the phrase daddy issues makes me so mad like no this isnt some ‘issue’ we have its a system of neglect and emotional incompetence thats excused and encouraged in men and then somehow reflects badly on young girls for being lost and im so mad
The man fails as a father and we laugh at the neglected girl
“This is how we know the world: hit something hard, hit something soft, sit by a glowing window and watch the lighted storm swim by.” – Lisa Olstein, “Leopards Are Flexible Cats.”
Standard
Public service announcement
Go watch “The Mortified Guide” on Netflix because Pup and I are up ENTIRELY TOO LATE laughing and crying and loving it
so when some dude with a beard puts on flannel and chops a tree down, hes some kind of strong sensual alpha male. ok what about when a woman puts on flannel and like, i dont know, saws a plank of wood in half or something, and shes faintly sweaty and not wearing a bra, and her hands are calloused and like, i dont know, shes got a 1980s lesbian haircut and a big and tough but friendly dog named “buster” and a scar on her right shoulder and you’re in a pine forest also. wheres the candle for that. thats the kind of shit i like to think about when i’m in the bath. you’re missing out on a valuable market here, yankee candle
This makes me feel like an amusement park ride rather than a person.
Reach out if you’re gonna be in town, say hey, strike up a conversation if you can. Maybe there’s a party and you can make it! Who knows, maybe we click, maybe things work out, we see what happens. But I don’t just schedule in near strangers for sex appointments.
Yo this.
Any time I post about visiting somebody I get like a ton of asks like “when are you coming to such and such city” as if I’m some band on tour.
I visit @doctortease, @herdirtylittleheart and other people on tumblr because they are my friends. Because we have been in touch for years.
A lot of wonderful things have come out of tumblr, in that I’ve made amazing friends and felt less ashamed of certain aspects of my identity. But opening up pieces of yourself to the internet can sometimes make people feel, well, weirdly entitled to those pieces.
I love this photograph of me and everything about it. Here’s to the acne on my back, the underwear marks, the cellulite, my round little belly and every other thing society constantly tries to make me see as a flaw. I’m sorry I hate you some days, but you’re part of me and I’m trying to be pals with you.