I looooooooatheeeee when the male gender throw this line in their ‘how to bag a girl’ playbook. I don’t understand what pre-pubescent cave they lurked out of and decided today was the day their balls decided to drop a few levels, but females alike are not the same. Just because you dated a Puerto Rican or Dominican for a couple of weeks doesn’t entitle you with all knowing knowledge of taming a woman of the Spaniard decent. If you dated a Korean that doesn’t mean you have a cluster of a clue into the world of Asian women.
We are not the same, we may share the same traditions/lifestyles and a few minor similarities, but we are not identical. I don’t care if your last girlfriend ate the same tortillas as me and share the same love for whatever Mexican related habit I have, you have no fucking clue how to handle me.
Crawl back into your cave and learn how to woo a female the proper way that doesn’t insult her ethnicity, but also her ability to love freely without being domesticated by an incompetent male.
An Open Letter to President Obama from Michael Moore
(via source if you don’t feel like reading through this blog.)
Dear President Obama,
Do you really want to be the new “war president”? If you go to West Point tomorrow night (Tuesday, 8pm) and announce that you are increasing, rather than withdrawing, the troops in Afghanistan, you are the new war president. Pure and simple. And with that you will do the worst possible thing you could do — destroy the hopes and dreams so many millions have placed in you. With just one speech tomorrow night you will turn a multitude of young people who were the backbone of your campaign into disillusioned cynics. You will teach them what they’ve always heard is true — that all politicians are alike. I simply can’t believe you’re about to do what they say you are going to do. Please say it isn’t so.
It is not your job to do what the generals tell you to do. We are a civilian-run government. WE tell the Joint Chiefs what to do, not the other way around. That’s the way General Washington insisted it must be. That’s what President Truman told General MacArthur when MacArthur wanted to invade China. “You’re fired!,” said Truman, and that was that. And you should have fired Gen. McChrystal when he went to the press to preempt you, telling the press what YOU had to do. Let me be blunt: We love our kids in the armed services, but we f*#&in’ hate these generals, from Westmoreland in Vietnam to, yes, even Colin Powell for lying to the UN with his made-up drawings of WMD (he has since sought redemption).
I understand that cooking Thanksgiving dinner was not only an enormous task, but also took amazing patience as well as multitasking abilities. I was beyond grateful when the plate of Stuffing, green beans & potatoes, macaroni & cheese (home cooked, no Kraft boxes in sight,) and juicy turkey that was sliced to perfection landed on my plate and served to me steamy hot.
The best part of thanksgiving dinner is the left overs that follow the day after. Still excited about the amount of food we had basking in the chilled surfaces of our refrigerator (since for the past 3 years I’ve been living off of spaghetti and cup-a-noodles, along with various fast food places, and cheap pizza parlors) I more than welcomed you telling me left overs were going to be dinner for the next couple of days.
Friday came, Saturday came, and Sunday came. Stuffing, Mac & cheese, green beans… turkey. I ate it. Over, and over and over and over again. Once Sunday came and you told put a plate of repeat Thursday dinner in front of me, I gulped, then sighed, and ate with no complaints. How can I complain about a once delectable meal that tantalized my taste buds? You slaved for days before to prepare such a feast, a mere moan and groan of eating left overs would just insult your time clocked in to feed me.
But once I saw the note left on the kitchen table reading the following:
KC - Still some left over thanksgiving dinner, warm it up and eat it for lunch! I’m going to to grocery store possibly tomorrow. Love, Mom.
POSSIBLY TOMORROW!? THANKSGIVING DINNER AGAIN?! You are pushing it, I will not go down without a fight. If this means I’ll be eating lucky charms throughout today and cheese crackers until the sun comes up the following day so be it. Thanksgiving has come and gone, and so has my sensational urge for stuffing. I demand to be fed a different meal………………………………………….Please.
“I was always attracted to assholes. You know what I mean, project guys that I thought I could fix? After you left I made a vow to myself to date only fully functional, well adjusted men - no more works is progress.”—
What's the greatest christmas present you ever received?
Mine was from my dad, He gave me snow. I always wanted a white Christmas and of course in Okinawa I could never get one. I wrote Santa every single day for 3 months asking and asking and asking for just a slight flurry, even for 5 seconds.
My dad obviously knew he couldn’t summon the powers of a water bender (sorry for my Avatar reference) and I’m pretty sure he wasn’t Storm from X-men so he did the next best thing, He bought a snow machine. He made me stay over at my house mothers for Christmas eve, and just when it turned 5 am he picked me up and told me Santa left me an early Christmas present. I was so excited, I rushed into the house and there all in my living room, dining room, and kitchen were mountains of snow piles. My dad dropped the temperature down to freezing, covered the floors in tarp, moved all the furniture and gave me my white Christmas inside the house.
It's easy to talk shit when you live behind a mask.
Tumblr has been known for its various amounts of Drama. From level headed bloggers ignited with rage when negativity pours into their formspring, to people that don’t have a face or personal references that thrive off dishing the negativity.
I think of all of us on tumblr as a giant masked costume ball back in the 17th century. We can dress however we want, put on a mask and live our lives for that one night how we always wanted to. No judgments, no dismay, no consequences. Except with ours, it’s just not one night, it’s every time we log on and hit the “Create Post” button. For some they are no longer wearing the mask concealing their identity, they may still be wearing a costume, but we know who we’re dancing with. For others, they’re not only still wearing their mask, but they have collected a few others along the way.
The masked characters in our ball have turned from once fellow associates with the same purpose to now enemies with a hidden agenda. They heckle in corners picking out which unmasked boy or girl to sit and judge. It could be the way that they look, the way they dress, the way they present themselves, or even as ridiculous to the way that they sound. A masked ball that evolved from good fun to a spot light of prejudgments is what we have before us.
I took my mask off many moons ago, I have nothing to be ashamed of and I stand before anybody with the courage of my own convictions. You masked villains can giggle, heckle, point, laugh, and judge me with every last breath in your unidentified body. I may be most of the things you point out, but I am not weak. I at least had the strength to be unmasked and live life while showing my face, all while you’re still hiding yours.
I highly doubt I could ever be considered weak minded compared to you.
“We’ve got two words for you: Bionic Ass. And then two more: Fuck yes.”
Tragedy struck Ged Galvin, a 55-year-old English man from South Yorkshire, when he was involved in a terrible motorcycle accident. His injuries were so extensive that, even after his many surgeries, doctors informed him he would have to use a colostomy bag for the rest of his life. Then crazier, more awesome doctors that had seen some Six Million Dollar Man re-runs recently, stepped in and informed him to “fuck that noise.”
“Ged,” they said. “We’ve got two words for you: Bionic Ass. And then two more: Fuck yes.”
Ged, weighing the pros and cons of carrying a bag of poop around for eternity (there was a shockingly short “pro” list) agreed to try an experimental new surgery. The procedure used muscles from his knee to recreate a crude sort of sphincter, with implanted electrodes all throughout that respond to a remote control. Now, Galvin doesn’t have normal control over his bowels, he has supreme mastery over them. With the press of a button, Galvin controls exactly when, where, how much (and, if science is as awesome as this story is making it out to be, hopefully with exactly how much force) he shits. However, even if Galvin himself is sadly lacking in Astro Boy style ass-cannons, believe me when I say this: It is only a matter of time until somebody with both the desire and money gets the idea too. In the future, you’ll have to watch who you mouth off to, because forget knives and guns - that dude at the bar might have a crap-howitzer in his pants loaded with high-caliber feces with your name on it.
Comments: I love your photography! You have an amazing talent. When did you start taking photography seriously and what inspires you?
I started taking photography seriously about 3 years ago. I graduated from George Mason University at the time and living with my dad in Fairfax, VA. Now, if you were born & raised in northern Virgina I’m sure there are billions of things to do; but being as though I was not - I literally sat inside twiddling my thumbs all day once I graduated.
My dad tossed me his digital point & shoot camera and told me to go take pictures of things. So from there on out I went out everyday and shot pictures around northern Virginia. I decided to give college another go around and I literally just googled art schools and picked the first one that popped up & applied (the art institute of atlanta.)
As for inspiration, Ansel Adams. I love his landscapes and open space pictures soooo much. I will never be on that level, but I enjoy taking pictures of my surroundings. I think of photography as a work of art rather then work. Granted Im being paid for things that I am shooting, but even if I didn’t get paid this will always be something that defines me.
Comments: I just started following your blog, and I haven’t regretted one minute of it. (-tonka)
thank you so much tonka(keshia!):*
Comments: What is your approach to photography?
I approach photography the same way I approach life, Jump first think later. I never learned how to take a good picture, I learned what the buttons on my camera were used for. You can’t be taught to have “A good eye” for photographs. I look at something and try to see the beauty in ugly and the ugly in beautiful then snap. I don’t put thinking behind my technique, I literally just shoot & move on.
Me:I'm calling to see if this Item is available in your store since they are saying it is, are you able to help me?
Employee:What department is it in
Employee:Well then I guess I have no other choice, but to help
Me:I'm looking for the sunpak quick-release plate. the part that attaches the camera to the tripod
Employee:I know what it is, I work in the photo department
Me:Ok. Do you have it?
Employee:Obviously if I haven't said yes yet, then we don't
Me:Alright, I tried to be appropriate but that's obviously not working. Your website says its available for in store pick up, you don't have it; your website is lying which wouldn't be the first time HENCE ME CALLING IN BEFORE DRIVING. Second of all, you are taking a little too much effort in being rude rather then helping. Finally, let me talk to a manager.
Employee:That's fine I'm quitting anyways talk to him all you want I'm an educated beyond talented photographer WHO SHOULDNT BE WORKING IN THE PHOTO DEPARTMENT OF WALMART
Me:I'm honestly glad you're having this breakthrough with me right now, and as much as you'd love for me to cradle you in your poor life choices I am hanging up now. I obviously need to find a tripod piece
Comments: don't you think having tattoos on your chest is vulgar?
Vulgar to you or myself? When I start living for other people, that will be the day I retire having a personality and soul. Matter fact I might as well forfeit living. I actually enjoy societies rediculous views on Tattoos as if they are related to misfit society with no aspirations to life that love pissing people off along with their morals. They mean so much more then that, MINE mean so much more than that.
Having the love of my mother on my chest? The music notes to two songs that changed my life? and Family written on my chest would be considered vulgar? Or that fact that they are placed strategically where I have two protruding objects that grab attention from the opposite sex? The love for my family as well as for music is not vulgar, and having them put on that area of my body is not either. They don’t go against my religion, my morals, or my way of life. They don’t cause bodily harm and I’m pretty sure they aren’t armed. If they go against your morals, I won’t apologize for that. I am different, we are different, I express my love and personality in shades of color you possibly won’t ever welcome to your palette. Just because we don’t posses the same shades doesn’t mean Vulgar should be the vocabulary to describe me. We fear what we don’t know, and disapprove of things we insist on never understanding.
We were pitching a potential client on a new website. When we mentioned we would use our photographer for a half-day shoot, he replied “well, I got a Canon Rebel for Christmas and I’m pretty good with it.”
"Buying a Nikon doesn’t make you a photographer, It makes you a Nikon owner."
It’s always been a family tradition that the day after Christmas we always go to a tree farm and pick out a blue spruce. Even at 26 years old, my big brother looks forward to this day as if it is christmas, I don’t know if it’s the whole act of cutting down a tree or bonding with my mom by going around the entire Tree Farm hunting for the perfect Christmas tree. This has always been my brother & mom’s thing ever since I was little. I enjoyed the decorating aspect as opposed to the finding one aspect lol.
This year will be a different tradition, my brother is working and unable to pick out his version of perfection, and my father & step mother are coming up to help as well as pick out a tree for themselves. This will be the first time I actually have a say in what tree gets to come home to the living room, and possibly bond with my mother.
I missed this living on my own, not being able to really enjoy family when it came to the holiday seasons. I’ve been so used to being on my own and fending for myself that this break in my life of moving back in with my mom to help her out for a year has been more of a blessing then an inconvenience. She’s making up for lost time in my childhood where the holidays were the responsibility of my fathers, and actually really getting to know me.
So here I go tumblr, I put on my rain boots, AIA alumni hoodie, sweat pants with paint splatter on them, and a big ass beanie over my head. I’m going Tree huntin’.
So let me in give me another chance To really be your man Cause when the roof cave in and the truth came out I just didn’t know what to do But when I become a star we’ll be living so large I’ll do anything for you So tell me girl
6pm Thanksgiving dinner with my best friend, Peanut.
9pm Thanksgiving deserts with my best friend, Michelle.
I will need to be rolled all the way back home. I starved all day yesterday, and plan on wearing the stretchiest dress that I own. I haven’t been to a thanksgiving dinner in over 4 years, I’m living it up as much as possible with the people I adore.
..expect pictures. Happy Thanksgiving guys! I’m thankful to be apart of your lives, even if it is only through reading about it.