i'd stay here til the end... |
...but you can't change for me |
PAWS OFF THE NEW CAMERA!
I would love to know this shameful pup’s breed! My Wilbur, who is due for shaming, looks a lot like him!
(Source: dogshaming)
Editor’s note: I may have frightened my dogs, who were sleeping next to me, when I burst out laughing.
this made me laugh so hard…
(Source: dogshaming)
Malcolm Browne and the Burning Monk
Malcolm Browne, the photographer behind the iconic photograph of a Buddhist monk performing self-immolation in Saigon in 1963, has passed on last August 28 at the age of 81. In his honor, let’s take a closer look at the story behind his iconic image. WARNING: Contains graphic images.
Cellphone storage.
Inspired by isthatwhatyoumint’s story.
Useless.
Pretty much, yeah.
Yeah—finding cute stuff in a 32/34D was hard, and mainly had to happen online. Finding cute stuff in a 34/36 F/FF/G (wow, sizing is so not consistent when you get to this level) NURSING BRA? Erk.
Average bra size in the UK is 36D
Can we stop pretending they’re like *~*weirdly big boobs*~*!! Because, for real, I’ve been there, and it’s not that hard getting bras. Straight size shops carry bras in that size. You can get a bra for a reasonable amount of money. You have a choice of shops. Thin people banging on about how they can’t get bras they like as much as other bras and I can only shop in one store, and if I don’t like it, OH WELL, no-one cares because my boobs are no longer sexxxiii big bOObs, they’re a marker of my fatness.
As far as I can tell this Tumblr is for people with average/a bit over average size boobs to complain about inbetweenie type problems. Whatevs.
Reblogging for ^that^ commentary. My H-cups have no pity for the D-cups who can only find cute bras 95% of the time.
Well done, spoken like someone who completely missed the point of the comic. Did you stop and think that maybe part of the point of the comic was that there aren’t bras above E (or even D) at most stores? As far as I can tell, you just want to be angry for the sake of being angry.
And how exactly are the experiences of D cups in any way lessening your experience as an H cup? What, they aren’t allowed to have their own frustrations with their bodies because your frustrations are most pronounced and therefore better than theirs?
You’re welcome to not like the comic but I’ll be damned if people use my work to hate on other people. Learn to respect other people, please.
Honestly, I want to know. How is hating someone else for being frustrated with their bodies beneficial at all? I can’t imagine it actually makes someone feel better. Or maybe you just enjoy hating someone because learning to love the body you have is more challenging.
I really don’t understand this “My suffering is greater than yours and I am therefore better than you. Your opinions and experiences are pointless.” Someone please explain how this is okay.
Anyone who has spent time in a shelter knows the scene in the lobby: a seemingly endless flow of people surrendering their pets.
Anyone who has spent time advocating for pit bulls knows the story: irresponsible or uncaring people get “these dogs” and dump them at shelters when they’re no longer wanted.
But do we really know each dog’s story? Do we really know “those people” surrendering “those dogs”?
I thought I did. I used to work for a humane society in Philadelphia. We used to tell the media, “Help! We have a pit bull problem! These dogs are pouring into our shelter because people buy them for the wrong reasons — as status symbols or for fighting — and then they dump them in our shelter.”
But is that always the case?
I was at the Philadelphia Animal Control shelter in September 2010 and met a cropped-eared brown pit bull who reminded me of my own dog, Sarge.
But really, I “knew” my stuff: this pit bull probably came from a “bad situation.” He probably wasn’t socialized. He probably was abused and abandoned. He probably could not be a good pet.
But could he?
He could. We adopted him, and it worked. He knew how to sit, how to take treats gently, how to meet small kids in the neighborhood. And he even knew not to pee in the house (most of the time).
So how could this dog be proof of Philadelphia’s “pit bull problem” that we had warned the media about?
I can’t speak for every dog, even though every dog has his/her story to tell, and surely there are dogs who have been failed completely by their owners.
But I can tell you the story of my dog, Junior.
Why? See that photo at the top? The one that says ”Neo” and “friendly”? That was Junior’s tag. The shelter forgot to remove it, and lucky for me, it had his owner’s name, address, and phone number. So I tracked him down, and he was happy and relieved that I did.
Over the past year, we’ve become good friends. I shared Junior’s present, and he shared Junior’s past.
Here is what he had to say:
“I was 27 years old when I got him. I got him for my son, but to keep me busy also. I tried to adopt from a shelter but they wouldn’t give me a pit bull because I had a baby on the way and a 4-year-old living with me at the time. He was just the best dog anyone could ask for.
He was so easy for me to train. He was introduced to the kids in the house and he never gave anyone a problem. He was always happy. I would take him to the park every day after dinner. That was our ritual and we would have a ball. He would catch the tennis ball and bring it back. He loved to run.
Most of all, I think he liked snuggling on the couch with my son and me, just chilling. He also liked to go places. He was always sitting shotgun, no matter what. One thing is for sure, he was great with kids. Maybe it is because he has a big heart, or because I trained him to be good with kids, but that dog has no hate in him. He is so loving. My son would chill with him all the time and I had no worry. And my son was very young at that time.
My family and neighbors all loved him. The kids around the neighborhood would come by all the time and ask if they could walk him.
Giving him up was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do. When they say man’s best friend, yeah, he was. I was in tears for days about it. I even tried to get him back. But thankfully they said he had been adopted into a good home already.
I was a single father who worked full-time and was a student and also had to care for my mother. While I was working or at school or helping my mom, there just wasn’t anyone there to let him out or keep him company. Friends and family all took different shifts to help. It worked for a while, but at the end of the day, it just wasn’t fair for him.
I found out he got adopted when I called the shelter trying to get him back because I missed him so much. The shelter wouldn’t give me any info about his adopters, but I did leave his original name tag on which read, “Neo – Friendly,” and my address. The wonderful people who adopted him were kind enough to find me on Facebook. It put my soul at ease.
It has been awesome being able to feel like I know what he’s up to. I’m not going to lie, when I see pictures of him, I wish he was right here next to me. But he could not have been placed in a better home.
He and I are very blessed. I am just happy he is in a great home with great people and his little posse.”
Shania. Age 12. Lives in Muscle Shoals, Alabama. Nicknames = Poops McGavin, Pooper Troops, Niah, and Shizzy. Has also lived in Arkansas and New Mexico. Likes playing dress up, sun bathing, mani-pedis, rolling in stinky things, going for walks, fetching sticks in the water, sleeping with 3 year old Savannah, wrestling with her BDF (best doggy friend) Memphis, car rides, sleeping in, and being with her family. Shania is growing old gracefully with a family that includes: two adults, one 3-year-old girl; two other Elderbulls (UNO and Memphis), an elderheeler (Bella), a ninja cat (Sushi), and 10 backyard laying hens of whom Shania has been known to share a snack with. The family is expecting a second baby due on Shania’s 13th birthday in June. Shania’s mom writes: “If there has ever been an animal that has changed my life and the way I use to view the world according to stereotypes, it’s Shania. Abandoned at an animal clinic I worked at when she was about 5 months old, no one would take her home because they were afraid of her breed. For a month and a half she lived in the kennel area of the clinic until Christmas Eve of 1999, I took her home to spend Christmas with her. The greatest gift I received that year was my parents agreeing that this was the dog for our family and allowing her to stay. I didn’t know anything about pit bulls but I committed to learning what I could about them so I could prove popular opinion wrong. I’ve never gotten it all right with Shania but we have been right for each other from the beginning. Her presence has encouraged me, helped me get over heart breaks, patiently waited as I finished college, stood with me on my wedding day, and now shares her wise old dog heart with a 3-year-old little girl. I tell her all the time that she has to live forever because I don’t know who I will be without her. In a way, she’s my soul-mate. In the words of Willie Nelson, she’s my angel that flew too close to the ground. She’s the epitomy of aging gracefully: always enjoying today and never wishing for more tomorrow.”
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So I says to the guy I says (Taken with Instagram)
Pretty much, yeah.
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Anyone who has spent time in a shelter knows the scene in the lobby: a seemingly endless flow of people surrendering their pets.
Anyone who has...