muffinsmuffin-blog-blog - Tumblr blog

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I NEED to share with you something I JUST found out about!

I HAVE to show you something I JUST found out about! Im making spare cash just by doing surveys for big corporations that pay through the nose to learn more about me and you to know what it is we want in their stores when we're there. Im making $25 - $70 a survey and they only take like 5 minutes to complete. Plus you fill out these surveys from just about anywhere in the world you've wished to travel! :-) There's limited spots - don't miss yours!

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I want to show you something REALLY awesome I discovered!

I want to share with you something REALLY awesome I discovered! I'm getting awesome spare cash filling out surveys for major corporations that pay TONS to learn about people like us to know what we want to buy in their stores. Im making $20 - $85 a survey and they only take like 5 minutes to get done. And you can do these surveys from anywhere in the world you've wanted to go! :D Make sure you qualify before you spot is taken!

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White-wash the gender line, transgenderism.

Gender and why that word sucks...

Gender, its one of those words that's said so many times its completely lost meaning (try it! gendergendergendergendergendergendergendergendergendergendergendergendergendergendergender) Are we defined by our dangley bits? Or are our pleasurable parts defined by us?

I would lean towards the latter, though recently I'm leaning towards alot of things. Contemporary media has expressed the wants and desires of the mass, en vito. Angrognous lead singers, 'manly' looking women, short hair on women (did some-one say Emma Watson?) etcetc. And yet for all our self appreciating talk and advancement, gender dissolution still hugley frowned upon and unappreciated.

A quick bvrainstorm of the reasons that stigma of this calibre has occored are obvious and telescopic in nature. Ranging from the lower level mamalian dominant/submissive scale to the toy guns I played with as a pigmy muffin.I would say also that sex has alot to do with our sex (see what I did there? Super witty, no?) It may all be down to something as simple as a rough-tough man secretly yearning to be the little spoon for once, or as complex as a long legged beauty opting for gender altering surgery. But i feel it all comes down to a simple idea you can't unpack a box by looking at it.

Lets get down to the brass tack shall we. Imagine being at odds with your physical appearance. Say to be a man with the mind and soul of a woman, and how awfull this must be, to look upon both genders with desires and distain. Swy to far in one direction and you'll loose the attentions of love interests, too far int he other and you'd spend every day in self-despising langour. ITs a terrible place to be in, even worse when you include external factors of judgement etc.

So If even one person reads this, please take only this from me...

Fuck the gender line.

Do it how YOU want, and never (EVER) ridicule someone for being who the are. I say its long due for us to take these outdated models of sexuality and being, to open the front door and boot the bastards out once and for all. IF you want to wear rouge instead of topman, or visa versa. Do it.

Sorry for the ramble my good fellows, a little vent on an article i'm doing.

Lovelove

Muffin

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Inspiring

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Dear, my wubbly followers...

I'm going to write something today, I promise. Just finishing some contract work and smoking myself into the stratosphere, boo-yah.

So Sound in guys, want some article, a little summat' out've my novels, or just a hot picture of me? ;)

Lovelove,

Muffin

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no love = no tearing us apart! woo genius hahaha 

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Finally! Pro Weiwei!

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gosev:

This is a picture my friend took. The lizard is real. The chameleon grabbed her hair, and it instantly became a picture classic.

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loveandlimes:

hayleycakes:

RIP Ryan Dunn, I loved you and your beard and this has made me very sad :( X

so sad :( grew up with viva la bam and jackass. and his show homewreckers was jokes

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Le sigh...

Im afraid what your about to read is horridly self-involved shpeil. But sometimes we just need to be heard. To be understood.

So, as some of you may know, I've always had a 'turbulent' family life. In the past 3 years alone, i've been forced to leave 'home'  twenty plus times. A majority of these times have been those dissolved contexts, where its impossible to figure out the aggressor and the victim. Though some are clear cut, the time where a certain someone tried to kill me with a screwdriver, hacking at oneside of the door screaming "I'm gonna fuggin doo 'im" while I gripped the handle for my life before launching myself outv'e a window to escape. The time I was breach kicked down a flight of stairs after I didn't hoover-up properly. Or more recently when another certain someone became so aggressive over a simple misunderstanding, (whilst I said "look it doesn't matter" and "believe what you want") that he attacked me, but being stronger I could restrain him, He was fighting, I was wrestling. The simple facts of the matter are, he attacked me, and punched etcetc, I simply restrained. Then whilst I was packing my bag to leave he stormed upstairs, and went for me again, stepping on his own guitar in the process, again I restrained him, nothing more.

I simply have never met anyone so closed to even the most blunt introspection as my family. Nor have I ever met such emotionally and intellectually stunted people, it is quite remarkable. In fact, when I after years of trepidation I came 'out've the closet' my mother said "No stop being silly, your brother, maybe. But you?" before laughing. The innocence and honesty she just took, could never be repaired. How could someone be so callous? I could lay here reeling example after example of negligence, aggression and complete lack of understanding. But it would do nothing.

Though I do, dearly, long for a warm family and a real bed to sleep on I cannot go back, my health and sanity fully depend on it, I simply can't give them another chance. Same cycle, just bearable insults but on the whole O.K then  attacked, kicked out, apologised to... rinse and repeat for 21 years. And though follows may sound incredibly melodramatic. Consider the time frame involved and the extent of which we are discussing. I have decided to once and for all emancipate myself from that sickening family.

Though the only real loss here is the fact that i'm going to have to quit my degree to support my lonesome self. Which is as I sit here and write, causing me the swallowing a brick sensation you get when your love tells you they've been banging your best friend. I do love my academics so. But que sera, we do what we must. And I must learn to love myself enough to stay away.

Thanks for your time!

 Muffin

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Rennes et Maas et Gregor

(Some pissy-abouty stuff I wrote, to beats-up writers block)

Rennes et Maas et Gregor.

Late Thursday in Paris is much the same every week. Not quite demanding the same excitement as Friday, not the ease of Sunday. Thursday dwelt in-between the two. Often one could see elderly men arguing over coffees, lounging on wooden chairs that looked as experienced as they did. Or brightly dressed children running franticly between alleys.

One of these alleys housed what, to the un-local, could only be an alarming site. On-top of two large pains of glass sat a matt-black sign Which displayed a red-rimmed name that, being even too obscure for locals to read, remained simply because none of them would admit this. However it was not this that sent many a German backpacker into a mild state of terror, it was the thick billows of smoke flooding from its open doors. Which only after barrelling towards the travellers realise as being cigarette smoke.

It was to this end that Gregor set out, turning the keys in the rusting lock and setting up the stairs to the main street. Arching medieval walls still predominated much of the small city, having been fully incorporated into the architecture only now served to make people feel rather small. Reaching the top of the stairs she lifted a few ornate fingers and felt the aged stone as she passed them. A few young boys greeted her entrance to the main boulevard with an abrupt silence. Turning her eyes towards them with a cold stare her legs carried her on.

She was noticeable, but not to her detriment, just different. Retaining perfect porcelain skin as her peers went brown, her eyes and lips were almost perfectly sculpted in contrast to the garish features associated with southern Europe. The centre of fascination for men, and some women, wherever she landed, developing a cold austere nature was all a woman could do to stay sane. Her snowflake features coupled with her fondness for renaissance clothing bred a formed a formidable figure indeed. A few years ago after a young chisled Parisian who had made the mortal error of trying to sweet talk our delicate flower was insulted more times in the space of thirty seconds than in the remainder of his existence left with his tail, and ego, between his legs. Afterwards she was asked by Maas, one of her two only friends,

“What is your problem?”

To which she lowered her chin looked him in the eyes and replied

“They, they are all brutes”

To this Maas reclined hoping to save this poignant insight into his close friend. But this attempt, shattered by Gregor decreeing in a sublime surly, drawl that the “good king needs to fuck-off”.

Arriving from the boulevard and taking a short cut through Selime square she came to the smoky café and with it a rare smile crept from her crimson lips.

All the while an unlikely duo stooped around retaining a vaguely regal air, impressive given the fact one of them looked by all accounts a 60's throwback long hair lazed around his reclined brain-fried head, colours that don't exist in the real world swirling into his tie-died poncho created, altogether the only French hippy in the village. The second Monseigneur, clad, entirely in a subtly pinstriped grey suit however, as always when in deep thought or indeed deep emotion of any kind had one semi closed eye.

Gregor watched the two through the window for a time, basking once more in the mathematical impossibility that was her friends. Thinking of their composite personality s and the circumstances of their meeting was dumbfounding. It was Rennes who was her oldest friend, but only by about 3 hours.

Maas lay sprawled out on an enormous leather sofa eyeing the fan lazily. Rennes sat perfectly upright in front of him furiously smoking and barley keeping his cool, he was obviously winding himself into a coil about something or another, Rennes could talk, for hours. About the most insignificant thing, and in the process could work him-self into a a fanatical anger. Which would usually result in him becoming so aggravated with the subject (and Mass cooing at him to “chill out man”) he would dramatic put his cigarette out, storm outside, and light up. But that was later. For now Maas was trying to 'chill' his friend out buy patting him on the back. Maas was a kind soul, just nieve...

Maas's aspirations as a wide-eyed boy had been in almost every respect, respectable. Top of his class, captain of Cannes Poly technique football team, when his parents recall this time they did so with a warm smile to each other. Life was looking up for the young Maas, until that is, he got laid. University had hit his small town mind like a cluster-charge. The bubble in which his parents had reared him had burst, exploded leaving the poor boy prey to his own curiosities. Esmerellda had been a senior in the philosophy department, flowers in her hair and a spring in her step, not to mention every time he wondered back to memories of the wonderful Esmarelldas ass in a rahrah skirt, he did so with a warm smile, which was coincidently the exact opposite to what his teachers recall. He would turn up to case studies class pungently smelling of strong hash wearing his girlfriends trousers, arguing fanatically for a decentralised city state, when the case study would concern animal abuse, when the round, mild mannered teacher would plead with the young man for a moments silence, Maas would throw up his hands in disgust and storm out. Then spend the reminder of the afternoon creating banners, notes of complaint and smear campaigns condemning said teacher as a extreme right nut case. And, his parents sigh at each other, what started as a trickle of possibility ended in a deluge. In a years time he would have quit his politics course and was running through hills naked, out-of-his mind on acid. The tipping point was when he had come down, just enough, to realise that the love of his life ( Esmerellda, and not just her bottom) had infarct stopped loving him altogether for months now, staying with him out've a purely self-benificial sense of power all the while checking out every vertebrate within a four mile radius. And, Maas was convinced, had a penchant for killing small animals. Whenever she spent the night, he would find, a couple of dead birds, or a dogs body. Only when she stayed round. He had tried to casually tried to prompt an answer, which in roughly translated to walking up to her and asking “Do you kill small animals?”. This went terribly, and in a strop, she added another month's no sex to the dismal schedule, poor Maas, he was just looking out for his cats. After he broke up with her ( after seeing her eyeing up next doors dog ) No-one saw him. He disappeared, missing posters were pasted and news shows were shown. But his friends and family heard nothing. In fact the first person to see Maas after he bunked life, was an incredibly drunk Rennes.

Now the details of what followed could never be fully remembered, but the facts lay as follows,some where around 4pm Maas had double-dropped acid, and was at present sprinting, naked, towards a trashed Rennes propped up against a fence post, wailing at the moon.

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A poem: Physics in hips.

Two broken halfs,

Set in motion alone,

And alone they orbit,

celebrated but undesturbed,

Seldom its seen and never heard,

In motion alone,

Shapes of your body turn.

A.W,Butler BA Phil/Lit

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popka:

via crookedindifference