into the garbage chute, flyboy.

good god...

here's a random word generator--whatever word it gives you is now the thing you are the deity of

Adult friendships be like “I miss you bro, let's hang out in November"

incredible glitch on this barbie ad

i hope donkey kong walks into my house and smashes a barrel over my head killing me instantly 

i wonder if the person who wrote this knows they changed the course of history

ok I'm standing up

me when i'm the real slim shady

you cant post shit on this web site

idk why, but for some reason i find photoshopped pictures of poptart boxes with fake ridiculous, outrageous flavor names to be the funniest freaking thing

like this is hysterical

I’m interested in Frosted Water

Theres a reddit page

ok.

I just had to share these XD

BARBIE, 2023 DIR. BY GRETA GERWIG

And also the way Barbie and Ken are role playing heterosexuality without any inherent sexuality of their own, without any understanding of what it means, or even any genitals at all! Just pretty-girl + handsome-guy = obviously a couple. And the way it fucks them both up! Because they’re both stereotypes, neither of them is a specialist version, no brain surgery or pilots license or Nobel prize for either of them. They’re just assigned the roles of Every Man and Every Woman. And Ken ends up doing Way Too Much because he’s hanging his entire self-worth on being important to Barbie. And Barbie just isn’t interested in him, she was assigned a boyfriend she didn’t ask for and doesn’t want and doesn’t know what to do with, just because that’s what society expects of men and women, that they will necessarily couple up and fall in love because… that’s what they do. Regardless of any personal quality of either party.

It’s about heteronormativity and amatonormativity and the unrealistic expectations society sets boys and girls up for from infancy. Barbie and Ken are every pair of toddlers sharing a sandbox while the adults around them call them each other’s little “boyfriend” or “girlfriend” even though neither party understands or is capable of understanding the implied meaning of that. Or wants to.

It’s a literal funhouse mirror of that weird pressure put on kids to perform heterosexuality from an early age. It examines how that leaves us unprepared for the complicated reality of actual relationships even if it turns out that you are heterosexual and do want sex and romance. Boys and girls aren’t really allowed to be just kids on the same team, so they grow up into men and women who generally want very different things from each other and are trained to look for it in everybody because anybody is better than nobody, and try to force it to work.

Barbie and Ken letting each other go in the end was perfect. Barbie the Every Woman realizing that she doesn’t have to be special, she just has to be, and Ken the Every Man realizing he has to seek validation elsewhere and lean on his fellow Kens for emotional support, WHICH THEY GIVE.

Truly a movie of all time.

One of the worst parts of current internet culture is that it makes good old fashioned complaining so difficult. I don’t wanna cancel anyone or bully anyone, I’m not trying to form a hate mob I’m not calling anyone out, i just wanna bitch about something. Because complaining is fun, good for you, even. Is that too much to ask? Where is the room for shooting the shit?

Little Miss Doomed to the Narrative

Barbie moving back or just not feeling it when Ken tries to kiss her on multiple occasions. That right there. That's when I felt so seen.

And throughout the entire movie, I was just dreading the moment where she'll have to step back and realize that she's had feelings for him this whole time ugh and that she'll go back and they'll live happily fucking ever after again ugh

But there was none of that. Just Barbie being her own self without a man, without a romantic relationship.

That right there. That gutted me because that's been me my entire life and I thought that there was something wrong with me for not wanting a boyfriend and romance in the real world, fictionally it's a whole other thing but this right here rung so so true to me because it felt so real and it felt like a healing salve to that ache society caused in me.

who up pushing their boulder

@ my fellow adults who use tumblr a lot:

can you PLEASE put your age in your about/sidebar and make sure it’s accessible on mobile. imo if you’re an adult esp 20+ it’s a little weird that you wouldn’t have your age readily available on your blog. if you’re reading this now and you don’t have your age listed, please rectify that. i feel like teenagers get lured into talking to adults in fandom/lgbt spaces that they may not have intentionally sought out because they think they’re talking to other teenagers, and this can lead to a lot of other – much more insidious –problems

Can you guys step out of the tumblr “everyone over 20 is inherently predatory and creepy towards children” bubble for once and consider that encouraging people to give up their personal information for the imagined safety of the community is like…not safe?

this advice doesn’t even make sense for multiple reasons; if someone is intent on preying upon minors, all they have to do is follow your advice and lie about their age, being over 20 doesn’t mean you can’t be preyed on yourself, you should never be coerced into giving up your privacy on social media (seriously, did a fed write this?), and promoting the idea that turning 20 means your interactions with younger people should be viewed with suspicion is absolutely harmful, like OP do you have any common sense? At all?

“ignore your own privacy boundaries and discomfort and if you don’t idk 🤔sounds a lil sus 2 me, pedophile” will you guys stop larping as conservative politicians for one second please

think-of-the-children fearmongering is not the same thing as actually protecting minors

You’re talking about - much more insidious - problems while telling people if you don’t do what I tell you, you might be a threat to the safety of our community, like okay Dubya!

Let me tell you about the insidious things that happened when I was young in fandom spaces and older fans became my friends

1. I was taught real sex ed by a midwife, including a lot of pros and cons of various birth control

2. I learned you can just get anything printed into a book and having it in a physical book don’t legitimize something

3. I learned how to enjoy other cultures without making people from those cultures uncomfortable

4. I realized my guardians, while better than my past guardians, were still abusive and what I was experiencing was not healthy, even if distressingly common

5. I learned generosity without ulterior motives actually did exist

6. I learned I don’t have to abandon the things I enjoy as I get older.

7. I was taught ways to treat people differently in deference to their age while still treating them as peers.

(they treated me as an equal, but I was not included in any sexual discussions, for example)

8. I learned that friendships don’t have to be quid pro quo

All of these things super insidious and destructive to the conservative agenda.

Destroying the links between generations is part of how the powerful keep us from forming communities and bettering our lives. Don’t do the masters’ work for them.

So in conclusion fuck no I will not be putting my age in my sidebar.

Bold of them to assume a child of the 90s would ever put their real age in that field anyways.

Last week I accidentally took an edible at 10x my usual dose. I say “accidentally” but it was really more of a “my friend held it out to my face and I impulsively swallowed it like a python”, which was technically on purpose but still an accident in that my squamate instincts acted faster than my ability to assess the situation and ask myself if I really wanted to get Atreides high or not.

Anyway. I was painting the wall when it hit. My friend heard me make a noise and asked what was wrong—I explained that I had just fallen through several portals. I realized that painting the wall fulfilled my entire hierarchy of needs, and was absolutely sure that I was on track to escaping the cycle of samsara if I just kept at it a little longer. I was thwarted on my journey towards nirvana only by the fact that I ran out of paint.

Seeking a surrogate act of humble service through which I might be redeemed and made human, I turned to unwashed dishes in the sink and took up the holy weapon of the sponge. I was partway through cleaning the blender when it REALLY hit.

You ever clean a blender? It’s a shockingly intimate act. They are complex tools. One of the most complicated denizens of the kitchen. Glass and steel and rubber and plastic. Fuck! They’ve got gaskets. You can’t just scrub ‘em and rinse them down like any other piece of shit dish. You’ve got to dissemble them piece by piece, groove by sensitive groove, taking care to lavish the spinning blades with cautious attention. There’s something sensual about it. Something strangely vulnerable.

As I stood there, turning the pieces over in my hands, I thought about all the things we ask of blenders. They don’t have an easy job. They are hard laborers taking on a thankless task. I have used them so roughly in my haste for high-density smoothies, pushing them to their limits and occasionally breaking them. I remembered the smell of acrid smoke and decaying rubber that filled the kitchen in the break room the last time I tried to make a smoothie at work—the motor overtaxed and melted, the gasket cracked and brittle. Strawberry slurry leaked out of it like the blood of a slain animal.

Was this blender built to last? Or was it doomed to an early grave in some distant landfill by the genetic disorder of planned obsolescence? I didn’t know, and was far too high to make an educated guess. But I knew that whatever care and tenderness and empathy I put into it, the more respect for the partnership of man and machine, the better it would perform for me.

This thought filled me with a surge of affection. However long its lifespan, I wanted it to be filled with dignity and love and understanding. I thought: I bet no one has hugged this blender before. And so I lifted it from its base.

A blender is roughly the size and shape of a human baby. Cradling one in your arms satisfies a primal need. A month ago I was permitted to hold an infant for the first time in my life, an experience which was physically and psychologically healing. I felt an echo of that satisfaction holding my friend the blender, and the thought of parting with it felt even more ridiculous than bringing it with me to hang out on my friend’s bed.

Deborah Kerr + 🤦🏼‍♀️