Reblog to assess who is a friend and who is an enemy
There is no secret fourth. If you like all of them, pick one. If you like none of them, pick one. If you dont know what pizza is look at the pictures. No none of the above. Fight. Kill
Last week I accidentally took an edible at 10x my usual dose. I say āaccidentallyā but it was really more of a āmy friend held it out to my face and I impulsively swallowed it like a pythonā, which was technically on purpose but still an accident in that my squamate instincts acted faster than my ability to assess the situation and ask myself if I really wanted to get Atreides high or not.
Anyway. I was painting the wall when it hit. My friend heard me make a noise and asked what was wrongāI explained that I had just fallen through several portals. I realized that painting the wall fulfilled my entire hierarchy of needs, and was absolutely sure that I was on track to escaping the cycle of samsara if I just kept at it a little longer. I was thwarted on my journey towards nirvana only by the fact that I ran out of paint.
Seeking a surrogate act of humble service through which I might be redeemed and made human, I turned to unwashed dishes in the sink and took up the holy weapon of the sponge. I was partway through cleaning the blender when it REALLY hit.
You ever clean a blender? Itās a shockingly intimate act. They are complex tools. One of the most complicated denizens of the kitchen. Glass and steel and rubber and plastic. Fuck! Theyāve got gaskets. You canāt just scrub āem and rinse them down like any other piece of shit dish. Youāve got to dissemble them piece by piece, groove by sensitive groove, taking care to lavish the spinning blades with cautious attention. Thereās something sensual about it. Something strangely vulnerable.
As I stood there, turning the pieces over in my hands, I thought about all the things we ask of blenders. They donāt have an easy job. They are hard laborers taking on a thankless task. I have used them so roughly in my haste for high-density smoothies, pushing them to their limits and occasionally breaking them. I remembered the smell of acrid smoke and decaying rubber that filled the kitchen in the break room the last time I tried to make a smoothie at workāthe motor overtaxed and melted, the gasket cracked and brittle. Strawberry slurry leaked out of it like the blood of a slain animal.
Was this blender built to last? Or was it doomed to an early grave in some distant landfill by the genetic disorder of planned obsolescence? I didnāt know, and was far too high to make an educated guess. But I knew that whatever care and tenderness and empathy I put into it, the more respect for the partnership of man and machine, the better it would perform for me.
This thought filled me with a surge of affection. However long its lifespan, I wanted it to be filled with dignity and love and understanding. I thought: I bet no one has hugged this blender before. And so I lifted it from its base.
A blender is roughly the size and shape of a human baby. Cradling one in your arms satisfies a primal need. A month ago I was permitted to hold an infant for the first time in my life, an experience which was physically and psychologically healing. I felt an echo of that satisfaction holding my friend the blender, and the thought of parting with it felt even more ridiculous than bringing it with me to hang out on my friendās bed.
still so fucking weird to go from real life, where a cis man being flamboyant/effeminate/camp is judged like 70+% by how he speaks and carries himself, to online queer communities, which often seem to have no concept of male gender non-conformity that doesnāt involve wearing a skirt
i promise you, a man can be fem to the point of being in danger while wearing literally exactly the same thing as a hypermasculine guy. a boring basic black suit. a t shirt and jeans. a UNIFORM. gender conformity is not only about what you wear
None of you have watched that heartbreaking scene in The Birdcage where Albert gives up wearing everything he likes to try and blend in for their sonās conservative prospective in-laws and is so awkward and uncomfortable that no one says much until finally he says, defeated, āI know what youāre thinking - dressed like this, Iām even more obvious, arenāt I?ā and it shows.
Here, have your queer heart broken:
This is what Iām talking about. This is still literally how it is in most places in the Midwest if youāre trying to āpassā for straight/cis/whatever.
I cannot begin to describe how hard I cried when I saw this scene the first time and how confused my conservative family was as to why I was crying.
Itās so funny how literally the way a man holds his wrists is an indication of femininity but also people think itās all about makeup and clothing. But weāre also at a point that if you have a suit that is any color other than black, dark grey, or navy, itās flamboyant.
Menās sartorial stylings are so rigidly controlled itās painful. Tim Gunn here is at the very absolute bleeding edge of āacceptably masculineā here for most cishet men, just for some noticible stripes, patterns, and purple, and thatās before he even moves. This is how restricted it is.
But Trixie Mattel (out of drag here) wearing standard masculine garb is could still be deemed unacceptably feminine for body language alone.
This is why we talk about ātoxic masculinityā ā the idea that any expression of emotion besides anger or even wearing colorful clothes is non-masculine and therefore restricted is horrifying. It sucks! Men should be allowed to express themselves outside of a tiny box of acceptable behavior, because theyāre, y'know, people, and people have a wide range of expression in the way they like to look and move and act.
I honestly feel like itās gotten worse over the last couple decades, too. If you look at menās fashions from the 70s and even into the 80s, thereās a lot of style choices that look pretty cringe to us, butā¦. you also see a lot more color and pattern in suits than you do now. Iām not sure when this started to shift, or if itās tied in to the increasing lack of color in all consumer products, but it sucks.
as 90% of desktop users have probably found out, today @staff released an update that for some insane reason COMPLETELY remodels the dashboard to replicate twitterās. this is of course in the wake of numerous other thoroughly hated changes and a continued refusal to fix any of the siteās actual problems, half of which stem directly from site management.
HOWEVER, thanks to the power of jQuery, i was able to throw together a userscript that remodels the dashboard back to its original look almost perfectly.
here is my dashboard right now, with the script active:
and here is the old dashboard in separate tab container that hasnāt received the update:
itās hardly perfect; i had trouble making it force reload to the fixed layout when switching between other pages and the dashboard, and it currently only fixes just the dashboard. itās also completely untested on browsers other than firefox, and chances are it looks a bit screwy on ultrawide monitors. but for now at least, itās a good fix.
the unfucker is a tampermonkey userscript. all you have to do to use it is install the tampermonkey extension, hit ācreate new scriptā, and replace the default code on the page with the script (link here) and save it.
Look, I think it is important that as many people as possible see these phenomenal photos of Melanobatrachus indicus, because they are damn rare, but truly spectacular.
If anyone wants to know my favourite frog, this is probably in the top five.
The new layout it a whole mess. Thankfully Xkit can already help with a bunch of this! Iām sure itāll give more options soon.
Vanilla Tumblr: (I have marked in red what can be removed. The tabs can be set not to stick, so you will really only see them at the top of your dash. Empty box on the left for hidden notifications and shop sparkle, i just didnāt have any. Iām EU so no Live for me).
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