mandysimo13 - Tumblr blog

[mandysimo13]

Found this on facebook but reposting to SAVE A LIFE.

Or at least some of y’all’s GPAs.

You’re welcome.

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mood

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organic erotic

seasoflife

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Bullying Aragorn 🩳

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Red Winged Black Bird

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You guys really liked my last poll so

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I tried to find more information about Albert here. There is an article in The Mirror, but some of the reporting seems dubious. Which I believe is standard operating procedure for that particular news outlet.

But according to the article, "Fat Albert" lives in the very specific area of "Alaska, USA" and is believed to be the fattest polar bear in the world. And they claim he got fat because the townspeople of "Alaska, USA" are following an ancient tradition that dates back "thousands of years."

"The locals throw out large amounts of whale blubber to the bears as a sign of 'respect'. They would cut a large portion of the whale and blubber, and drag it four miles out of town for the bears to find. This stops the bears from travelling into town to harvest and disrupting the process. In other words, it's a way to stop a group of hungry bears coming towards you in a hurry."

From supplemental research there is precedent for folks in Russia and Alaska to leave whale carcasses for polar bears, but I could not find any corroborating evidence about Albert specifically.

So, I rate this myth...

In any case, when I saw this picture of Albert, it seemed like a good opportunity to practice my Photoshop skills. He has clearly been rolling around in some mud and his beautiful white coat has been obscured.

It is very easy to change the color of something to red, blue, or green and every color in between. Just hit that hue/saturation and check colorize and you've got Pride Albert in a jiffy.

However, it is much more challenging to change things to white or black. This is the bane of graphic designers who have to take the same picture of a t-shirt and digitally alter it to be every available color including black and white.

So I challenged myself to give Fat Albert a bath.

And then I challenged myself again to make him a distant relative.

I wish I could tell you the exact process for how to do this, but this is one of those things you have to trial and error your way through and I honestly don't remember everything I did.

One thing I can tell you is that I definitely, absolutely, positively named all my layers properly—as that is best practice and I am a good Photoshop boy.

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In one misfortunate year I ended up getting into several car accidents. It cemented my general fear and anxiety in cars, because in each case I was either in the car but not driving or driving safely when suddenly something hit me.

One was my ex driving in an unfamiliar city and cutting someone off on accident that resulted in a sideswipe. Another was getting rear ended when I came to a required stop.

The last was when I had a green arrow at an intersection. I turned and was smashed into by someone running a red light, T-boning my little car.

Dazed and in shock I tottered out of the car to behold a crusty older man eating a donut step out of the offending vehicle. A fire truck arrived to block us off from traffic since my car could no longer move under its own power.

“Were you on your way home from work?” The firemen asked me.

I shook my head, struggling to focus on them, “No,” I said vaguely, “I was on my way home from volunteering at the animal shelter.”

In an instant they were closing ranks around me, glaring at the ambivalent donut man who would dare to hit a tiny frail angel who volunteered at the animal shelter. They asked if I needed to get anything out of my car. I did.

“It’s… uh. It’s a little weird though.”

They gestured for me to proceed. I grabbed a bag with snacks and books and filled it with things I couldn’t just leave in my car. Last out I pulled my cutlass.

“Is that a sword?!”

It was. They were instantly like giant puppy dogs, excited and delighted but trying to mind their manners. The bravest said, “Can we…?” I held out the sword. They whooped with delight, unsheathing and marveling at it.

“Why do you have that in your car?”

“I honestly don’t remember, it’s just a fun thing to have at a party now.”

“Is your wrist okay?”

My shock was wearing off and I realized I was cradling my wrist to my chest. “Oh.” I rummaged into my bag and pulled out a wrist brace.

“Wh….why do you already have that?” I was starting to confuse the firemen. I volunteered with cats, had a sword offhand, and kept a wrist brace in my car bag.

“Sometimes I try to hold books in a way that sprains my wrist? So I have this in my car just in case.”

They stared at me. Maybe, like my wife, they assumed it was for masturbation induced injuries. They handed my sword back as the tow truck arrived and thanked me for letting them play with it. They gave donut man one last glare and drove their big truck away.

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(◡‿◡✿)

(ʘ‿ʘ✿) “what you say ‘bout me”

(ʘ‿ʘ)ノ✿ “hold my flower”

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Working at the sex shop really did rewire my brain. There was basically no topic that was too taboo to talk about, and what little propriety I’d had evaporated. I’d be out walking and chatting with friends about erotica I’d had to read that day only to be shushed and realize people were staring at me.

It always struck me as a little bit silly but I learned to curb myself for others comfort levels. Mostly.

But I have one distinct memory of decorating holiday cookies with my parents and my grandmother. My mom had worked in a sex shop back in her day, and I never hid my line of work from my family, so I was telling a work story.

I was conscious that my dad was slightly more sensitive, so I was using pretty broad descriptions, but I happened to mention silicone lube and my nana asked, “What’s that?”

I went into full sales mode. Focused on the little reindeer cookie I was decorating I started info dumping, “Oh, it’s pretty great. Water based lubricants get absorbed through vaginal mucous membranes, but silicone is too dense and our body can’t absorb it the same way. So once you apply some silicone you never have to worry about chafing, and a little goes a long way. It’s especially popular with older women, because they start producing less natural lubricant and absorb water based lubes so quickly.”

There was a silent beat after this statement.

I looked up.

My mom and grandmother were looking at me with rapt attention, and I belatedly realized I was addressing two older women who probably would welcome extra lubrication.

And then there was my dad, blushing so pink with embarrassment that I thought he was about to faint.

“I can talk about something else,” I offered in apology to my dad.

“Like hell! He can go in the other room, tell me more!” My nana declared. My dad scampered off to busy himself in another room while I answered their questions and talked about brands and pricing.

I slipped them each a small bottle of silicone lube for the holidays.

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(for the purposes of this poll, there is no monkey's paw situation: the chore you pick stays the same level of difficulty/grossness/etc. as it normally is for you, and you only have to do it as often as you want to. the chores you don't pick are magically done for you exactly the way you'd want them to be, just with zero effort on your part.)

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Today when they went to bed, Crowley noticed that Aziraphale had stuck a galaxy’s worth of glow-in-the-dark stars to their ceiling because he knew how much Crowley had loved making the real thing. Crowley nuzzled into Aziraphale’s side and mumbled his thanks, feeling slightly embarrassed and completely and utterly loved.

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You left me...for Mary?! 🤨😑🪑

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some of my favorite replies to this tweet. happy lesbian visibility week!