I wish this was exaggeration, I really do.
IS IT SO MUCH TO ASK
TO JUST BUY A TOP THAT I CAN WEAR
THAT PEOPLE CAN’T SEE MY BRA THROUGH?
True story. Until I get the company shirt, my work uniform is a white polo. So I had to buy a white polo. Not a problem, right? Polos are just heavy jersey. Shouldn’t be an issue, even if it is white.
I went through four stores because every single white lady’s polo was see-through. See-through to the point where an onlooker could pinpoint the exact location of the bleach stain on my bra.
So, in a quiet rage, I finally went to the men’s section. Wonder of wonders, the men’s polos were not see-through.
WHY? WHY IS MY PROFESSIONAL CLOTHING NOT HELD TO THE SAME STANDARDS OF OPAQUE-NESS AS MEN’S PROFESSIONAL CLOTHING?
I get most of my overshirts/jackets from the men’s section. For one, they have awesome jackets, and two— I have rather large breasts. I do not want something in cutsy glittery girly shit plastered across my chest, thank you. I get enough people that can’t look me in the eye.
my kingdom for a leather jacket with a decent curved waist
Bless this post.
Every fucking time I go out to look for a simple t-shirt, all I find are shirts that are super tight and uncomfortable for the sake of showing off your bust, have stupid sayings on them like “Lean, mean, sexy machine” (I have seriously seen shirts with those exact words), and have tiny fucking sleeves that don’t even cover your armpits (because we all have those days when we really don’t feel like shaving). Unfortunately for me, my mother thinks these shirts are cute and gets them for me constantly. :/
I will always buy my sweaters in the men’s section. Not only are they bigger and more comfortable, they’re actually made with better material. Apparently, you have to be male to merit fabric thick enough to actually keep you warm. Ever wonder why girls complain about being cold more often than guys? It’s not them. It’s their clothes.
Women’s clothing is designed to be rubbish so that they can buy more all the time.
Men’s clothes actually makes SENSE.
I have so many feelings on this topic, I need to stop now before I break something.
And don’t forget actual, functioning pockets.
I could probably write a fucking dissertation around the bullshit of women’s clothing and how it’s pretty much useless and overpriced, and even then you can only something that’s an approximation of “a fucking simple t-shirt” where the male equivalent is functional, easily accessible, and a price quote that won’t bankrupt you.
It will have 3 appendixes devoted to, in order, “Stupid cuts for jeans and how they are impossible to figure out store to store, let alone style to style,” “Why do people think all jeans need to adhere to your body like skin tight spandex, for gods sake sometimes I just want to wear pants that I can actually move in,” and “Girls Have Stuff Too: A look at why shallow pockets are a joke and “fake” are the stupidest fashion choice ever made.”
Fake. Fucking. Pockets.
if you don’t know this is from a game, don’t reblog it.
Because you’re not allowed to enjoy creative, smooth animation. How dare you reblog a thing.
You know what would be a thousand times more helpful than being a game snob?
there are some days where i forget to eat the entire day, and then there are other days where i have first breakfast, second breakfast, elevenses, luncheon, third breakfast, tea, dinner, soupsies, supper, night lunch, midnight snack and one-in-the-morning snack
THERE IS WATER AT THE BOTTOM OF THE OCEAN
CARRY THE WATER
REMOVE THE WATER
Actually! This was a very clever setup by a team of divers in the Arctic, I believe. The person is upside down, their bouyancy belt calibrated just so that they are slightly lighter than water, and able to walk upside down on the ice. In the first segment, when his mask vents, watch the bubbles flow DOWNWARD, which is really the up that we know. Science is really fricking cool!
I LOVE YOU MAKEITEARLGRAY
You were on your way home when you died.
It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me.
And that’s when you met me.
“What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?”
“You died,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words.
“There was a… a truck and it was skidding…”
“Yup,” I said.
“I… I died?”
“Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies,” I said.
You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. “What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?”
“More or less,” I said.
“Are you god?” You asked.
“Yup,” I replied. “I’m God.”
“My kids… my wife,” you said.
“What about them?”
“Will they be all right?”
“That’s what I like to see,” I said. “You just died and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.”
You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it’s any consolation, she’ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.”
“Oh,” you said. “So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?”
“Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.”
“Ah,” you said. “So the Hindus were right,”
“All religions are right in their own way,” I said. “Walk with me.”
You followed along as we strode through the void. “Where are we going?”
“Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.”
“So what’s the point, then?” You asked. “When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.”
“Not so!” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right now.”
I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. “Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. You put a tiny part of yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had.
“You’ve been in a human for the last 48 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here for long enough, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point to doing that between each life.”
“How many times have I been reincarnated, then?”
“Oh lots. Lots and lots. An in to lots of different lives.” I said. “This time around, you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 AD.”
“Wait, what?” You stammered. “You’re sending me back in time?”
“Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.”
“Where you come from?” You said.
“Oh sure,” I explained “I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there are others like me. I know you’ll want to know what it’s like there, but honestly you wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh,” you said, a little let down. “But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, I could have interacted with myself at some point.”
“Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own lifespan you don’t even know it’s happening.”
“So what’s the point of it all?”
“Seriously?” I asked. “Seriously? You’re asking me for the meaning of life? Isn’t that a little stereotypical?”
“Well it’s a reasonable question,” you persisted.
I looked you in the eye. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.”
“You mean mankind? You want us to mature?”
“No, just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect.”
“Just me? What about everyone else?”
“There is no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you and me.”
You stared blankly at me. “But all the people on earth…”
“All you. Different incarnations of you.”
“Wait. I’m everyone!?”
“Now you’re getting it,” I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.
“I’m every human being who ever lived?”
“Or who will ever live, yes.”
“I’m Abraham Lincoln?”
“And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too,” I added.
“I’m Hitler?” You said, appalled.
“And you’re the millions he killed.”
“And you’re everyone who followed him.”
You fell silent.
“Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.”
You thought for a long time.
“Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?”
“Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.”
“Whoa,” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a god?”
“No. Not yet. You’re a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.”
“So the whole universe,” you said, “it’s just…”
“An egg.” I answered. “Now it’s time for you to move on to your next life.”
And I sent you on your way.
yesss i found it again! one of my all time favourite reads.
Philosophy went to the max right here
OI SCROLL BACK UP AND READ ALL OF IT!
I was really intrigued by this
YOU CANT CHANGE THE VOLUME OF THE VOICE IN YOUR HEAD
FUCKING TRY I DARE YOU
ITS IMPOSSIBLE AND ITS REALLY FUCKING WITH MY MIND SOMEONE HUG ME
I CAN MAKE IT SCREAM WITHOUT GETTING LOUDER
H E L P
Holy shit whispering is the same volume as shouting as loud as I can
what have you done
We think in concepts
Concepts have no volume
Because a thought is the loudest silence of all.