damn-ashley

[damn-ashley]

Concept - Your smartphone breaks. You can take it to any appropriately skilled person to have it fixed. It has been designed for easy disassembly and repair. The parts are available and standardized. You are not forced to buy a new one or spend extreme prices for a replacement part. Planned obsolescence doesn’t exist and things are designed to last a long time - to be upgradable and customizable without needing to invest in an entirely new unit every year. 

[damn-ashley]

unmute

[damn-ashley]

i was worried my cat is dehydrated because i never see him drink water so i’ve started leaving a cup of water that’s “mine” (aka he sees me drink out of it once before he does) in my room so he thinks he is being a rebellious naughty by drinking out of it but rlly he is just following my plan & being hydrated .

[damn-ashley]

whippet

[damn-ashley]

If you looking for a unique, personal and thoughtful gift for all occasions, Message me I’m still open for commissions via Paypal. Price is very flexible. Here’s some of my favorite projects this year so far!

A present that would standout and has a unique touch!

[damn-ashley]

[damn-ashley]

[damn-ashley]

Blessed Toucan

[damn-ashley]

And he would be saying that in the month of June...

HAHA

[damn-ashley]

I, uh. Went viral on Twitter

[damn-ashley]

[damn-ashley]

hey y’all! wanna take a minute of your time to help fight for the USPS?

if you haven’t heard, tr*mp is refusing to help the postal service financially during this pandemic (and beyond) in an effort to starve it of funds/resources and kill it off so it can be privatized. also:

obviously this is not great, as tons of us rely on the USPS for all kinds of different reasons, and the privatization of this essential service would have a dramatic effect on the entire nation. namely: voting by mail would become nonexistent (❗️), and the cost of shipping mail and goods will change astronomically.

if this sounds terrible to you (and if you live in the us, then it should!), then text USPS to 50409 to sign the petition and instantly send a signed letter to your senators and representatives. it’s fast, easy, and it’s action that you can take right now.

the letter urges your senators to make the financial support of the USPS a priority, and outlines why the USPS is an essential service in our country that must be defended. here’s my letter:

don’t want to use the text service/send an electronic letter? mail a paper letter to your senator’s office.

you can also call your senators and house representatives at (202)224-3121 and urge them to support the USPS financially.

you can also buy a roll of stamps right now to help financially support the USPS on an individual level!

in conclusion: please take a minute to help support the USPS in any way you can. this is an important issue that affects all of us here in the US.

it would be AWESOME if you could reblog this & spread it, or if you’d rather not reblog this post, then i encourage you to make your own post on the social media of your choice and share with your friends.

thx!

[damn-ashley]

Yesterday would have been her 52nd birthday, but PAN AM Flight Attendant Neerja Bhanot of Chandigarh, India died at 23 being a hero. She is credited with saving the lives of 360 passengers onboard PAN AM 73. When radical Islamic terrorists hijacked her A/C in Karachi, Pakistan she informed the pilots (who used their escape hatch to runaway) and kept both the passengers/remaining crew calm. When the terrorists demanded to know who the Americans were on the flight so they could execute them she gathered all the passports and hid the ones belonging to Americans under seat cushions. The terrorists confused and unable to determine the national origins of the passengers didn’t execute anyone. When Pakistani police raided the plane she was able to nearly singlehandedly evacuate all the passengers as the firefight ensued. She being one of the last people on board did a last check and found three children still hiding. As she led the children to safety the surviving terrorists spotted the children and opened fire on them. Neerja jumped in the way of the bullets and was mortally wounded. She was able to evac the children to safety before dying from her wounds. Neerja was awarded the Ashok Chakra Award by India, the highest peacetime gallantry award possible. She was the youngest and first civilian to ever be awarded this honor. Thanks to Shattered Citadel for this!

[damn-ashley]

Everybody watchin', you surprised 'em, they ain't know you was comin'

You've been grindin', you ain't comin' out the pocket for nothin'

Your baby mama fucked your partner, but that don't stop you from hustle

Kevin gates

[damn-ashley]

Spectacular.

[damn-ashley]

Today, June 28th 2019 around noon, my baby boy Kit passed away in my arms. He was 17 human years old, 95 cat years old. He outlived his kidneys, but he hung on for two days, so we could prepare and give him the end he deserved.

Today, I’d like to share the life of the little angel that changed mine forever.

Some time in October 2002, when I was 9 years old, my Mother and I walked into a pet store we’d never been to before, and right at the front doors was a large cage holding one mother cat and a full litter of kittens, all around 5 months old.

The one little black one caught my eye, and in that instant I knew. I knew he was meant to be mine. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I begged my Mother to let me hold him, and she eventually agreed. The store clerk opened the door and let me pick him up, and he instantly melted in my arms, and completely stole my heart. He was completely and utterly relaxed, and even though I was a complete stranger, he was completely at peace letting me cradle him in my arms like a baby, looking up at me with the most beautiful green eyes I had ever seen.

I knew in that moment that I couldn’t leave the store without him. I just couldn’t. I begged my Mother to let me have him, but she worried about the logistics of introducing two cats in a very cramped two bedroom apartment that already had 3 people and a 2 year old cat that was notorious for not liking other animals.

She eventually forced me to leave him behind for the night, assured by the store clerks that he would still be there tomorrow. I spent the rest of the day making my case, and once I pointed out to her how he let me hold him, how relaxed he was, she too was convinced, and it was time to tackle convincing Dad.

But that too didn’t take long. He captured all our hearts, and the next day I walked out of the store with my sweet boy.

One of the first things we did upon getting him home was give him a bath. The cage he had been in was small, but tall, but it seemed only the mother cat ever left the bottom half. Holding a litter of at least 8 kittens, there was only one small litter box and one food and water bowl. My sweet baby had poop dried on the end of his tail and old food all over his feet.

He didn’t mind the bath. He was so curious about the water, and even played with it, splashing around in it and exploring.

Our other cat, Tiggeriss, knew something was up, and she clawed and hissed at the door. It seemed Mother’s worries were well founded. We couldn’t keep them apart. He was curious about her, and she, the Queen Bee of the house, demanded loudly to be made aware of who had entered her kingdom.

We couldn’t get in or out without them trying to dart in or out. Eventually, we put him back in the carrier and brought it into the tiny living room. Tiggeriss was on it in a second, sniffing wildly. I opened the carrier and he walked straight out, innocent little boy that he was. but in that moment, magic happened.

She hissed at him, and in an instant he plopped over onto his side and exposed his belly to her, submitting to her completely. She sniffed him for a bit, and began giving him a bath.

20 minutes later, they were curled up together taking a nap, like they’d known each other their whole lives. Inseparable, as they’d be for the next 17 years.

He fit into our family perfectly, though it still took some adjusting. We had a black mat at the front door, and often on our way out we’d see nothing but two little green eyes looking back at us, the void swallowing the rest of him whole.

Tiggeriss was still always the Queen Bee, but she clearly considered him her son and treated him as such. When they’d eat, she’d let him have any extra of hers he wanted. When we tried playing with her, all strategic and allowing her to track and hunt the toy, he’d come plowing in like the silly little kitten he was and go nuts.

But it also went the other way. Tig hates car rides, panicking every time we have to take her somewhere. She’d scream and yowl and pace around the car staring out every winder desperate for an escape. But Kit? He was as calm as he ever was. On trips where we’d have to hit the highway he’d get a little car sick at first, but otherwise he stayed calm, and that in turn kept her calm.

We moved into a nice house, and bought them a brand new large scratching post, one twice as tall as I was. They loved it, of course. and it still sits beside me as I write this now, showing all the love it’s gotten for the last 17 years.

He was the snuggliest, most affectionate baby. His relaxed and trusting nature never wavered, even around rowdy children. My friends dubbed him “Mush”, for how he would just melt in your arms without a care in the world, and “Mr. Underfoot” for how he’d always follow you around, and constantly be “underfoot” and in the way, just to be around you more.

And he was always, so, so curious. Always wanting to discover new things, new smells, new experiences. Seemingly he’d forget about his exciting adventures the year before, so every winter he’d discover snow all over again.

He became our wonderful Halloween cat, always enjoying being outside and seeing all the kids coming around with us. Sometimes it’d get to be a bit overwhelming, but he’d still enjoy sitting inside the glass door and watching. He was the best living Halloween decoration we ever had.

My Father, who always claimed to dislike cats and felt dogs were so much better, warmed up to him very quickly, deciding Kit was his cat. We would playfully argue about it often, fighting over who got to lay claim to the cat he didn’t want in the first place.

His days were spent ether on Dad’s bed, my bed, or at the foot of my recliner, snuggling with my feet or in my lap, when he wasn’t playing with one of us or Tig.

He was the most loving cat you’d ever meet. I was always horribly bullied in school. I always assumed that if my classmates themselves didn’t kill me, the stress would. I never bothered to think about my future because I assumed I’d never have one. I had resigned myself to a short life, but then I’d come home to his squeaky little meow, the meow that never deepened no matter how old he got because he was neutered a little too early. And I knew I’d be ok. I had to be. I couldn’t leave him behind. He needed me and loved me and I refused to die on him or Tiggeriss, no matter how bad things got.

Because I knew, as soon as I looked into his eyes, those eyes that loved me unconditionally, who didn’t care about me being gay, or my terrible pimples, who didn’t think I was stupid and ugly, and I knew that was all that mattered.

Those big, beautiful green eyes, gems adorning the velveteen little rumbling furnace that was our beloved never ending ball of fluff.

In fact, we even got a very nice, fancy comb we were warned was so good it was known to cause a balled spot if we combed him in the same spot too much.

We tried once, just to see if we could. We never made a single dent in his fur, no matter how hard we tried.

And his fur was the softest thing I’ve ever felt. It was like owning a large chinchilla, lost in the void of a starless night. Soft, and shiny, with a rumbling motor boat underneath that you could hear from the other side of the room.

Once he hit late adulthood, he developed arthritis. It became hard for him to walk and climb, which meant he spent more time snuggling with one of us than he did playing and exploring anymore, but he seemed to get just as much comfort out of it as we did. He always knew when one of us needed a snuggle, like when I got home after having my wisdom teeth removed. I crashed in my chair instantly, but according to Mom, he climbed right up with me and curled up under my arm and napped with me all day.

No matter how much changed as he aged, how active he was, how well he could walk, how aware he was of himself and his surroundings, some things never changed.

He still loved making things difficult because he just wanted to be close to you,

He still loved lying in the sun and munching on the grass just outside our home,

And snuggling with his loved ones. Even on his last days.

He knew the end was near. When we took him to the emergency vet, she said she was shocked he was still alive, as he was in such bad shape he could go at any moment. He could have just as easily died the night before, but he hung on. He hung on one more night for us. So we could prepare, so I could have one more night with him in my arms. Just one more night.

And there is nothing in the world I am more thankful for than him, and the love he showed me for the last 17 years.

Rest in peace my angel.

You will forever be loved, and never, ever forgotten.