and first off, I’m 5’7, 5’11 in dance shoes, 170 pounds, broad shoulders and big hips and not small in any dimension. For a ballroom dancer, this means a lot of time spent learning the men’s parts. Especially in lifts.
I’ve had years now of guys kinda just going “lol heck naw” when told to lift me. I don’t admit this part much, but it makes me want to sink into the ground and die when every other girl can be lifted, but I’m just too big.
So this guy, smaller than me and really cute, shows up at auditions and I see this girl across the room getting tossed about like the beautiful pixie she is, and apparently I looked a little wistful because this boy asked me if I liked lifts.
“Oh. I… Uh… I’ve never really done the girls part. I’m a little big, haha…” (laugh it off, as usual.)
He looked me dead in the eye and then picked me up like a movie princess, bounced me in the air a few times, and set me down effortlessly while telling me whoever refused to lift me before was just being a lazy wimp.
I seriously doubt this boy will ever really get how much that meant to me. But, holy cow. Some faith in humanity just got restored.
You guys really just hate any woman using her sexuality to make money. You’ll consume all her media for free but the moment she wants something in return y’all get spiteful and way outta pocket about it. The whole “but Snapchat doesn’t allow adult content!” is fucking weak because I’m sure y’all still posting ass and thirst traps constantly.
I don’t even know how this alone would be an act of tax fraud, you have no idea what income she reports, but the fact that y’all feel SO strongly about this shit that you try to fuck up people’s livelihoods for the laughs is garbage. I hope the next time y’all need any assistance everyone spits in your face.
It’s been awful on Facebook. Men would go and harass women who do sex work. And start posting edgy memes and saying really disgusting shit. And these are the same ones that are like “I respect all women! Why don’t they like me!?” 🙄
the sites that we use to sell our content TAX US . i’ve sent in the tax forms on more than one occasion .
and of course they aren’t out there reporting their weed guy to the irs. it’s pure hatred of women
The incel army CAN’T report you to the IRS even if they wanted to.
That’s great! But please, still boost the other version of this post around as the man “reporting” her is a pedophile who’s made advances towards young girls.
In 1972, she ran away from home. She was gone for several months, and when she got home my grandmother started shaking her and screaming about how someone had told her my mother had no shoes and my grandmother was sure it meant my mom was dead.
She finally calms down, and they piece it together: my grandmother had gotten a phone call from someone who breathed two or three times, said “Cathy’s in bare feet,” and hung up. Except that’s not what they said–my grandmother had written the date in on her calendar, and on that date my mother was in Bare Feet, Arizona. She knew definitively that she was in Bare Feet because on that date she called home to talk to my grandfather, who told her Uncle Jim had died–“got himself shot”–and that she had missed the funeral. Ready for the glitch in the matrix part? Here we go:
–My grandfather had no recollection of the conversation–which would have been a strange conversation indeed, since Uncle Jim was still alive and, in fact, didn’t die until 2009, eight years after my grandfather. However, my mom did miss the funeral, thanks to a delayed flight. Cause of death? Supposedly, it was suicide, but there were enough indications for the family to believe that was a pile of horseshit, not least that shooting himself in the head with the rifle indicated would’ve been near-impossible.
–My mom was going by the name Patricia Danko when she was on the run–she had a fake ID and everything. She hadn’t called herself “Cathy” since leaving home and nobody knew she was traveling under an alias.
–According to my mom, she never gave a name for herself–either Patricia or Cathy–when she was in Bare Feet, and she would’ve had no reason to. Bare Feet had maybe a hundred people in it, and they were just stopping for food and gas.
–This isn’t just an account from my mother–my dad was with her at the time, and he remembers both the phone call and the truckstop.
But that’s not the weirdest nor the creepiest part, which is this:
–I’ve been trying for three years to find Bare Feet, Arizona–on the Internet, on old maps, by talking to old Arizona cowboys, and there was never a Bare Feet, Arizona. My mom convinced my dad to drive “through Bare Feet” on the way back from Texas in 2013 and there was no town anywhere along the highway, not even the abandoned bones of one. I’ve looked for Bare Feet, Barefeet, Bear Feet, Bare Feat, Bare Foot, Barefoot, and Bear Foot. None of these exist.
My mother stopped in a town that doesn’t exist, ate in a restaurant that never was, made a phone call that could not have happened and was apparently answered by a ghost from 40 years in the future, and later that night someone called my grandmother from a number that turned up on her phone bill only as a pay phone in Arizona to say that single sentence, “Cathy’s in Bare Feet.”
I didn’t initially want to reblog things here, but this is just too far up my alley. I think I’ll start collecting stories of incidents like this, weirdling magic at its most potent.
Getting a firm handle on the geography of Ancient Greece both answers and raises questions.
On the one hand, the logistics of all those huge military campaigns make a lot more sense once you realise that many of the great city-states were basically within walking distance of each other. In many cases, those logistics boil down to less “establish a supply train” and more “well, make sure you pack a snack”.
On the other hand, all those episodes where great heroes spend years lost in the wilderness or adrift at sea become more difficult to reconcile. It’s like… how can you possibly get that lost for that long? If you found a good-size hill to climb, you can practically see your destination from your starting point!
It is a puzzlement.
One of the greatest moments of my life was when I realized the entirety of the Odyssey, which is described like this grand globe spanning adventure, probably just all took place around one tiny ass sea
Yeah, something that often throws modern readers is that most Ancient Greek cultures didn’t really have a concept of ocean voyages as we think of them. They relied heavily on coastal landmarks for navigation, which forced them to stay in sight of land. Very often they didn’t even stay on the ships full-time, instead going ashore to camp out each night. The closest they usually got to actual trans-oceanic travel was island-hopping – i.e., a series of short jaunts with daily stops at conveniently located islands along the way. If you ended up spending multiple days on a ship, that meant somebody had screwed up.
The upshot is that when you read those accounts of epic ocean voyages spanning dozens of far-off lands, you’ve gotta bear in mind that the places they’re describing are typically less than a day apart by sea.
And yet it still takes Odysseus TEN YEARS. Don’t piss off Poseidon for real.
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