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My absolute hottest take is that, from a culturally relative perspective, no food is bad. None of it. It's an expression of culture, art, history, ecology, material conditions, subjective taste. It's all inedible pap to somebody and the taste of childhood for someone else. Americans be eating cheesed burger. Pea wet is as good as gravy in Wigan. The French eat snails and the Inuit eat seal, the Germans eat sauerkraut and the Russians drink kvass, the Inca ate cavy and the Romans ate flamingo. People around the world have been eagerly awaiting their serving of simple bread or thin porridge or fermented milk product or pickled whatever-the-fuck since we learned to cook food over fire. We all love the slop we grew up eating. Food is a reflection of millennia of culture and loving human artistic expression. Attempting to extrapolate largely harmless online food banter into actual serious comparative rankings or half-baked critical analyses of cultures based on how much you subjectively don't like what they eat is a miserable way to live. Live a little. Peace and love on the only planet with food.

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the 'what if you played it a little risky' post literally Changed my life but i cant fujkign find it in my blog because its. a tiktok screenshot

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I'm sorry for being so sappy, but I wanted to show you guys something.

When I first donated to PCRF in December 2023, it was barely 10% close to its goal. Now in March 2024, they're also 100%. Everyone of you has helped support a better future for Gaza.

They're so close to their goal. Please donate or share this post so that they can get to their goal🇵🇸

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Thanks, Terry :)

Terry understands if you feel sad

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I’m paying to force seven thousand strangers to see a photo of my late husband having fun with his dog. Tumblr Blaze is totally worth it. XD

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Have you ever considered how fucking astonishing babies crying is?

The young of other animals don’t make noise, or if they do, barely any at all. Baby birds only start chirping when their parents come back with the food, kittens meow to their mothers because cat communication is extremely subtle and drawing your caretaker’s attention may require a sound when you have eight siblings. At this point, they can already see and walk.

 But human babies? Crying is essentially the first willful action that they learn. Months before being able to move on your own, or even hold your own fucking head up, or being able to choose when and where you defecate. Before anything else, a skill more valuable than anything else, is a distress call.

 A distress call specifically intended to be impossible to ignore.

 Before object permanence or theory of mind, without even an understanding of what help they need, who could provide it, and whether they choose to do so, a human being is capable of expressing that there is something wrong in the state they are in, that they are powerless to correct on their own.

 This is what was evolutionarily selected above silent babies that did not attract predators. This is what was selected instead of young who could instantly walk. This is what was selected as the ideal offspring for the human race. Not one that runs. Not one that hides. Not one that can fend for itself. A creature that can communicate, if only the simplest, most inherent message: I need help.

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That therapy part is really hard (totally worth it though, once you find a therapist that works for you!!!)

Ok I am going to do this simply because the first thing I will put here I NEED to do it and I have 0 motivation to do it even though it is EXTREMELY important

In fact, I think that's the reason why I don't want to do it... anyway

If this gets to 30 notes, I do that thing

50 notes, I call to ask if my doctor's appointment has been scheduled (I've been avoiding it for two weeks now)

100 notes, I go wash my shoes that have long needed washing and are just sitting there, existing, waiting for me to deign to wash them.

200 notes, I finish organizing my room (I organized it halfway and then left a bunch of things that still don't have a defined place)

500 notes, I use the things I have to bleach and color my hair. The only thing that has stopped me is the fear of doing it wrong or being too lazy to maintain it.

1k notes, I stop doing things that I know will trigger my chronic pain with the pure intention of confirming that the pain was indeed real (don't do this. 0 recommended).

5k notes, I try some new food without fear of wasting money by buying something I most likely won't like (my autism hates new foods)

10k notes, I wear my bi flag earrings in front of someone I wouldn't usually wear them with. I trust that they possibly wouldn't have a problem with me being bi, but I would never get up the courage to tell them anything

20k notes, wtf I have absolutely no idea. If it comes to this, ehhh... Honestly, I have no idea what I'm doing here. Do I promise to be honest in therapy and stop telling them that everything is perfect even though nothing has ever been perfect? Yeah, that probably works. Please don't go this far, I don't know how to do this. Maybe I should... but... it would be awful to learn it

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I feel like if I rebooted Scooby Doo for the 127th time I would just say screw it and make one of them goth. Having trouble deciding which one, though. Here are my cases for each of them:

Velma: REALLY into classic literary horror and stans the Hex Girls like in her Mystery Inc. incarnation. Still dresses like a dork. Shaggy: Listens to a lot of metal and wears cargo pants, thinks monsters and demons and stuff are sick as hell in theory but freaks out when actually in the presence of one. Daphne: Stylish, girly vamp-goth and reader of Twilight-esque paranormal romance novels. Fred: Actually, now that I’m typing this out, I don’t think it can be Fred. Fred is a big sunny golden retriever jock and therefore categorically incapable of being goth

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🏳️‍🌈 Ruth Ellis (1899 - 2000) was the daughter of former slaves. She came out as a lesbian when she was 16-years-old to the complete acceptance of her family. In 1937, Ruth and her longtime partner moved to Detroit from their hometown of Springfield, Illinois for the promise of higher wages. There, she became the first woman in Michigan to run her own printing business. She printed fliers, posters, and stationary in the front room of her home, which also quickly became a hotspot for Black LGBTQ social life. Before long, Ruth was helping those who came around in any way she could, including by paying for college tuitions. After the Stonewall uprising, 70-year-old Ruth began giving speeches in support of gay and lesbian rights all across the country. She remained an activist for the rest of her long life and even spent her 100th birthday leading the San Francisco Dyke March. At the time of her death at 101, she was recognized as the oldest out lesbian in the US. She is the subject of the documentary "Living With Pride: Ruth C. Ellis @ 100" and is the namesake of the Ruth Ellis Center, a shelter for homeless and at-risk LGBTQ youth in Detroit.

Celebrate Ruth Ellis.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ruth_Ellis_(activist)

#Pride #BlackLivesMatter

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Imagine showing up to work one day and people are like "jesus fucking christ there's a corpse in here", herd you to the back room and everyone who sees you also agrees that there is now a dead body where you are sitting, with the appropriate amount of shock and disgust about it. You figure it's some kind of a prank that they're pulling, but also the people that you know aren't into pranks, or aren't very good actors, are treating you like a corpse. They go weirdly back and forth between talking about you as if you're not there, and politely asking you to stay still while they figure out who you're supposed to call in case of a dead body randomly appearing.

Paramedics show up, study you thoroughly and agree that while they can't see any apparent sign of death, you are, indeed, dead, and ask you to climb aboard the ambulance. You're taken to the temporary corpse storage that hospitals have.

On the way there you ask them whether this kind of shit happens often, and while they won't look at you, the paramedics agree that they've never had a talking corpse before, though they won't question the fact that you're moving on your own.

You're eventually led to a morgue, where you're shown a slab to lay on, and at this point you don't really even question it, you just climb onto the Corpse Shelf and lay down, maybe have a little nap, with no idea what's going to happen next.

Then you wake up to someone walking into the morgue, who has the shit scared out of them when you move, and they're like "dude what the fuck, you're not supposed to be here, this place is for storing dead bodies" and when you're like "aw man sorry I thought I was a dead body" they have no idea whether you're joking and they don't care, you're just chased out of there.

And you just kinda go home and take a shower, show up to work normally the next day and nobody questions it.

And basically that's probably how those ants feel when scientists spray them with the Pheromone That Dead Ants Smell Like, and just hang out at the dead-ant-pile until the smell wears off.

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That first day back to school is always a doozy, huh?

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hey if you're not a mobility aid user, and you want a simple way to make public spaces more accessible to those of us who are, i have a tip for you:

push in your chairs when you get up from tables.

when people don't push in their chairs, people with bulky aids like wheelchairs and rollators can't get through. also a lot of people who use canes have wider gaits than able bodied people, and having a chair in the middle of their walking path is a real obstruction. while some of us are able to push chairs out of our way, a lot of us are not, and wind up boxed in/out because somebody didn't push in their chair.

so if you want to do something simple that can make a big difference in terms of like. navigating an outdoor food court or a cafe or what have you. push in your chairs.

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"nothing is real atoms never touch each other youve never touched anything in your life" ok. well when i pet my dog he is soft and when he licks my hand it is wet and that is far more real to me than whatevers going on at an atomic level

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a former classmate of mine shared this fundraiser for her family that is aiming to leave gaza