je ne suis pas seule

lets-bandage-it-up:

freakshow1313:

noitemsfoxonlyfinaldestination:

thatsonofamitch:

enenkay:

zipperaward:

Hi guys! I wanted to inform you about this great thing that is happening!

These smart fellows have devised a way to create cups, straws, mixers, etc that can detect common date rape drugs. This is an amazing idea and it needs funding! The campaign ends in 35 hours and they are a little short on funding. Please, signal boost this or even give a dollar if you can, it’s a great cause and something that will really change the world!

gogogo!

Only 28 hours left! Check this out and spread the word!

donate or signal boost, they still have about a fifth to go!
image

image

IF YOUDONT REBLOG YOU SUCK

Hey! This is pretty awesome, so I thought I’d share here. Even if you can’t donate, signal boosting the fuck out of this is important! 

Patricia. 

(via frankpuddles)

Notes
316012
Posted
1 day ago
nympheline:

This is my favourite bookstore and bookseller in the world. Bar none.
I used to get to Seattle every six months or so, and whenever I visited I always made it a priority to stop in BLMF and ask its keeper what he’d been reading lately. He possessed an inexhaustible memory, a comfortable lack of snobbery, and impeccable taste. The first book he recommended to me, upon listening gravely to my litany of at-the-moment authors (Barbara Kingsolver, James Clavell, Maeve Binchy, Neil Gaiman, Charles DeLint, Anthony Bourdain) was Tipping the Velvet. He also later landed me with Geek Love, Anno Dracula, half the Aubreyad, and more modern Literature-with-a-capital-L than I could carry home.
The next-to-last time I dropped in, I asked if he had any P. G. Wodehouse.
"I have zero Wodehouse," he said, "and here’s why…"
Turned out that some fiend had taken to creeping in every month or so expressly to inquire of any Wodehouse and, once led to the volumes, to buy it all. ALL. Didn’t matter the condition, the edition, or whether he had another just like it in his possession; the villain bought every single P. G. Wodehouse in stock, every single time.
Was he a fan more comprehensive, more truly fanatical than any other I’d heard of, let alone known? Was he virulently anti-Wodehouse, only purchasing the books to keep their wry poison from infecting the impressionable masses? The world may never know.
I didn’t get any Wodehouse then, and I didn’t really feel the lack. I found plenty of other treasures that trip. But here’s one reason why BLMF and its proprietor are my favourite of their kind: that was two years ago, you see. Maybe three. In all that interim, I never planted foot in that bookshop. Never called. Never wrote. And I’m one face out of hundreds of thousands, dear reader; one reader he saw twice a year for three years, then not again for another three.
But I walked in the shop last Friday. Nodded hello.
"Can I help you find anything?" he asked, lifting his head from the phone.
"No, I’m good," I said.
"Wait—hold on a second." He set the phone down, walked ‘round the towers of books balanced precariously on the desk, on the floor, and atop other, only slightly less precarious towers. He jerked his head conspiratorially toward the far end of the shop, led me carefully to a shelf way in the back, removed a tattered stack of mass market paperbacks and motioned me closer to see what they’d been hiding.
Fifteen pristine Wodehouses: crisp, heavy, and—
“Hardcover,” he said, and waggled his eyebrows.
Reader, I bought them all.

nympheline:

This is my favourite bookstore and bookseller in the world. Bar none.

I used to get to Seattle every six months or so, and whenever I visited I always made it a priority to stop in BLMF and ask its keeper what he’d been reading lately. He possessed an inexhaustible memory, a comfortable lack of snobbery, and impeccable taste. The first book he recommended to me, upon listening gravely to my litany of at-the-moment authors (Barbara Kingsolver, James Clavell, Maeve Binchy, Neil Gaiman, Charles DeLint, Anthony Bourdain) was Tipping the Velvet. He also later landed me with Geek Love, Anno Dracula, half the Aubreyad, and more modern Literature-with-a-capital-L than I could carry home.

The next-to-last time I dropped in, I asked if he had any P. G. Wodehouse.

"I have zero Wodehouse," he said, "and here’s why…"

Turned out that some fiend had taken to creeping in every month or so expressly to inquire of any Wodehouse and, once led to the volumes, to buy it all. ALL. Didn’t matter the condition, the edition, or whether he had another just like it in his possession; the villain bought every single P. G. Wodehouse in stock, every single time.

Was he a fan more comprehensive, more truly fanatical than any other I’d heard of, let alone known? Was he virulently anti-Wodehouse, only purchasing the books to keep their wry poison from infecting the impressionable masses? The world may never know.

I didn’t get any Wodehouse then, and I didn’t really feel the lack. I found plenty of other treasures that trip. But here’s one reason why BLMF and its proprietor are my favourite of their kind: that was two years ago, you see. Maybe three. In all that interim, I never planted foot in that bookshop. Never called. Never wrote. And I’m one face out of hundreds of thousands, dear reader; one reader he saw twice a year for three years, then not again for another three.

But I walked in the shop last Friday. Nodded hello.

"Can I help you find anything?" he asked, lifting his head from the phone.

"No, I’m good," I said.

"Wait—hold on a second." He set the phone down, walked ‘round the towers of books balanced precariously on the desk, on the floor, and atop other, only slightly less precarious towers. He jerked his head conspiratorially toward the far end of the shop, led me carefully to a shelf way in the back, removed a tattered stack of mass market paperbacks and motioned me closer to see what they’d been hiding.

Fifteen pristine Wodehouses: crisp, heavy, and—

Hardcover,” he said, and waggled his eyebrows.

Reader, I bought them all.

(via frankpuddles)

Notes
17274
Posted
1 day ago
sturmtruppen:

the person pretended to be a goat so the goat pretended to be a person

sturmtruppen:

the person pretended to be a goat so the goat pretended to be a person

(Source: ForGIFs.com, via themostperfecturl)

Notes
497917
Posted
1 day ago
fuckitandmovetobritain:

Lamb Street, Spitalfields, London, E1


I miss spitalfields

fuckitandmovetobritain:

Lamb Street, Spitalfields, London, E1

I miss spitalfields

(via fuckitandmovetobritain)

Notes
32
Posted
5 days ago

nostalgicjoy:

takegoodcareofwhatyoufound:

deliriosity:

happinessmoon16:

i swear, disney channel had a lot of meaningful shows back then. what happened?

every girl needs a Gordo

EVERY GIRL NEEDS A GORDO.

Someone be my Gordo, okay?

(Source: ivolunteerasfangirl, via you--make--me--brave)

Notes
132932
Posted
5 days ago

tigerrrific:

cassbones:

Good reminder that every expert started out as an amateur

adorable

(Source: , via teen-derp)

Notes
336514
Posted
6 days ago

unamusedsloth:

Are we bad people for laughing at the mishaps of kids?

(via the-absolute-funniest-posts)

Notes
184821
Posted
6 days ago

vcrizzle:

dynastylnoire:

politicalsexkitten:

John Legend doesn’t take shit.

GO IN SIR

human. citizen. taxpayer. i’m in my lane, homie.

(via weirdwonderfulwinchesterways)

Notes
148701
Posted
1 week ago

theorlandojones:

thevampirequeen:

Civil Rights Movement vs Ferguson Protests

This is what a police state looks like. Shameful.

RIP Mike Brown. RIP Eric Garner. RIP all men and women who died for the crime of being black.

SMFH

(via spelltuesday)

Notes
132166
Posted
1 week ago
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