bearhatalice

bearhatalice:

Today, I was walking to Trader Joe’s when I came across an art fair. It seemed pretty run-of-the-mill: mostly paintings and jewelry, a few clothing booths, and so forth. On my way out, the last booth I passed was selling furniture and household goods made from reclaimed wood. What caught my eye were large wooden chests, almost like foot lockers.


image

Instantly I was taken back to my childhood, I had one of these that my parents always called my “toy chest”. It was nowhere near as beautiful as this one, but it sat at the end of my bed as a bedrock of growing up. Over the years the toys inside changed, but it was always there, and probably still remains in my Mom’s house. We are not speaking right now, and I am not sure my toy chest would survive a cross-country move. It got pretty beat up over the years, the casters each came off one at a time. The corner had the finish scraped off entirely by my alto saxophone, as I sat on it practicing. When I was four we moved into a different house, and I only remember a few things from before that move but one of them was pride in telling one of my parents’ friends that my toy chest was coming with us.

All of this came back to me in an instant as I walked through the booth. I ran through the potential scenarios where I could use this chest. Did I have a need to store something? Not really. Where in my apartment would it go? No clue. Do I need it? Of course not.

I asked how much they cost and the answer was about what I expected. High, but rightfully so, and not the kind of amount you spend on a whim on a Sunday afternoon. I thanked them and walked over to Trader Joe’s.

The entire time I was in the store, I could not get the chest out of my mind. When I finished checking out, I walked back over to the art fair. There were more people at the booth now, and both of the men working there were showing off cutting boards and dressers.

I walked back up to the chest and lifted up the lid. It was heavy. The scent of fresh pine was immediate. Actual fresh pine, not the chemical smell you get with cleaning supplies. I asked one of the men working the booth if they had a card, and he fumbled around until he handed me a small slip of paper with the artist’s name, phone number and AOL email address. He said they were from San Diego.

Walking back to my car, I thought about how if I had children (I am probably not going to), I would want them to have this chest, or one like it. For it to be there for them the way my toy chest was there for me. I thought about the childhood I would want to give my imaginary children, about the family I would have. I thought about the life choices I have made that put me in this place, walking alone in Los Angeles on a Sunday afternoon.

But mostly I thought about the chest. I am still thinking about it.

bookoisseur

aishatyler:

notfuckingcishet:

socialjusticekoolaid:

Can’t stop, won’t stop: Protesters in Ferguson rally again, seeking justice for Mike Brown. More than a month and a half after his death, his killer, Darren Wilson, is still a free man. (Pt 2) 

Because it wouldn’t be a protest in Ferguson without fuckery from the police. A driver plowed his car through protesters, grazing several and running over a young boys foot. Beyond taking several hours to transport the boy to the hospital, they took even longer to arrest the motorist. Who did they not wait long to arrest? Two of the protesters who had been documenting the altercation for the world to see. If you’re not angry, you’re not paying attention. #staywoke #farfromover #nojusticenopeace

September 20th, 2014

Just in case anyone thinks these are old posts still going round Tumblr: they’re not. 

sigh.

bookoisseur
bill:

Alright, let’s talk about this. Whoever wrote this trite nugget from the sweaty nightmares of Nicholas Sparks wrote it on a Build-A-Bear receipt. What’s so special about this Build-A-Bear receipt, you ask? Well, for one, our author purchased a hot pink Hello Kitty Build-A-Bear with leopard print accents, and added a few customized messages. But it’s where this Build-A-Bear store is that is the real story.
This is in Niagara Falls, Ontario, right on Victoria Avenue in Clifton Hill, which is a terrifying amalgam of Las Vegas, Myrtle Beach, and Tijuana, an unsophisticated casserole of unskilled teenagers and Chinese tourists seasoned with regurgitated Jägerbombs and baked to a limp sludge in $30 motor inns. It’s the destination for American kids aged 19 and 20 who can’t yet drink in the States, and the destination for Canadians who want a fabulous, once-in-a-lifetime chance to stare at Niagara Falls for three minutes and then spend the rest of their time drinking Al Keith’s in their room at the Days Inn.
I can only imagine that our heartbroken receipt-scrivener scrawled this after her boyfriend (who was named Bobby, no question about it) left her right outside the Ripley’s Believe-It-Or-Not to get back with his girlfriend Tammy back in Kitchener. She rushed to the Build-A-Bear and constructed this hideous monument to Bobby, which she still keeps next to her bed every night, even though she never mentions to her new boyfriend why.

bill:

Alright, let’s talk about this. Whoever wrote this trite nugget from the sweaty nightmares of Nicholas Sparks wrote it on a Build-A-Bear receipt. What’s so special about this Build-A-Bear receipt, you ask? Well, for one, our author purchased a hot pink Hello Kitty Build-A-Bear with leopard print accents, and added a few customized messages. But it’s where this Build-A-Bear store is that is the real story.

This is in Niagara Falls, Ontario, right on Victoria Avenue in Clifton Hill, which is a terrifying amalgam of Las Vegas, Myrtle Beach, and Tijuana, an unsophisticated casserole of unskilled teenagers and Chinese tourists seasoned with regurgitated Jägerbombs and baked to a limp sludge in $30 motor inns. It’s the destination for American kids aged 19 and 20 who can’t yet drink in the States, and the destination for Canadians who want a fabulous, once-in-a-lifetime chance to stare at Niagara Falls for three minutes and then spend the rest of their time drinking Al Keith’s in their room at the Days Inn.

I can only imagine that our heartbroken receipt-scrivener scrawled this after her boyfriend (who was named Bobby, no question about it) left her right outside the Ripley’s Believe-It-Or-Not to get back with his girlfriend Tammy back in Kitchener. She rushed to the Build-A-Bear and constructed this hideous monument to Bobby, which she still keeps next to her bed every night, even though she never mentions to her new boyfriend why.

my-name-is-really-neil-mcneil

gracehelbl0g:

This is Sam Pepper. If you don’t know who he is, Sam is a successful YouTube prankster with over 2 million subscribers. He recently uploaded a video titled “Fake Hand Ass Pink Prank" where he pinched unsuspecting girls’ butts without their permission. None of this was done with the girls’ consent…meaning Sam Pepper sexually harassed and assaulted these women.

This is no longer a “simple, harmless prank” but rather a very serious matter and offence. If you haven’t seen the video yet, you can watch, dislike, and report it HERE. You can also take the pledge to help stop sexual violence at itsonus.org. Please do not let Sam get away with this kind of behavior. He crossed the line and needs to be held responsible for his disgusting actions.

This piece of garbage, right here, should be prosecuted for this.

The frightening thing is that, like most of their other campaigns against women, they see themselves as just warriors fighting for what’s right. This is primarily because they firmly believe that any woman who speaks up on women’s issues is completely disingenuous and only doing it for the purposes of self-promotion, and that any man who does is looking to get laid, because they actually cannot possibly imagine a scenario in which someone would genuinely give a shit about women.
 
Members of this board, as well as “Men’s Rights Activists” in general, tend to go apoplectic at even the most mild implications that women might be human beings. For them, this is simply “not allowed” and must be punished swiftly and severely, as they appear to believe that feminism is the one obstacle in the way of all these pathetic neckbeards getting their pick of supermodel girlfriends who obey their every whim. The goal is to make it as uncomfortable to speak out about misogyny and women’s issues as possible, which is why they go to the wall in terms of harassing women like Emma Watson. At the end of the day, this is the crux of it. It would be sad if it weren’t so vile.
kellysue

kellysue:

kellysue:

brianmichaelbendis:

One of the highlights of the weekend was kellysue and mattfractionblog party where great comic artists filled in their hallway comic panel wallpaper.

that’s Matt Wagner, skottieyoung, tony moore, Matthew clarke and many others.

Hey, look, it’s our hallway. 

Edited to add: 

This is the wallpaper we used: http://www.grahambrown.com/us/product/52050/taylor-wood-frames