Mothman Is Real And He Fought Me Behind A Denny's at 3 am
you know what’s great? being a girl who likes girls. you know why? girls are the best. girl clothes girl smells. girl smiles. girl eyes. girl voices. girl laughs. girl sleepy voices. girl hands. girl hair. girl whispers. girl kisses. girl hugs. holding hands with girls. talking to girls. girls singing. girls dancing. girls giggling. girl hair. girls are the greatest and i love girls so much
I know it’s easier in society to be a soft girl over say, a soft boy, but when masculinity is prized above all else being a soft girl is still degraded
I was at the library the other day, and my daughter was playing at the Art Table with two other girls. One of the little girls’ mother was near by and said “Aren’t you girls good little artists!”
And the third girl perked up and said “My dad’s an artist!”
The woman smiled indulgently and says “Oh really, what kind?”
The little girl proudly told her “He’s a tattoo artist.”
And the woman. Oh man. Her face just twists, crumples into something nothing short of disdain, and she opens her mouth and says “That’s not…”
“An easy job,” I cut in, looking the woman in the face because really? You’re going to tell a child her dad’s not a real artist. “In fact it’s very very hard, because that art is alive forever on a person, not like on paper. And that’s scary! You have to be really good, to be a tattoo artist. Your dad must be really, really good.”
what kind of person could just try and crush a little kid like that? goddamn.
you’re awesome
When Luke Bryan says “Country girl shake it for me girl” he doesn’t mean city girls who saw my music video and thought I was sexy and decided to buy camo and start wearing boots shake it for me. He means an ACTUALLY country girl not you fake bitches that haven’t even left the city and don’t even know anything about being a country girl…. So stop now you’re a disgrace. Go back to listening to that “Yung money” bullshit. lol.
country girl appropriation is real and it is out there
Kallie Beth comin for you fakes and frauds watch your necks ladies she WILL clock your synthetic camo havin ass with a swiftness.
girls need to stop thinking it’s okay to touch another girl inappropriately just because they’re girls
I had a girl go up to me and spank me and tell me I had a “fat ass” and I looked at her like she was fucking crazy
On god I did not even know her name
If it’s disrespectful for a man to do it it’s disrespectful for you to do it too??
Y'all also gotta learn not to touch guys too. Like it feels mad awkward when girls rub my arms or body out of nowhere.
It’s also not cool when gay guys grab my boobs and say “it’s okay, I don’t like girls”.
Basically respect people’s personal fucking space
y'know who’s amazing? chubby girls. girls with tummies, girls with soft arms and legs. have you ever hugged a chubby girl? it’s incredible. they’re incredible.
story concept:
a girl moves into a creepy old house
its haunted
scary ghost things keep happening
the girl investigates
she discovers the ghost is actually a really nice but awkward girl
she kept accidentally knocking things over, slamming doors, and making things float cause she just gets really nervous around cute girls
they fall in love
and the best part is?
its the ultimate fail-safe. writer proof lesbians
cause they cant kill one of em
and if they did kill the other, shed just come back as a ghost and go off with her girlfriend and have wacky ghost lesbian adventures
i feel and support this
TIME TO GET SOME TEA AND DRAW SOME GHOST LESBIANS
agirlcalledfrost asked:
ofgeography answered:
so my school had this thing called “senior skip day,” except that senior skip day didn’t exist and every year the administration sent out emails in the spring that were like DON’T FUCKIN SKIP CLASS OR YOU WILL RECEIVE RESTRICTION (restriction was like, my boarding school’s equivalent of detention where instead of staying after school you had to go to bed early and help stuff envelopes advertising the summer program until your hands were BLOODIED AND CRIPPLED BY CARPAL TUNNEL) and every year the seniors were like YOLO THEY CAN’T PUNISH ALL OF US!!!!!
anyway, my senior year, we all got together and nattered at each other until some brave soldier (i feel like it was my friend paula but WHO KNOWS) was like “OK SENIOR SKIP DAY IS THIS THURSDAY!!!! NOBODY GO TO CLASS OR UR A SCAB.”
we also used this email system to communicate with one another that has very deeply informed the way i understand email and which probably makes it very frustrating to be my friend and receive emails that have subject lines like “URGENT” and then just 42 links to the same florida georgia line youtube video.
so the day of reckoning rolls around and my alarm goes off at 8 (class started at 8:05 but i liked to PLAY WITH FIRE when it came to being late; my mom actually asked the school to stop emailing her when i was a sophomore because i was late so often that their rote “Mrs. Ofgeography we are emailing you to say—” was CLOGGING UP HER INBOX and she was like “i GET IT MY CHILD IS THE MOST BORING MISCREANT OF ALL TIME.”) and i looked at my roommate elle and she looked at me and went, “you going?”
“hell no,” i said. “YOLO. they can’t punish all of us.”
elle, who was far prettier and far cooler than i was with the notable exception of her obsession with tswift’s “love story” and her tendency to look at the endangered species list and cry sometimes during study hall, quickly bizounced across the street to this shopping center thing where all the cool kids smoked in secret where huge trucks dropped off clothes for the Dress Barn. i think there were also tennis courts nearby. more importantly there was this chinese food delivery place and a lil restaurant that made HELLA BAGELS.
off goes elle! meanwhile i’m like, “yessssss i’m gonna use senior skip day to watch 14 hours of tv shows and eat frozen peanut butter bars that i stole from the dining hall! I’M GONNA LIVE LIKE I’M 23 ALONE IN CHICAGO ON A WEEKEND WHEN MY ONLY PLAN IS TAKEOUT AND CUDDLING WITH THE FAUX-SNOW-LEOPARD BLANKET I WILL ONE DAY SURELY OWN.”
of course, during this time the administration was continuing to send out emails that reminded us with increasing urgency that senior skip day was NOT A THING and that we were ALL GETTING RESTRICTION if we didn’t get our STUPID ASSES TO CLASS, GODDAMNIT, WE ARE NOT RUNNING A CIRCUS HERE.
but i was like! yolo, motherfuckers!!! i already got into college, YOU CAN’T TOUCH ME.
at some point during the day elle and our friend ginna came back to the room with takeout from the chinese delivery place and we sat on our floor eating it and probably watching veronica mars or looking at the endangered species list and crying.
all of a sudden, elle said, “guys shut up, guys shut up, GUYS SHUT UP,” and ginna and i were like, “WHAT we have a LOT to SAY about FRIED FUCKING DUMPLINGS, ELLE,“ and elle said, “did you hear that?”
“hear what?”
“that!”
‘that’ was the sound of one of our dorm moms, mrs. f, knocking on doors and saying things like, “IF YOU DON’T GET YOUR BUTTS TO CLASS IN 5 MINUTES YOU’RE ON CATEGORY 4 RESTRICTION FOREVER.” elle quickly scampered up our raised beds to hide in the corner, where a tiny human like elle could actually hide from view; i leapt immediately into what we called a closet but was basically a cubby with a flap that was DEFINITELY not meant for a 5'8” individual with knobby as hell knees.
our door, which was never locked because we both hated the effort of typing in the lock code, opened. mrs. f said, “mollyhall?”
i held my breath.
you can see the flaw in my logic.
mrs. f sighed. “mollyhall, i know you’re in here, i literally heard your voice ten seconds ago.”
“mollyhall, i know you’re in the closet.”
“mollyhall—”
there was a creak. mrs. f stopped. it wasn’t actually a “creak,” so much as this like, prolonged groan? like it’s the sound an elephant would make if it sat on a really large accordion.
i poked my head out of the closet. mrs. f looked at me. elle sat up.
i said, “where’s ginna?”
“um,” said elle, “she’s in the—”
ginna yes.
i really wish i could describe the sound the ceiling made when it collapsed. it sounded a lot like the way losing your breath feels. i sort of remember ginna falling in like, really slow motion, like i could see the expression on her face. i didn’t really think about how i would describe this in words. ginna’s face said:
she belly flopped onto the floor. i mean, the girl bounced. and then she just laid there. mrs. f looked at her. elle looked at her. i looked at her, still mostly in the closet. we were all going to get category 4 restriction forever.
ginna said, “hi, mrs. f. i feel like i should explain.”
