I HATE when people post "cool" self-injury pictures
That shit is triggering as fuck and it’s really fucking rude to boot. I don’t give a fuck if you think it’s arty, you should consider how it might affect other people. Don’t take my unfollow personally.
The second and third ones are nice. I think I want them
I like these two pairs a lot too, they are both very nice basics. I think the loafer option is definitely one of my choices. I like to alternate shoes between days so I don’t think getting two pairs is out of the question. The loafers are the Naturalizer Joey and are $79 and the pumps are the Naturalizer Deino and are $69. The Marianne’s are on sale for $58 and have more of a kitten heel that I prefer so it’s another contender.
“Women have existed in the art of drag for a very long time as object, as that which is imitated,” explains California-based drag performance artist Monique/”Fauxnique”, Jenkinson, drag performance artist and the first woman to win the Miss Trannyshack Pageant. “Biological females performing in lady drag are claiming a place both as performed object and as performing subject.”
Bio Queens, Faux Femmes, F2F (female – to – female) drag queens, whatever anyone wants to call them, one thing remains the same: these are biological women (born with lady bits at birth) who were also born for glitz, glam, and drag. Long the domain of men masquerading as women, or women masquerading as men, a new perspective has been developing at the arty fringes of the conventional drag scene for well over two decades, but only in the last few years have these women started to gain their rightful acknowledgement as Female Drag Performers.
I was watching drag queen videos last night and trying to explain to my mom how badly I wish I could be a drag queen. The “biological female” language aside, this article I Googled up this morning searching for “female drag queen” is kinda neat. I was also reading up on the Cindy Sherman MOMA exhibit, and I would probably categorize what she does as drag, as well as something else entirely.
$5 Bag sale at the thrift store might be the closest I’ll ever get to Supermarket Sweep but I’m glad for that because my pupils fully dilated and I felt like I could lift a car with one hand after so I’m probably just going to start small for now
They really should bring that show back! I was always dying to do the Nick Super Toy Run myself.
I just found the craziest breakup note stuck in a used book
It’s on an old style credit card receipt from 1992, and it’s all crammed up like the writer thought she would be able to keep herself brief but then ended up having to scribble on the other side…Here’s what I can make out:
I don’t want to see you or [illegible: looks like Juli, which is creepy because that’s my name!] with you for a while. I still have some things of yours. They will be dropped off.
(& your friend)
[Here’s where is starts getting cramped and she has to switch to a pencil because the pen is dying and there are various corrections and additions]
By the way, you turned out seem pretty to be [illegible]-like, (ie, naive) to think that A) 1 1/2 years of a pretty intimate relationship isn’t significant for me because you were divorced after 9 years of marriage B) you can determine my reactions for me ie, no grand gestures or tears BC) think we can remove the intimacy and be friends as if nothing happened - yeah right. That’s not how it works.
Gurl, hand to God I know the feeling but you should have quit while you were ahead. Wanting to get that last word in is an understandable but regrettable impulse. Michael sounds like a huge dick though so you’re best rid of him anyway.
I’ve got to play a raucous game of Banagrams and eat some ice cream, so I’ll make this short.
Those intense feelings of anger and upset you feel when you think about how visible my fat body is in that outfit picture, are not, and will never be about, your concern about my quality of life or my ability to suck the world dry of resources in order to sustain this offensive lifestyle you’ve assumed I have.
Those feelings are about you and the suffocating reality of self loathing. Its a dark place to be in and I am not mad at you
Take a good look at how you and I live and love. Understand that I was in your shoes once in my life too and then remind yourself that your words don’t mean enough to me to change.
I’m living the life over here. I just got fucked into the mattress by the stallion in the sheets that I married after a delicious meal in a warm house.
If you were here I’d give you a hug and talk it out, but alas you’re just a fuckload of sad messages.
Its okay to be afraid, but you’re strong enough to choose a better life
You’re my hero. I am just in constant awe of your grace and maturity and inner and outer beauty.
Just pulled about eight pieces out of my closet that don't fit but I've been holding onto for too long
Sorry cute shit, but I need room for more cute shit that DOES fit me. Speaking of, my custom dress from eShakti arrived and it’s pretty damn cute. Maybe I can manage at least once a week to wear one of the many adorable dresses/skirts that I have, because lately pants have just not been doing me right. That shit is just not made for me.
“Anybody who says I’m brutally frank is a fool. You can find a way to tell the truth so that the listener hears it.”—
Dr. Maya Angelou
Just caught Dr. Angelou saying this in an interview with Common on BET and it really struck me, reflecting on Social Justice wars…I still think about calling out a longtime internet buddy and whether I should have sacrificed doing justice for my feelings in the interest of trying to ~*educate*~. I think that I sacrifice too much in that interest. After all, like calloutqueen said in a recent post, the master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house.
Is my desire for inclusiveness really a tool of hegemony? Is all you need is love a neocolonialist project? Damn. I wish I could sit down with Dr. Angelou and hash this shit out.
I realized I should post some old food pics up here, people might be interested and maybe it will motivate me
These are my famous Jason Voorhees Friday the 13th cupcakes. A friend of mine is a horror lover and is having a little Mexican restaurant get-together soon to celebrate completing school so I was thinking about making a batch of these…We shall see. Here’s the recipe if anybody would like.
It's the two year anniversary of the death of the boy that was my first love
It’s also very close to two years from the funeral where I reconnected with one of his best friends, aka The Asshole. And of course even though I dropped TA from FB, today via the memorial page I’m sliding down a FB wormhole and looking at his Wall and suddenly being tempted to text him despite no communication in ages and augh oh my God who am I? I realize now why I’ve been having trouble staving off weird ennui these last few days.
Friend: I hope you’re happy. Me: I hope you’re happy, now that you’re choosing this, I hope it brings you bliss, I really hope you get it and you don’t live to regret it. I HOPE YOU’RE HAPPY IN THE ENNNNNNNNNNNNNNNND. I HOPE YOU’RE HAPPY, MY FRIEND! SO IF YOU CARE TO FIND ME, LOOK INTO THE WESTERN SKY AS SOMEONE TOLD ME LATELY, EVERYONE DESERVES A CHANCE TO FLY AND IF I’M FLYING SOLO AT LEAST I’M FLYING FREE TO THOSE WHO’D GROUND ME TAKE A MESSAGE BACK FROM ME TELL THEM HOW I AM DEFYING GRAVITY, I’M FLYING HIGH, DEFYING GRAVITY, AND SOON I’LL MATCH THEM IN RENOWN, AND NOBODY IN ALL OF OZ, NO WIZARD THAT THERE IS OR WAS, IS EVER GONNA BRING ME DOWN! BRING ME DOWN! AW WAH WAH WAH WAH-AAAAAAAAH! Friend: Me: What.
Heh. Now I want this to happen to me so at the end I can go “What?” and toss my hair.