Where were my women who were forced to learn that with great power comes great responsibility? Where were my awkward school girls who were just trying to graduate high school when they found they didn’t need their glasses anymore, but could lift a school bus one-handed? Where were the funny best buddies? It’s not as though we can all be Lara Croft. Yet for a long time, she was all we had: if you were a woman, you had your place, on one end of the spectrum or the other. Why, I still ask every single time the movie is on TV, is it Kick-Ass and not Hit Girl?
Then the recent Marvel films arrived. Pepper Potts came along in her business-wear and skyscraper Louboutins and was unstoppable in her rise to CEO of Stark Industries. Black Widow slunk onto the scene and showed us that we don’t need to choose between sexy and dangerous. Jane Foster, the astrophysicist genius, still blushed when confronted with Thor’s overwhelming good looks, just the way the rest of us would, while Darcy Lewis was as concerned about her iPod as she was about the faceless government organisation behind its theft.
Maria Hill reached the very top of the male-dominated SHIELD organisation, Sif is a fully-fledged goddess of war, and Peggy Carter was a sharp-shooting, red lipstick-wearing female officer at the frontline of WW2. These aren’t the cardboard cut-out women of action movies gone by. They’re more than the girlfriends or relatives or unobtainable dream girls, more than pawns for a hero’s man-pain. They’re definitely more than a gorgeous yet robot-like tomb raider with a penchant for dressing in clothes that are so often inappropriate for the weather.
They’re you, me. The boss you want to be someday, the academic your friend aspires to. The student who just wants to listen to music and have fun. The women who can do battle, run Fortune 500 companies, wield tasers and drive questionably. Girls who can show fear but fight against the bad guys anyway, who flirt just for fun. The brainwashed Russian superspy assassin. (OK, so maybe not that last one. Then again, we do all have that one friend we wonder about.)
—Marvel’s women are so much more than just eye candy

(via peggyleads)
(Source: infinitypeggys, via clockwork-mockingbird)
Where were my women who were forced to learn that with great power comes great responsibility? Where were my awkward school girls who were just trying to graduate high school when they found they didn’t need their glasses anymore, but could lift a school bus one-handed? Where were the funny best buddies? It’s not as though we can all be Lara Croft. Yet for a long time, she was all we had: if you were a woman, you had your place, on one end of the spectrum or the other. Why, I still ask every single time the movie is on TV, is it Kick-Ass and not Hit Girl?
Then the recent Marvel films arrived. Pepper Potts came along in her business-wear and skyscraper Louboutins and was unstoppable in her rise to CEO of Stark Industries. Black Widow slunk onto the scene and showed us that we don’t need to choose between sexy and dangerous. Jane Foster, the astrophysicist genius, still blushed when confronted with Thor’s overwhelming good looks, just the way the rest of us would, while Darcy Lewis was as concerned about her iPod as she was about the faceless government organisation behind its theft.
Maria Hill reached the very top of the male-dominated SHIELD organisation, Sif is a fully-fledged goddess of war, and Peggy Carter was a sharp-shooting, red lipstick-wearing female officer at the frontline of WW2. These aren’t the cardboard cut-out women of action movies gone by. They’re more than the girlfriends or relatives or unobtainable dream girls, more than pawns for a hero’s man-pain. They’re definitely more than a gorgeous yet robot-like tomb raider with a penchant for dressing in clothes that are so often inappropriate for the weather.
They’re you, me. The boss you want to be someday, the academic your friend aspires to. The student who just wants to listen to music and have fun. The women who can do battle, run Fortune 500 companies, wield tasers and drive questionably. Girls who can show fear but fight against the bad guys anyway, who flirt just for fun. The brainwashed Russian superspy assassin. (OK, so maybe not that last one. Then again, we do all have that one friend we wonder about.)
—Marvel’s women are so much more than just eye candy

(via peggyleads)
(Source: infinitypeggys, via clockwork-mockingbird)
the tipped minimum wage is one of the most vile things in American labor tbh
Yooo this is a feminist issue: service industry workers are overwhelmingly minorities, women, and in fact, minority women (who I am sure are already aware of this dynamic).
Holy shit that sort of minimum wage is vile and disgusting.
That is also why NOT tipping your servers 15-20% in America is considered not just cheap, but incredibly unkind. And 15-20% is the BARE MINIMUM. Tipping less is justified if the server’s, like, super incompetent and totally unapologetic about it, or incredibly, impossibly, unarguably rude or something. That should happen to you, like, maybe twice in your life, unless you’ve got shit luck. Tip your FUCKING SERVERS.
Yup…been going through this shit for two years
I literally did not know this until just now.This is why when someone wants to make some sort of bullshit political statement by not tipping their wait staff, I call bullshit. THEY ARE JUST AS IF NOT POORER THAN WE ARE, SO TIP THEM.
Yeah and people are like “But the food will cost more blah blah” well then your ass needs to sit at home. It won’t cost more for me because I already fucking tip.
If you have math anxiety (or are just terrible at percentages) and figuring out how much to tip is a problem for you, there are good smartphone apps designed for tips and bill-splitting - I have Tip N Split Tip Calculator, which you can find on the Chrome Android apps site (not sure about an iOS version but surely).
Another way to figure out your tip: take the ones column out of the cents and move the decimal left by one. What you’re left with is ten percent. Double it for your minimum tip.
Also, I promise you, if you tell your waitress you need to figure out what thirty percent is because she did a wonderful job, she will be happy to lend you a pen.
If you can’t afford to tip, don’t go out. In 2002 my mom brought home a $64 for two weeks’ work once.
She’d worked something like 70 hours.
Tip your fucking waitstaff.
(Source: moreleftthannot, via cthulhu-with-a-fez)
4:59 pm: it’s light outside, the sun is just barely setting. you could probably walk to the store and back before it gets too dark. children are playing. it’s kind of nice.
5:00 pm: the sun is gone. it’s been swallowed whole by the embodiment of darkness. death reigns supreme. children are crying. you can’t see your hands in front of your face. this is the end.
(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)
[video]
Straighten your back and stretch your arms over your head. Take a deep breath. Now cough a few times to rattle things around in your chest. Don’t wear it for more than eight hours if you can help it. Binder safety is very important! Alright, now go ahead and pass this on for someone else who might need it. Thank you!
(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)
[video]
[video]
THIS JUST IN: I CANNOT RECOGNIZE CHRIS PRATT WITHOUT HIS FACIAL HAIR AND IM SCARED
CHRIS PRATT?????????????
(via bleedingwillow96)