My Crazy Life
Four kids, three pets, two adults, one crazy life.
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Photoset reblogged from DeaExLibris
Two of my favorite Disney fan art series’, together at last.
Jirka Vinse’s Real Life Disney Girls and David Kawena’s Disney Heroes
Hyper-realistic women and hyper-sexualized men
I’m about that life.
shiiit aladdin and jasmine
omg Flynn
HOT DAMN PHILIP.
I’m sorry but can I please have Tinkerbell and Peter Pan. Please. LOOK AT THEM!
Hot damn!
I’d seen both of these art sets separately, but paired up like this, they look amazing.
(Source: marrymejasonsegel)
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One of the challenges at Unfuck Your Habitat recently was to clear out a “hidden” corner. The one that you walk past because it’s become part of the landscape. One of those in our house is the wall in our computer room. It was also directly across from the area where the kids’ computer has been sitting unhooked for probably over a year now, with us telling them frequently that we were going to get that desk cleared and the computer set back up.
Today I tackled it:
Hidden Corner Before
Hidden Corner after:
Computer desk Before:
Computer Desk After:
I don’t know exactly how long it took me. The goal was to get the computer up and running, so I didn’t time it. The kids were very excited when they realized what i was doing.
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Photo reblogged from temporary theme
This is important to see and understand for everyone. Please, if you see someone in a public restroom that you think might not belong there because they don’t look like you, don’t scream or yell at them, have some compassion and go about your business.
Never not reblog.
This picture has more power then anyone gives it credit for. Forever Reblog
(Source: allprideinside)
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Photo reblogged from temporary theme
must reblog every time I see…
How accurate
(Source: crazymomxx)
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Post reblogged from DeaExLibris
(Source: thefoxxybenedict)
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Is it odd that of all the things that could be going through my head re: this scene, it’s what brand of sheet Sherlock’s wearing? Because you know how precise the costume folks were for all the characters’ looks. Did they go through different colors of sheet? White, black, grey, red, purple? Different thread counts and sheens? And once they landed on white, what shade? Snow? Cream? Eggshell? To have this be a valid and interesting question: “What sort of sheet would Sherlock use?” It’s these strange, behind-the-scenes process questions that my mind loves to untangle….
so, here’s the thing. i’m obsessive about costuming, and fanoning costumes and -
this is not a high quality sheet. look at the ‘paperiness’ of the folds, and the way the stitching is causing puckers along the edge. this is a cheap, low thread count sheet.
THIS IS A SHEET OFF JOHN’S BED.
He was sleeping in John’s bed while John was away. Instant head canon. Thank you.
This makes me so happy.
I love everyone in this bar.
THIS IS A SHEET OFF JOHN’S BED.
OMFG THIS IS BRILLIANT.
(Source: herrholmes)
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In 20 minutes I:
- Cleaned all the trash from my kitchen table
- Cleaned all the trash from the kitchen counters
- Picked up all trash from the kitchen floor
- Started a load of laundry
- Used a Magic Eraser & Vinegar and Water on some of the worst spots on the kitchen floor.
It’s amazing what you can get done in 20 minutes.
I went a little over the 20 to load the dishwasher and take out the trash.
It has also occurred to me that my house has 7 rooms. Basically my plan is to assign a room to each day of the week and do at least one 20/10 in that room on it’s day. It looks like Sundays are going to be the kitchen.
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Thanks to a lovely Christmas Day migraine I didn’t get as much cleaning up done as I wanted to yesterday, but thanks to UFYH I knew that it wouldn’t take much to get it back under control. I used the 13 minutes while the kids’ lunch was in the oven to transform this:
Into this:
It’s so much easier to do it in short bursts regularly than to let it pile up and try to do marathon sessions. One more 20/10 and my living room will be in order again. The Christmas tree comes down this weekend, and then everything will be back to its new, neater normal.
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Last week, as part of a cultural discovery project for one of my classes, I spent three days wearing ‘girls’ clothes while going about my day. I wanted to explore the general reaction and preconceptions that people in my city have to clothing, especially in regards to gender. To me, the idea that a piece of fabric or accessory can be so intertwined with who are in our conscious is perplexing. I didn’t want to show off, or offend anyone by my act of curiosity. Rather, I wanted to act as a meticulous observer of the times, to see if the community around me was really as open-minded as I wanted to believe that it was. After all, if such things really only had a place in the realm of high-fashion and in Scottish tradition, then something bigger must be at work.
On the first day, I wore a long-sleeve pink top cropped at the collarbone. I received many compliments, a few glares and even a free Venti gingerbread latte. On the second, I rocked a pink blouse with a high-waisted belt. Again, the same amount of well-wishes, questions and passing eye-rolls. These things were to be expected, as it isn’t necessarily the norm to see someone like me wearing things like these. I felt collected and confident in these modest outfits, seemingly convinced that the world around me could care less about the clothes someone wore. Most affirming was the response to my nails, which were almost always met with a cheerful grin, a high-five and a few words of encouragement.What happened on the third day changed my perspective on humanity forever. I dressed myself as I normally would; band t-shirt, cardigan, plain Vans, etc. However, instead of black jeans, I complimented the outfit with a plain black skirt and matching set of tights. For me, this was a huge step in self-image. Years ago, I was barely confident enough to leave the house for school. These days, the opposite couldn’t be more true. As I set off about my day, the absolute worst in people came out in a full-force flurry of expletives and discomfort. I was ridiculed in whispers. I was mocked in glances. I was obnoxiously and filthily cat-called by a construction crew who, from behind, couldn’t tell that I was a man. Stopping by a bathroom before a lecture, a frat-bro went out of his way to shove me into the adjacent wall after eyeing me up and down on his way out. Expletives and names that might induce me to vomit were I to repeat them, were casually thrown in my direction with almost zero passing thought. By day’s end, I feared a full-on breakdown, unable to stand up for myself or what I believed in to maintain the integrity of the observer’s perspective. In a way, I had no right to feel that way, mostly because of the realization that this is the way that many have to live their lives. I fought back tears as every stare and ill-formed word engrained themselves in my sub-conscious.
Though I may not know you, I think that it’s important that we all come to understand why these things happen. In my book, cat-calling, shaming and harassment are among the worst actions we can engage in. As a heterosexual male, I will never truly know the fear that women may experience while walking home from work, going see a friend for lunch, or being sized-up in public based on their clothing. I will never truly know the gut-rot that a transgender individual may feel while being eyed up and down at the store or in class, strangers seeming to think as if the clothing they see before them begs a legal invitation of ridicule. I will never truly know the plights of these people, but as an ally and a human being invested in true equality, it is now my obligation to stand up for them as if I did.
What scares me the most is not the glances, mixed emotions, or 10-page paper that will inevitably come as a by-product of this project. No, what scares me is that this is the world we live in. We exist in a place where individuals living their truths can be subjected, directly or otherwise, to fear simply for living those truths. We live in an age where feeling ‘normal’ in your own clothing can create unfathomable contention with strangers, despite them having zero investment in their lives. We live in a world where the material, the fabric, the pieces that adorn you are somehow allowed to say more about who you are than the convictions in your heart and the sincerity in your deeds.
I don’t know about you, but I refuse that world. I refuse to let these things overcome the passion and genuine honesty that I’ve been so fortunate to bear witness to in my time. I refuse to let backwards, unprogressive mindsets stifle the glow and drive of those who are undeservingly robbed of it. Don’t say it can’t happen to you. If it happened to me, under the most average of circumstances on the streets in a progressive-leaning city, it could happen to anyone, and that is something I truly do not understand.
After all, it’s just a skirt.
What is it about a piece of inanimate, plain fabric that scares you so much? -
I think I may have finally figured out how to unfuck the laundry. We have six people in this house; that usually means that I have dirty laundry in piles throughout my house. I can never seem to get it under control.
This week I started trying to get a handle on the laundry, and it seems to be working. I try to wash and dry at least one load of laundry a day, two if I can. Each child has their own laundry basket. Clean clothes are sorted into the appropriate basket, and when it’s full (usually after one or two loads) everyone is responsible for putting away the clothes in their basket. (Little ones get help.)
This method seems to be working. I can actually see a point in the future where I will have the laundry under control enough that one or two loads a day keeps it done, without piling up.
