Office by Alex Penny
I'm Jordan :)
What you basically need to know about me is that I love Michael Cera, pugs, potatoes, my cat, very red lipstick, cherry starbursts, and people watching.
❞ I am a SF-bred girl who would live my entire life down the rabbit hole in a world of nonsense, but due to the low probability of me ever finding that damn hole, I use my vivid imagination every day and refuse to ever truly grow up. Not all the way! That wouldn’t be fun! Why not embrace a life like Peter? I love what I do, I love to see a smile turn a smile turn a smile. Life is too short, too melancholy for some. I’d like to try to diffuse that as much as I can.
Why you should be in passionate horny love with Elizabeth ‘Nellie Bly’ Cochrane
- Born in 1864/65, Elizabeth, one of 15 children, was always ‘the rebellious one’. Fierce as fuck from an early age, she testified against her abusive stepfather in her mother’s divorce trial.
- In 1880 she enrolled in a teacher-training college but had to leave after her first semester due to lack of funding - then moved to Pittsburgh to help run a goddamn boarding school.
- This is where we get to the good shit. Age 18, she wrote a letter-to-the-editor of the Pittsburgh Dispatch bitchslapping the everloving fuck out of a sexist ballsack of an article entitled ‘What Girls Are Good For’.
- The editor was so goddamn wooed by her razor-sharp tongue that he RAN AN AD asking her to identify herself. Elizabeth owned up, and was hired instantaneously, her badassery radiating from her pores and intoxicating all within a twenty mile radius.
- Working under the pen-name Nellie Bly, Elizabeth kicked the butts of morons everywhere, writing articles aimed at social justice, particularly labour laws to protect working ‘girls’ and reform of Pennsylvania’s divorce law, which greatly favoured men.
- Not content with changing the world from behind her desk, Elizabeth became a founding mother of investigative journalism. She was expelled from Mexico for exposing political corruption, and henceforth wrapped in cotton wool by her editors. Infuriated by their mollycoddling, Lizzie left them a note essentially telling them to fuck themselves and hot footed it to NYC. She was still only 23.
- Within six months she was hired by Joseph fucking Pulitzer himself, and continued her batshit crazy investigations uninhibited. Her very first assingment had her feigning mental illness to expose repulsive conditions in Blackwell’s Island Insane Asylum. Her cutting report was so fucking horrifying, compelling and persuasive that it triggered public and political action, leading to reform of the institution.
- In the next couple of years she had herself thrown in jail and hired by a sweatshop, all for shits and giggles. Oh, and to uncover incomprehensible injustice, cruelty, poverty, and the concealed, heinous treatment of the vulnerable and voiceless.
- But was pioneering journalism, social revolution and batshit badassery enough for our Liz? Like fuck it was. On a whim Nellie did what any self-respecting 25 year old woman in the 1800s would do - she emulated Jules Verne’s Around the World in Eighty Days, and did it in 72.
- Millions followed her journey, and its appeal to a semi-literate populace resulted in greatly increased newspaper readership. So while travelling the entire globe (IN THE 1800s, AS A WOMAN) by ship, train, burro and balloon, she helped the world to read.
- Having essentially conquered the entire goddamn universe before hitting 30, Nellie retired, and wed 72 year old industrialist Robert Seaman. Their marriage was a happy one, and after his death she took over Iron Clad Manufacturing Co.
- But Lizzie was a writer, what would she know about the metal industry? Well, she INVENTED the steel barrel that became the model for the widely used 55-gallon drum and turned her inherited businesses into multimillion-dollar companies, so apparently a fuck ton.
- Furthermore, she set a precedent for working conditions, ensuring her workers had good pay, gymnasiums, staffed libraries, and health care, all completely unheard of at the time, while still writing to further the plight of the Suffragette movement.
- Nellie may have died age 58 of pneumonia, but HBICs live on forever.
*CLAPS LOUDLY*
I’m so pissed right now because I NEVER, EVER found her in a single of the history and literature books I studied on. Fuck that shit, this woman needs a whole entire chapter in every single book in print
*applauds wildly** I am more angry at the fact I’m only learning about her now than anything. WTF history, TEACH US ABOUT THESE BAMFS!
I actually really enjoyed reading her articles, or exposé on Blackwell’s Asylum which can be read (here)
(I actually think it would make an excellent movie, but that’s neither here nor there).
It’s just one of my favourite things. A thoroughly wonderful human being by all accounts!
I had a kid’s book about her which I loved to death. Rah rah Nellie Bly!
(via skinnykate)
—
Why The Shirelles Mattered by Susan Douglas (via busydayofcrazy)“The Ruby Slippers transcend Hollywood costume design and have the power to transport us to the limits of our imagination, these precious shoes exemplify the best of cinema storytelling because they evoke memory and emotion.”
-(x)
(Source: wennecks, via danielwelbeck)
(via skinnykate)
[TW: Sexual Assault, rape culture, victim blaming]
His lips crushed mine, stopping my protest. He kissed me angrily, roughly, his other hand gripping tight around the back of my neck, making escape impossible. I shoved against his chest with all my strength, but he didn’t even seem to notice. His mouth was soft, despite the anger, his lips molding to mine in a warm, unfamiliar way.
I grabbed at his face, trying to push it away, failing again. He seemed to notice this time, though, and it aggravated him. His lips forced mine open, and I could feel his hot breath in my mouth.
Acting on instinct, I let my hands drop to my side, and shut down. I opened my eyes and didn’t fight, didn’t feel… just waited for him to stop.
"—
Twilight: Eclipse p. 331 (Bella and Jacob’s first kiss)
This is rape culture.
Young women are taught to think of this passage - which describes sexual assault - as erotic. Young men are taught to force their will on young women, regardless of any (non)verbal cues, because sex is conquest and women are objects - not something to be done between two consenting individuals because it’s pleasurable for both people.
The most frightening thing about this excerpt is that many survivors of sexual assault who have disclosed to me describe stories that sound exactly like this one.
(via profeministbro)
tumblr user clockward submitted this to us. read at your leisure.
(via robert-pattinson-hates-his-life)
Vomiting everywhere
(via arilyn-anson Well shit, i didn’t know it was this bad. Wow. (via fuckthacistem)
The lines before that:
He still had my chin—his fingers holding too tight, till it hurt—and I saw the resolve form abruptly in his eyes.
“N—-” I started to object, but it was too late.
And after he assaulted her she punched him in the face but due to his “super human strength” she broke her hand, said “Don’t touche me!” and then:
“Just let me drive you home,” Jacob insisted. Unbelievably, he had the nerve to wrap his arm around my waist.
I jerked away from him.
And then:
When he got in the driver’s side, he was whistling.
AND THEN while he was driving:
“…There is so much I can give you that he can’t. I’ll bet he couldn’t even kiss you like that—-because he would hurt you. I would never, never hurt you, Bella.”
I held up my injured hand.
He sighed. “That wasn’t my fault. You should have known better.”
And then:
He grinned over at me. “You kissed me back.”
I gasped, unthinkingly balling my hands up into fists again, hissing when my broken hand reacted.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I did not.”
“I think I can tell the difference.”
“Obviously you can’t——that was not kissing back, that was trying to get you the hell off me, you idiot.”
He laughed a low, throaty laugh. “Touchy. Almost overly defensive, I would say.
I took a deep breath. There was no point in arguing with him; he would twist anything I said.
Then when she gets home, to where her father, Charlie, the police officer, is:
“Why did she hit you?”
“Because I kissed her,” Jacob said, unashamed.
“Good for you, kid,” Charlie congratulated him.
(via wejustkeepswimming)
I didn’t read the citation first. I read the quote. I thought I was reading a woman’s account of how she was about to be raped, not a fucking passage from a romance novel.
(via karenfelloutofbedagain)
JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.
(via snoterella)
still having this argument with people tho
(via cunthulhu)
Is there any chance at all that Meyer is actually making a statement about rape culture? Like just the way it’s so OVERT, Bella is even injured. She doesn’t seem to be painting it as romantic or suggesting Bella gave in and enjoyed it or whatever other nonsense is usually in romance novels. Like maybe it’s meant to be this bad?? Or am I being overly optimistic?
(via oliveseraphim)
(via callingoutbigotry)
The most important discussion of our time happened in a YouTube comments section.
(Source: werewolfjokewar, via niamhykinsbaby)
(via beckycorderooo)
(Source: thesquidville, via internachanel)
