I’m getting really sassy lately and I’m damn proud: A Joyous Rant

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WARNING: Bragging ahead because I usually don’t stand up for myself with strangers and lately I FUCKING HAVE BEEN.

I think it’s because I’ve started giving much less of a fuck about being kind to people when they’re being downright demeaning. I have tumblr to thank, for some posts that helped me reconsider the line between friendly and downright patriarchal. I have Daddy to think for making me promise I’d stop saying sorry for random stuff and for a certain something I’ll mention in a post from that weekend that I think started this whole chain of events. When I was younger, I was told a lot that I came across as unapproachable. So, I was taught to bite my tongue and smile in public and not to raise a stink.

This past week has been a really freaking saucy week and I’d like to imagine it’s gonna set the tone for the rest of my life. Because I’m getting RESULTS.

Guy in the liquor store who has repeatedly harassed me on the bus starts harassing me again and playing with my friend’s hair. Previously, I’ve set boundaries gently, but firmly, by asking him not to touch me, etc etc. This time, I’m like, “HEY. You need to stop it.” And so he calls me a drama queen and I call him a sex offender. His eyes got all big and he literally apologized and sulked out of the store.

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I’m walking to work and a construction worker comes up to me and says, “this way, young lady.” And I was really not having it and I look him right in the eyes and snap, “I’m not ‘young lady’ to you.” And he’s like, “sorry, Miss.”

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I’m walking home the other night with some friends through one of the undergrad neighborhoods and this frat bro a few feet ahead yells across the street to call his friend a “fa**ot.” I had a little liquid courage in me and I shout after him, “hey, you don’t use that word.” And he’s all, “no, it’s cool, it’s my friend.” And I’m like, “no, it is very much not cool. That is a storied and harmful word that you have no right using, kiddo. Mommy and Daddy are paying good money to send you to school so you can learn all sorts of big boy words to use besides that one. So pick a different freaking word.” And he turns and looks at me and goes, “…you’re right. I’m sorry." 

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I’m doing my mascara on the bus on the way from the gym to class. Some guy leans over and goes, "hey, I don’t think you need makeup.” And I roll my eyes and go, “this isn’t for you." 

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Moral of the story: I’ve spent a lot of freaking time being told that I’m unapproachable, unaccommodating, intimidating, when the bottom line was I should have never have been accommodating other peoples’ comfort and convenience, especially when it was making me feel uncomfortable. So, thanks, tumblr. 

Joyous rant over.

Hey, followers.

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There’s a bunch of new faces among your ranks and I’ve got some free time.

(Not really, but…)

So, introduce yourselves! Ask me stuff! I don’t know. Just make sure I don’t actually have to do work.

Heh.

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I can’t sleep, it’s so humid.

Meow.

darkangelsbride:

Photo by Derek Woods

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Fear turns me on to an absurd degree.

That being said, nobody better try to amputate me. Just…no. I’m not even into blood.

Just wave the crap around a little and let me feel it on my skin and we’re good. 

boston-jason:

You were expecting… what exactly?

Dildos and floggers? Feathers and fur? Hitachi and princess plug?

You said you were tired of the tropes and in desperate need of adrenaline-amplified authenticity.

You said you wanted to hear my voice again, to see the darkness lift my hands again, to feel the ice in my eyes again.

It didn’t take much persuasion to interest me in a bit of existential fear and groveling tears.

Deep breaths, pumpkin, this is not a mindfuck.

It’s playtime.

—boston-jason / in_extremis

cartoon-motion-life:

1900 surgical amputation tool set

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I’d like to make a petition for also getting this when you finish filing your taxes.

Handholding mandatory.

Please and thank you.