Wisconsin snow storm versus flooding in Ireland
Ireland isn’t fucking around with the sealing capabilities of their doors
Let’s get the maker of that door in Ireland to come fix the economy.
-you smell different when you’re awake
-please help me (then smile as if nothing happened)
-you have lovely skin, I can’t wait to wear it
-your hair tastes like strawberries
-he knows, don’t go home.
-I always knew you would die in my arms
-every time I poop I think of you
-no one will ever believe you
-I killed mufasa
-I bet you didn’t feel me lick your ear
-mother told me it would be like this
This was meant to be a quick warm up, but it turned into a comic that I’ve wanted to draw for a while. This is something that is extremely important to me, and I appreciate it if you read it.
A while ago, I heard a story that broke my heart. A family went a cat shelter to adopt. The daughter fell in love with a 3-legged cat. The father straight up said “absolutely not”. Because he was missing a leg. That cat was that close to having a family that loved him, but the missing leg held him back. Why?!
Many people have the initial instinct of “nope” when they see an imperfect animal. I get it, but less-adoptable does NOT mean less loveable. 9 out of 10 people will choose a kitten over an adult cat. And those 10% that would get an adult cat often overlook “different” animals.
All I want people to do is be open to the idea of having a “different” pet in their lives. Choose the pet that you fall in love with, but at least give all of them a fair shot at winning your heart.
Don’t dismiss them, they deserve a loving home just as much as any other cat. They still purr, they still love a warm lap, they still play, they still love you. Trust me, next time you are in the market for a new kitty, just go over to that one cat that’s missing an eye and see what he’s all about!
Let me tell to you a thing.
This is Lenore. I first saw her in a little cage at the Petco I frequent (I used to take my parents’ dog in for puppy play time), and she looked like the grouchiest, old, crotchety cat in the world, and I fell instantly in love. She was cranky, she was anti-social, hanging out at the back of her cage. Her fur was matted because she wouldn’t let the groomers near her.
She was perfect.
But I didn’t have a place for her. I wasn’t living in my own space yet, and where I was, I wasn’t allowed cats. So I pressed my face to the bars of her cage and I promised that if no one had adopted her by the time I’d bought a house, I would come back for her.
I visited her every week for over six months while I looked for a house. At one point, they had to just shave her entire rear-end because the mats or fur were so bad. They told me she clawed the heck outta the groomer that did it, screamed the entire time, and spent the next two days growling at anyone that came near the cage.
A couple of weeks later, I closed on my house. I went back and I got an employee, and I said: “That one. I need that cat.”
They got the paperwork and the lady who ran the rescue that was bringing the cats in told me that Lenore (at the time, Lila) was 8 years old, had been owned by an elderly lady who had died, and brought in to a different rescue, who’d had her for six months on top of the time I’d been seeing her at Petco.
This kitty had been living in a 3x3’ cube for over a YEAR because she was older and “less adoptable.”
I signed the paperwork, put her in a cat carrier, and drove her to my new home. I had pretty much nothing; a bed, an old couch, a couple of bookcases, and a tank of mice I called “Cat TV”. I let her out of the carrier and onto my bed, and I told her “I told you I would come back for you when I had a place. It’s not much, but it’s yours too now.”
Lenore spent the next three days straight purring non-stop. She followed me around the house purring. Sat next to me purring. Slept next to me purring. Leaning into every touch, purring, purring, always purring. She still purrs if you so much as think about petting her. She’s amazing, and I love her.
So, you know, if you’re thinking about adopting, and you see a beast that others consider “less adoptable,” think about Lenore.
IM CRYING I LOVE CATS FUUUUCK
This is beautiful ❤️
yeah i mean how sociable or nice would yo be if you were a fucking cage for a year?
Ok, no I’ll tell you why this is bullshit.
One. Chell isn’t wearing high heels. She’s never worn high heels. The shock-absorbers she’s wearing serve to prevent her legs from breaking like twigs when she slams into the floor after a ten-story fall. She’s had them in both games. People don’t complain about them because they’re reasonable equipment suited to her environment. If there’s anything to complain about, it’s the fact that they made her younger, sexier, and whiter in the second game.
Two. Raiden IS wearing high heels. Why isn’t anyone complaining about them? It’s because MGR: Revengeance is a ridiculous Goddamn game, if you couldn’t tell by the title. Raiden is a freaking cyberninja who at one point disguises himself in a sombrero. No one was ever meant to take this game seriously. It’s as fun as it is bizarre. So, robot high heels are par for the course here. If there’s anything to complain about, it’s that high heels are never effective in a combat environment, even if you’re a cyberninja disguised as a Mexican cyberninja.
Three. Samus should not be wearing high heels. Why not? There are many reasons. For one, she is in a combat environment. As I just mentioned, high heels are never effective in a combat environment. Don’t believe me? Try putting on a pair of high heels and doing a backflip. Hell, try putting on a pair of high heels and CROSSING THE GODDAMN ROOM. It doesn’t work. “But videogame characters kick butt in high heels all the time!” Video game characters don’t have to obey the laws of biology or physics (Examples: Raiden, Bayonetta). Video game characters are also very often designed or in some way modified by men. Coincidence? Is it possible that men wanted to make Samus appear more feminine? Sexier? More appealing? “But her heels are rocket powered!” That’s some Goddamn bullshit. Samus never needed rocket heels in the past. She doesn’t need them now. It’s a painfully weak excuse to have our sexualized heroine strutting around in footwear that makes her vacuum-sealed ass stick out.
Go ahead and say I’m slut-shaming. SAY IT, I DARE YOU. No I don’t walk down the street yelling at random women who are wearing high heels. Maybe a woman I’ve known all my life who wears big ugly boots suddenly decides to wear sexy heels. Nothing wrong with that either. No, it’s when an iconic character portrayed in media, created and designed by men, begins to undergo changes that serve no purpose other than to accentuate her feminine sexuality. Why is this bad? Because it is a harmful pattern that we see constantly- the ideal that all women must be, or must eventually be, sexy. Appealing. That every woman must be or become identifiably female. This is objectification. It is dehumanization. It is harmful, and it is damaging.
So argue with me. Give me one good excuse why Samus Aran, a 6’3, 198lb bounty hunter needs high heels to do her job.
But you are only allowed to argue with me after you have successfully done a backflip in high heels without breaking your Goddamn ankle.
Yesterday someone showed me a drawing I drew back in 2007. It had been ages since I’d last seen it. It was of a nervous girl sitting on a chair, clutching her portfolio, waiting for her first career interview.
I looked at it with new eyes. Thinking about all the nice things and less nice things that have happened since I drew that picture.
I decided to redraw it and really remember feeling those feelings I had back then while sitting in the waiting room of a design office.
I’m sure everybody’s been through it at some point. Feeling so blue, anxiously wondering if you’ll be good enough.
Just keep going.