photo shoot she’d done with vegetables. None of their family was happy about the relationship but they weren’t related by blood so it was fine.
So I was fending off more overt romantic advances from Alice, and feeling increasingly like I needed to break things off with Jill. Snakebites wasn’t ever initiating communication and I decided to pull a lot of plugs at once.
I ghosted Snakebites, told Alice that I thought we should cool it, and in a move worthy of a rom-com I asked my beloved if I could pretend we were exclusive to put off Jill. They agreed and I texted Jill to let her know that I was no longer single.
I was not prepared for Jill’s response. She. Was. Devastated. She flew off the handle. She’d just been waiting for the right time to tell me how she felt about me! How dare I do this to her!
What about the table?!
“You should keep the table, it’s gorgeous, you’ll be able to sell it, but I don’t expect a free table.”
Silence met me after that text. I worried and fretted and eventually headed home.
There on my doorstep. The table.
It was a small little end table, reeking of oil and polish, but very beautiful. I brought it inside. The little drawer didn’t even have a knob or guide rails. But it did have a handwritten bill proclaiming that it was costing me $500.
“I can’t afford a $500 table, Jill!” I texted.
“Well you kept saying how nice it was. I spent a lot of time on it.”
“I’m not saying it’s not worth $500” (it wasn’t, it was a tiny side table made by an apprentice) “but I can’t buy a $500 table.”
“Make me an offer.”
I stared at the little table. I did actually like it, but I worried about the repercussions of entering into this deal. Hesitantly I typed back, “$300.” I didn’t think it was worth that much but I didn’t want to insult her too badly.
This suited her for the night. But the next day she informed me she needed a new bed, and that she’d take her $300 in credit toward a new mattress. I spent the whole next day basically wrangling with her over what she wanted and eventually she spiked back up to demanding $500 for the damn table.
“Let me just give it back,” I begged. It was not the first, second, or even third time I’d asked to return the thing but this time she finally relented and gave me her address. Since she lived with her parents still I’d never been over.
I called up my beloved and said, “Hey, I need moral support, can you run an errand with me?”
They agreed which is how we loaded up a self help book, a ramen kit, the entire Teen Titans DVD collection, and the table from hell into my little car together. Jill had said to meet her at one o'clock. I intended to drop everything off at noon and be done with this madness.
But while my beloved and I were on the doorstep leaving everything I heard, “Jill? You’re home early,” through the door. Her mom opened it to peer at us in confusion.
“I was just bringing Jill’s stuff back!” I chirped in alarm.
With little tact and a lot of speed we left her with Jill’s collection of things and then I sped out of there like my tail was on fire. I handed my phone to my beloved as I zoomed away instructing them to block Jill’s number. I was free. The tabletross around my neck had been returned.
It was about a month after that when my beloved and I officially began dating exclusively. I had wrapped up all my messy dating threads and it was a relief to be in a relationship again. They went on a trip to Mexico shortly after we made it official.
So I knew they were out of town. But next morning I walked out to my car and beheld a lipstick kiss pressed to the drivers side window.
I was petrified. I had just dumped three girls at once and had an extremely messy back and forth with one of them. Did I have a stalker?!
Of the girls, Alice seemed like likeliest candidate, being of a stronger lipstick variety girl than Jill or Snakebites. We had ended things a bit stiffly, but still cordial. She just laughed when I asked if she knew anything about it. “Nope,” she said, “but good luck.”
I’d rather have walked over broken glass then text Jill, and I’d firmly ghosted Snakebites so I was scared to reopen communication to ask if she was stalking me. I had to drop it. But it haunted me, that lipstick kiss.
For months I was jumpy, wondering which of my spurned lovers had done it. And why. Was it a threat? A goodbye? I lay awake thinking about it, worrying about how everyone I’d dated knew where I lived, which car was mine.
Finally, nothing else happened and I moved on. The kiss would remain a mystery and I had to be content with that.
It was a year later when I finally started filling my mom in on my dating escapades that I finally got closure. She was hooting and laughing as I went over the table debacle. Then I paused and added, “And then this kiss showed up on my car.”
“Did you like it?”
“What? No! I’m pretty sure one of them was stalking me! Who else would leave a kiss on my car?”
My mom started bellowing with laughter. “I did!” She wheezed.
Apparently. My mother had been driving by my place. And decided that a cute little gesture would be to leave me a kiss. And then decided to never mention it to me even though she’s never done anything like that previously.
“It scared the crap out of me!” I yelled while she collapsed with helpless laughter. “I thought I had a stalker! How could I possibly have known that was you?!”
“How could I have known you’d just broken up with three girls at once?” She wheezed in rejoinder and like. Fair play.
So that’s how my mom convinced me I had a stalker and I got out of buying a $500 table.
it’s actually wild how terrified of the general public most usamericans are. like you don’t realize it if you’re someone who mostly walks and takes transit and spends a lot of time in populous public spaces but then you talk to one of the thousands of people that seemingly never set foot in any public space besides a parking garage or a starbucks and you suddenly understand why it’s so easy for fascist rhetoric about the dangerous alien to take root. this country’s median voter pretty much never interacts with strangers who aren’t their coworkers or people they met on dating apps
saw a post on instagram that was literally someone citing statistics saying public transit is one of the safest travel options out there and the comments were literally just “ummmmm op this is so ableist and misogynistic of you :) don’t you know the average public transit user is a dangerous violent criminal who wants to set you on fire :)))”
it must be so terrifying and sad to go through life convinced if you set foot outside your car in public or interact with people outside your nuclear family you’ll instantly be raped and robbed by the Evil Poors no wonder so many of these people are reactionary tar pits
ok well i filled up my car with gas and got cat food for my cats so idk how this applies to me also the “don’t buy coffee anymore” thing is rlly annoying from ppl acting like buying coffee is the reason ppl r struggling to keep purchases under 20 dollars instead of capitalism inflating prices for shareholders to buy another five houses like. eventually yall gotta stop doing the “no more avacado toast!” thing to ppl bc there is no budgeting that is enough to outrun inflation
Two young ladies arrived a Meeting wearing clothes that were quite revealing their body parts. Here is what the Chairman told them: He took a good look at them and made them sit. Then he said something that, they might never forget in their life. He looked at them straight in the eyes and said; "ladies, everything that God made valuable in this world is well covered and hardly to see, find or get.
1. Where do you find diamonds? Deep down in the ground, covered and protected.
2. Where do you find pearls? Deep down at the bottom of the ocean, covered up and protected in a beautiful shell.
3. Where do you find gold? Way down in the mine, covered over with layers of rock and to get them, you have to work hard & dig deep down to get them.
He looked at them with serious eyes and said;
"Your body is sacred & unique" You are far more precious than gold, diamonds and pearls, and you should be covered too."So he added that, if you keep your treasured mineral just like gold, diamond and pearls, deeply covered up, a reputable mining organization with the requisite machinery will fly down and conduct years of extensive exploration.
First, they will contact your government (family), sign professional contracts (wedding) and mine you professionally( legal marriage).But if you leave your precious minerals uncovered on the surface of the earth, you always attract a lot of illegal miners to come and mine you illegally. Everybody will just pick up their crude instruments and just have a dig on you just freely like that. Keep your bodies deeply covered so that it invite professional miners to chase you.
Let us all encourage our wives, friends and daughters to dress well and decent!
~Credit Grand Motivion Squad.
"Well, what is it that you don't see?" Young Ladies asked.
Chairman startled - he didn't expect that Young Ladies could speak.
"What you told us is obvious", Young Ladies continued, "The issue with your model, like every economic model, is that Perfect Information is a practical impossibility."
"I'm hiding a valuable security. You don't see my ambitious heart, nor my lean certified mind. The results of my last performance review. You don't see my sharp business acumen or healthy investment portfolio," Young Lady said.
"I'm hiding a valuable security. You don't see my coding skills, nor my leadership role in the Credit Grand Professional Women's Network. You don't see the reach of my LinkedIn Account, or the dozens of books reviewed on my safe-for-work GoodReads profile," Young Lady said.
Chariman gaped - these women simply didn't know their value in the sexual marketplace.
⬤⬤⬤⬤⬤⬤⬤⬤
In a cubicle coffin built double wide, two Entombed Women hold hands. A tube all that connects them to the world above; air, water, foodstuffs. Outlook all that connects them to the world around; emails tapped out one-handed in total darkness.
Light breaches their crypt. Backyard soil shifts under Kabota's claw. Inspector Squarejaw and Handsome Construction Worker gaze down at the Entombed Women. In the background, Chairman squeals protest. His face is scarlet, spittle frothing upon his lip.
"I should have hidden you better! Concealed you! Thrown tarp and tarp and shadow upon you, as you so refused to cover yourself! And now we bear this crudeness, that the oilman has come to frack you!"
it's actually so crazy how much the simpsons would fucking suck if it didn't have any of the simpsons characters. just a bunch of shots of empty houses and streets for half an hour while nothing happens. that would be so badddd lol
yeah that tends to happen when you remove characters from media. without characters its all just background. i guess movies set in scenic locations would still land as kinda nature docs but even then
As someone who got top surgery and picked nipples (my doctor said 'you can always take them off later'), they gave me the most trouble in the healing process and imo aren't worth it unless you've got a specific desire for them (e.g., a certain appearance for going topless at the beach)
The ONLY reason I can think of for keeping them is to have cool nip piercings
But either way I'm DEFINITELY going to be wearing this shirt
you literally can not have a vagina without paying for it. vaginoplasty for some, period products for others, if you want to stop buying period products that’s gonna be expensive medicine or an expensive procedure, recovery from surgery requires time off work and vaginoplasty specifically requires money spent on dilators. our bodies shouldnt cost us this much on baseline. having a vagina shouldnt have such a hefty tax on it. it makes me feel like i’m in a fictional dystopia written for middle school classrooms when i think about it.
