People being angry about ~dem gays~ on Target’s Facebook.
I just want to give my two cents on this and tell you a story.
A couple weeks ago, I was hired at Target. I have a job at Target. Not a big deal right?
It is a big deal because i’m a transman.
It doesn’t take a genius to conclude that it’s hard for me, my brothers, and sisters to get a job. There are legal restraints regarding the job and if you don’t pass, it’s hard to be taken seriously at a job interview.
Right on the application, it asks what your preferred name is. It also asks if there is anything that target should know. I put the fact that I am a transman, expecting not to get a call because usually when you put that down, people will throw out the application. I got TWO interviews.
At the interview, they asked me about it. I told them I am on hormones and they told me that they didn’t care. Not in the sense that they don’t emotionally care, but that it didn’t matter. I was male and that’s all that mattered. They also told me that they give sex same couples benefits in states that do not recognize them as a married couple.
At my job orientation, I was not misgendered once. Even my supervisors who weren’t sure of my gender avoided pronoun use, which I found only happens when you’ve had pronoun training. They gave me a name tag with my preferred name and didn’t ask questions. I felt safe and respected, which is huge for a trans* person.
TLDR: Target is amazing not just for the LGB, but also the T. Shop there for the rest of your life.
(via britxan)
the ceo of abercrombie and fitch has a lot of nerve saying that ugly people shouldn’t wear his clothes when he looks like an albino orc from the lord of the rings
fashion
Now is the time to reblog this.
I’ve been awaiting this picture.Hahaha I can’t help it. The irony.
(via tinfuse)
always…..always..post this
“Christian leaders stand on our soil and say ‘gay marriage’ has never occurred here. Over 130 tribes in every region of North America performed millions of same-sex marriages for hundreds of years. Their statements are both hateful and ignorant. Your ‘homosexual’ was our ‘Two Spirit’ people… and we considered them sacred.”
Hundreds of years of love. ourspiritnow
(via britxan)
“
1.
I say, ‘I am fat.’
He says ‘No, you are beautiful.’
I wonder why I cannot be both.
He kisses me
hard.2.
My college theater professor once told me
that despite my talent,
I would never be cast as a romantic lead.
We do plays that involve singing animals
and children with the ability to fly,
but apparently no one
has enough willing suspension of disbelief
to go with anyone loving a fat girl.
I daydream regularly
about fucking my boyfriend vigorously on his front lawn.3.
On the mornings I do not feel pretty,
while he is still asleep,
I sit on the floor and check the pockets of his skinny jeans for motive,
for a punchline,
for other girls’ phone numbers.4.
When we hold hands in public,
I wonder if he notices the looks —
like he is handling a parade balloon on a crowded sidewalk;
if he notices that my hands are now made of rope.5.
Dear Cosmo: Fuck you.
I will not take sex tips from you
on how to please a man you think I do not deserve.6.
He tells me he loves me with the lights on.7.
I can cup his hip bone in my hand,
feel his ribs without pressing very hard at all.
He does not believe me when I tell him he is beautiful.
Sometimes I fear the day he does will be the day he leaves.8.
The cute hipster girl at the coffee shop
assumes we are just friends
and flirts over the counter.
I spend the next two weeks
mentally replacing myself with her
in all of our photographs.
When I admit this to him
we spend the evening taking new photos together.
He will not let me delete a single one of them.9.
The phrase “Big girls need love too” can die in a fire.
Fucking me does not require an asterisk.
Loving me is not a fetish.
Finding me beautiful is not a novelty.
I am not a fucking novelty.10.
”
I say, ‘I am fat.’
He says, ‘No. You are so much more’,
and kisses me
hard.
— Rachel Wiley (via howweknewit) Teared up a little bit. For all the Fat girls. And the not-fat girls. For the Girls. For everyone. (via cora-bora)
(Source: sweetdeltablues, via cora-bora)
For the love of god why the fuck isn’t this reblogged 100000 times but a dog with a water bowl in its mouth is come the fuck on people.
(Source: todefineistocupcake, via britxan)
Customer: Hi! When are you going to be putting your Easter stuff on sale?
Me: uh…we won’t be
Customer: Why not? You don’t need it anymore for full price
Me: Uh…this is a dollar store. everything is already as cheap as you’re gonna get it
Customer: Well other stores are putting their stuff on sale
Me: we. are. a. dollar. store
Good Lord this woman is BEAUTIFUL!
(via tinfuse)
That awkward moment when the worst father in the history of television handles gay talk to his son better than 90% of world’s parents.
(Source: guylove-gaylove)
If God had chosen Bobby to stop the apocalypse, he would have done it in half an episode and spent the other half drinking beer and watching sport.
Oh, look, the perfect gifset to encapsulate my feels on Bobby.
My thing about Bobby is that if you just saw him on the street, you’d probably assume a lot of things wrong about him. Not because you’re a douche, but because Bobby looks and sounds like a very particular stereotype, and that’s the redneck. I mean, he’s got the tattered cap, the busted clothes, the slight twang, and the fucking salvage yard. He drinks a lot, and he’s gruff, and you know he probably cuts off the cashier trying to ask about his day because “How is that your damn business, you idgit?”
But the way Bobby looks and who Bobby is create an amazing character. Yeah, he looks and acts in ways that are rather stereotypical, but then he builds a ghost-free panic room in a weekend. That thing is made of solid fucking iron. Bobby welded that shit himself. And he is the absolute go-to for information. You got weirdness you can’t figure out? You call Bobby. You got an archaic weirdness that doesn’t have a website devoted to it? You call Bobby. You need quick and dirty research that’ll get you results? You call Bobby.
There is a really, really good chance that Bobby Singer is smarter than you. He drinks cheap beer and wears a hat that probably smells like gasoline and head sweat, and he’d rather tell you to cram it than listen to your opinions on politics, and he’s also a compassionate, smart, hard-working guy who raised up the two best damn hunters in the business. Yeah, John was their father, but you know Bobby was their Dad. There’s no way John taught Sam to research the way he does. John taught the physically practical side of things. How to swing an iron axe, how to aim a gun, how to break a hold. Bobby? Bobby taught those boys how to be book smart and that it’s as valuable to sit down and research as it is to knock something’s head off.
I really, really like Bobby.
EXACTLY.
^ This
(via tinfuse)
If God had chosen Bobby to stop the apocalypse, he would have done it in half an episode and spent the other half drinking beer and watching sport.
Oh, look, the perfect gifset to encapsulate my feels on Bobby.
My thing about Bobby is that if you just saw him on the street, you’d probably assume a lot of things wrong about him. Not because you’re a douche, but because Bobby looks and sounds like a very particular stereotype, and that’s the redneck. I mean, he’s got the tattered cap, the busted clothes, the slight twang, and the fucking salvage yard. He drinks a lot, and he’s gruff, and you know he probably cuts off the cashier trying to ask about his day because “How is that your damn business, you idgit?”
But the way Bobby looks and who Bobby is create an amazing character. Yeah, he looks and acts in ways that are rather stereotypical, but then he builds a ghost-free panic room in a weekend. That thing is made of solid fucking iron. Bobby welded that shit himself. And he is the absolute go-to for information. You got weirdness you can’t figure out? You call Bobby. You got an archaic weirdness that doesn’t have a website devoted to it? You call Bobby. You need quick and dirty research that’ll get you results? You call Bobby.
There is a really, really good chance that Bobby Singer is smarter than you. He drinks cheap beer and wears a hat that probably smells like gasoline and head sweat, and he’d rather tell you to cram it than listen to your opinions on politics, and he’s also a compassionate, smart, hard-working guy who raised up the two best damn hunters in the business. Yeah, John was their father, but you know Bobby was their Dad. There’s no way John taught Sam to research the way he does. John taught the physically practical side of things. How to swing an iron axe, how to aim a gun, how to break a hold. Bobby? Bobby taught those boys how to be book smart and that it’s as valuable to sit down and research as it is to knock something’s head off.
I really, really like Bobby.
EXACTLY.
^ This
(via tinfuse)
So I'm basically your run of the mill Newfie. For anyone who doesn't know what that means, then I suggest you GOOGLE it.
I RAMBLE, I'm a camera whore and I love to write. Therefore, you'll find a lot of my stories on here and
not much else.
Follow me and take a step into my world. I promise I don't bite ... unless you're into that sort
of thing ^^
my ava!
