thicc thighs

oh this is so good, from bloop:

Ever since Beyonce dropped the video for “Rocket,” I’ve been trying to find some lingerie that makes me feel exactly like that song sounds. Yawl. THIS IS IT. It’s a high-cut bodysuit that perfectly accentuates thicc thighs and makes your peach look extra juicy. Put it on your list or just buy it for your damn self. This one is fire, also, and so is this one. Everyone should basically only rock bodysuits from here on out.

simple delight

changing siri’s voice to australian

invention

guys i just had an invention! for offices. why don’t they invent chairs where there are straps so you sit in the chair, put on the straps, and you’re forced into good posture? no rounding backs etc. or maybe it’s some kind of attachment for the chair, because who wants a chair with a strap attachment (“oh this is just my cage chair”).

also a bonus is you are literally strapped into the chair.

does this exist? why not? “freedom”?

also this seems like a good structure for a day, in the transparent writing room, i’m going to try it today:

We work in 50-minute chunks and then we take 15-minute breaks, during which we’re really paying a lot of attention to each other. We don’t actually work for that many chunks per day, usually four, but they’re really intensely focused chunks.

i want to flinch

claire vaye watkins, “on pandering”:

About a year ago I had a baby, and while my life was suddenly more intense, more frightening, more beautiful, more difficult, and more profound than it had ever been, I found myself with nothing to write about.

“Nothing’s happening to me,” I bemoan to Annie. “I need to go shoot an elephant.”

Annie replies, in her late-night Lebowskian cadence, “Dude, you’re a mother. You’ve had a child. You’re struggling to make your marriage work, man. You are trying, against your nature and circumstance, to be decent. That’s your elephant!” Yet when I write some version of this down it seems quaint or worse. I thought I had enough material for a novel but when it came out it was a short story, and one that felt unserious. I tried a story in the form of a postpartum-depression questionnaire and it felt quaint. Domestic. For women. Motherhood has softened me. I have a tighter valve on what I’ll read and what I’ll watch. I don’t want to write like a man anymore. I don’t want to be praised for being “unflinching.” I want to flinch. I want to be wide open.

this is a bit delightful

(via cordjefferson)

how often will you be detecting?

back to researching metal detectors. important questions:

somehow i ended up here today

big round asses

polly’s inspiring advice to folks with small breasts:

Go watch some French films. Marvel at the gorgeous, strong faces and the sexy flat chests. There are many, many men who like small breasts and big round asses and think the rest of the herd is out of its fucking mind.

you can reach the light switch

keep thinking about this — more from gloria steinem’s fresh air interview:

STEINEM: …I realize more now that I’m past that stage, that 50 was a very difficult birthday because it was the end of the central years of life. But 60, which I was just entering when I was speaking then, was like entering, as I was saying, a new country. And that means that all the demands of gender that spread from something like 12 to something like 50 and are something of a prison sometimes are gone, and suddenly you’re free.

Here’s my comparison now. Remember when you were 9 or 10, and you were this independent, little girl climbing trees and saying, I know what I want. I know what I think and so on. That was before gender descended for most of us, as Carol Gilligan has pointed out in her work. After 50, you’ve theoretically, according to society, had kids, raised them, so your gender role is over. Ironically, I found by 60, you’re free again. So you’re the same person you were at 9 or 10 only now you have your own apartment. You can reach the light switch.

in a world that was not built for and around them

from Rebecca Traister‘s “Why Do We Humanize White Guys Who Kill People?”:

To be sure, white men may be charged, tried and convicted; they may be regarded as brutish criminals. But they can be simultaneously understood as human beings, driven by conflicting emotions, able — even in their criminality — to have experienced loss and confusion and anger and love, emotions we do not imaginatively afford America’s poor and black, the men and women who often find their way into our news cycles simply by having the audacity to live in a world that was not built for and around them.