New Project Finished! (sort Of)

I love to be gay!

via

guess what? There actually isn’t a size limit of what you can congratulate yourself for. We think we have to do something ‘extra impressive’ or ‘extraordinary’ before we can compliment ourselves, but that’s really not the case!

made some food? Well done, self. taken even just one bite? Excellent work. Put your dish away? Great job. Drank some water when you knew you were thirsty? I’m doing such a great job. congratulations doesn’t have a size limit! Compliment yourself all the time for the all the work you’re putting into being a human being — you deserve it!

RB IF YOU AGREE

This is the whole video she did.

Watch at own risk.

It is over all kinda frustrating and sad that this is even a problem to begin with. There are some people standing up for it and actually speaking out against her bullshit. Of course it is only thhe footage her channel put up. So the over all percentage of people agreeing that there should be tampons and pads in mans restrooms and urinals should be in womens restrooms might be higher than shown in the video.

Something only slightly related to the video and her question is that I live in Austria and I do not know of many to no public restroom (including womens) that have free tampons and/or pads. Which definitely is a problem on its own.

The look on her face when she realizes

You know those anime meta posts along the lines of “I was born with pink hair. The doctors told my parents I was a Main Character and ever since my life has not known peace from demons/spirits/sports competitions/harems who find me”

Well I see that, and I raise you this:

An anime boy whose appearance is, by absolutely anyone’s account, completely and utterly average. Mundane hair. Mundane eyes. Not even glasses to set him the tiniest bit apart. A simple, unmemorable, unrecognizable civilian among a backdrop of millions.

And he has a lot of passions, and a lot of ambitions, which he hones every chance he gets. He’s dabbled in sports and archery and cooking and just about anything you could wrap a competition around. And he’s competed in many of these. Every chance he gets. With all of his passion and all of his might.

He’s crushed by the competition every single time.

Until one day–one day something clicks for him. Something that should have seemed obvious from the start and yet never was–as though everyone, including himself, was unwittingly blind to it. It clicks, when he realizes every kid who’s beaten him in competition, every kid who’s gone on to fame and glory and acclaim, has been some candy-haired gel-spiked ridiculously-dressed fucker. 

There’s some trend there that this Main Character boy can’t explain and can’t understand but he decides, this one time, fuck it. He’ll play along too. He’s got a model train competition in four days, and he’s got nothing more to lose. He hits up the department store, buys the pinkest, noxious-est, fruitiest hair dye he can find, the spikiest hair gel available, and the gaudiest clothes on the thrift rack. He enters the model train competition looking like a bubble gum gijinka.

And he wins.

Suddenly, the other candy-haired contestants notice him. They talk to him. They pledge rivalries. Girls notice him. Judges applaud him. Acclaimed model train aficionados offer him internships across the world. He’s hit on something. 

The main cast expands to cover just about every candy-hair cliche in the book: from the mostly-normal-looking demure school girl with the blue hair to the Naruto-est, yelling-est boy with the red-and-green spiked hair. The cool megane senpais, the purple haired tsunderes, suddenly everyone is interested in him. They’re prodigies and upstarts and underdogs and they truly believe that this main character boy is one of them.

So the main character boy maintains his ruse. He touches up his roots at dawn every morning and carefully attends to his gelled spikes and tells absolutely no one about this great, uncanny, unfathomable secret he’s stumbled upon. He wins his competitions left and right. He racks up the acclaim. He’s hailed as a prodigy of all trades, just now bursting onto the scene, and boils to the top of all his candy-haired peers.

He’s rising up, his every dream within his grasp. Until one day he gets a note under his door, taped to an old picture of his Normal Boring self from middle school, that says “You don’t belong”

I thought that's how you write it?

finally …. joda (jean yoda)

SHORTLAND STREET ― 29th July 2024

are u a pat hug, rub hug, squeeze hug, or no hug kind of person?