What's on the a (college student/woman/african-latina american/food enthusiast)'s mind


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What's on her mind?

fuckyeahthespianpeacock:

saltheria:

yeffyaboyuice:

mythchief:

So there I was, ready to take a shower. I mean, I was dirty, a little greasy, a shower was not such a horrible idea. People take showers, amiright? Of course!

I get naked.

FULL naked.

REAL naked.

I’m talking the exact opposite reason why you ever went to your grandmother’s house.

No cookies. Blatant nudity.

That’s how folks take showers these days, right? Well, I pull back the curtain…

And there it was.

This…thing…sitting on the little soap/shower/pube shelf. Not a care in the world, like it’s been there for years. “What the fuck is that?” I think to myself.

Now, what follows is the exact pattern of thought that took me from rational human being to Sloth in 3.4 seconds.

“Is that a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit? Holy fuck that’s a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit. OMG why would someone leave that unattended. Those things are so delicious. I’m gonna eat the fuck out of it. Man, I can’t wait to see whoever left it’s face when they come back to find that someone ate their cheesy biscuit’s fuck. Ohhh boy.”

Then my brain sent a message to my arm that said, “Reach for that cheesy biscuit, bitch. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!?”

As you must already know, we are all contractually bound to make a dickload of mistakes throughout our lifetime. Some of those mistakes are so big that they forever hinder our world and warrant entire chapters in our children’s history books. However, most mistakes have the dubious providence of merely haunting one’s soul and festering amidst the subconscious for always and eternity.

This was, nearly, one of those.

If my adjacency to failure could be measured, the only possible unit of measurement to appropriate it would be “baby condoms”. And no, I do not mean those horrendous papoose-like titty-cribs that the slovenly carriage their spawn around in in Wal-Mart, I mean condoms that a baby would wear.

My adjacency to failure was roughly 1 and a half Kiddie Trojans.

I’m not sure what stopped me, be it cosmic or supernatural, but it gave my brain just enough time to ask itself some rather important questions regarding this little tub treasure. Questions like:

“WHO, THE FUCK, WOULD LEAVE A CHEESY BISCUIT IN MY SHOWER?!”

And inquiries such as:

“AND WHY WERE YOU GOING TO EAT IT, MORON?!”

Seriously, was I so hungry that I would wantonly disobey all the integral conditioning and survival imprinting my parents bestowed upon me like the ever important, “Um, don’t eat that biscuit, you don’t know where it’s been or whose it is and also you found it in the shower.” in order to satisfy something so benign as a munchie?

That, I’m sorry to say, was pretty much my reality.

An early morning introspective psychological evaluation of a sad, hungry, naked man who almost ate a bar of soap.

OMG ITS BACK

This shit needs to be published.

This is going in the monologue section and I’m not even sorry.

(via hueva-york)

Racist Reactions To My Language On Twitter (And What It Really Means...)

  • Me: "*speaks Jamaican Patwah/Patois*"
  • Racist: "This is America, speak English! No other languages are ever spoken here, and this country founded on genocide/settler colonialism and anti-Blackness/slavery should only involve the languages that I choose to hear, though I encroached your personal space and interrupted your conversation in a dialect that you were not speaking to me in."
  • Me: "*speaks African American Vernacular English*"
  • Racist: "This is America and I don't care if AAVE is actually a language with a structure, discussed by linguists everywhere, and if it is one we will later be appropriative for marketing purposes while continuing to profit from economic violence on Black people. I don't like how AAVE sounds right now and I don't want to hear it, even though I encroached your personal space and interrupted your conversation in a language that you were not speaking to me in."
  • Me: "*speaks Standard American English*"
  • Racist: "What, so you think you're smarter than me, why are you trying to be White? Gonna take my job? Well, you misspelled a word on Twitter, so I am still smarter. Why did you use some big words? They're stupid. I am going to ignore the context and topic of your conversation and mask my insecurity--over never realizing that the lies I was fed about my automatic intellectual superiority are in fact lies--by making jokes about word length versus leaving you alone/not invading your space or actually addressing the topic the words were about."
  • Me: *uses terms attributable to womanist/Black feminist scholarship, critical race theory or other anti-oppression theories/praxes*
  • Racist: "I haven't approved use of these words, so I will call them stupid. It...well...doesn't matter to me that a key facet of White supremacy--with a very long history and reality no less--is degrading the intelligence of a Black woman, or committing epistemic violence, by purposely altering/attacking the language used to describe oppression in order to engage in an ahistorical analysis that supports oppression. I don't like that you can describe my violence with acute accuracy, so I will use violence to critique that perspective. You're a pseudo-intellectual if I don't understand what you are saying, don't want my privilege or violence critiqued with an accuracy that Black thinkers have had for centuries nor want to acknowledge that I am purposely kept ignorant of Black radical scholarship because of White supremacy."