HAHA WHERE DID THEY EVEN COME FROM?!
HAHA WHERE DID THEY EVEN COME FROM?!
This year, as you may have noticed, I scaled back on Mother’s Day posts for a couple of reasons. One reason is that I never got anything even close to as crazy as this. Another reason is that I spend so much time talking trash about sanctimommies and mommyjackers and documoms (who are increasingly dominating my inbox, btw) that I almost feel like reserving Mother’s Day for primarily sincere sentiments. As much as I diss absurd parenting trends the rest of the year, I get a lot of funny submissions written by or about moms. I even get nice emails about the blog from my own mom sometimes, in-between suggestions about not using profanity. So to give props, I put together this round-up and another one on Mommyish. Here are some Gold Star moms whose comments and updates help make Facebook worth reading:
1. Dog Clothes = Baby Clothes
I like the way Katharine doesn’t even add a “Ha!” which would secretly mean, “Return it.” She’s just like, “Yeah, sure, drop it in the mailbox or join me for a happy hour cocktail and we’ll dress up my kid in your dog dress and watch her chase a Frisbie in the front yard.”
This is one of those casual thoughts that provides real insight into a person’s psyche. You don’t only discover that Lindsay equates eating placenta with a sadistic cannibal feeding a victim his own brains; you can also glean that even if Lindsay did eat her own placenta, she wouldn’t go bragging about it on Facebook with a picture of an empty glass bowl and a fork. That’s some
hippietwisted serial killer shit.
3. Food Sharing
We have ourselves another Oprah Gold Star thread. Every single person in this thread has earned a virtual reward for being awesome. Screw those ravenous children who already snack all the livelong day. They can’t eat your treats if you don’t share them! These women are like the exact opposite of Candy Apple Mom, who wound up with no Gold Star and no candy apple. Sucks for her.
4. Cock Bock’s
I will never tire of mocking children’s spelling mishaps and confused expressions. Something tells me Swingy Dong and Jetpack Banana Thrower Dong could whip up some delicious Porny Gravy using Mommy’s Cock Bock’s. ZING.
Is it just me or does “my very own slaves” sound like the adult version of “My Little Pony” or “Kid Sister”/”My Buddy” dolls? I guess I never thought of children like that before, but they’re basically just really expensive, yet human (so they can cook and clean), life-sized adult versions of my ratty old Kid Sister doll. Genius! This kid looks like he’s really going for it over the stove. Slaving away, as it were. Not that I think actual slavery is funny. It’s not. Unless it involves forcing your own children to do household chores in exchange for food and shelter. Then it’s fine! Heidi, I salute you. You teach those damn kids how to work for their dinner!
(submitted by Anonymous)
A graphical representation of the contradictions in the bible. Each red line links 2 contradicting statements.
This reminds me of a really fascinating theological idea I read once. It poses that God meant for the Bible to be full of contradictions, because it isn’t an instruction manual, but a test of character. If you can read through all the books and stories, all the confusing, contradictory statements, and you still choose to take home a message of peace, acceptance, and forgiveness, then you’ve passed God’s test.
I’m not a very religious person, but I still really like that idea.
Tippi Benjamine Okanti Degré, daughter of French wildlife photographers Alain Degré and Sylvie Robert, was born in Namibia. During her childhood she befriended many wild animals, including a 28-year old elephant called Abu and a leopard nicknamed J&B. She was embraced by the Bushmen and the Himba tribespeople of the Kalahari, who taught her how to survive on roots and berries, as well as how to speak their language.
can this child be my spirt-animal?
People being angry about ~dem gays~ on Target’s Facebook.
I just want to give my two cents on this and tell you a story.
A couple weeks ago, I was hired at Target. I have a job at Target. Not a big deal right?
It is a big deal because i’m a transman.
It doesn’t take a genius to conclude that it’s hard for me, my brothers, and sisters to get a job. There are legal restraints regarding the job and if you don’t pass, it’s hard to be taken seriously at a job interview.
Right on the application, it asks what your preferred name is. It also asks if there is anything that target should know. I put the fact that I am a transman, expecting not to get a call because usually when you put that down, people will throw out the application. I got TWO interviews.
At the interview, they asked me about it. I told them I am on hormones and they told me that they didn’t care. Not in the sense that they don’t emotionally care, but that it didn’t matter. I was male and that’s all that mattered. They also told me that they give sex same couples benefits in states that do not recognize them as a married couple.
At my job orientation, I was not misgendered once. Even my supervisors who weren’t sure of my gender avoided pronoun use, which I found only happens when you’ve had pronoun training. They gave me a name tag with my preferred name and didn’t ask questions. I felt safe and respected, which is huge for a trans* person.
TLDR: Target is amazing not just for the LGB, but also the T. Shop there for the rest of your life.
Target has had its share of problems, but their willingness to hire LGBT folks has always impressed me. I live in an area with a large LGBT community - all four of the letters well-represented. And the staff at my local Target reflects that. It’s so nice and sadly unexpected to see large companies stepping up like that.
I recently received an email from an anonymous fan sharing how she pulled a Hawkeye Initiative themed prank on her CEO to illustrate a problem with some artwork.
My personal compliments to her and her accomplice on a mission well done; they perfectly took they perfectly took the concept of The Hawkeye Initiative one step farther, and effected actual change. I hope this gives you as much of a laugh as it did me (the artwork is currently my desktop), and inspires you to be unafraid to stand up and take action in your own awesome way.
Now, excuse me while I go play my new favorite mech game. :)
I work with an all-female team of data scientists, in the gaming industry. This makes me the professional equivalent of Amelia Earhart riding the Loch Ness Monster.
I love my job. Our company in particular is great. Firstly, our game (HAWKEN) is beautiful and people love it. Secondly, half of our executive branch is female. Half of them are punk rock, and all of them are badassed. Our gender awareness standards, compared to the industry at large, are top shelf. We are talking Amelia Earhart in Atlantis, at a five star resort, getting a mani-pedi from Jensen Ackles. I have it good.
For the last six months of my tenure at Meteor Entertainment, there has been only one thing I did not love about my job. This
Our CEO loves this picture. It is to all appearances his favorite piece of comic art for the game. He had it blown up poster-sized, framed, and displayed on the out-facing wall of his office. There, it looms over the front room like a ship’s figurehead. It is the first thing workers and visitors see when they enter the building and the last thing they see when they leave. This little lady’s undermeats have been the open- and close- parens to my work world for the last six months.
I loathe this picture.
Why do I loathe it? How, you ask, can I stay mad at a sweet young belle who has so obviously taken a break from her important welding to offer me a piping hot cup of coffee and/or a vigorous hand job? (And probably, given her apparent safety consciousness, simultaneously?) If you don’t already know the answer, you might want to check out things like #1ReasonWhy, and the Bechdel Test, and also this, and this, and this and this, and all these other things. (And while we’re talking you should check out this other bullshit right here.)
So at our office holiday party, while our CEO was having everyone in the company sign it, I stand there grinding my teeth into tiny shards. Until, suddenly, it came to me: a vision.
And so it came to be that I approached Sam Kirk, a wickedly funny co-worker who shared my sentiment. Sam, turns out, is a very talented artist who can be bribed-slash-inspired using a medley of feminist indignation, hysterical giggling, and two $90 bottles of añejo tequila.
A month-and-a-half later, our vision was a reality. I give you:
Bro-sie The Riveter.
I want to make it completely clear that everything in this prank that required actual talent was done by Sam. Find this, and more of Sam’s art, at TheRealSamKirk.com.
We blew (ahem) Brosie up poster sized. We framed him. And then, at 7:30 on Monday, April 1st, we snuck into our CEO’s office and switched them.
I stood in the entryway, dizzy with joy. It was glorious. There Brosie stood, proud, nipples testing the air like young gophers in springtime, the post-apocalyptic breeze gently swaying his banana hammock. Brosie said, loud and proud: “Get ready, world! I am here to lubricate your joints and tighten your socket.”
I basically spend the next few hours having a joy-induced neurological episode.
As the morning progressed, Brosie (ahem) revealed himself to our co-workers. The air resounded with startled, suppressed gargles of mingled joy and horror. Some take pictures. Some instantly turn and flee. Several men blush and grin in vindicated solidarity. Several women ask us for prints. At this point I am in total rapture. This is the moment I have been dreaming about for six months.
Yet somehow everyone in the office manages to keep quiet about it. Until, finally, our CEO arrives.
We hear a loud: “What the hell is this?!” And then all goes quiet. Ten minutes pass. We panic.
We are both suddenly and painfully aware that we have, in fact, just punked the CEO of our company. He is by all accounts an awesome dude. He is also a late-50s ex-army guy who happens to determine our employment futures in an at-will state. Meep.
Twenty more minutes pass. And then our CEO comes up to my desk, taps me on the shoulder, and says this:
“That was a brilliant prank. You called me on exactly the bullshit I need to be called on. I put up pictures of half-naked girls around the office all the time and I never think about it. I’m taking you and Sam to lunch. And after that, we’re going to hang both prints, side by side.”
Ruby Underboob and Brosie the Riveter, together at last
Yeah. That happened.
This wonderful experience has taught me two things that I hope to carry with me for the rest of my career in STEM (science, technology, engineering and math) and in gaming. It taught me this:
Lots of men (like Sam) are already sympathetic to the stupid, constant crap women put up with in gaming/STEM, and they are ready and willing to call that crap onto the carpet.
And, most importantly, many of the guys who are behind that stupid, constant crap are totally decent, open-minded human beings who just don’t realize they’re doing it. You know how sometimes you don’t realize how much you and your girlfriend are talking about shoes or menstruation until some dude walks into the room? Well sometimes guys don’t realize how much they’re talking about titties.
We just haven’t been around enough for them to notice.
There is only one solution to that, ladies. Bust out your baby-Gap tee and your protective welding goggles, and let’s turn this damn industry into the environment we want it to be. It’s hard work, and yes, there are a couple genuine assholes along the way. But if Ruby Underboob can brave the occasional droplet of molten metal, so can we.
Speaking from experience, it’s worth it.
About our CEO, Mark Long:
Mark has a long and storied history with, among other things, research, games and comic art. He’s a partner in the RoqlaRue gallery in Seattle, representing “chick art.” Mark considers himself a feminist activist. He is proud to have created a graphic novel trilogy with Nick Sagan (Carl’s son) that features a female hero so strong, Hillary Swank is attached to star as her.
Mark and I are now in an open dialogue about gender in comics and gaming.
“So my amazing daughter, Emma, turned 5 last month, and I had been searching everywhere for new-creative inspiration for her 5yr pictures. I noticed quite a pattern of so many young girls dressing up as beautiful Disney Princesses, no matter where I looked 95% of the “ideas” were the “How to’s” of how to dress your little girl like a Disney Princess…We chose 5 women (five amazing and strong women), as it was her 5th birthday but there are thousands of unbelievable women (and girls) who have beat the odds and fought (and still fight) for their equal rights all over the world”
- Jaime Moore, Not Just a Girl
This is awesome!
if you ever think mythology is boring or serious business or whatever shit
just remember that cerberus, the hell-hound and guard dog of the underworld, comes from the root indo-european word ḱerberos, which evolved into the greek word kerberos, which got changed to cerberus when it went from greek to latin
ḱerberos means “spotted”
hades, lord of the dead, literally fucking named his pet dog spot
ah yes. my gender is blue with pink leg
so this is killing me cause my mind immediately thought.
and this is why im not allowed to be part of actual serious discussions.
i DONT UNDERSTAND THIS AT ALL I KEEP IMAGINING
I feel particularly close to this one:
THIS POST GET’S MORE FUCKIN HILARIOUS EVERY TIME I SEE IT!
I made a thing aswell.