Pinned
I’m taking commissions so I can survive. There’s gonna be a waiting list this time around instead of slots, so go buck wild. If you pay for 3 chibis you can get a 4th one free. Great deal, right? DM me for a spot on the list/if you have questions.
No NSFW this time around. Please have refs ready on request for a spot on the list. Payment is through paypal and upfront.
i need someone who's really into sparkling water to give me a tiered list of and every single opinion they've ever had on all the major brands
I've got controversial opinions and also major brands do vary by area but in general like if you are looking for a fruit flavored seltzer and you like a straightforward ripe fruit flavor then any cheap store brand will do. Aha is also good for this if you want to pay money for a major brand for no reason, or if you want to try their honey peach flavor (delightful).
Bubly is what you go for if you prefer the flavor of slightly unripe fruit, and also you can consistently cool your seltzer. Or if you want to collect the colorful pop tops for crafts.
Polar regular is pretty standard and pink apple is a highlight but their seltzer'ade flavors are extra delightful if you like a strong citrus flavor combo.
Waterloo is honestly a little step up for your standard ripe fruit flavors but I don't usually go out of my way to pay the extra for the name brand. They do make my favorite pineapple tho.
Lacroix has little odd twists on flavors, go for a lacroix if you want something a little indefinably different. My faves are beach plum, apricot, and limoncello. The mango tastes weirdly floral. Absolutely do not try the mojito flavor it tastes like cleaning solution.
Juice blends, sweetened, and infusions are not my department, nor are unflavored seltzers.
I’ve mostly resisted absorbing memes and internet jargon into my vocabulary, but at this point I have to admit defeat: wimdy has bypassed all my defenses and lodged itself deep and indelibly in my psyche. And I’ll tell you what. It is fucking wimdy out there right now.
I love how here on tumblr dot website we regularly cast the greatest curse we can muster on each other by pointing our long creepy fingers and intoning "10,000 notes" in a voice that carries the winds of the mountain with it.
I might have made an error here
"wow look at this crazy sign from Australia warning about dangerous animals" and then the sign is basically just "do not corner and harass wild animals"
certainly part of the issue is the way ppl in Australia feed into it and try and make signs funnier and over exaggerate stuff in an often unhelpful way. but "this is a wild animal. if you harass a wild animal it might bite or scratch you" is basically universally applicable across the world with the vast majority of animals
"can you believe quokkas are so cute but they'll bite you if you anger them?" well you see they're wild animals who humans just so happen to think look cute. it's not on purpose and does not magically make it ok to harass and bother a wild animal. if you harass a wild animal it might bite or scratch you
He assumed Tails was Sonic's age
I know everyone and their mom has already made this joke but I had to do my own take on it.
Also a bonus because the idea makes me laugh:
a zine i wrote about struggling to create art, broadly. consider this a spiritual successor to Some Artist You Are
if you would like to download this as a single printable or digital image, or give me money for some reason, you can do that over at itch.io: this time for sure
My fellow Americans, act accordingly.
Who that man
the fairy on my windshield as i go down i95 at 210km/h
you forgor!!!!!! HIS PENITS!!!
Oh my god I forgot his peanut
idk how to do image editing but good news everyone!
May he plow the Lord’s fields in heaven
Dave Brandt was probably the longest running no-till farmer in the state; he'd been running his land no-till since 1971. He experimented with fertilizers, cover crops, and different irrigation techniques and he'd been doing all of that for a very long time.
The guy was an institution all on his own; look at this.
I know I've said it before, but--that first point, there, about the "A" profile of his soil? Every time I think of it, I am taken aback with genuine awe.
So this is a picture of the soil horizons. The O profile/O horizon is stuff like fallen leaves, sticks, and so on, which are biodegrading into the A profile. A fair amount of soils might have no O profile at all.
If you are a gardener, the A profile is what you're concerned with most of the time; it's what we also call "topsoil." Your seeds germinate into it, and shallower plants might root into it alone without ever reaching the B profile. Worms and other small delvers live in it. It's what you're amending, what you're testing, what you're tilling, what you're trying to fill up with good microorganisms to work with your plants and provide you with food or flowers or cover.
I see this quote around sometimes, attributed to radioman Paul Harvey: Man — despite his artistic pretensions, his sophistication, and his many accomplishments — owes his existence to a six inch layer of topsoil and the fact that it rains.
Without the topsoil, bluntly, we starve. And there are other problems, in places with a lack of it; without the topsoil, when the rains come, the water strikes hard soil. Hard soil doesn't accept water easily, so instead it pools and runs downhill. That action makes flooding, makes flash floods, makes standing water that carries disease, it contaminates the water table. Cholera is a huge problem in places with a low A profile that receive too much water at once.
We are seeing topsoil depletion across the US. I can't speak for other countries, but the heavy-tilling agricultural habits we've adopted here have obliterated inch after inch of our topsoil; in the 1800s the average depth was fourteen inches! Today it is six. Many suburban lawns have even less. This has knock-on effects we don't even consider on the day-to-day (for instance, there's some suggestion that the lower amounts of various minerals in vegetables and fruits today in comparison with earlier decades might be because of the lower amount of minerals in the soil for the plants to take up into themselves).
And this gentleman took soil that had been that abused and not only returned it to what it had been before the aggressive, destructive European agricultural policy had its way, but trebled that earlier depth.
His land protects the land around it from flooding. His land grows plants less susceptible to disease, because of all the various stressors and pressures those plants aren't confronted with. His land almost certainly has a considerably higher concentration of microorganisms and it would follow that we'd also see greater diversity of macroorganisms thereby.
Honestly, it just takes my breath away.
I’m a gardener who uses Brandt’s methods and I never even knew his name. I’m glad I do now. This man is nothing short of a hero to me. His work shows that it’s possible to leave the earth better than we found it, and feed ourselves in the process.
HEY, FELLOW HATERS OF INSANELY-BRIGHT CAR HEADLIGHTS, SOMEONE HAS STARTED A PETITION TO REGULATE THEM.
It's an official petition through the Australian Government's e-petition page, which means if it gets enough signatures, it will be tabled in government.
You do have to be an Australian citizen to sign it, BUT!!! PLEASE REBLOG THIS EVEN IF YOURE NOT, because these kind of things have a roll-on effect, and if Australia legislates LED headlights, then other countries may follow.
FYI, the petition asks only for your name and email, and once you've clicked the sign button, they'll send you an email to confirm your signature --- you need to click the confirmation link in the email to have your signature counted.
Before I knew I was bisexual I was just insanely dramatic and weird around guys I liked. I had a crush on this guy in my ward - he was older than me, he played bagpipes and had a cheerful dog and an old Volkswagen bus that he worked on all the time. He also had nice scruff and unnaturally attractive hands and a good sense of humor, so I was like FULLY smitten.
I talked about him a lot and about how he was just so dang COOL, dang it, because he was so frickin’ cool. And I really liked him. I thought he was funny and smart and interesting and cool and fascinating and a bunch of other weird feelings I barely had the attention span to think about (I think my ADHD may have prevented me from coming out for a while tbh).
One day, I’m like 14-15, his dad is called to be my Sunday School teacher. His dad is this ex-military hardass with a chip on his shoulder for absolutely no reason and unattainable standards for his children. He spent most of Sunday School talking shit about his eldest boy and how he was rebellious and didn’t listen to him and how that was going to make him a bad adult and a bad son forever. How his son was too lazy and unmotivated to be successful because he didn’t listen to his advice on how to read the scriptures. He complained about how our generation was too weak to do things right and that our generation would surely be the one that brought the world’s downfall because of our laziness and sin.
And like, first of all, that guy can already go fuck himself for that. To clarify, that’s already stupid. BUT. He was talking about the man I had uncomfortable dreams about at least once a month. I couldn’t stand it. I’d get so mad I’d go home shaking sometimes because how fucking DARE he insult his hardworking stunning son by calling him lazy? For not reading the Bible the way his dad wants? When he’s already spending his time learning bagpipes? And fixing cars? And being cool? And cute? Who the fuck even cares if he uses the footnotes in the Book of Mormon? Who gives a rotten rat’s ass if he doesn’t use the scripture study manual his dad uses? He’s so cool he doesn’t even need it? So fuck off?
And eventually I got fucking Sick Of It and decided to mutiny. And by mutiny, I mean skip class. I’d just not go. And after a bit, adults started noticing and bugging me about it. At first, this was put off by small talk and excuses, but as my absence from Sunday School became more well-known, my excuses began to be rejected.
“Oh, Lizard, why aren’t you in class?” Uhm idk because my Sunday School teacher is mean to his kid and that makes me so mad wtf do you want from me? 🫠🤔
“Where’s your class, I’ll go with you!” Oh no ty I’d rather peel my own eyes than have my taste in men critiqued tyty 🩷
“Lizard, you should go to class, I’m sure they miss you!” And I miss the innocent days where my stomach didn’t hurt when a cool boy I knew was being belittled but unfortunately for us both those days are LONG gone and all that’s left is a budding psychosexual clusterfuck that will render me almost fully incapable of functioning for the better part of a decade so Bye Bye, sister Smith 🙂↕️
It had gotten to the point that ward leadership was involved. I was being approached by members of the Young Men’s presidency and the Bishopric to try and make me to back to class. They were telling me God had told them to find me and instruct me on my rebelliousness. This is where I implemented my secret weapon - women. Mormons are weird as hell about a lot of things, but especially about women. And I was GREAT with women. So to combat the leadership’s attention, I started helping women.
Our ward had a lot of new moms with babies who were, as babies tend to be, fussy. But for Mormon women the church is often their only social outlet, so they try to power through as long as they can even if it means enduring the exhausting ordeal of taking care of a fussy baby at church.
For what it’s worth, I have a lot of sway with babies. I got baby street cred. Me and babies have a rapport. I have always known this. I have always loved this. And in this crucial gay time in my faggot life my baby mind powers came in clutch - Every time I saw a member of the bishopric getting close, or a young men’s leader giving me side-eye, I’d start walking slowly towards class, passing by relief society. I’d wait until a mom’s baby had gotten too fussy and needed to leave the room, and I’d swoop in like a knight. “Oh, don’t you worry sister, I’ll bounce him a bit. You go back and hang out with your friends in class. You deserve a break.”
If it was a diaper change or something they’d tell me no. But if it was just some good old-fashioned baby fusses, I mean, they’d be moved almost to tears. They just got their social time back AND a free babysitter who is renowned as the Baby Whisperer. And because I was holding a baby as a favor for someone else, I of course could not reasonably be bothered to return to class.
So just like that, I was out of everyone’s sights. This went on for about a month before the straw that broke the camel’s back, which was that without my class participation the classes were quiet and awkward. I’d often take the brunt of Sunday school lectures by answering questions impulsively and over explaining myself enough that the clock could run out without anyone needing to do or say much. My absence meant everyone else was getting hit with the full unpleasantness of this guy’s bullshit. And so slowly, one-by-one, I had a group of about 8 kids on baby-holding duty. These new moms were so overjoyed, they and their husbands were both so actively in our corner that now chastising us was untenable. Now we had bargaining power. So the Bishopric approached us, confused beyond confused and uncomfortable beyond uncomfortable, and said,
“What’s it gonna take to get you back to class?”
The POWER I possessed in that moment was addictive. By being kind to the women of the ward and ignoring the Mormon de facto Rule of Law of following rules en-masse so the rule breakers feel left out, there were now so many people breaking ranks that we had effectively enacted a church boy labor strike. And they crumbled so fast it was almost like we had swayed God himself to our cause.
“I want brother assholedad gone. He sucks at teaching.”
I didn’t even have to say it. One of my rebels said it for me. I just nodded sagely and said “Yes, his class is not edifying. It’s better to not go and hold babies.”
And just like that, with a snap of my limp-wristed, Christ-wounding, bottom-brained fingers my faggot will was enacted. God’s revelation that brother shitdad was his chosen Sunday school teacher flipped on a dime. Suddenly brother shitdad was asked to be an usher and the fun dad of another one of my crushes was called in to teach us. I still stayed to hold babies a lot, but the rest of the class returned and all was well again.
Although I didn’t recognize it then, I think that was a formative moment for me in a lot of ways. I learned that being really persistently annoying will get me what I want from authority eventually. I learned that God’s will can be swayed by going in strike. I learned that ignoring men’s made up authority forces them to level with you as a person. I learned that caring for women, especially vulnerable women, can make a whole world happier. I learned that letting women rest can help them feel more love for the things that matter in their life. I learned that social bonds make everyone stronger and happier. And I learned that loving others in a gay way can change the world.
Be gayer. Read Terry Pratchett. I love y’all 💕
I could almost write a story about the handsome bagpipe-lumberjack’s life since. He’s a fascinating guy. I just catch bits, but it’s always stuff like dog racing in Alaska, or cross country trips in some crazy ass vehicle that he personally restored, or working on some kind of hot balloon crew.
I think he’s currently in college in Washington now. Studying to be a teacher. I wish him the best
