my history professor told me today that he “likes the way I look vaguely pissed off” during class
"What if all women were bigger and stronger than you? And thought they were smarter? What if women were the ones who started wars? What if too many of your friends had been raped by women wielding giant dildos and no K-Y Jelly? What if the state trooper who pulled you over on the New Jersey Turnpike was a woman and carried a gun? What if the ability to menstruate was the prerequisite for most high-paying jobs? What if your attractiveness to women depended on the size of your penis? What if every time women saw you they’d hoot and make jerking motions with their hands? What if women were always making jokes about how ugly penises are and how bad sperm tastes? What if you had to explain what’s wrong with your car to big sweaty women with greasy hands who stared at your crotch in a garage where you are surrounded by posters of naked men with hard-ons? What if men’s magazines featured cover photos of 14-year-old boys with socks tucked into the front of their jeans and articles like: “How to tell if your wife is unfaithful” or “What your doctor won’t tell you about your prostate” or “The truth about impotence”? What if the doctor who examined your prostate was a woman and called you “Honey”? What if you had to inhale your boss’ stale cigar breath as she insisted that sleeping with her was part of the job? What if you couldn’t get away because the company dress code required you wear shoes designed to keep you from running? And what if after all that women still wanted you to love them?"
— For the Men Who Still Don’t Get It
by Carol Diehl (via dressedinregret)
(Source: coralfershoral, via christoph-waltzz)
uʍop ǝpısdn pǝuɹnʇ pǝddıןɟ ʇoƃ ǝɟıן ʎɯ ʍoɥ ʇnoqɐ ןןɐ ʎɹoʇs ǝɥʇ sı sıɥʇ ʍou
(Source: swagbris, via cumfort)
"People think they know you. They think they know how you’re handling a situation. But the truth is no one knows. No one knows what happens after you leave them, when you’re lying in bed or sitting over your breakfast alone and all you want to do is cry or scream. They don’t know what’s going on inside your head—the mind-numbing cocktail of anger and sadness and guilt. This isn’t their fault. They just don’t know. And so they pretend and they say you’re doing great when you’re really not. And this makes everyone feel better. Everybody but you."
— William H. Woodwell Jr. (via fawun)
(Source: art-any-road, via koscheistoddard)
*swipes debit card*
*purchase goes through*
me: God is good all the time
Cashier: all the time God is good
"Let me be quiet"
— a bitch ready to say something mean (via collectionof-paradoxes)