Shout out to all my straight sisters I’m so sorry 😞
Jesus, leave his ass.
We learn fast to be very kind and attentive, tho.
My mom, who got her degree in Marriage and Family Counseling when she was 60, says studies show that women will sometimes sometimes leave a long term relationship to live on their own for a while before seeking a new relationship, but men will almost never leave a long term relationship without having a new relationship either in progress or just beginning. They don’t want to give up the caretaker they have without another one on deck or in the wings.
This is so sad
This isnt cute or quirky. This means hes a fucking hopeless user
Please date a man who actually acts like an adult.
Ok I lived with my ex for 2 years and he literally wouldn’t be able to get his own food if I wasn’t at home, I’d get home from work and he’d be angry at me for “making him starve”
My current partner has lived on his own for 8 years and the absolute most I have to help him with is maybe sending him $20 so he can make a bill payment on time
It made me realise for 2-4 years I wasn’t a girlfriend I was a fucking mother
Men who have been independent are capable of reverting if given the slightest excuse. When we married, my ex husband was 10 years older than me and had lived on his own for 8ish years. Yet (and I allowed this until I finally got fed up and took us to counseling) I did 80% of the cooking, because I was better at it. Same with the cleaning, shopping, social planning, etc.
After I left, in the first six months I got texts or calls asking me to please tell him:
The online banking password (dude, I left you, you should really change that)
Where I ordered his special-wecial organic underwear
Where the good cutting board was (my dad gave it to us at our wedding, genius, I took it with me along with the rest of the stuff from my family)
What brand butter we bought
What brand of local kielbasa we bought
Who his doctor was
What RMV office had the shortest lines
Where the old tax returns were (in the fucking box labeled tax returns)
The phone number for his best friend
I shit you not.
Then he had a heart attack (mild) and none of his family or friends were around to take him to the hospital. But instead of calling 911, he called me, who by then lived 45 minutes away. He lived 5 minutes from an EMS dispatch location. He called me, despite the fact that he didn’t believe me 8 months prior when I was feeling suicidal and I had to call a cab to go alone to check myself into the hospital for a 72-hour hold. I told him to call 911, hung up on him when he whined about “making a fuss”, called 911, called his siblings and then texted them “your brother is having a heart attack, I called 911 for him, come home,” and washed my hands of it.
Emotionally vacant men who won’t do household labor or emotional labor are not Nazis, but they aren’t good people, either, and you don’t have to put up with their shit.
Millennial women of Tumblr, please read this post.
And then please: make the decision for yourself to never stay with a man who expects you to be his mother and servant.
This is my grandma to a T. She has lived with the same man for a good 60+ years now and her literal words quoted: “When I’m not home for an extended period of time (week or more) I worry about him eating and then when I get home he’s been eating fish and potatoes for the whole time, even though I left heatable meals in the fridge for him” My grandma pays ALL THE BILLS. Yes ALL OF THEM. The only bills my grandpa puts any money into is car payements and some land-deed tax stuff. He refuses to cook, clean, wash his clothes, any of it.
The whole family is currently waiting for my grandpa to die so my grandma can finally go free, because she’s so stuck into her role as a caretaker that’s the only way to force her to let this shitbag go.
Tumblr, keep circulating this. This is not the 1960s, a dude’s gotta wash his own fucking clothes in our lord’s year of 2018.
And they can fucking learn. After 35 years of marriage my mom got fed up and started making my dad do his laundry after he complained that he really needed a certain shirt cleaned by tomorrow. She marched him into the laundry room, showed him how to work the machine. He’s been doing his own laundry regularly since. After 40 years my dad started to learn to cook, mostly with those meal-in-a-box deals like Hello Fresh or Plated that are super basic with their instructions. My mom and my brother in law are taking turns teaching him to grill. They made a deal where whoever cooks the meal also cleans, so in addition to him cooking 2-3 times a week, he is also doing the dishes. Until they retired, my parents were both working (my mom actually worked more because she was teaching and she didn’t just come home and do nothing like my dad; she had lesson planning and grading to do in addition to all the chores), so it’s not like my mom had all of this free time to do all the house work.
Women don’t like doing this stuff either. It doesn’t just “come naturally” to us, either. Most of us had moms or someone teaching us to do all this bullshit. My mom taught me how to cook. My mom taught me how to balance a budget. My mom taught me how to sew. My mom taught me to do laundry. She just taught me waaaaay before she got fed up enough to teach my dad the same things.
My mother had seven kids, so it didn’t make sense to have us do our own laundry. There was always a big load of towels, a big load of jeans, a big load of sheets, etc.. So, I went through HS without doing laundry. One or the other of my parents manned the family washing, drying, and folding for all family members.
But right before I went to college, my mother explained sorting and wash cycles. Took her about five minutes. And I remember thinking, “Oh, this is nothing.” Went to college and competently did my laundry from that day forward.
This idea that there’s some “magic” to household chores is ridiculous. Recipes clearly explain what to do – and we have Google to explain words like “saute” and “heaping tablespoon.” “Gentle cycle” is printed right on the washer.
My favorite thing ever is how Ron just sent Charlie a random letter like “hey yo there’s an illegal dragon at hogwarts, could you come and smuggle it out of here, please?” and Charlie was just like “yeah sure, I’ll trespass into the castle and steal a dangerous magical creature, of course, lemme just hit up my friends”
It’s better if you imagine Charlie and co as a group of Grad Students trying to avoid their other responsibilities.
Charlie is drunkenly revising the third draft of his thesis on proper care and feeding of greenhorns when his family owl slams into the window.
Three of his friends jump and look around. Glinda doesn’t raise her head from her folded arms; only groans, “Is that Baines coming to do me in?”
Charlie totters to the window and fetches Errol from the window pane. “No such luck,” he says. “You’re still going to have to take the exam.” After some consideration, Charlie lays him on a clear patch of floor to recover. “Do owls take firewhiskey?” he asks the room at large.
“It’s not fair,” Glinda wails into the tabletop. “I swear he didn’t say anything about Bridgewort’s handling practices when we did the review in class.”
“Oh, Merlin,” says Ali, freezing over their notes like a Medusa wyvern had bitten them. “Oh, Merlin’s sweet saggy socks. Is he covering Bridgewort?”
“That’s what he said when I went to his office hours.” Glinda sits up. “You know his lapdragon singed my new sweater?!”
Charlie decides not to give Errol a nip of whiskey. Flying under the influence is really not done. He unties the letter from Errol’s leg. Ron’s childish spiky handwriting spells out Charlie’s name on the front. Inside is a hastily scrawled message.
“Yes, we know it ruined your sweater,” snaps Ysabelle. “You told us twenty times. Why didn’t you tell us Baines told you we’re going to be tested on Bridgewort?”
“I meant to,” says Glinda. “Sorry.” She flicks her pile of notes. “I was lost in the miasma of gloom and desperation.”
Ali puts their head back and groans. “I’m gonna die. I’m gonna say ‘fuck it’ and just fucking walk into a dragon’s mouth so I don’t have to do this.”
“Hey,” says Charlie. They don’t hear him.
“How much is this worth again?” Glinda asks her bottle of butterbeer.
“Twenty-five percent,” Ali and Ysabelle chorus. Ysabelle adds, “and the thesis is fifty percent of our total grade.”
“Hey!” Charlie repeats. They look at him. He waves Ron’s letter. “My littlest brother at Hogwarts has an illegal dragon he needs to get off campus. Anybody up for a midnight flight?”
Ali slams their hands down on the table and stands up. “Fuck yes,” they say decisively. “Maybe I’ll fly into the Whomping Willow and die a quick death.”
you know what actually pisses me off? when I finally start to feel a smidge of confidence in my writing ability and then some JERK POSTS A SINGLE LINE FROM A TERRY PRATCHETT NOVEL AND IT’S BETTER THAN ANYTHING I WILL EVER WRITE NO MATTER HOW MANY MILLENNIA I SPEND TRYING!
Terry was a professional writer from the age of 17. He worked as a journalist which meant that he had to learn to research, write and edit his own work very quickly or else he’d lose his job.
He was 23 when his first novel was published. After six years of writing professionally every single day. The Carpet People was a lovely novel, from a lovely writer, but almost all of Terry’s iconic truth bomb lines come from Discworld.
The Colour of Magic, the first ever Discworld novel was published in 1983. Terry was 35 years old. He had been writing professionally for 18 years. His career was old enough to vote, get married and drink. We now know that at 35 he was, tragically, over half way through his life. And do you know what us devoted, adoring Discworld fans say about The Colour of Magic? “Don’t start with Colour of Magic.”
It is the only reading order rule we ever give people. Because it’s not that great. Don’t get me wrong, very good book, although I’ll be honest I’ve never been able to finish it, but it’s nowhere near his later stuff. Compare it to Guards Guards, The Fifth Elephant, the utterly iconic Nightwatch and it pales in comparison because even after nearly 20 years of writing, half a lifetime of loving books and storytelling Terry was still learning.
He was a man with a wonderful natural talent, yes. But more importantly he worked and worked and worked to be a better writer. He was writing up until days before he died. He spent 49 years learning and growing as a writer, taking so much joy in storytelling that not even Alzheimer’s could steal it from him. He wouldn’t want that joy stolen from you too.
Terry was a wonderful, kind, compassionate, genius of a writer. And all of this was in spite of many many people telling him he wasn’t good enough. At the age of five his headmaster told him that he would never amount to anything. He died a knight of the realm and one of the most beloved writers ever to have lived in a country with a vast and rich literary tradition. He wouldn’t let anyone tell him that he wasn’t good enough. And he wouldn’t want you to think you aren’t good enough. He especially wouldn’t want to be the reason why you think you aren’t good enough.
This post fails to include the entire context and point of this stunt, which was to protest the lack of Asian representation in US media and advertising. And the legit HEIST including fake McDonalds uniforms that they had to pull off to get it up
McDonald’s wants more Asian-American representation in their marketing, and is going to feature both Maravilla and Toledo in an upcoming campaign. But the good news doesn’t end there — each will be given a $25,000 check for their participation in the promotion.
As far as the picture goes, a member of McDonald’s corporate office reached out and told them it had to be removed for renovation purposes, but it was going to be auctioned off and the proceeds would go to the Ronald McDonald House Houston charity.
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