(via mikeziemer)
Tommie Jean.
I wear a lot of red lipsticks & spout a lot of bullshits.
I read mad amounts of books & I think I'm going to change the world.
Also, I'm pretty tall.
Rest in Peace Zanjeer.
Zanjeer, a golden labrador, unlikely hero of 1993 Mumbai blasts, saved thousands of lives during the serial bomb blasts in the city in March 1993 by detecting more than 3,329 kgs of the explosive RDX, 600 detonators, 249 hand grenades and 6406 rounds of live ammunition. He was buried with full honours during a ceremony attended by senior police officials.
via Incredible India on fbrespect
God I fucking love dogs
(via sassholio)
Male feminists
Why the fuck doesn’t this have eight million notes? Get it together, tumblr.
Signal Boost!!!
(via sassholio)
I never wish to be easily defined. I’d rather float over other people’s minds as something strictly fluid and non-perceivable; more like a transparent, paradoxically iridescent creature rather than an actual person.
Franz Kafka from a diary entry dated 23 March 1914 (via floralnymph)
(via sassholio)
![theclearlydope:
The realest talk.
via tastefullyoffensive:[@nickbilton]](http://25.media.tumblr.com/dcaa6bb5febad72b22af5981e3d0ea61/tumblr_mfu1wrv2Hg1qewacoo1_500.png)
Blake Fall-Conroy, “Minimum Wage Machine,” 2008-2010
This machine allows anyone to work for minimum wage for as long as they like. Turning the crank on the side releases one penny every 4.97 seconds, for a total of $7.25 per hour. This corresponds to minimum wage for a person in New York.
This piece is brilliant on multiple levels, particularly as social commentary. Without a doubt, most people who started operating the machine for fun would quickly grow disheartened and stop when realizing just how little they’re earning by turning this mindless crank. A person would then conceivably realize that this is what nearly two million people in the United States do every day…at much harder jobs than turning a crank. This turns the piece into a simple, yet effective argument for raising the minimum wage.
(via lightwriter)
(via sassholio)
I have a habit of falling in love with souls who have yet to be at peace with their bodies, their minds, their weaknesses. I try to build them, to find the parts of them that are missing in me.
I end up with holes in my chest.
Farah Gabdon (via weaverofstars)
(via sassholio)
What if all women were bigger and stronger than you? And thought they were smarter? What if women were the ones who started wars? What if too many of your friends had been raped by women wielding giant dildos and no K-Y Jelly? What if the state trooper who pulled you over on the New Jersey Turnpike was a woman and carried a gun? What if the ability to menstruate was the prerequisite for most high-paying jobs? What if your attractiveness to women depended on the size of your penis? What if every time women saw you they’d hoot and make jerking motions with their hands? What if women were always making jokes about how ugly penises are and how bad sperm tastes? What if you had to explain what’s wrong with your car to big sweaty women with greasy hands who stared at your crotch in a garage where you are surrounded by posters of naked men with hard-ons? What if men’s magazines featured cover photos of 14-year-old boys with socks tucked into the front of their jeans and articles like: “How to tell if your wife is unfaithful” or “What your doctor won’t tell you about your prostate” or “The truth about impotence”? What if the doctor who examined your prostate was a woman and called you “Honey”? What if you had to inhale your boss’ stale cigar breath as she insisted that sleeping with her was part of the job? What if you couldn’t get away because the company dress code required you wear shoes designed to keep you from running? And what if after all that women still wanted you to love them?
For the Men Who Still Don’t Get It, Carol Diehl. (via ashemo)
always, always this.
(via vanswearingen)
(via sassholio)
