When I first met my friend Amanda she was terrified of me for a solid week because I always looked like I wanted to kill someone.
(Source: lessonsinromance)
(Source: poem2)
This week marks the 50th anniversary of the publication of my favorite book.
(Source: soirart)
“They’re complex characters…who are proud and empowered by their beauty and sexuality, at the same time stricken by the fleeting nature of it.”
Seriously, though, I found out just today that this is a thing. What new and amazing insecurities there are to discover every single day! It’s a magical world.
Moral of the story: Your thighs are fine. Work it, ladies. You’re all gorgeous.
Honest to God, people whose thighs don’t touch look architecturally unsound to me. Like I just imagine them walking through the park and getting hit in the thigh by a wayward tennis ball or something, and their leg just snapping in two and them crumpling to the ground immediately because they’re legs can’t reinforce each other.
Before women were granted the right to vote in 1918 and 1920 in the UK and US, respectively, there was a very, very long discussion about whether giving women the vote was a good idea in the first place. In fact, people were so adamantly against giving women the vote that the more artistically inclined of the anti-suffragette set were fond of creating tacky anti-ladyvoting postcards, that presumably they could swap with other anti-suffragettes and then laugh and laugh. Here’s Collectors’ Weekly’s Lisa Hix explaining the history of the postcards as an old timey meme.
Think of them like the turn of the 20th century equivalent of the poorly photoshopped Obama with a bone through his nose email forward.
Anyway, enjoy this rundown on how suffragettes are ugly, loveless hags who want only to steal pants (and dicks, probably!) from the men and forcing the dudes to do dehumanizing lady things like hold children and get bossed around. Giving women rights is just like taking rights away from men!
With a little updating, these could easily be retooled into Romney/Ryan ads.
In honor of the master of the creepy story, Shirley Jackson, we bring you this incredibly misleading pulp paperback cover. It must have led to some really disappointed —or freaked out—readers. Also: who is this demon lover of which they speak?
