(Source: paulwelsey, via wolfey-posey)

sosaysbeth:

vixyish:

solarbird:

xgenepositive:

mmmahogany:

#john barrowman is having none of your misogynist bullshit

i love that barrowman’s response also distances him from the contestant
"hahahaha women do laundry right john?  you with me, john?"
"don’t lump me in with you, you fucking martian”

This is what I’m talking about when I keep saying that men have to deny the endorsement. This guy wanted Barrowman’s tacit support or agreement for his sexism, as part of bonding through humour. John went nope.

Bolding mine.

Also, I’m a woman and I have NO IDEA WHAT THAT SYMBOL MEANS.  Off to google…

(Source: kaniehtiio, via wolfey-posey)

laughterkey:

mogarisreadytoblog:

mrcaseythegreat:

miss-mcguiness:

imleigh:

“DONT BOTHER COMING HOME”

“GONNA SHAKE IT LIKE A POLAROID PICTURE.”

"I ACCIDENTALLY HAD SEX WITH IT."

"NOW WE’RE IN LOVE"

I will never not love dog texts.

Fun fact: If you read the dog’s voice in your head as Mantzoukas, it gets even funnier.

(Source: iraffiruse, via wizardowl)

misssuzyvalentine:

edgysatsuma:

fozmeadows:

whataboutthemenses:

blackamazon:

facebooksexism:

breewriteswords:

pleatedjeans:

The mayor of Mississauga, Canada is a badass. via

Hazel McCallion, everbody.

92 years old,

34 years in office,

$0 in debt

$700 million in reserve

Eight prime ministers

One truck.

But women aren’t strong leaders… OH WAIT.

Now I’m sure somebody’s gonna tell me something but

  • supports a Palestinian state
  • supports Aids CHarities
  • told her city well if we cant get money y’all need to pay taxes and maintains a 76 approval rating
  • nick named Hurricane Hazel
  • and is so boss lady that she don’t run she’ tells  folks to give that money to charity

I will always reblog this lady.

This woman is officially my new hero.

In regards to the flooding in the GTA yesterday, she apparently said that she hasn’t seen rain like that since her neighbour Noah was building a boat.

New hero in life. 

(via monkkeyslut)

MY GRANDPA WANTED TO BE AN ARTIST

pbandjae:

honerablerosemary:

BUT HE HAD 7 KIDS AND A WIFE TO FEED SO HE ENDED UP OWNING A GROCERY STORE AFTER SERVING IN WW2

TODAY MY DAD WAS CLEANING THE HOUSE AND FOUND SOME PENCIL DRAWINGS THAT MY GRANDPA DID AND ASKED IF I WANTED TO HAVE THEM AND I

image

CAN WE JUST LOOK AT THIS

image

MY BAD WEBCAM PICTURES DON’T EVEN DO THEM JUSTICE LIKE LOOK AT THESE

image

MY GRANDPA NEVER BECAME A FAMOUS ARTIST

image

BUT I WANT TO MAKE HIM KNOWN

here, here. I’ll reblog the shit out of these.

(via wizardowl)

fuckyeahthespianpeacock:

saltheria:

yeffyaboyuice:

mythchief:

So there I was, ready to take a shower. I mean, I was dirty, a little greasy, a shower was not such a horrible idea. People take showers, amiright? Of course!
I get naked.
FULL naked.
REAL naked.
I’m talking the exact opposite reason why you ever went to your grandmother’s house.
No cookies. Blatant nudity.
That’s how folks take showers these days, right? Well, I pull back the curtain…
And there it was.
This…thing…sitting on the little soap/shower/pube shelf. Not a care in the world, like it’s been there for years. “What the fuck is that?” I think to myself.
Now, what follows is the exact pattern of thought that took me from rational human being to Sloth in 3.4 seconds.
“Is that a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit? Holy fuck that’s a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit. OMG why would someone leave that unattended. Those things are so delicious. I’m gonna eat the fuck out of it. Man, I can’t wait to see whoever left it’s face when they come back to find that someone ate their cheesy biscuit’s fuck. Ohhh boy.”
Then my brain sent a message to my arm that said, “Reach for that cheesy biscuit, bitch. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!?”
As you must already know, we are all contractually bound to make a dickload of mistakes throughout our lifetime. Some of those mistakes are so big that they forever hinder our world and warrant entire chapters in our children’s history books. However, most mistakes have the dubious providence of merely haunting one’s soul and festering amidst the subconscious for always and eternity.
This was, nearly, one of those.
If my adjacency to failure could be measured, the only possible unit of measurement to appropriate it would be “baby condoms”. And no, I do not mean those horrendous papoose-like titty-cribs that the slovenly carriage their spawn around in in Wal-Mart, I mean condoms that a baby would wear.
My adjacency to failure was roughly 1 and a half Kiddie Trojans.
I’m not sure what stopped me, be it cosmic or supernatural, but it gave my brain just enough time to ask itself some rather important questions regarding this little tub treasure. Questions like:
“WHO, THE FUCK, WOULD LEAVE A CHEESY BISCUIT IN MY SHOWER?!”
And inquiries such as:
“AND WHY WERE YOU GOING TO EAT IT, MORON?!”
Seriously, was I so hungry that I would wantonly disobey all the integral conditioning and survival imprinting my parents bestowed upon me like the ever important, “Um, don’t eat that biscuit retard, you don’t know where it’s been or whose it is and also you found it in the shower.” in order to satisfy something so benign as a munchie?
That, I’m sorry to say, was pretty much my reality.
An early morning introspective psychological evaluation of a sad, hungry, naked man who almost ate a bar of soap.

OMG ITS BACK

This shit needs to be published.

This is going in the monologue section and I’m not even sorry.

fuckyeahthespianpeacock:

saltheria:

yeffyaboyuice:

mythchief:

So there I was, ready to take a shower. I mean, I was dirty, a little greasy, a shower was not such a horrible idea. People take showers, amiright? Of course!

I get naked.

FULL naked.

REAL naked.

I’m talking the exact opposite reason why you ever went to your grandmother’s house.

No cookies. Blatant nudity.

That’s how folks take showers these days, right? Well, I pull back the curtain…

And there it was.

This…thing…sitting on the little soap/shower/pube shelf. Not a care in the world, like it’s been there for years. “What the fuck is that?” I think to myself.

Now, what follows is the exact pattern of thought that took me from rational human being to Sloth in 3.4 seconds.

“Is that a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit? Holy fuck that’s a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit. OMG why would someone leave that unattended. Those things are so delicious. I’m gonna eat the fuck out of it. Man, I can’t wait to see whoever left it’s face when they come back to find that someone ate their cheesy biscuit’s fuck. Ohhh boy.”

Then my brain sent a message to my arm that said, “Reach for that cheesy biscuit, bitch. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!?”

As you must already know, we are all contractually bound to make a dickload of mistakes throughout our lifetime. Some of those mistakes are so big that they forever hinder our world and warrant entire chapters in our children’s history books. However, most mistakes have the dubious providence of merely haunting one’s soul and festering amidst the subconscious for always and eternity.

This was, nearly, one of those.

If my adjacency to failure could be measured, the only possible unit of measurement to appropriate it would be “baby condoms”. And no, I do not mean those horrendous papoose-like titty-cribs that the slovenly carriage their spawn around in in Wal-Mart, I mean condoms that a baby would wear.

My adjacency to failure was roughly 1 and a half Kiddie Trojans.

I’m not sure what stopped me, be it cosmic or supernatural, but it gave my brain just enough time to ask itself some rather important questions regarding this little tub treasure. Questions like:

“WHO, THE FUCK, WOULD LEAVE A CHEESY BISCUIT IN MY SHOWER?!”

And inquiries such as:

“AND WHY WERE YOU GOING TO EAT IT, MORON?!”

Seriously, was I so hungry that I would wantonly disobey all the integral conditioning and survival imprinting my parents bestowed upon me like the ever important, “Um, don’t eat that biscuit retard, you don’t know where it’s been or whose it is and also you found it in the shower.” in order to satisfy something so benign as a munchie?

That, I’m sorry to say, was pretty much my reality.

An early morning introspective psychological evaluation of a sad, hungry, naked man who almost ate a bar of soap.

OMG ITS BACK

This shit needs to be published.

This is going in the monologue section and I’m not even sorry.

(via ashlynkatesfangirlthings)

gamsee:

today this white girl asked me why my hair is so curly and i said im black and she told me to say african american

(via the-absolute-funniest-posts)

boneycircus:

sailorv:

heytheregisela:

If there’s an award for “High School Coach of the Year,” a Utah football coach deserves to be on the list of nominees — not for what he did on the field, but off! When he discovered that members of the Union High football team were apparently cyberbullying another student, Coach Matt Labrum suspended the entire team. He told the players that the bullying, along with building academic and attitude problems, would not be tolerated and ordered them to hand in their gear. Coach Labrum also met with the student who was targeted to apologize on behalf of the team. “It just felt like everything was going in a direction that we didn’t want our young men going,” Labrum told a local news reporter, “We felt like we needed to make a stand.” The coach has allowed the team to reform, but only so that they could meet to discuss the situation and sign contracts that require them to attend counseling on character building as well as perform community service. Only then will they get their jerseys back. All we can say here is “Coaching…he’s doing it right!”
~~~*Kittyanon* SO LOVE IT.
((OMG HE’S AWESOME!))

Yep. We need to get sports culture back on track.

THIS is how you do.

boneycircus:

sailorv:

heytheregisela:

If there’s an award for “High School Coach of the Year,” a Utah football coach deserves to be on the list of nominees — not for what he did on the field, but off!

When he discovered that members of the Union High football team were apparently cyberbullying another student, Coach Matt Labrum suspended the entire team. He told the players that the bullying, along with building academic and attitude problems, would not be tolerated and ordered them to hand in their gear.

Coach Labrum also met with the student who was targeted to apologize on behalf of the team.

“It just felt like everything was going in a direction that we didn’t want our young men going,” Labrum told a local news reporter, “We felt like we needed to make a stand.”

The coach has allowed the team to reform, but only so that they could meet to discuss the situation and sign contracts that require them to attend counseling on character building as well as perform community service. Only then will they get their jerseys back.

All we can say here is “Coaching…he’s doing it right!”

~~~
*Kittyanon* SO LOVE IT.

((OMG HE’S AWESOME!))

Yep. We need to get sports culture back on track.

THIS is how you do.

(via hopelesshopefulromantic)

john-do-windy-thing:

acrumblebatchwithcustardfreeman:

pantlesscait:

sherlockismysuicidenote:

kanrose:

If you can pronounce correctly every word in this poem, you will be speaking English better than 90% of the native English speakers in the world.

After trying…

(Source: kanrose)

writingsforwinter:

thewrittenrealms:

Survival Songs - Meggie C. Royer

My first poetry book, Survival Songs, can be bought through Barnes & Noble, through Fameless Publishing, through Amazon as a paperback copy, through Amazon as a Kindle copy, through iBooks, through Chapters, through Square Market, or through the Book Depository.

writingsforwinter:

thewrittenrealms:

Survival Songs - Meggie C. Royer

My first poetry book, Survival Songs, can be bought through Barnes & Noble, through Fameless Publishing, through Amazon as a paperback copy, through Amazon as a Kindle copy, through iBooks, through Chapters, through Square Market, or through the Book Depository.

(via ashlynkatesfangirlthings)