I don’t really think I’m that good at anatomy (or females) but this is quite a popular request so… I’m making a tutorial, and this is the part to show you what NOT to do with your fellow humans. More coming… eventually.
I suck at breast variations, but I try; see this page for awesome references: x
I wish I could save a whole post. D:
Enclosed you will find an apology form from myself regarding the events of yesterday’s World Meeting where I inflicted harsh words and actions upon you.
P.S. meet you in the hotel room later xoxo
Based on: x
so oxygen went on a date with potassium today…it went OK.
i thought oxygen was dating magnesium…OMg
actually oxygen first asked nitrogen out, but nitrogen was all like “NO”
I thought oxygen had that double bond with the hydrogen twins
looks like someone’s a HO
i’m done with all of you
So I finally found the science side
You have to tell them to let me go.
If you want to be reading-fluent in Japanese, you will need to learn Kanji. There are multiple ways to go about learning Kanji, but 2 common ways are to either follow JLPT ordering or Jouyou ordering.
What are JLPT and Jouyou?
JLPT = Japanese Language Proficiency Test. This…
just gonna say this: if someone has social anxiety and they ask you something akin to ‘are you mad at me’ or ‘do you hate me’, it isn’t because they don’t trust you, it’s because their brain literally tells them that all the time
it’s not a personal slight, it’s insecurity caused by mental illness
I’m getting scared as fuck to be alive right now.
Don’t let it disappear. Not now, not ever.
it’s actually so good to see a documentary-style video of this
i’ve been waiting to see this
I am sick to death of these ridiculous posts running loose in this site with a picture of some idiot either blowing up a condom with water or putting a condom on a hand or a foot and then adding the text “if it fits this limb or stretches this wide it can fit him and he’s just trying to take advantage of you.”
First of all! Condoms all come in different sizes, much like clothing. If you’re a size 20 and you put on pants that are size 14 IT IS NOT GOING TO FIT and if it does fit I’m willing to bet anything you feel unbelievably uncomfortable.
Ladies, that is as close of an example as I can give so you have an idea of what wearing a condom that doesn’t fit feels like.
A condom that doesn’t fit has a high percentage of breaking, not to mention that your partner will have a hell of a bad time performing due to discomfort and worry over the condom breaking. There is no greater panic than finding out the condom broke while still inside.
How does it break? The friction between flesh and latex. The fact that the latex is being stretched beyond its capacity and is under the stress of friction for more than 25 minutes are all a condom needs to break.
Second of all, those posts I am referring to are spreading horrible rumors. Just because they stretch it doesn’t mean they’ll work. Condoms aren’t delicate but they aren’t made of unbreakable material. They are meant to fit human penises. Not your fucking hand, not your fucking foot and they sure as hell are not meant to be filled with water.
The images above were taken after I tried putting a condom that doesn’t fit my boyfriend on my hand. Obviously that damn thing broke.
Never ever spread ridiculous rumors like those. It doesn’t make you funny, or edgy, and it sure as hell won’t make you popular. It just makes you a complete and total dumbass.
Here are a few links to several sites with actual information about condoms:
WORD OF CAUTION:
You should always use condoms when having sex and just because that condom doesn’t fit it doesn’t mean you should go on ahead and have unprotected sex. If it doesn’t fit, leave it for another time when both of you are prepared and willing. Find a condom that fits and use it correctly. Find a reputable site with the information you need or talk to your doctor or healthcare provider or ask a sex ed teacher but for goodness’ sake do not buy into those ridiculous posts.
And as for the people making those posts we need you to stop spreading such bullshit and stop shaming people IMMEDIATELY!
thank you so much for this post this is a good post
this is super important
I feel like I need to reblog this because those posts about them not breaking have traveled so far
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.