suicideblonde: Brooklyn Bridge (1903) photographed by Edward Steichen

suicideblonde:

Brooklyn Bridge (1903) photographed by Edward Steichen

insooutso replied to your photo: I’ve written about my various skin issues before….

Doubling up on the coffee and alcohol in your honor.

 -1984 replied to your photo: I’ve written about my various skin issues before….

I hate growing up and eating my vegetables and going to bed at the right time. SCREW YOU FATHER TIME I AM A TOYS R’ US KID. But ya, glad you figured it all out!

 dig-the-cat replied to your photo: I’ve written about my various skin issues before….

How long did it take to go away once you found the secret formula?

1. Excellent, thank you. The balance of the universe must be maintained.

2. Thanks! I was never a Toys R’ Us kid, anyway. I was a Fretful N’ Fussy kid, so really, this is all very appropriate.

3. A few days. Seriously. (I won’t get preachy, but friends, the Paleo Diet works exactly as advertised.) I’ve been doing it for a little over a year now.

I’ve written about my various skin issues before. For the longest time (years, now that I think about it) I had rough, dark red patches on my cheeks. By the time I figured out it was rosacea, I’d already spent a small fortune on skin care products. I then spent another small fortune on rosacea-specific skin care products. I tried everything from criminally overpriced luxury creams to DIY remedies, all the while beating myself up about caring so much about something so superficial. But it bothered me. A lot. I stressed about not stressing about it and still wanted to cry when I looked in the mirror. As it turns out, all I had to do was start exercising regularly and give up coffee, alcohol, all grains, processed food, and non-100% natural moisturizer. Guys, I eat vegetables now and go to bed at a reasonable hour. I rinse my face with goat’s milk. It’s only a matter of time before I start wandering through the forest in a dress tie-dyed with beet juice, singing folk tunes while accompanied by a chorus of songbirds, painting with all the colors of the wind, etc. My stupid body is a goddamn dirty hippie.  But my skin glows like an angel’s rump, so it’s worth it. (Also I’m healthier or whatever, but really, who cares about that.)

I’ve written about my various skin issues before. For the longest time (years, now that I think about it) I had rough, dark red patches on my cheeks. By the time I figured out it was rosacea, I’d already spent a small fortune on skin care products. I then spent another small fortune on rosacea-specific skin care products. I tried everything from criminally overpriced luxury creams to DIY remedies, all the while beating myself up about caring so much about something so superficial. But it bothered me. A lot. I stressed about not stressing about it and still wanted to cry when I looked in the mirror.

As it turns out, all I had to do was start exercising regularly and give up coffee, alcohol, all grains, processed food, and non-100% natural moisturizer. Guys, I eat vegetables now and go to bed at a reasonable hour. I rinse my face with goat’s milk. It’s only a matter of time before I start wandering through the forest in a dress tie-dyed with beet juice, singing folk tunes while accompanied by a chorus of songbirds, painting with all the colors of the wind, etc. My stupid body is a goddamn dirty hippie. 

But my skin glows like an angel’s rump, so it’s worth it. (Also I’m healthier or whatever, but really, who cares about that.)

Really, when considered from the velociraptor’s point of view, Jurassic Park becomes the tragic tale of a doomed quest for freedom. But there’s a lesson to be learned: it’s better to simply escape and make a better life for yourself elsewhere than take vengeance upon your oppressors, no matter how deserving—or delicious—they may be.

Really, when considered from the velociraptor’s point of view, Jurassic Park becomes the tragic tale of a doomed quest for freedom. But there’s a lesson to be learned: it’s better to simply escape and make a better life for yourself elsewhere than take vengeance upon your oppressors, no matter how deserving—or delicious—they may be.

My sister-in-law just sent this picture of the Ewoks and I had to share.

My sister-in-law just sent this picture of the Ewoks and I had to share.

Sometimes I wish other magazines were written like Cosmo.

“Nat Geo tip #347: Show the special buzzard in your life you care by arranging the entrails of his favorite bloated carcass in the shape of a heart!”

It’s true. I’ve been compared to Socrates exactly as many times as I’ve been compared to Mary-Kate Olsen.

It’s true. I’ve been compared to Socrates exactly as many times as I’ve been compared to Mary-Kate Olsen.

Five dollar maternity* jeggings. I may have realized the entirety of my potential as a human being. *Uh, I’m not pregnant, obviously. I’m just a GENIUS.

Five dollar maternity* jeggings. I may have realized the entirety of my potential as a human being.

*Uh, I’m not pregnant, obviously. I’m just a GENIUS.

CHAOS AND STRUCTURE on the Behance Network (by Tatiana Plakhova’s)

CHAOS AND STRUCTURE on the Behance Network (by Tatiana Plakhova’s)

jawdust: Why you should be in passionate horny love with Elizabeth ‘Nellie Bly’ Cochrane Born in 1864/65, Elizabeth, one of 15 children, was always ‘the rebellious one’. Fierce as fuck from an early age, she testified against her abusive stepfather in her mother’s divorce trial. In 1880 she enrolled in a teacher-training college but had to leave after her first semester due to lack of funding - then moved to Pittsburgh to help run a goddamn boarding school.  This is where we get to the good shit. Age 18, she wrote a letter-to-the-editor of the Pittsburgh Dispatch bitchslapping the everloving fuck out of a sexist ballsack of an article entitled ‘What Girls Are Good For’.  The editor was so goddamn wooed by her razor-sharp tongue that he RAN AN AD asking her to identify herself. Elizabeth owned up, and was hired instantaneously, her badassery radiating from her pores and intoxicating all within a twenty mile radius. Working under the pen-name Nellie Bly, Elizabeth kicked the butts of morons everywhere, writing articles aimed at social justice, particularly labour laws to protect working ‘girls’ and reform of Pennsylvania’s divorce law, which greatly favoured men. Not content with changing the world from behind her desk, Elizabeth became a founding mother of investigative journalism. She was expelled from Mexico for exposing political corruption, and henceforth wrapped in cotton wool by her editors. Infuriated by their mollycoddling, Lizzie left them a note essentially telling them to fuck themselves and hot footed it to NYC. She was still only 23. Within six months she was hired by Joseph fucking Pulitzer himself, and continued her batshit crazy investigations uninhibited. Her very first assingment had her feigning mental illness to expose repulsive conditions in Blackwell’s Island Insane Asylum. Her cutting report was so fucking horrifying, compelling and persuasive that it triggered public and political action, leading to reform of the institution. In the next couple of years she had herself thrown in jail and hired by a sweatshop, all for shits and giggles. Oh, and to uncover incomprehensible injustice, cruelty, poverty, and the concealed, heinous treatment of the vulnerable and voiceless.  But was pioneering journalism, social revolution and batshit badassery enough for our Liz? Like fuck it was. On a whim Nellie did what any self-respecting 25 year old woman in the 1800s would do - she emulated Jules Verne’s Around the World in Eighty Days, and did it in 72. Millions followed her journey, and its appeal to a semi-literate populace resulted in greatly increased newspaper readership. So while travelling the entire globe (IN THE 1800s, AS A WOMAN) by ship, train, burro and balloon, she helped the world to read. Having essentially conquered the entire goddamn universe before hitting 30, Nellie retired, and wed 72 year old industrialist Robert Seaman. Their marriage was a happy one, and after his death she took over Iron Clad Manufacturing Co. But Lizzie was a writer, what would she know about the metal industry? Well, she INVENTED the steel barrel that became the model for the widely used 55-gallon drum and turned her inherited businesses into multimillion-dollar companies, so apparently a fuck ton. Furthermore, she set a precedent for working conditions, ensuring her workers had good pay, gymnasiums, staffed libraries, and health care, all completely unheard of at the time, while still writing to further the plight of the Suffragette movement. Nellie may have died age 58 of pneumonia, but HBICs live on forever. My third grade classroom was full of these 70s-era picture books about influential historical people who accomplished amazing things, and I remember the one about Nellie. Even then, those books made me tired. (Don’t get me wrong, Nellie here was the coolest and this post is great; it just reminded me of my personal grudge against people who, you know. Do stuff. Because they’re not lazy. Total weirdos, basically.) It just makes me laugh that those books were obviously created to inspire young minds, and Baby Me’s reaction was to shrug and then probably take a nap.

jawdust:

Why you should be in passionate horny love with Elizabeth ‘Nellie Bly’ Cochrane

  • Born in 1864/65, Elizabeth, one of 15 children, was always ‘the rebellious one’. Fierce as fuck from an early age, she testified against her abusive stepfather in her mother’s divorce trial.
  • In 1880 she enrolled in a teacher-training college but had to leave after her first semester due to lack of funding - then moved to Pittsburgh to help run a goddamn boarding school. 
  • This is where we get to the good shit. Age 18, she wrote a letter-to-the-editor of the Pittsburgh Dispatch bitchslapping the everloving fuck out of a sexist ballsack of an article entitled ‘What Girls Are Good For’. 
  • The editor was so goddamn wooed by her razor-sharp tongue that he RAN AN AD asking her to identify herself. Elizabeth owned up, and was hired instantaneously, her badassery radiating from her pores and intoxicating all within a twenty mile radius.
  • Working under the pen-name Nellie Bly, Elizabeth kicked the butts of morons everywhere, writing articles aimed at social justice, particularly labour laws to protect working ‘girls’ and reform of Pennsylvania’s divorce law, which greatly favoured men.
  • Not content with changing the world from behind her desk, Elizabeth became a founding mother of investigative journalism. She was expelled from Mexico for exposing political corruption, and henceforth wrapped in cotton wool by her editors. Infuriated by their mollycoddling, Lizzie left them a note essentially telling them to fuck themselves and hot footed it to NYC. She was still only 23.
  • Within six months she was hired by Joseph fucking Pulitzer himself, and continued her batshit crazy investigations uninhibited. Her very first assingment had her feigning mental illness to expose repulsive conditions in Blackwell’s Island Insane Asylum. Her cutting report was so fucking horrifying, compelling and persuasive that it triggered public and political action, leading to reform of the institution.
  • In the next couple of years she had herself thrown in jail and hired by a sweatshop, all for shits and giggles. Oh, and to uncover incomprehensible injustice, cruelty, poverty, and the concealed, heinous treatment of the vulnerable and voiceless. 
  • But was pioneering journalism, social revolution and batshit badassery enough for our Liz? Like fuck it was. On a whim Nellie did what any self-respecting 25 year old woman in the 1800s would do - she emulated Jules Verne’s Around the World in Eighty Days, and did it in 72.
  • Millions followed her journey, and its appeal to a semi-literate populace resulted in greatly increased newspaper readership. So while travelling the entire globe (IN THE 1800s, AS A WOMAN) by ship, train, burro and balloon, she helped the world to read.
  • Having essentially conquered the entire goddamn universe before hitting 30, Nellie retired, and wed 72 year old industrialist Robert Seaman. Their marriage was a happy one, and after his death she took over Iron Clad Manufacturing Co.
  • But Lizzie was a writer, what would she know about the metal industry? Well, she INVENTED the steel barrel that became the model for the widely used 55-gallon drum and turned her inherited businesses into multimillion-dollar companies, so apparently a fuck ton.
  • Furthermore, she set a precedent for working conditions, ensuring her workers had good pay, gymnasiums, staffed libraries, and health care, all completely unheard of at the time, while still writing to further the plight of the Suffragette movement.
  • Nellie may have died age 58 of pneumonia, but HBICs live on forever.

My third grade classroom was full of these 70s-era picture books about influential historical people who accomplished amazing things, and I remember the one about Nellie. Even then, those books made me tired. (Don’t get me wrong, Nellie here was the coolest and this post is great; it just reminded me of my personal grudge against people who, you know. Do stuff. Because they’re not lazy. Total weirdos, basically.)

It just makes me laugh that those books were obviously created to inspire young minds, and Baby Me’s reaction was to shrug and then probably take a nap.