It’s true I can’t help it
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.
"Think of the two major possibilities here: Either the studios owe untold millions to their talents and paying it out will decimate their stock prices, or they owe so little because there really is no money in streaming and the bubble of their entire 21st century business model will burst in spectacular fashion. And make no mistake: this is a bubble. This is the inevitable climax of a stockholder-driven hunger for infinite growth, despite the fact that, by design, such a thing cannot and should not exist. The infection of Wall Street has overwhelmed the entertainment industry beyond repair, leading to cultural vandals like David Zaslav to be appointed with the callous duty of strip-mining decades’ of artistic beauty for pennies of tax write-offs. The past and future are frivolous in comparison to the short-term demands that the line keep going up."
With the actors and writers strike in the U.S., I'm reminded of this tweet from John Cho who got zero payment from a residual check.
DEATH RACING TRIGUN AU YIPPEE
Emphasis on death-racing and high stakes!
First up is Racer Number 53. The man (debatable), the myth, the legend…and also the racer with a 60 million $$ target on his back…Vash the Stampede! (Rumoured to be the Humanoid Typhoon). May God have mercy on his soul!
(Eh who should I post/design next🧍♂️)
Car inspo under the cut because I’m tizzy about cars apparently now.
“My husband got involved with a younger woman at work. I was relaxed about it at first. He’s thirteen years younger than me, so I thought: ‘Shit happens.’ But then she got pregnant. Luckily through the divorce process I had the opportunity to take over this shithole place with no heating, which I’ve turned into an art studio. And now I’m living my best life. Everything is for sale except the pink chandelier and the dog. Anyone is free to stop by at anytime. You can eat or drink whatever you want. All the young people in the neighborhood love me. I’m the oldest person in our friend group. Everyone else is in their twenties or thirties. They call me Queen Mama. I call them my adopted kids. I always help them with their school projects and resumes and interviews. I only ask one thing in return. Each of them has to teach me one new thing every week: a piece of music, a trend, an idea. Just so I can stay up to date. Before you take the photograph, let me go inside and put on some make-up. We were out until 2 AM last night.” (Amsterdam, The Netherlands)
i want to be a conventionally attractive wealthy skinny ciswoman so i can go on the bachelor and make it all the way thru the competition, and when the guy proposes to me i just like leap towards him and close my teeth around his neck and bite as hard as i can. just absolute animal brutality like shaking his neck like a ragdoll, growling ripping tearing etc, and then before anyone can stop me immediately run into traffic and die so no one ever gets the chance to understand why that happened
I recently discovered laundry stripping and y’all, no matter how much of a crock of shit you think fast fashion is, you’re underestimating.
[image ID: a screenshot of the notes on this post, featuring several people indicating they want to know more. End ID.]
OKAY SO. You know how we talk about how one way fast fashion has made itself “necessary” is that the clothing looks like shit and feels horrible after just a few washes?
Let. Me. Tell. You. Something.
Laundry stripping is a process where you load your laundry into a tub or bin (I’ve been using my bathtub) with warm water, half a cup of borax, half a cup of washing soda, and half a cup of laundry soap (not detergent, SOAP, there’s a chemical difference). Leave it there for at least eight hours. I’ve been going for 12-24.
What you will come back to is a tub full of nearly-opaque black-gray-brown water that absolutely REEKS. This is normal. You are looking at (and smelling) hard water buildup, body sweat and oils that were embedded in the fabric, dead skin, and just regular grime.
Wring out your clothes. Throw them in the washer. (I like to do a spin-only cycle before going any further, because I have one of those washers that determines by weight how much water any given load needs.) Wash as usual.
You will notice I didn’t suggest any further pretreatment, and that’s because 1) you don’t want to layer too many chemicals on top of each other but also 2) you may not even need it.
When your clothes come out, check each one as it goes into the dryer, and if anything else s still stained, set it aside to run again with a regular pretreatment. One of the sweaters I did this with apparently did need a second treatment…to deal with what appears to have possibly been a hot chocolate stain that was previously invisible due to “well, it’s old” dinginess. I was planning to throw this sweater out. It looks almost new now. I need to wash it one more time for the probably-a-hot-chocolate stain, and then it needs to have the hem weighted to block it and bring it back to evenness, but dude. I wear my clothes to rags and I thought this thing was unfixable. “I need to reshape it” is nothing.
Remove clothes from dryer when done. Fucking MARVEL at the colors and how good the fabric feels. Give them a smell. Get righteously and royally angry that you can rejuvenate this stuff so easily, with a process that does take awhile but is 90% hands-off, but we’ve been trained to believe it’s all got to be binned once a year because discoloration and gross fabric is “normal wear and tear” and can’t be fixed.
It’s utterly unreal! I just pulled a seven-year-old work undershirt out of the dryer and this thing looks NEW!! It FEELS almost new!!! One of the shirts I hung up from the last load is older than some of the people on this site and it went from “I keep this to wear on laundry day, for sentimental reasons” to “I could actually wear this out of the house, it looks old but respectable”! The pajama bottoms I’m wearing were from Goodwill and they have BRIGHT YELLOW in them! I thought it was goldenrod!!
I do not know how often you’re supposed to do this (doing it every time can strip the dye out of your clothes, not to mention it’s way too much work to do every time), but once or twice per season seems respectable. I don’t wear white, so I can’t test the “it will make whites look almost-new as well” claim, but I’ve seen a lot of people on the cleaning subreddit attest that it works.
Just remember: WASHING soda. Not baking soda. I tried baking soda and a little bit happened, but not a lot.
Go forth. Rejuvenate your clothing. Strip your laundry.
new and magnificent beasts will arise from the muck. trust me on this one
Good morning to the trans man loudly slamming his girlfriend in the bunk above convicted sex trafficker Ghislaine Maxwell, and ONLY the trans man loudly slamming his girlfriend in the bunk above convicted sex trafficker Ghislaine Maxwell
poor things, well we should definitely make this easier on them by never repeatedly mentioning their name and deeds on the "reblog things forever" website
i must not afternoon nap. afternoon nap is the mind-killer. afternoon nap is the little death that brings total obliteration. i will face my afternoon sleepy tired and permit it to pass over and through me. and when it has gone i will turn the inner eye to see its path. where the afternoon sleepy tired has gone there will be nothing. only i will remain
I MUST NOT AFTERNOON NAP. AFTERNOON NAP IS THE MIND KILLER
So many notes ppl confused by corn wielding Colima dog wait until you see the dancing figures…..blow your mind. Teach you true love
clawfootboy
humankind…what more can I say. I can only aspire to have such deep and rich a human connection with anyone in this life that will be as radiant as a ceramic figural pair of dancing xolos
lovingswamp
They’re also at the center of a roundabout
anielka-ela
Mexican here, fun fact! While we call them “Dancing dogs”, they’re a young pup and an old dog, and the older one is revealing wisdoms right on the pup’s ear.
You’ll recognize the older dog bc he’s got wrinkles!! It’s a wonderful scene!!
if you are dealing with extreme heat or even just. moderate heat in your area right now. 80f/26c is when it starts getting toasty for a lot of people. if you are in a heat wave and you have not done yourself the favor of googling fucking "heat exhaustion symptoms" i am shaking you violently right now. look it up. burn the symptoms into your brain. heatstroke is no joke and it can and WILL sneak up on you before you're aware it's even an issue. ohh my god
if you are outside and it is hot and sunny and you are sweating thru your clothes or feeling tired or starting to get irrationally agitated or upset in another way or feeling nauseous or your heart is pounding etc etc if you are feeling Weird and Bad for no apparent reason while you are in a warm/hot area then i have news for you! you need to cool down! right now! oh my god.
and there's a very good chance that you're gonna think "it's not heat exhaustion, i don't feel any warmer than i have all day" when you consider it as a reason why you are suddenly feeling weirdbad for no apparent reason during a record-breaking heatwave and i would like to say. there is no harm in sitting in the shade and drinking some water even if heat exhaustion isn't the cause of whatever ailment is inflicting itself upon u. once i swore up and down to my bf that i was just kinda tired and headachy and got bitchy about the possibility of being overheated and needing to drink water. because heat exhaustion tends to make you bitchy. but i did as he asked and drank some cold water and my condition immediately improved. because it was heat exhaustion and heat exhaustion is evil and a liar. sit down. drink water
When you do drink that water, make sure you’re drinking it slowly as well and taking breaks, don’t chug it
