So my family has a Gay Pirate Plate.
Stay with me.
We do not know how the hell the Gay Pirate Plate was first acquired. This being a point of contention is actually pretty plot-relevant; the saga of the Gay Pirate Plate began with my grandmother and her sister, who, for some ungodly reason, both BADLY wanted the Gay Pirate Plate and believed it to be rightfully theirs.
I should back up, firstly, to establish: The Gay Pirate Plate is the cheapest, tackiest, ugliest plate in existence.
It is in no way a collector’s item. It is physically impossible for it to complement anyone’s decor, because the colors in it are garish. It’s just a ceramic plate with a gay pirate painted on it, and the painting is, this cannot be emphasized enough, extremely bad.
(How do we know the pirate is gay if he’s just posing on a plate? Listen. Fully 100% to stereotype, but he is. He is gay. There’s an energy. That pirate is a flaming homosexual. That pirate has sex with men and does it frequently. That pirate is fucking gay, all right, he just is.)
Anyway. The point is that this is an extremely cheap and ugly plate with a poorly-executed painting of pirate on it who is like a nine on the Kinsey scale.
My grandmother and her sister fought a blood feud over this plate for their entire lives. It would be on the wall in my grandma’s house, and then her sister would visit, and then it would be gone. She’d visit her sister and the plate would be on the wall and her sister would pretend it had always been there. She would steal it back, hang it up, and, when her sister visited, pretend it had always been there. This continued for DECADES.
When the sister died, the Gay Pirate Plate lived triumphantly in my grandmother’s house. And then my grandmother died. And my aunt, who had lived with her and been her carer throughout her life, rightfully inherited their house.
We visit my aunt after the funeral and stay with her for a week or two.
Me, my sister, and our dad. Her brother.
The three of us look at each other. We don’t say anything. We studiously avoid making eye contact with the Gay Pirate Plate mounted proud and ugly on the wall. We notice one another studiously avoiding looking at it. We notice one another noticing. We say nothing. We come to a silent consensus. We pack up to leave. We get in the van. Our aunt comes out to say goodbye. I loudly announce I need to use the restroom before we leave. She obviously stays outside to continue talking to my dad.
I take down the Gay Pirate Plate, stuff it under my oversized sweatshirt, go outside, and get in the van. She happily waves goodbye as we drive off.
Two days later my dad gets a phone call that opens with hysterical laughter and “You FUCKING ASSHOLE did you seriously STEAL THE PLATE--”
Anyway. The gay pirate plate lives in my dad’s house currently.
But he’s trying to get me and my sister out to visit him. And plate mounts are cheap.
103K notes
·
View notes
love when men cry about body hair bc "it's hygiene" and yet 15% of cis men leave the bathroom without washing their hands at all and an additional 35% only just wet their hands without using soap. that is nearly half of all men. that means statistically you have probably shaken hands with or been in direct contact with one of these people.
love when men say that women "only want money" when it turns out that even in equal-earning homes, women are actually adding caregiver burdens and housework from previous years, whereas men have been expanding leisure time and hobbies. in equal-earning households, men spend an average of 3.5 hours extra in leisure time per week, which is 182 hours per year - a little over a week of paid vacation time that the other partner does not receive. kinda sounds like he wants her money.
love that men have decided women are frail and weak and annoying when we scream in surprise but it turns out it's actually women who are more reliable in an emergency because men need to be convinced to actually take action and respond to the threat. like, actually, for-real: men experience such a strong sense of pride about their pre-supposed abilities that it gets them and their families killed. they are so used to dismissing women that it literally kills them.
love it. told my father this and he said there's lies, damned lies, and statistics. a year ago i tried to get him to evacuate the house during a flash flood. he ignored me and got injured. he has told me, laughing, that he never washes his hands. he has said in the last week that women are just happier when we're cooking or cleaning.
maybe i'm overly nostalgic. but it didn't used to feel so fucking bleak. it used to feel like at least a little shameful to consider women to be sheep. it just feels like the earth is round and we are still having conversations about it being flat - except these conversations are about the most obvious forms of patriarchy. like, we know about this stuff. we've known since well before the 50's.
recently andrew tate tried to justify cheating on his partner as being the "male prerogative." i don't know what the prerogative for the rest of us would be. just sitting at home, watching the slow erosion of our humanity.
5K notes
·
View notes
I am feeling a way about Aelwyn continually inviting Adane to hang out at her apartment even though it's a disaster area with her ten ornery cats and scattered microwave dinner trays. I know a part of that is Brennan just wanting a reason to show the audience the very funny contrast from, "I came here to fuck!" to "Nooo Hector :(" But there's also something to her being like, "I want you here with me even though it will entirely ruin any possible remaining mystique around my cool girl persona"--something she absolutely still cares about in a general sense as she tells Adaine not to tell Fabian anyone else about what her apartment is like. It's one thing to be nice, but it's another to be vulnerable, especially when you've been raised in such a way that every weakness was used as a future attack--so much so that her entire brand of magic is protecting herself and not being vulnerable.
2K notes
·
View notes
Ehy Birblr ATTENTION pls
DO YOU LIKE BEARDED VULTURES? Even if you don't, Well we need all help possible.
Bearded Vulture Eglazine is Missing
Eglazine was born at Parco Natura Viva in Italy in 2020 and released in the wild later that year in the French Massiv Central. Since then she flew all around France, Belgium, Netherlands and Germany.
As of May 2023 her GPS has stopped sending signals and we have no information on her status. Her last know position was in Normandy. Neither her or the tag have been found. This is a call to all vulture lovers, birdwatchers and photographers to keep an eye out for her and help search for Eglazine.
But HOW Do I recognize Eglazine?
Eglazine is currently in her sub-adult phase, which means she is transitionig her plumage. Black head with some possible white feathers starting to show up, gray-brown body plumage, on her wings she had 3 bleached feathers as of her last sight but more could be present now, she has a PVC ring argent color with the code ET.
If you happen to find a Bearded Vulture that seems to possibly be Eglazine please share informations and photos to the Vulture Conservation Foundation at
[email protected]
Best case scenario she just lost her GPS Tracker while molting her feathers, in the worst case scenario...
Please reblog and share this so more people can keep an eye out for any trace of her.
Photos and pictures shared are from the instagram page of Parco Natura Viva ( @parconaturaviva )I got permission to share
3K notes
·
View notes
seeing people comment on that first aid kit post like "what are you people doing that you need this" is so wild because like. i have a coworker who got her finger slammed in a door at exactly the right spot and angle to somehow pop the entire tip of her finger off. the whole joint just came apart! it's not like the door was sharp. she had her hand in the wrong place at the wrong time. sometimes you're trying to get the groceries inside and shit happens. injuries are not a punishment exclusively meted out to those that live dangerously.
4K notes
·
View notes
one of the things about being an educator is that you hear what parents want their kids to be able to do a lot. they want their kid to be an astronaut or a ballerina or a politician. they want them to get off that damn phone. be better about socializing. stop spending so much time indoors. learn to control their own temper. to just "fucking listen", which means to be obedient.
one of the things i learned in my pedagogy classes is that it's almost always easier to roleplay how you want someone to act. it's almost always easier to explain why a rule exists, rather than simply setting the rule and demanding adherence.
i want my kids to be kind. i want them to ask me what book they should read next, and i want to read that book with them so we can discuss it. i want my kid to be able to tell me hey that hurt my feelings without worrying i'll punish them. i want my kid to be proud of small things and come running up to me to tell me about them. i want them to say "nah, i get why this rule exists, but i get to hate it" and know that i don't need them to be grateful-for-the-roof-overhead while washing the dishes. i want them to teach me things. i want them to say - this isn't safe. i'm calling my mom and getting out of this. i want them to hear me apologize when i do fuck up; and i want them to want to come home.
the other day a parent was telling me she didn't understand why her kid "just got so angry." this woman had flown off the handle at me.
my dad - traditional catholic that he is - resents my sentiment of "gentle parenting". he says they'll grow up spoiled, horrible, pretentious. granola, he spits.
i am going to be kind to them. i am going to set the example, i think. and whatever they choose become in the meantime - i'm going to love them for it.
5K notes
·
View notes