#tablogging

[tabaquis-creatures]

you dont need to smell the camera

Editing: This is Tonic! He is a carpet python!

[tabaquis-creatures]

If you get stuck trying to navigate a phone menu maze, especially if you keep putting on hold in the process, tell the robot or select the menu option for "return a call." Absolutely does not matter that you are not returning a call.

This will often get you transferred directly to a human with minimal hold time.

one of the most infuriating things about becoming an adult is when you realize that it actually is 10x easier to solve problems by making a phone call vs literally any other communication method

[wordpress-blaze-63194361]

When Drag Queens Were King

With the conflicts about LGBTQIA+, it is fascinating to look back at the history of gays in American history. Once, not only accepted but widely celebrated, drag was a prominent face in the entertainment industry.

During the Shakespearean period, in the late 16th century and early 17th century, women were not permitted to perform on the stage. Men played the female roles. While this wasn’t exactly “drag”, it’s possible gay men took advantage of the opportunity to express their feminine sides.

Originally, drag was not only applied to men performing while dressed as women but, any performer dressed in costumes other than their own gender. In fact, the first recorded drag contest and “ball” in America took place in 1867! Men and women performed in Harlem, New York. There were drag queens and drag kings. Notable during the 1880’s and 1890’s was William Dorsey Swann. Known as the Queen of Drag, Dorsey was more than just a drag queen. An African American, born into slavery, was known for holding secret drag balls. The “Queen of Drag”, Swann, is believed to be the first person in the United States to lead a gay resistance. He held secret drag balls in Washington, DC. One part of the drag balls included a competition known as a “cakewalk”, originally held on plantations by slaves. Couples would dance in precise steps and formation. It is believed to have been a way to subtly make fun of the formal white dances pre and post emancipation. As dance contests, the winners were awarded with cakes!

The Jazz Age (from 1920 - early 1930’s) in large cities like New York, Chicago, and San Francisco saw the popularity of drag performers rise. Minstrel shows, vaudeville, and burlesque provided drag entertainment. Unlike many drag performers, Jean (Gene) Malin was not trying to impersonate a woman. During Prohibition, the days of the “pansy craze”, Malin was openly gay and proud of it. Described as flamboyant and effeminate, he entertained audiences with a wonderful sense of humor. At six feet tall and two hundred pounds, Malin had a lisp that delighted his fans. He was capable of defending himself when needed. He performed in high end nightclubs and was featured in films and on Broadway.

In 1920 Drag Balls and contests were so popular they were even represented in film. Men were referred to as “pansies” or “sissies” and were often portrayed as clothing designers or tailors, hairdressers, or choreographers and dancers. Flamboyant and effeminate, they added humor to films. Women were portrayed as more masculine and dressed in male fashions.

There were actors and actresses who were known to be homosexual, if not to the general public, usually within their professional circles. In 1930’s, Marlene Dietrich, who made no secret of her bisexuality, had the first passionate same sex kiss in a film. However, that wasn’t the first same sex kiss in film. In 1922, Cecil B. DeMille directed a silent movie l, “Manslaughter”, that included an orgy. Although the first same sex kiss has been attributed to the later film, “Wings” in 1927, it was the earlier silent movie that broke the mold.

Drag has once again become popular in America with shows like RuPaul’s Drag Race. On the other hand, the country is in turmoil. The Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer/Questioning, Intersex, Asexual+ (LGBTQIA+) community is already beginning to feel the change in the air, from the White House to every house, apartment, mobile home, hotel, or tent. The president has already signed several executive orders that will negatively impact LGBTQIA+ communities across the country. We can’t allow America to return to days of the Hays Code. We’ve too far to allow it to slip away.

Source: When Drag Queens Were King

[tabaquis-barking]

borderlands 4 is going to finish me off

[tabaqui-in-the-dirt]

wrAHHHH

dont look in here

[bdpst24]

Mi történik, ha egy hazai tech cég  gyorsabb, mint a nagyok? A TabLog  tőkeemelést kapott" 

Mi történik, ha egy hazai tech cég  gyorsabb, mint a nagyok? A TabLog  tőkeemelést kapott"

“Mi történik, ha egy hazai tech cég  gyorsabb, mint a nagyok? A TabLog  tőkeemelést kapott”  Mi történik, ha reggel otthon felejted a céges  belépőkártyádat? Egy klasszikus recept: recepcióhoz rohanás, papírmunkázás, és rengeteg  elvesztegetett idő. De mi lenne, ha elfelejthetnénk végre az ehhez hasonló  kellemetlenségeket? A TabLog egy hazai technológiai cég, amely gyors és kényelmes …

[tabaquis-creatures]

https://cicadasafari.org/

[snapdraqons]

Your kä-talogs (or kä-tablog)

OOOOH that's good but idk if tumblr let's you use ä in a url

[thejaymo]

TABlog 1 | Weeknotes

How many tabs do you have open right now? What are they? And why do you have them open?

Don’t have much to write about this week so I’ve decided to start a new semi regular thing: TABlog How many tabs do you have open right now?

[tabaqui-dragon]

Veined fucking slaps

[tabaquis-creatures]

This can also be affected by what parents feed their children as babies. Parents that stick to the same handful of baby food flavors aren't exposing their baby to varied textures and flavors, which makes them less likely to be receptive to them later on.

Another thing that causes issues is strict "meal rules." Younger children shouldn't always be expected to sit down and clear a plate all at once, every single meal. "I don't feel hungry right now" doesn't mean you need to force a child to eat. It's okay to let them wander off and come back to finish up when they actually want the food--making them eat when they don't want to doesn't help anything.

There's a lot of factors regarding the way parents allow/except their children to interact with food that can have massive impacts on them.

And then they'll turn around and berate their child for being a picky eater when they've directly caused the issues their child has with eating.

humans literally evolved to have a heightened sense of taste in childhood because smaller bodies are more sensitive to poison and adults are just like “nah kids are Picky Eaters™ specifically to annoy me”

[tabaquis-barking]

if people don't stop emailing me the same question I have answered 37577374 times i am going to explode and die

[bdpst24]

Egy cég szinte teljes irodai people managementjét megoldja egy magyar startup 

Egy cég szinte teljes irodai people managementjét megoldja egy magyar startup

A munkaidőnyilvántartástól kezdve a belső kommunikáción át egészen az építési területek  beléptetési rendszeréig bezáróan képes kielégíteni a hazai vállalatok igényét a TabLog. Az IT  és az ingatlanipar szinergiájából létrejött magyar startup innovatív megoldásainak  köszönhetően ma már olyan vállalatokat tudhat portfóliójában, mint a Vodafone, az IBM,  vagy a Siemens.   A 2020-ban alapított…

[tabaquis-barking]

Actually know what reblogging again bc the girl with the white ds knows what the FUCK is up and pink girl is either a dumbass or a scammer.

In DPP (Diamond/Pearl/Platinum) sneasel shows up on five different routes, and then evolves into weavile when leveled with a razor claw at night. Razor claws aren’t hard to find either, so while there’s minimal effort involved here, weavile isn’t really special.

Munchlax, though? Jesus fuck. Jesus fucking christ. Munchlax in DPP is one of the most difficult Pokémon in ANY of the games—if not the absolute most difficult. DPP has a mechanic where you could slather honey on certain trees, and six hours later a Pokémon would turn up on the tree. Several of the Pokémon you could get this way were common, but some could ONLY be obtained from honey trees. You couldn’t change the DS system’s time to speed things up, because the trees ran on their own counter—so you HAD to wait six hours for a Pokémon to show up.

It gets worse. There were 21 of these honey trees in the game, and regardless of the tree’s location, and tree could summon any of the “honey tree Pokémon...”

Except. Fucking. Munchlax.

Only FOUR trees in the game had the potential to summon Munchlax. Which trees, you ask? Guess. No, literally, take a fucking guess—because the four trees that can summon Munchlax are decided at random based on your trainer ID and secret ID. There is NO way to determine which trees they are unless you feel like hacking into your game’s data and then doing some weird complicated math.

That’s not all. You thought that was all? You thought Munchlax was a merciful god that would take pity on your tiny, pathetic body? Oh no. Not even close. Munchlax isn’t done with you yet, Munchlax is going to peel you like a fucking mango and laugh while you cry.

Munchlax only has a 1% encounter rate.

ONE. PERCENT. As in 1/100.

So to recap—4/21 honey trees (and you don’t know which ones) have a 1% chance of summoning this little motherfucker once every six hours. That’s it. No fast tracking, no cheats, and no workarounds. Munchlax in DPP is the holy grail of hard to find Pokémon.

And pinky here has the AUDACITY to offer the MUCH more easily obtainable weavile for it. Fuck that. Fuck that!!! White DS girl knows what the FUCK is up!!!

In conclusion;

Munchlax is pretty hot... Try again.

Bitch.

munchlax is pretty hot

[tabaqui-dragon]

The mushrooms are perfect on her and totally suit her "hello, I'm a reanimated corpse" vibe but they don't layer well with the cowl and I realy don't want to take that off of her :(

[tabaquis-creatures]

Why are you always on my damn shoe

[tabaquis-barking]

I have grown up in the south, and this is all I know about reincarnation, ghosts, and God--none of which I believe in.

One: I don't believe in reincarnation, but there are places I walked in different bodies long before I came to exist in this one.

Animals, usually, are the problem. This is the first time I've ever been anything, surely, but sometimes it's just the first time I've been human.

Sometimes places I know I have never visited before will bring back memories that don’t belong to me.

They’re places I belonged; skies I watched and grounds I tread.

Claws scraping on sandy ground; stomping grounds.

There are creatures I’ve touched; some which touched me back.

Familiar teeth and fur; companions I barked with in another life.

I remember their syntax a little too well, considering I never knew them.

Two: I don't believe in ghosts, but nothing ever really goes away down here. Things can shift and wiggle and scoot from place to place, but they don’t leave the south and they don’t leave.

The problem is the history. Everywhere you could possibly step in the Carolinas was once a slave plantation, a civil war battlefield, or both, and the dirt remembers. I don’t believe in ghosts, but I know that nothing has forgotten. There’s nothing to fear from the railroads at night, like they say.

Not as long as you remember that in the anxious warmth of the Carolinas, most of the really scary things happened in broad daylight.

Three: I don't believe in God, but on Sunday mornings the roads fill up, then the churches, then the pews. The south wakes itself up, puts on a fancy hat, and goes to visit a collective delusion.

They don’t hurt anything, worshiping him, because I don’t believe in the old gods, either--the ones that might take offense to being forgotten.

Not in the friendly live oak, which grew so perfectly that when I was seven years old and a dog spooked the herd of horses in the big pasture and they all stampeded at me, it took just a moment to leap up into the branches, and there weren’t even any fire ants.

Not in the odd, ambiguous little fox: Lean and brown and missing his tail, that looked me calmly in the eye before trotting off into a golden field of wheat that never existed.

Not in the malicious thing that my mother found in the dead filly—a perfect little creature with four even white socks and a precisely star shaped snip at the end of her nose. She had been perfectly fine the day before, but that morning the farm dog found it dead and refused to let anyone get near it. My mother and the vet could find not a single flaw or sign of sickness on the outside, but when they cut it open everything within was rotting and black, as if it had been dead for weeks.

They don’t worship the old gods in church on Sundays, but I’ve seen some of them in other places. They won't get too angry as long as they aren't forgotten, so I guess it's a good thing you don't have to believe to remember.