Look out for me. I break hearts.
I'm Rachel (formerly misswednesdayaddams). Third-wave feminist because intersectionality is real. Queer as fuck. I'm easily distracted and will probably tell you the same story about 8 times (some of that is the slight memory loss, some of it is just my enthusiasm for telling stories). White, cisgender, she/her pronouns. I post a lot of selfies because it's fun (and why not?).
I also have a lot of heart problems and surgeries and a heart transplant and will probably tell you all about it.
I am collecting Goosebumps books (I've got about 30 of the original 62, along with some special editions).
I have a cute dog named Mitzy. She is the shit.
Oh, and my other blog, devoted to bringing attention to the "Nice Guys" of the internet.
Butterfly eggs on a raspberry plant
A micro-crack in steel
Needle and thread
E.coli bacteria on lettuce
Beard hairs under a scanning electron microscope: cut with razor (left) and electric shaver (right)
A moth wing
Leaf of a Virginia spiderwort
this grosses me out for some reason
Why can’t there be a male hooter’s equivalent where male servers are shirtless and highly sexualized for their bodies and looks
Male Strip clubs. You’re thinking of male strip clubs.
No. Not a male strip club. A strip club is a strip club. I want a place called Cahones where waiters wear Speedos and are forced to stuff if they don’t fill out their uniform well enough. I want them to giggle for my tips. I want it to be so normalised and engrained in our culture that women bring their daughters there for lunch (because whaaaaaat the wings are good! Geeze sensitive much?) where they’ll give playful little nudges like, “Wouldn’t mind if you dad had those. Heh heh heh.” that their daughters don’t even understand but will absorb and start to assume is just the normal way grown up women talk about grown up men. I want to playfully ask my waiter if I can have extra nuts on my salad and for him to swat my arm with an Oh, you because he knows if he doesn’t his manager will yell at him. I want other men to pretend to like going there so I think they’re cool. I want to go to Cahones during my lunch break at work and when I come back and tell the other women in the office where I went they chuckle slightly and the men around us suddenly feel self conscious and they don’t know why.
hello, internet, this is your reminder that there is a difference between “I am only willing to have sex with people I know well” and “I don’t know if I’ll develop sexual attraction to a person unless I become basically best friends with them first, and there is no guarantee I’ll experience it even then.” the first set of quotation marks describes a common attribute of people who experience sexual attraction. the second set of quotation marks describes demisexuality.
i told my mom that i realized i don’t like The Smiths at all and she just looked shocked and said “who the fuck does??”
Remember when Romney lost the election so somebody created White People Mourning Romney and collected various people crying over Romney’s loss?
Still so funny.