10:16 am - Fri, Nov 1, 2013

It’s November again, the one time of the year I shave my face!  Please donate and make it worth it - my face is cold… also people are dying of cancer and your money could help make a difference!  You can donate online via my MoSpace above using PayPal - it’s easier than eBay shopping!

8:45 am - Sun, May 26, 2013
10,732 notes
9:54 am - Fri, Mar 22, 2013
207,401 notes

cigarettesandcoffeecups:

cheddarbunny:

egwmusic:

adios-toreadork:

raptorbane:

melrosediner:

anonymousjuice:

teasingjezebelle:

an0m0ly:

Damage

image

This is not my usual post. But it’s something I had to share. As you read this, imagine how your reaction would differ if this story were being told by a woman, talking about how her husband treated her.

I have been separated from my wife for over a year, though we continue to share a house. We live on separate floors. We share the house because we need to parent our son together, and because we can’t afford to maintain two households.

I’d like to tell you a story, illustrating one reason why I am divorcing her. This is an example of the treatment I have received over the past fourteen years.

This evening, while she was drinking her wine, my estranged wife took exception to the fact that I wanted to talk about how tense she’s been. She said she didn’t want to talk about it.

I left the room (so as to comply with her request).

I went upstairs to use our tiny guest bathroom. She began to yell and throw things around the kitchen, then eventually charged up the stairs and into the bathroom, just as I was finishing and getting ready to leave. She confronted me there, holding her half-full wine glass in her hand. Her voice got louder, her gestures wilder.

She complained that I had upset her by wanting to talk when she had told me she didn’t want to talk. As I began to feel uncomfortable, I said, “You’re saying it’s my fault you can’t express your emotions responsibly like an adult?”

She said, “Yes!! It’s because you want to go off and take a vacation with your girlfriend!” Then she threw the contents of her glass in my face and smashed it against my bare chest.

The results are pictured here.

I stood there, with shattered glass at my feet, glass shards sticking in my skin, bleeding, for five minutes or so. I asked her to move so that I could leave. She waved the broken stem of the glass in the air and said, “Leave!! Who’s stopping you?”

I told her she was standing between me and the door. I felt threatened.

She laughed and said, “You’re 6 foot 3 and 250 pounds! You can’t feel threatened by me!”

I said, “You just broke a glass on my chest and cut me. You’re standing there with the stem in your hands. Yes. I feel threatened.

She said, “No, you don’t.”

I asked her to move out of the way and let me pass. I didn’t want her to think I was pushing her or threatening her.

She held her ground, waved the broken stem and shouted, “Go on! Leave! I’m not stopping you!”

After I asked her repeatedly, she finally moved a bit and I left, carefully stepping over the broken glass.

I have posted this here as evidence, and to help those who may think that size and gender make a difference when abuse is concerned. People who, like my estranged, think some have permission to feel threatened and some don’t.

Abusers come in all sizes and genders.

She and I went to a half dozen therapists over the years. At each initial session, every therapist took a look at me, then at her (5’4” 150 lbs.). Then he or she would gravely ask my wife, “Do you feel safe?”

None ever thought to ask me.

Thanks for listening.

Because this needs to be shared. Because abuse is wrong no matter what. Because this saddens my heart.

:(

honestly, fuck tumblr. if this was a woman this would be the only thing on my dash.

with that being said, fuck people who think that women are the only ones that can be abused in a relationship. and fuck crazy women, as well.

eeeeeeeeeee D:

Why does this have so few notes? If the man in this picture were actually a woman, this would have so many notes it’d be ridiculous. Everyone needs to see this. Everyone needs to see that abusers can be any shape or size, as if you need to see it to believe it.

And major kudos to this man for not using his size and weight when he very well could have. Kudos to you for being a decent human being, sir.

sickens me how few notes this has. Woman aren’t always these fragile lil creatures and if this post was by a woman, tumblr would be all over it.

This is bullshit. All these women complain about wanting equality, but most of them are sexist themselves. And then when things happen to men, “oh, it’s different because it’s a guy” no. Fuck that. No one deserves to be treated this way.

Seriously. Abusers come in all shapes, sizes, and genders.

8:45 am - Fri, Mar 1, 2013
169,153 notes
rationallyglassed:

the-absolute-funniest-posts:

thingsstonerslike:
Pizza Fries
HOW IS IT THAT I’VE BEEN ON THIS EARTH FOR ALMOST 15 YEARS AND I’VE NEVER HEARD OF PIZZA FRIES OMG OMG OMG
Some people wait a lifetime for a moment like this

22, and still nobody has made me any goddamn pizza fries…

That’s it! House pizza fries night! I refuse to hit 25 without having eaten this!

rationallyglassed:

the-absolute-funniest-posts:

thingsstonerslike:

Pizza Fries

HOW IS IT THAT I’VE BEEN ON THIS EARTH FOR ALMOST 15 YEARS AND I’VE NEVER HEARD OF PIZZA FRIES OMG OMG OMG

Some people wait a lifetime for a moment like this

22, and still nobody has made me any goddamn pizza fries…

That’s it! House pizza fries night! I refuse to hit 25 without having eaten this!

10:20 am - Fri, Feb 8, 2013

There was a girl, and her uncle sold her, wrote Mr Ibis in his perfect copper-plate handwriting.

That is the tale; the rest is detail.

There are stories that are true, in which each individual’s tale is unique and tragic, and the worst of the tragedy is that we have heard it before, and we cannot allow ourselves to feel it too deeply. We build a shell around it like an oyster dealing with a painful particle of grit, coating it with smooth pearl layers in order to cope. This is how we walk and talk and function, day in, day out, immune to others’ pain and loss. If it were to touch us it would cripple us or make saints of us; but for the most part, it does not touch us. We cannot allow it to.

Tonight, as you eat, reflect if you can: there are children starving in the world, starving in numbers larger than the mind can easily hold, up in the big numbers where an error of a million here, a million there, can be forgiven. It may be uncomfortable for you to reflect upon this or it may not, but still, you will eat.

There are accounts which, if we open our hearts to them, will cut us too deeply. Look — here is a good man, good by his own lights and the lights of his friends: he is faithful and true to his wife, he adores and lavishes attention on his little children, he cares about his country, he does his job punctiliously, as best he can. So, efficiently and good-naturedly, he exterminates Jews: he appreciates the music that plays in the background to pacify them; he advises the Jews not to forget their identification numbers as they go into the showers — many people, he tells them, forget their numbers, and take the wrong clothes, when they come out of the showers. This calms the Jews: there will be life, they assure themselves, after the showers. And they are wrong. Our man supervises the detail taking the bodies to the ovens; and if there is anything he feels bad about, it is that he still allows the gassing of vermin to affect him. Were he a truly good man, he knows, he would feel nothing but joy, as the earth is cleansed of its pests.

Leave him; he cuts too deep. He is too close to us and it hurts.

Women and men, the old and the young of them: there are so many of them, and so many of their stories are tragedies with griefs too deep to be contained, but holding here and there tiny joys, snatched from the darkness like flowers picked by the fallen traveler from the side of a cliff.

There was a girl, and her uncle sold her. Put like that it seems so simple.

No man, proclaimed Donne, is an Island, and he was wrong. If we were not islands, we would be lost, drowned in each other’s tragedies. We are insulated (a word that means, literally, remember, made into an island) from the tragedy of others, by our island nature, and by the repetitive shape and form of the stories. We know the shape, and the shape does not change. There was a human being who was born, lived, and then, by some means or other, died. there. You may fill in the details from your own experience. As unoriginal as any other tale, as unique as any other life. Lives are snowflakes — unique in detail, forming patterns we have seen before, but as like one another as peas in a pod (and have you ever looked at peas in a pod? I mean, really looked at them? There’s not a chance you’d mistake one for another, after a minute’s close inspection.)

We need individual stories. Without individuals we see only numbers: a thousand dead, a hundred thousand dead, ‘casualties may rise to a million’. With individual stories, the statistics become people — but even that is a lie, for the people continue to suffer in numbers that themselves are numbing and meaningless. Look, see the child’s swollen, swollen belly, and the flies that crawl at the corners of his eyes, his skeletal limbs: will it make it easier for you to know his name, his age, his dreams, his fears? To see him from the inside? And if it does, are we not doing a disservice to his sister, who lies in the searing dust beside him, a distorted, distended caricature of a human child. And there, if we feel for them, are they now more important to us than a thousand other children touched by the same famine, a thousand other young lives who will soon be food for the flies’ own myriad squirming children?

We draw our lines around these moments of pain, and remain upon our islands, and they cannot hurt us. They are covered with a smooth, safe, nacreous layer to let them slip, pearl-like, from our souls without real pain.

Fiction allows us to slide into these other heads, these other places, and look out through other eyes. And then in the tale we stop before we die, or we die vicariously and unharmed, and in the world beyond the tale we turn the page or close the book, and we resume our lives.

A life, which is, like any other, unlike any other.

And anyway, the simple truth is this: there was a girl and her uncle sold her.

9:04 am - Sat, Jan 12, 2013
17 notes
thecoatman:

rationallyglassed:

truantwave:

thecoatman:

rationallyglassed:

My girlfriend Kayleigh made this about my friend Mariam…

But the whole thing was my idea.  Here is the episode guide:
 Episode 1: Mariam Goes to Prison
 Episode 2: Mariam on Parole, Still Drunk Valeting
Episode 3: Mariam Breaks a Porsche
 Episode 4: Mariam Goes to Rehab pt1
Episode 5: (season finale) Mariam Goes to Rehab pt2
And then, having had the second season cancelled by FOX, we went on to make a movie:
Off The WagonTagline: She fell off it, now she has to park it… 

My university friends are dickheads.

Don’t worry. If we reblog it enough and keep adding tags, everything will be fine :)

This simply must reach the wider world; without it, their lives are clearly bleak and unfulfilled :)

thecoatman:

rationallyglassed:

truantwave:

thecoatman:

rationallyglassed:

My girlfriend Kayleigh made this about my friend Mariam…

But the whole thing was my idea.  Here is the episode guide:

 Episode 1: Mariam Goes to Prison

 Episode 2: Mariam on Parole, Still Drunk Valeting

Episode 3: Mariam Breaks a Porsche

 Episode 4: Mariam Goes to Rehab pt1

Episode 5: (season finale) Mariam Goes to Rehab pt2

And then, having had the second season cancelled by FOX, we went on to make a movie:

Off The Wagon

Tagline: She fell off it, now she has to park it…

My university friends are dickheads.

Don’t worry. If we reblog it enough and keep adding tags, everything will be fine :)

This simply must reach the wider world; without it, their lives are clearly bleak and unfulfilled :)

9:34 am - Thu, Dec 6, 2012
389,821 notes
smalltownfloridabelle:

I’ve been waiting for this to show up on my dash again, it’s been like 2 years wtf.

smalltownfloridabelle:

I’ve been waiting for this to show up on my dash again, it’s been like 2 years wtf.

(Source: stopfollowingmethx, via cigarettesandcoffeecups)

9:10 am - Mon, Oct 8, 2012
85,178 notes
Men who want to be feminists do not need to be given a space in feminism. They need to take the space they have in society & make it feminist.

Kelley Temple, National Union of Students UK Women’s Officer  (via feministkitsch)

I don’t want to be a feminist, I want to be an egalitarian. I don’t want NUS to have Women’s and Open Place positions, I want NUS to have either two Open Place or a Men’s and a Women’s. I don’t want NUS LGBT campaign to be exclusionary, I want NUS LGBT campaign to realise that just because I identify as male doesn’t mean my opinion is worthless and I shouldn’t be allowed to contribute to discussions in Trans caucus, especially given that I was sent to conference to represent the interests of trans students.

I don’t want NUS to be reactionary, I want NUS to be inclusive.

(via moment-of-tranquility)

(Source: marchingstars, via moment-of-tranquility)

10:17 am - Mon, Oct 1, 2012
657 notes
neil-gaiman:

veschwab:

Instead of going to bed or writing a book, I decided to make a poster for All Hallow’s Read! 

She’s good! (Also very easy to hug.)

neil-gaiman:

veschwab:

Instead of going to bed or writing a book, I decided to make a poster for All Hallow’s Read! 

She’s good! (Also very easy to hug.)

8:29 am - Sun, Sep 30, 2012
6,501 notes
rationallyglassed:

I would want this bed for like a guest room or maybe like a sofa in a kid’s room, so that they can just sit on it to read or play games but then it can be two spare beds for sleepovers :)

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!

Made my morning a wee bit better, that has :)

rationallyglassed:

I would want this bed for like a guest room or maybe like a sofa in a kid’s room, so that they can just sit on it to read or play games but then it can be two spare beds for sleepovers :)

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!

Made my morning a wee bit better, that has :)

(Source: thefuuuucomics)

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