White Girl | Student | Latin American
Vibeke Stene is my queen ღ
we reblog the clothes we think we deserve
Confirmed: Christina & Matt welcomed their daughter on August 16
No details have been announced.
wow I didn’t know fuckin chocolate eggs were gendered
OKAY LET ME TELL YOU A STORY ABOUT THE FUCKING PINK EGGS.
I work at a concession stand in an ice rink. We sell a bunch of chocolate bars and snacks and shit including Kinder Surprise eggs.
So one day this woman comes up to the counter with her two little kids, a girl who’s probably about 6 or 7 and a little boy, maybe 3 or 4. The mom asks what they want, the little girl points at the Kinder eggs and says “One of those!”. I asked if she wanted the white or the pink egg. She said pink. The little boy pointed to the Kinder eggs and says “One of those!”. I asked if he wanted the white or the pink egg. He said pink. HOLY SHIT IT WAS LIKE I OPENED THE GATES OF HELL. The mom absolutely FLIPPED and was like “YOU ARE NOT GETTING THE PINK EGG IT’S ONLY FOR GIRLS. YOU CAN GET THE WHITE ONE OR NOTHING AT ALL”. The little boy looked at his mom and said “But I want the same as ______ (whatever the sister’s name was)”. The mom completely ignored him and turned to me and gave me a death glare. “He can have the white egg.”
I had to give a little boy a white egg when he wanted the pink so that he could be the same as his big sister and he started crying. The mom just reiterated that the pink egg was for girls and told him that boys don’t cry.
And this is why we shouldn’t gender fucking chocolate eggs.
This is actually a relatively new thing, originally Kinder Eggs were all white like the ones on the left. I don’t know at what point they decided to make ‘girl’s’ Kinder Eggs, but I do not like it.
Holy shit do not even get me started on how moms constantly police their sons’ masculinity. I’ve seen mothers do it WAY more often than fathers.
I used to work at a bakery that specialized in creating custom cakes. We had this feature where we could print out any image off the computer and put it on a cake (with rice paper). One day this lady comes in and asks for an image we had of the baby Sesame Street characters. They’re all together with cake and confetti, and she asks, “Oh, well since it’s a boy, can you please change all of the little pink confettis into blue confetti? I mean, he’s a boy, you know.”
The fucking confetti.
It barely covered 5% of the image.
Another instance was when a lady asked me for an image of four superheroes to put on her son’s cake because her son was turning four. She admitted to not knowing any superheroes, so I offered the most obvious choice—The Fantastic Four. I pulled up a picture of them and she goes, “Oh no no, we can’t have that. Let’s do another one.” Confused, I pulled up a Justice League one with Batman, Superman, The Flash, and Wonder Woman. Again, she said no. I asked her if she needed anything specific (she didn’t know superheroes, why was she so picky?), and she just said, “Oh, it’s just that he’s a boy, you know? We can’t have a girl superhero on his cake.”
I nearly lost my shit. I did temporarily lose my customer service face and ask why, women have been superheroes all the time, Wonder Woman is iconic, etc etc and she was like, “It’s just that my son has been playing with Barbie dolls lately and I really don’t want him to end up… well, you know.”
This shit has got to stop. When you teach boys that certain things are only for girls, you’re limiting them and you’re teaching them that girls or “girly things” are bad. If you want gender equality as an adult, you better make DAMN sure that you’re teaching the same thing to your kids.
So this woman did not want her son to turn out ‘you know’ and her plan for that was to get him a cake with spandex-clad manly men AND ONLY MEN on it? I don’t think she thought that one through too well…
For beneath thy heavens lost where I once pale and cold behold thy rarest rose.
“If a clock could count down to the moment you meet your soul mate, would you want to know?”
lol yes, so then i can shave.
One minute, 37 seconds.
My legs are shaking. Holy cow, there is no way I can do this. None.
One minute, 29 secods.
I glance around at the faces surrounding the room. Of course my Meeting would take place in the gross, overcrowded cafeteria.
One minute, six seconds.
Somewhere within these four walls, someone has the exact same countdown on their wrist. They’re going through the exact same pressure as me.
Mom said I should be excited, not nervous. Yet I still find myself wiping my sweaty palms on my dress. I can’t believe she talked me into wearing a dress. I mean, shouldn’t my Soul Mate meet me as I normally am? All plain jeans, blah shirts, and wild brown curls?
Something deep within me tells me to stand up. I do, drawing the attention of my tablemates. They all know too. They smile encouragingly up at me. I chew my lip nervously.
That same feeling pulls me towards the center of the room. My stomach drops away from me as I take a step in that direction.
I continue in that direction. With each step the tempo of my heart picks up.
17. More rapid.
16. It’s racing.
Oh my god this is it. The moment my life changes forever.
My eyes search frantically around the cafeteria, searching for someone who looks as nervous as me. For someone who’s heading towards their future with no sense of direction like me.
The feeling directs me slightly to the left. I turn to accomodate.
5. My heart has given up entirely.
4. I stop walking.
3. Just waiting left.
2. Everything is about to change.
1. Deep breath.
0000 d 00 h 00 m 00 s
Someone bumps my shoulder. I twirl around and my gray eyes meet blue, blue ones.
“Hello there, love. It appears as though we’re Soul Mates then, eh?”
As my words fail me, the only thing I can think is “I’m so glad I shaved this morning.”
“Thats weird…” I checked my wrist, the clock had just hit the 30 second mark but I looked around and there was no one there. I was a worrisome guy overall but I felt justified, I mean today was the day I was meeting my soul mate. Not that I expected my dream girl to be in the storage closet at work but still I was nervous.
Walking out with a box the boss had requested I walked back to my cash register setting it on the shelf. My wrist hit the 20 second mark
Where was she? I could not help but get worried that an error would pop up or that she was gone and my timer would run out with no response. I panicked, I’d change my own fate if I had to. Running out of time I hurried through the back door. There was a park outside and maybe I was supposed to be there to find my soul mate.
A faint ding of the doorbell hit my ear. Wait was that it?? She was here! I turned around running back to the counter. “Don’t worry I’m just in the back!”
I ran out looking at my wrist as it hit zero. Out of breath “Hi I’m Matt!” Sticking out my hand for a handshake it was met by a firm hand. Meeting my soulmate’s eyes for the first time they spoke.
“I’m Steven.” The man gave a smile “It’s nice to meet you.”
I watch my friend carefully. Her excitement is glowing all over her pretty face. Exactly 2 minutes left, she tells me. We’re waiting at the bus stop and the bus is coming in two minutes. I think she hoped she’d meet them on a beach at sunset or something.
”I mean that’s ok - these things can’t always be romantic I mean my mum met dad when he was working at the book store and it’s not like you can plan it to be romantic I just hoped, I mean everyone hopes don’t they-” she breaks off, looking at me awkwardly. “Sorry. It’s just a big day for me you know.” Yes I do know. You’ve been going on about it for the past year. I smile at her.
”Don’t worry. You nervous? You’ll be ok, you always are,” I grin, determined not to ruin this for her. It’s selfish of me to be moody. This is her future being determined. Right here. In now, precisely 1 minute 30 seconds.
She smiles at me, but it isn’t quite reaching her eyes. She’s restless and keeps tapping her foot. Her eyes are wide with.. fear? Excitement? Nerves? Probably all of them and a thousand more things I can’t imagine. She keeps checking her wrist. So do I. The bus comes around the corner. 1 minute 10 seconds.
”Hey. I’ll leave you alone now ok? The bus is here. I’ll sit a couple of seats away, and be there if you need me,” I say, squeezing her arm reassuringly. “Good luck.” I hope it sounded sincere.
The bus pulls up and I climb on first, taking a quick glance at her while I give the driver my ticket. She’s shaking and looks a little green. I want to give her a hug but know I shouldn’t interrupt now. I look at the passengers and it’s full of pensioners. My heart starts beating frantically. What? I can’t see anyone else at the bus stop. But she’s only 18, she can’t end up with a 80 year old.
I turn around and look at her - she’s breathing hard. The bus driver asks if she’s ok but she ignores him. Her eyebrows are creased and her face is flushed. Oh. Oh no. Stay calm. Someone is probably late. I give her a thumbs up and try to smile reassuringly. I think it’s more of a grimace.
I take a seat near the back. Look at my watch. 25 seconds. She sits down a few seats away.
Suddenly a dark shape runs past my window and a boy jumps on the bus. He has that same frantic look in his eyes. I breathe out with relief.
”Yeah get on, we’re running late,” the driver says, taking his ticket. The boy looks around, carefully stepping towards the seats. He’s tall and handsome, holding a sketchbook. I smile slightly; my friend hates art.
He spots her.
His eyes widen as he walks closer, as if being pulled by an invisible rope.
My friend stands up too, that same rope tying her to him.
1 second -
”I was worried the bus would leave. No way could I miss meeting my soul mate!” he jokes, though he looks just as nervous as she. They smile at each other as they both sit down together. I can’t hear what they’re talking about.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Suddenly I’m crying. Hot tears dropping down my cheeks.
I look at my wrist, scratching at it. Trying to get rid of it.
The numbers have never changed.
They’ve always been at 0.Oh my god that last one…. My heart… The feels….
AGH ALL OF YOU WRITE A BOOK THIS VERY INSTANT. PLEASE.
this is beautiful and everyone needs to read it
i hate you tumblr, fucking breaking my goddamn heart
Then, one day, you’re having dinner with a friend you’ve known for as long as you can remember (or perhaps a friend of the family), and you finally talk to them about your counter. You’re crying, explaining that it’s always been at 0, and so you must not have a soul-mate.
Their eyes widen. Tears begin to form, and they throw their arms around you.
"Mine has always been at 0 too."
And that’s when you know…
10 seconds: the doorbell rings, i get out of my chair
5 seconds: i give the man my money
0 seconds: i open the box. it is the most glorious pizza i have ever seen in my life.
That last one was so perfect and romantic
This post has gotten better since the last time I saw it
i can’t even stand anyone for extended periods of time, how am i supposed to do this whole relationship thing?
I almost understand real-person shipping.
We see the onscreen chemistry. We see the backstage photos. We see the cuteness on the red carpet. And sometimes, we pick up a copy of US in the doctor’s office or the grocery store. We look at the paparazzi photos and think about how great Actor A and Actor B would be together. What’s the harm?, we think. It’s just a fantasy.
They’re celebrities. They’re public property. They chose that lifestyle. They are here to entertain us. That’s what they are paid for.
And then, at some point, we are no longer saying “Aw, isn’t that a cute photo of Actor A and Actor B together?” We are fantasizing that they are together. We are writing fanfic about them. We are building up evidence that they are in fact a couple.
Maybe this real-people-ship actually is together. Maybe it’s a real relationship. Maybe it’s a PR relationship. Or maybe they aren’t together at all, and both actors have significant others. But gosh darn it, they’re so hot together, and on screen they have such chemistry, it’s meant to be, and we, the consumers, have a right to consume the product that is Actor A and Actor B.
Then, some people begin to fantasize about Actors A and B together. Others write fanfiction. Others roleplay. Others do photo manipulations. Even pornographic ones. Is that right? Is that fair? Would you want people doing that to you?
You have your freedom of speech, of course. There’s freedom of the press. Until you cross the line into slander or libel, there’s little Actors A and B can do about your fantasy. And maybe—just maybe—you are doing little harm in your little corner, writing your real-life-ship fanfic and doing your photosets.
But then you get a few crazy people. They dig the real-life-ship, too. They believe it. They believe it so much that they harass anyone who gets close to Actors A and B. They harass co-workers. They harass friends. They abuse significant others. And why?
Because they love their ship, and they have a right to it, dammit. Celebrities are communal property, after all. They chose to be in the public eye. They knew the risks. Some even encourage it through PR romances, which have had a long history in Hollywood. They gave up their right to their bodies and their privacy when they took that first step onto the stage or screen.
Wrong. Celebrities are people. Just people. Just like you and me. They are people who need to have solid relationships to thrive. They are people who would probably like more than anything to wake up and live their lives the best they can, as normally as they can.
Celebrities who play macho sex symbols on screen cry backstage because they have a cold and are afraid they’ll disappoint their audience.
Matinee-idols going through a divorce have heart-crushing reactions when they are shown a picture of themselves out with a friend that has the caption calling the friend their new “girlfriend.”
Celebrities who are considered by the world to be sex symbols stick venetian blind slats in their nostrils, or sit in front of their mirrors, denigrating their looks. And they actually believe they are unattractive.
Celebrities get terrible stage-fright.
Celebrities dress like normal people, look like normal people, talk like normal people, ARE normal people.
Some are nice. Some are jerks. Some are sad. Some are messed up. Some are misunderstood or under-appreciated. Some are stuck-up, and some are shockingly considerate, even to the tiniest tadpole in the pond.
They all have good and bad days. And some celebrities, celebrities who are scrutinized not only by their audiences, not only by US magazine, but by people who want to force them into a fake relationship just because it suits some members of their audience, have really bad days.
Days when they receive hate because their real lives as real people don’t meet up with an anonymous horde’s fantasy.
I can’t stop anyone from shipping real people. But I will say, and I will stand by this statement: Shipping real people is NOT OK. Even if it is legal. Even if you think your one, tiny fic or photo-manipulation is meaningless.
It’s not. It’s a drop in the ocean, but that ocean swells. And the more it grows, the more deluded people arrive. The more they believe. The bigger the conspiracy theories grow. And the more dangerous (yes, I said dangerous) it gets for the real, living, breathing men and women involved.
For the celebrity (a completely normal person, mark me). For the celebrity’s friends. For their family. For their real significant others. For their imagined significant others. For their children.
So next time you think that shipping real people is harmless, stop and think. Remember that these are people who have feelings, who deserve to have lives, who are paid for a job that ought to be allowed to end once their work day is over. These are people who laugh and cry and feel like you and me. THEY HAVE A RIGHT TO PRIVACY.
Would you ship Susie and Bob from your office? Would you like it if Susie shipped you and Bob together and started writing porn about you and posting it to the internet? If Susie threatened your spouse? If others picked up on it, analyzed every photo of you and Bob that existed, and came up with all kinds of conspiracy theories about you?
No? You wouldn’t like that?
Then don’t ship Actors A and B. Because the simple truth is that this shit does harm. Real harm. To real people.
Shipping Real People Is NOT OK.