-Got a free salted caramel frappacino from the suspectedly gay barista, Parker
-Sold a bra to the mom of a sixteen year old girl who was cringing the entire time
-Had a very engaging conversation with a three year old boy about colors. We both like blue.
-Served an old woman who I thought had an impressive mustache, but it was just nose hair
-Watched her and two other women with her get trapped between two sets of automatic doors because they did not understand how to open them. How they got through the first set, I still do not know.
-Sold fifteen gallons of kitty litter to a soccer mom who refused to break eye contact
-Got a second free starbucks drink. This one was a pumpkin pie one that wasn’t even on the menu. I like this barista man.
-Gave dozens of children stickers. Several of them squealed when they got them. This is the best part of my job.
-Sold an old man $200 of furniture and got him to sign up for a Target credit card. Before he finished the last step, he turned and walked away with his cart without a word.
-He still hadn’t paid. I called him back and he apologized, saying “sorry, sometimes my diabetes makes me do that.” He didn’t finish getting the card.
-A woman came up with $220 of items. After a wad of coupons and a stack of free gift cards from other promotions, her total went down to $55. I want her to teach me.
-Saw a girl skipping down the aisle in what can only be described as a pink princess fairy wedding dress. She was filled with happiness and if I hadn’t been on the clock I would have taken her. At the very least, I want that outfit for my own.
-Got approached by a large man named Jason. He told me not to steal. I will take this advice to heart.
-Met a woman referred to only as The Cat Lady. She asked if I wanted her to buy me a keychain from Ross. I told her I had no keys. She nodded solemnly and walked away, whispering their exact location inside Ross, just in case.
-Got called into the HR Head’s office at the end of my shift. I was expecting to be yelled at for some reason. She and another lead showered me in compliments for ten minutes straight, saying a lot of managers had been saying great things about me all day. Not what I expected, but I’ll take it.
Drag queen, artist and chameleon extraordinaire Phi Phi O'Hara is chronicling her #365DaysOfDrag project on Instagram. As part of the year-long project, O'Hara limited her subject matter for a time to iconic cartoon characters of the ‘90s — and they are amazing.
Bad News: Our boss locked the keys inside the building.
Good News: We didn’t have to wait around for a locksmith.
Bad News: My boss finds it very concerning that I know how to pick locks, and tried to unlock my Tragic Backstory™. I was too embarrassed to admit that the reason I learned was because, at thirteen, I figured that was the kind of skill that would impress cute girls.
Good News: A cute girl saw me do it.
Bad News: It was Maggie, and since she’s already seen me fall out of several trees, cry because I saw a fawn that was just too damn small, and knows I can ride a unicycle, she’ll never think I’m cool no matter what I do. It’s too late. She knows.
I don’t believe that recovery
ever ends.
But I believe there comes a point
when you no longer
need it to define you.
When you stop needing the reminder
that you used to be something else.
Unfinished Poem [22. Feb. 16] - EJ Ring (via eventuallee)
and here’s a reproduction of the statue with the colors restored
i honestly think that what we consider the height of sculpture in all of Western civilization being essentially the leftover templates of gaudy pieces of theme park shit to be evidence of the potential merit of found art
“I tried coloring it and then I ruined it”
And you know what the funniest part is? The paint didn’t just wear off over time. A bunch of asshole British historians back in the Victorian era actually went around scrubbing the remaining paint off of Greek and Roman statues - often destroying the fine details of the carving in the process - because the bright colours didn’t fit the dignified image they wished to present of the the cultures they claimed to be heirs to. This process also removed visible evidence of the fact that at least some of the statues thus stripped of paint had originally depicted non-white individuals.
Whenever you look at a Roman statue with a bare marble face, you’re looking at the face of imperialist historical revisionism.
(The missing noses on a lot of Egyptian statues are a similar deal. It’s not that the ancient Egyptians made statues with strangely fragile noses. Many Victorian archaeologists had a habit of chipping the noses off of the statues they brought back, then claiming that they’d found them that way - because with the noses intact, it was too obvious that the statues were meant to depict individuals of black African descent.)
Sorry, I keep reblogging this over and over, the last comment is unbelievable. Wow.
Meow, I have a love-hate relationship with people, I'm a recovering self-harmer being medicated for depression. I love people who send me messages! I'm always here to talk.
