misc.

some stuff
(and, in case you're interested, my art blog: http://artofmisstakes.tumblr.com/)


Any questions or comments?  
Reblogged from thommae
Reblogged from princessanimu
spinachandchocolate:

slim-and-svelte:

 

I’ll just have one cookie

spinachandchocolate:

slim-and-svelte:

 

I’ll just have one cookie

(Source: princessanimu, via feifiefofum)

Reblogged from toleave

(Source: toleave, via cactus-spooky)

Reblogged from 5herlockholme5

5herlockholme5:

thepainofthefeels:

5herlockholme5:

ha im a piece of trash

As someone who cares deeply about the environment, I am obligated to pick you up.
Is seven okay?

you smooth fucker

(via cactus-spooky)

Reblogged from thatisnotahat
thatisnotahat:

I’ve been watching this for 5 minutes and giggling like an idiot.

thatisnotahat:

I’ve been watching this for 5 minutes and giggling like an idiot.

(via officialfrenchtoast)

Reblogged from lupinremus-deactivated20130125

lipstickandligature:

fuckyeahsexpositivity:

I love this routine, because it’s not a rape joke. It’s a rape culture joke. It’s not making fun of the people who have been raped, but of both rape culture (not being able to just jog because it’s not safe) but of the idea that the only thing of value in a woman is her vagina.

—BB

Really this is brilliant. So brilliant.

(via feifiefofum)

Reblogged from huffingtonpost
Reblogged from omgbuglen
procoffee:

omgbuglen:

Online dating — who has it worse?

fucking disgusting

procoffee:

omgbuglen:

Online dating — who has it worse?

fucking disgusting

(via feifiefofum)

Reblogged from amanda-oaks
Wait for someone who bumps mouths clumsily with yours cos they’re too busy smiling to kiss you properly. Yeah. Wait for that. Azra Tabassum  (via hakkesho)

(Source: amanda-oaks, via feifiefofum)

Reblogged from ruf1ohn1tram

Anonymous said: Um, but how do you fuck with unshaved legs?

spacestepmom:

kindlyleavethestage:

ruf1ohn1tram:

how are hairy legs an impediment to have sex

what kind of sex are u having that requires 100% shaved legs friend

Foreplay is actually more challenging… kissing your way up a hairy thigh feels weird for both of you. @spacestepmom may be having very unstupendous uninteresting sex

if hair on legs kills ur weak ass foreplay game u were probs never good at it to begin with lmfao

Reblogged from sizvideos
Reblogged from moi-et-la-solitaire

alexielthegreat:

moi-et-la-solitaire:

THIS IS IMPORTANT!

Yesterday, I went to Disneyland. Apparently, at their Innovations building, there is a HUGE Avengers exhibit, complete with appearances by Captain America and Thor. Naturally, I ran screaming into said building, camera at the ready. After falling on the ground in front of the array of Iron Man suits and bursting into tears at the Steve Rogers exhibit (exactly like the Smithsonian one in TWS) I got in line to meet the Star-Spangled Man. (The workers were all awesome, they loved that I was such a nerd and so unbelievably excited to meet the Captain.)

My purse has a large Doctor Who pin on it, (not pictured) and the camera man for Steve pointed at it, looked at Cap, and was like “Look at this, it says something about she’s a Doctor?” and Cap points at it and goes "Oh, that looks like a blue police box!" so I said, (I was speechless guys I literally am such a dweeb) "It is." and he said "When I was in England doing an Op in 1942, I was stuck in a burning building and a man named John Smith pulled me out of the building, and then ran into a blue police box just like that and disappeared. Do you know if this has anything to do with that?" 

I DON’T EVEN REMEMBER WHAT I SAID IN RESPONSE. YOU GUYS. THE CAPTAIN AMERICA AT DISNEYLAND WATCHES DOCTOR WHO. HARDCORE REFERENCED DOCTOR WHO. KNEW ABOUT THE WHOLE JOHN SMITH ALIAS THING. CAPTAIN AMERICA WATCHES DOCTOR WHO. I AM IN TEARS REMEMBERING ALL OF THIS. 

anyways, we took pictures, i cried when i walked out, thought you all ought to know. the end. 

This dude knows his stuff.  He’s the same Cap that I saw during my bachelorette party.  When I gave him a drawing as a gift for his upcoming July 4th ‘birthday’, I mentioned I thought he would appreciate it because I knew he had gone to art school before the war.  He GRINNED so big and said "Wow, no one ever remembers that!"  

He also made me punch his shield because I had my Winter Soldier jacket on.  

Disney, KEEP HIM, HE’S PERFECT 

(via feifiefofum)

Reblogged from needthisbook
sh8-bit-angora:

needthisbook:

Ten Major Artists:

Wong Wong & Lulu

Pepper examining himself before commencing a self-portrait

Pepper’s self-portrait

Tiger the spontaneous reductionist

Misty goes off the wall

Minnie, the abstract expressionist

Minnie’s Reindeer in Provence, 1992.

Smokey painting after an hour in the catnip patch

Smokey at work

Ginger’s Stripped Bare Birds, 1992.

Princess, the elemental fragmentist

Charlie, the peripheral realist

this literally makes me so happy

sh8-bit-angora:

needthisbook:

Ten Major Artists:

Wong Wong & Lu Lu

Wong Wong & Lulu

Pepper gazing into the mirror before a self-portrait

Pepper examining himself before commencing a self-portrait

Pepper painting his self-portrait

Pepper’s self-portrait

Tiger

Tiger the spontaneous reductionist

Misty in action

Misty goes off the wall

Minnie: abstract expressionist

Minnie, the abstract expressionist

Minnies finished work

Minnie’s Reindeer in Provence, 1992.

Smokey contemplating

Smokey painting after an hour in the catnip patch

Smokey painting after an hour in the catnip patch

Smokey at work

Ginger's 'Stripped Bare Birds', 1992.

Ginger’s Stripped Bare Birds, 1992.

Princess' 'Regularly Ridiculed Rodents', 1993.

Princess, the elemental fragmentist

Charlie the peripheral realist

Charlie, the peripheral realist

this literally makes me so happy

(via quitequitespooky)

Reblogged from guerrillamamamedicine

So anyway, I was having this argument with my father about Martin Luther King and how his message was too conservative compared to Malcolm X’s message. My father got really angry at me. It wasn’t that he disliked Malcolm X, but his point was that Malcolm X hadn’t accomplished anything as Dr. King had.

I was kind of sarcastic and asked something like, so what did Martin Luther King accomplish other than giving his “I have a dream speech.”

Before I tell you what my father told me, I want to digress. Because at this point in our amnesiac national existence, my question pretty much reflects the national civic religion view of what Dr. King accomplished. He gave this great speech. Or some people say, “he marched.” I was so angry at Mrs. Clinton during the primaries when she said that Dr. King marched, but it was LBJ who delivered the Civil Rights Act.

At this point, I would like to remind everyone exactly what Martin Luther King did, and it wasn’t that he “marched” or gave a great speech.

My father told me with a sort of cold fury, “Dr. King ended the terror of living in the south.”

Please let this sink in and and take my word and the word of my late father on this. If you are a white person who has always lived in the U.S. and never under a brutal dictatorship, you probably don’t know what my father was talking about.

But this is what the great Dr. Martin Luther King accomplished. Not that he marched, nor that he gave speeches.

He ended the terror of living as a black person, especially in the south.

I’m guessing that most of you, especially those having come fresh from seeing The Help, may not understand what this was all about. But living in the south (and in parts of the midwest and in many ghettos of the north) was living under terrorism.

It wasn’t that black people had to use a separate drinking fountain or couldn’t sit at lunch counters, or had to sit in the back of the bus.

You really must disabuse yourself of this idea. Lunch counters and buses were crucial symbolic planes of struggle that the civil rights movement used to dramatize the issue, but the main suffering in the south did not come from our inability to drink from the same fountain, ride in the front of the bus or eat lunch at Woolworth’s.

It was that white people, mostly white men, occasionally went berserk, and grabbed random black people, usually men, and lynched them. You all know about lynching. But you may forget or not know that white people also randomly beat black people, and the black people could not fight back, for fear of even worse punishment.

This constant low level dread of atavistic violence is what kept the system running. It made life miserable, stressful and terrifying for black people.

White people also occasionally tried black people, especially black men, for crimes for which they could not conceivably be guilty. With the willing participation of white women, they often accused black men of “assault,” which could be anything from rape to not taking off one’s hat, to “reckless eyeballing.”

This is going to sound awful and perhaps a stain on my late father’s memory, but when I was little, before the civil rights movement, my father taught me many, many humiliating practices in order to prevent the random, terroristic, berserk behavior of white people. The one I remember most is that when walking down the street in New York City side by side, hand in hand with my hero-father, if a white woman approached on the same sidewalk, I was to take off my hat and walk behind my father, because he had been taught in the south that black males for some reason were supposed to walk single file in the presence of any white lady.

This was just one of many humiliating practices we were taught to prevent white people from going berserk.

I remember a huge family reunion one August with my aunts and uncles and cousins gathered around my grandparents’ vast breakfast table laden with food from the farm, and the state troopers drove up to the house with a car full of rifles and shotguns, and everyone went kind of weirdly blank. They put on the masks that black people used back then to not provoke white berserkness. My strong, valiant, self-educated, articulate uncles, whom I adored, became shuffling, Step-N-Fetchits to avoid provoking the white men. Fortunately the troopers were only looking for an escaped convict. Afterward, the women, my aunts, were furious at the humiliating performance of the men, and said so, something that even a child could understand.

This is the climate of fear that Dr. King ended.

If you didn’t get taught such things, let alone experience them, I caution you against invoking the memory of Dr. King as though he belongs exclusively to you and not primarily to African Americans.

The question is, how did Dr. King do this—and of course, he didn’t do it alone.

(Of all the other civil rights leaders who helped Dr. King end this reign of terror, I think the most under appreciated is James Farmer, who founded the Congress of Racial Equality and was a leader of nonviolent resistance, and taught the practices of nonviolent resistance.)

So what did they do?

They told us: Whatever you are most afraid of doing vis-a-vis white people, go do it. Go ahead down to city hall and try to register to vote, even if they say no, even if they take your name down.

Go ahead sit at that lunch counter. Sue the local school board. All things that most black people would have said back then, without exaggeration, were stark raving insane and would get you killed.

If we do it all together, we’ll be okay.

They made black people experience the worst of the worst, collectively, that white people could dish out, and discover that it wasn’t that bad. They taught black people how to take a beating—from the southern cops, from police dogs, from fire department hoses. They actually coached young people how to crouch, cover their heads with their arms and take the beating. They taught people how to go to jail, which terrified most decent people.

And you know what? The worst of the worst, wasn’t that bad.

Once people had been beaten, had dogs sicced on them, had fire hoses sprayed on them, and been thrown in jail, you know what happened?

These magnificent young black people began singing freedom songs in jail.

That, my friends, is what ended the terrorism of the south. Confronting your worst fears, living through it, and breaking out in a deep throated freedom song. The jailers knew they had lost when they beat the crap out of these young Negroes and the jailed, beaten young people began to sing joyously, first in one town then in another. This is what the writer, James Baldwin, captured like no other writer of the era.

Please let this sink in. It wasn’t marches or speeches. It was taking a severe beating, surviving and realizing that our fears were mostly illusory and that we were free.

Daily Kos :: Most of you have no idea what Martin Luther King actually did (via guerrillamamamedicine)

(via spooky-colored)

Reblogged from z-unit
The Europeans are not yet willing to acknowledge that the world did not wait in darkness for them to bring the light, and that the history of Africa was already old when Europe was born. John Henrik Clarke, “Education for a New Reality in the African World” (1994)

(Source: z-unit, via feifiefofum)