the fact that women’s healthcare seems to be a joke among men is sickening.
lance armstrong loses a testicle and everyone’s like “oh man must have been so hard for him poor guy losing his manhood LIVESTRONG” and angelina jolie gets the jokes after her mother died from cancer and she’s trying to protect herself????
WAIT HOLD THE FUCK UP
IS ‘MRS’ JUST MR’S
LIKE BELONGING TO MR
Mr comes from the French monsieur, which I think literally translates as ‘my lord’ and basically just means master, and Mrs comes from maistre which is the feminine form of master, so actually—for once—no.
This was an extremely relevant comment and I thank you for educating me
Anonymous asked: Vinyl, virgin, turn :)
Vinyl: Top 3 favorite albums?
Erm, they really change a lot, but if we’re going for all-time favourites rather than what I’m listening to currently, then it’s probably (In no real order) By the Way - Red Hot Chili Peppers, From Under The Cork Tree - Fall Out Boy, and Led Zeppelin III. Third Eye Blind’s self-titled and Gagaku by Miyavi get the honorable mentions here.
Virgin: Give a description of the person you want to lose (or have lost) your virginity to.
He played guitar and looked like a 20-something Dave Grohl. It was pretty rad.
Turn: Who’s someone you wish you didn’t (have to) say goodbye to?
This is really open to interpretation. In terms of death I wish I never had to say goodbye to anyone, but that’s obvious. Honestly when I cut people out of my life, say goodbye for good, it’s good riddance. But if we take this to mean something a little less finite, then probably my first love. We still talk, on occasion, but it’s so far detached from when we were in love. It’s like talking to a warm stranger, y’know? There’s something so familiar about her but everything’s gone a bit left-of-center. Yeah, I wish I didn’t have to say goodbye to that love. Maybe I’m just romanticizing the past. Idk.
If I ever tell you I’m going to sleep and then you see me posting or liking things online for about an hour immediately after that, I promise I wasn’t lying to you, I’m just bad at going to sleep and it is usually a long process that begins with disengaging from any sort of immediate contact with people (chats, for example) and ends when everything on my screen is blurry and I’m hallucinating plot points I haven’t written yet
- Virgin: Give a description of the person you want to lose (or have lost) your virginity to.
- Disney: Which Disney character are you most like?
- Future: Do you think you'd feel better if you know what's going to happen to you later in your life?
- iTunes: Top 10 favorite songs?
- Turn: Who's someone you wish you didn't (have to) say goodbye to?
- Tattoo: What tattoos do you want or have, and what's the story behind them?
- Skirt: If you could learn any dance style, which would it be?
- Cinema: List of movies that have changed your life or your way of thinking.
- Post: If an apocalypse were to happen, what do you think the situation would be?
- Years: Tell us a story from when you were in high (or middle) school.
- Vinyl: Top 3 favorite albums?
- Blog: What's something you've learned from having your blog?
I don’t want to be a feminist anymore. Like a five-year-old, I want to close my eyes, stick my fingers in my ears, stomp my feet on the floor and scream “No! No, you cannot make me, I won’t, leave me alone!” I am, simply put, too tired. So very, very tired.
I am tired of fighting with my friends. I am tired of arguing that someone groping and slapping my butt isn’t “what I have to expect”, just because I’m at a bar, and the one attacking my butt has a drink in the other hand. I am tired of hearing “boys will be boys” and “when you’re dressed like that …” and “that’s just what guys do”. I am tired of trying to drown those sentiments in loud, repetitive no’s, screamed over and over again, till my throat is sore and my voice weak – just to hear them repeated, as soon as exhaustion threatens to silence me.
I am tired of being afraid. I am tired of seeing someone writing something offensive, sexist, racist, ageist, ableist, somewhere online. I am tired of seeing those writings getting likes and lol’s, and SO TRUE’s. I am tired of being consumed by confusion and anger, typing, typing, typing and typing a seemingly endless response, including research, links and statistics, and then hesitate clicking “submit”. I am tired of knowing that I hesitate because I am afraid of the flood of responses that will come. I am tired of knowing that I will be bombarded with lighten up’s, stop whining’s and get a sense of humor’s for so long, that I will start to wonder if I am indeed wound up too tight, a nagger and humorless. I am tired of the fact that I’m afraid of being called a cunt, even though I don’t find genitalia insulting or demeaning.