female awesome meme → [1/5] female character in a tv show
∟ I travelled across the world. From the ruins of New York, to the fusion mills of China, right across the radiation pits of Europe. And everywhere I went I saw people just like you, living as slaves! But if Martha Jones became a legend then that’s wrong, because my name isn’t important. There’s someone else. The man who sent me out there, the man who told me to walk the Earth. And his name is The Doctor. He has saved your lives so many times and you never even knew he was there. He never stops. He never stays. He never asks to be thanked. But I’ve seen him, I know him… I love him… And I know what he can do.
Amazon didn’t kill retail, Traffic and hassle-filled parking did.
Upper management cutting training and reducing staff and hours killed retail. They were unsatisfied with the profits they were seeing, decided they could get more money by not paying for any of the things that kept the store running, and then when their stores broke down because nothing was where it was supposed to be and none of their employers knew enough to help customers they blamed online shopping for providing a superior service.
Having your phone stolen is pretty damn annoying, but having the thief then text your brother asking them for the phone’s password is another level of infuriating. That’s precisely what happened to somebody who goes by the name of thelowflyingowl recently, but as you can see from the hilarious exchange that ensued, they decided to take the opportunity to mercilessly troll the thief in the most hilarious way.
“So yesterday I get this text from a strange number,” they wrote. “I give my sister a quick call to make sure it is not her and effectively realize someone is fishing through her contacts or documents to get her password.” We’re not sure how the thief managed to access the phone owner’s contact list without the password, but we know that certain apps allow you to add emergency contacts to your phone’s lock screen. “I was bored so I say to myself, why not have some fun. We will never get the phone back, but what the heck, might as well kill some time.” Scroll down to see how the funny conversation unfolded.
When a phone thief asked the victim’s brother for their password, he decided to have some fun with them
I can't take anymore *scrolls* I can't take anymore *scrolls* I can't take anymore *scrolls* I can't take anymore *scrolls* I can't take anymore *scrolls*
Tight spiral counterclockwise staircases like that were an important part of medieval defense, because it would give one side an advantage in ability to maneuver their right hand. What I’m saying is Germany is clearly preparing for a sword fight with the mole men, and I’m scared.
One of Washoe’s caretakers was pregnant and missed work for many weeks after she miscarried. Roger Fouts recounts the following situation:
“People who should be there for her and aren’t are often given the cold shoulder—her way of informing them that she’s miffed at them. Washoe greeted Kat [the caretaker] in just this way when she finally returned to work with the chimps. Kat made her apologies to Washoe, then decided to tell her the truth, signing “MY BABY DIED.” Washoe stared at her, then looked down. She finally peered into Kat’s eyes again and carefully signed “CRY”, touching her cheek and drawing her finger down the path a tear would make on a human (Chimpanzees don’t shed tears). Kat later remarked that one sign told her more about Washoe and her mental capabilities than all her longer, grammatically perfect sentences.“ [23]
Washoe herself lost two children; one baby died shortly after birth of a heart defect, the other baby, Sequoyah, died of a staph infection at two months of age.
more about Washoe:
after the death of her children, researchers were determined to have Washoe raise a baby and brought in a ten month chimpanzee named Loulis. one of the caretakers went to Washoe’s enclosure and signed “i have a baby for you.” Washoe became incredibly excited, yelling and swaying from side to side, signing “baby” over and over again. then she signed “my baby.”
the caretaker came back with Loulis, and Washoe’s excitement disappeared entirely. she refused to pick Loulis up, instead signing “baby” apathetically; it was clear that the baby she thought she was getting was going to be Sequoyah. eventually Washoe did approach Loulis, and by the next day the two had bonded and from then on she was utterly devoted to him.
*information shamelessly paraphrased from When Elephants Weep by Jeffrey Masson.
Even more interestingly, after Washoe and Loulis bonded, she started teaching him American Sign Language the same way that human parents teach their children language. It only took Loulis eight days to learn his first sign from Washoe, and aside from the seven that his human handlers learned around him, he learned to speak in ASL just as fluently as Washoe and was able to communicate with humans in the same way she could.
now if y’all don’t think this is the tightest shit you can get outta my face
Next of Kin by Roger Fouts is an excellent book that tells the story of Washoe from her childhood through adulthood and raising Loulis, recounted by one of the leading researchers who worked with her for years.
The Department of Awesome Natural Phenomena loves this breathtaking photo captured by Kirsten Jorgensen in Lewiston, Idaho during yesterday’s total solar eclipse. The dramatic photo, which shows what’s probably American Airlines Flight 9661 and its exhaust passing across the eclipse, is even more amazing than it appears at first glance because it almost wasn’t taken.
“I was about to pack my stuff up and go back inside, but I had my camera set up and in the direction of the sun when I was taking pictures. All of the pictures were ending up looking like the moon pretty much so I gave up. Then I saw the plane fly over and ran over to take a photo. It caught me off guard!”
So, until all this controversy over what’s ‘too racy’ to be considered art is settled, I should probably just play it safe and stick with what’s allowed on TV: police procedurals where they stack up dead hookers like cordwood.
Is it just me, or is he turning into Mitch McConnell?
Police in northwestern Germany have recovered thousands of ecstasy tablets worth around $45,900 shaped to look like our bloated yet chalky leader, Donald Trump. Can you picture yourself under any circumstances putting Trump’s head in your mouth?
…reasonably middle class, which is a miracle for a full-time author. …equipped of a fridge, a pantry, a chest freezer, and a working kitchen. …capable of cooking for myself and others.
I am also…
…the daughter of a woman who raised three daughters on welfare. …formerly homeless. …a fat woman who has to fight not to slip back into disordered eating habits because of items #1 and #2. …someone who goes to the grocery store multiple times a week. …regularly furious about food waste in my own home when people refuse to eat their leftovers/help eat communal leftovers.
So let’s go.
The specific post I reblogged worked from the base premise that it is easier to eat, where “eat” is defined as “get sufficient calories to not feel hungry,” when you are not making a concerted effort to “eat healthy.” It cited things like “a package of extremely filling oatmeal cookies for a dollar,” and “behold, ramen.” Interestingly, it did not cite anything to support the “false dichotomy” you’re accusing me of supporting: for reference, here’s the link http://seananmcguire.tumblr.com/post/164447064675/heyatleastitsnotcancer-candygirl1997
(There is a cranky comment about non-GMO unicorn poop, but as hipsters don’t actually eat shit, that seems less “dichotomy,” and more “angry.”)
But hey, that seems suspiciously like people wanting other people to stop dictating their food choices and assuming they’re eating that way out of necessity, and not because they’re lazy. That can’t be right! We need someone who’s seen both sides!
And that’s why now, as someone who used to eat out of dumpsters, as someone who was lucky enough to be poor in farming country and hence have access to produce seconds (IE, bruised and ugly fruit that no one else wanted), as someone who is emotionally incapable of looking at meat before checking the discount meat bin at the grocery store, I am going to answer the question of whether it’s cheaper to eat healthy once and for all:
No.
No, it is not.
No, it is fucking not.
I live near an independently owned fruit market. They have, regularly, red and gold potatoes for $.99 a pound. They have big Idaho bakers for $.59 a pound. These are some of the best potato prices I have ever seen. Had we lived here when I was a kid, I would have eaten potatoes until I wept. Assuming that potatoes are now the bulk of our diet, and that we’re only eating the cheap ones, that’s a pound of potatoes per person, per day, for a total of $2.40. Call it $2.50, after tax. We are now spending $75 a month on potatoes. No butter or sour cream, because potatoes are already starchy as hell, and fuck taste, but we have potatoes!
Great. Do we have a kitchen? We didn’t, always. For approximately 1/3rd of my childhood, this plan has us eating raw potatoes. But let’s say sure. We can cook our plain potatoes. Say we cook them every night, and have hot potato for dinner, and then cold potato for breakfast. Can’t eat the school lunch–pretty sure that’s not healthy enough. So I guess we’ll buy and boil eggs. You can boil eggs and potatoes in the same pot.
How many eggs do you give the starving, miserable eight-year-old to fill her up? Ballpark figure? Is it the same number you give her fourteen-year-old sister? Is it the same number you take to your back-breaking physical labor job? We’re ignoring the emotional and social impacts here, and just focusing on the cost. So say three eggs each. Maybe everyone’s hungry, but hey, it’s health food.
A dozen eggs is $2.00. We are now spending $60 a month on eggs. That’s $135 a month for a diet that is probably not making anyone happy, but hey, at least it’s all easy on the digestion, right? And if you’re eating three eggs a day, even if you’re soloing this You Should Be Punished For Poverty diet, your eggs aren’t spoiling. Assuming you have a fridge.
Hope you have a fridge.
Your children have now started going home with friends in hopes of being fed, but that’s okay, because it means you have fewer mouths to feed, and if you don’t want them to be taken away, you need to make sure they don’t get scurvy. So we’re going to add milk ($3.50 a gallon, hope no one’s lactose intolerant, if you water it down and watch them like a hawk, you can survive on two gallons a week, which adds $28 to your grocery costs, good job) and apples. Red delicious, of course, which taste like shame, but they’re cheap when the store has them…assuming you’re not in a food desert, where the only apples are coming from the 7-11 at a dollar apiece.
There are so many things we could be buying to make this feel less like a Dickens novel. There’s baloney, and peanut butter, and generic mac and cheese. But they’re not healthy.
Eating healthy is a privilege. When I made a dedicated effort to change my eating habits, my grocery bills increased by 60%. I have the receipts. Not because I was buying “brand names”: because I was buying chicken breasts instead of whole chickens, because I was buying fresh instead of frozen, because I was learning to fill up on things other than chips. That’s just the way we’ve allowed this country to structure our food.
Yes: allowed. In England–which has its own problems, please don’t take this as me going YAY ENGLAND LAND OF PERFECTION–they have laws setting the prices that can be charged for “staples,” like chicken, and potatoes, and bread, and butter, and eggs, and milk. It’s much easier to eat healthy there than it is here.
