1. "Don’t like big dicks"

    -

    A lot of us gay men are not into big dicks (via yourbigblackguy)

    but don’t hate big dicks either!

    (via keahimakua)

    (via keahimakua)

  2. (Source: vuelie, via zeiderou)

  3. northkcguyd:

ars-hermetica:

Reblogging myself.
cubbychef:

roughtradesaint:

A year ago today I called 911 because the man I love was dying in our living room and spent the next two months fighting for his life, on a ventilator, and proving every diagnosis and doctor wrong…Right now, he is sitting on the couch, drinking a beer, laughing, and watching Eddie Izzard with Michael Rahmberg and I…every time I think that this year has been a bitch financially, stresswise, etc…I need to think about this evening and realize, it’s been a fucking great year.

Still so impossible to believe what we went through. For those who don’t know, in 2011 I was working at Hamburger Mary’s Portland because the owners had heard about me and all the amazing shit I had managed to accomplish at the Mary’s in KC from the owners of Hamburger Mary’s corporation. So they asked me to come up and see if maybe I wanted to become their executive chef and move up there. So I went and at first it was incredible, then it got ridiculous. 7am-3am shifts, not kidding at all. No place to sleep so often I crashed on the floors of employees or, fun fun fun, in an alley. I couldn’t really afford to eat and they charged employees for meals, which was a no go since I was saving every penny for an apartment, which I did eventually get and a nice one to boot! However with my diet consisting of coffee and at the time cigarettes (Thank fucking GOD I quit) and the extreme lack of sleep, my little cold turned into pneumonia.  My knee got knocked out of socket and I was too sick to work, so they shit canned me and withheld my last check. SO The Bubba found a way to afford a ticket back home to KC. I got back, happy to be with my man again because our break up destroyed us both as we’re fucking destined to be together. 
Back home in KC my pneumonia, which I still called a cold, got progressively worse and worse. No amount of OTC medicine was cutting it. Things progressed to the point that I looked like a skeleton and one morning I got up, came out to our living room and just..lay down on the floor to die. The Bubba for some reason hadn’t left yet for work, thank God, and called 911. After that I remember nothing for a few weeks, but apparently I died in the ambulance. I wasn’t cogent for a few weeks, but from what my nurses told me The Bubba never left my side, they had to encourage him to go get food and drink as well as to go home to sleep. Hell, they said that he was there for me more than some heterosexual couples were there for their spouses. I was in for a long time. Died again once but my nurse saved me and yelled at me to never die on her again. I had a tracheotomy installed in my throat, which has  left a pretty nasty visible scar, and two chest tubes on my left side, which also left huge nasty scars, to try to save my lung. It didn’t save it by the way. I had to re-learn how to walk, eat and talk.
This is me and my baby brother Justin. The first time I had seen him in ten years since leaving home and swearing to never see my family again. 
Me after getting my trach removed, I got stronger pretty quick. I’m hard to kill, hard to drug (They usually had to use 2-4 times the amount of sedation and pain killers on me) and easy to motivate. 
The doctors told me a lot of things, primarily that I should have died and they didn’t know why I didn’t. They also told me a whole list of things I would either never do again or would need help with. Walking, breathing, taking care of myself. This really really pissed me off cause I would be goddamned if I was ever a burden on my husband. So I proved them wrong. I walked despite an agony so intense I couldn’t put it into words and my vocabulary is extensive. I breathed completely on my own, which blew my respiratory doctors mind, though he was so very happy to have been proven wrong. I learned how to eat and drink in record time. Pissing me off sparks me to get shit accomplished. 
The whole time though, my poor husband stood by my side through the horror of watching me fight for my life, dying twice and being out of my mind with sickness. He comforted me through the terrors I suffered when I wasn’t cogent. Held my hands down when I was confused and tried to rip out my tracheotomy tube and chest tubes. He was proud of me when they told me all the things I’d have issues with and I said “Oh fuck a whole bag of this”. He proved that love doesn’t fit into categories. He demonstrated attributes that some would attribute to heroes. He proved what it meant to be a husband. He saved my life because it was him I refused to die for. I couldn’t tolerate the idea of this wonderful, funny, intelligent, charming, sweet and fucking sexy man being alone; and I certainly couldn’t stomach the idea of him with someone else. I’d have had to haunt their ass.
I’ve been in the hospital with pneumonia again recently, though not as bad as the first time, but I’m on track and now thanks to being destitute I get my HIV meds, which previously were too expensive to afford. Who can afford $7500.00 a month? I still tire easily despite getting stronger every day and I’m in agony pretty much single every moment of every day, I’m still on disability because my doctor is adamant that I’m not strong enough to get back in the kitchen and I know she’s right when though I fucking hate it, we’re poor and struggle to make ends meet though we manage, we always have; but I have The Bubba and that makes my life so fucking good. He’s my heart and I’m thankful for every moment we’ve had, the good, the bad, the ugly and the terrifying.
Recovering but still not perfect. I’ll be myself physically again one day. Plus the big ole hole in the neck and suture scars around it make for interesting conversation!


Amazing story, incredible love and one more reason why we (gays) should be allowed the same rights and privileges as our straight counterparts.

    northkcguyd:

    ars-hermetica:

    Reblogging myself.

    cubbychef:

    roughtradesaint:

    A year ago today I called 911 because the man I love was dying in our living room and spent the next two months fighting for his life, on a ventilator, and proving every diagnosis and doctor wrong…Right now, he is sitting on the couch, drinking a beer, laughing, and watching Eddie Izzard with Michael Rahmberg and I…every time I think that this year has been a bitch financially, stresswise, etc…I need to think about this evening and realize, it’s been a fucking great year.

    Still so impossible to believe what we went through. For those who don’t know, in 2011 I was working at Hamburger Mary’s Portland because the owners had heard about me and all the amazing shit I had managed to accomplish at the Mary’s in KC from the owners of Hamburger Mary’s corporation. So they asked me to come up and see if maybe I wanted to become their executive chef and move up there. So I went and at first it was incredible, then it got ridiculous. 7am-3am shifts, not kidding at all. No place to sleep so often I crashed on the floors of employees or, fun fun fun, in an alley. I couldn’t really afford to eat and they charged employees for meals, which was a no go since I was saving every penny for an apartment, which I did eventually get and a nice one to boot! However with my diet consisting of coffee and at the time cigarettes (Thank fucking GOD I quit) and the extreme lack of sleep, my little cold turned into pneumonia.  My knee got knocked out of socket and I was too sick to work, so they shit canned me and withheld my last check. SO The Bubba found a way to afford a ticket back home to KC. I got back, happy to be with my man again because our break up destroyed us both as we’re fucking destined to be together.

    Back home in KC my pneumonia, which I still called a cold, got progressively worse and worse. No amount of OTC medicine was cutting it. Things progressed to the point that I looked like a skeleton and one morning I got up, came out to our living room and just..lay down on the floor to die. The Bubba for some reason hadn’t left yet for work, thank God, and called 911. After that I remember nothing for a few weeks, but apparently I died in the ambulance. I wasn’t cogent for a few weeks, but from what my nurses told me The Bubba never left my side, they had to encourage him to go get food and drink as well as to go home to sleep. Hell, they said that he was there for me more than some heterosexual couples were there for their spouses. I was in for a long time. Died again once but my nurse saved me and yelled at me to never die on her again. I had a tracheotomy installed in my throat, which has  left a pretty nasty visible scar, and two chest tubes on my left side, which also left huge nasty scars, to try to save my lung. It didn’t save it by the way. I had to re-learn how to walk, eat and talk.

    This is me and my baby brother Justin. The first time I had seen him in ten years since leaving home and swearing to never see my family again. 

    Me after getting my trach removed, I got stronger pretty quick. I’m hard to kill, hard to drug (They usually had to use 2-4 times the amount of sedation and pain killers on me) and easy to motivate. 

    The doctors told me a lot of things, primarily that I should have died and they didn’t know why I didn’t. They also told me a whole list of things I would either never do again or would need help with. Walking, breathing, taking care of myself. This really really pissed me off cause I would be goddamned if I was ever a burden on my husband. So I proved them wrong. I walked despite an agony so intense I couldn’t put it into words and my vocabulary is extensive. I breathed completely on my own, which blew my respiratory doctors mind, though he was so very happy to have been proven wrong. I learned how to eat and drink in record time. Pissing me off sparks me to get shit accomplished.

    The whole time though, my poor husband stood by my side through the horror of watching me fight for my life, dying twice and being out of my mind with sickness. He comforted me through the terrors I suffered when I wasn’t cogent. Held my hands down when I was confused and tried to rip out my tracheotomy tube and chest tubes. He was proud of me when they told me all the things I’d have issues with and I said “Oh fuck a whole bag of this”. He proved that love doesn’t fit into categories. He demonstrated attributes that some would attribute to heroes. He proved what it meant to be a husband. He saved my life because it was him I refused to die for. I couldn’t tolerate the idea of this wonderful, funny, intelligent, charming, sweet and fucking sexy man being alone; and I certainly couldn’t stomach the idea of him with someone else. I’d have had to haunt their ass.

    I’ve been in the hospital with pneumonia again recently, though not as bad as the first time, but I’m on track and now thanks to being destitute I get my HIV meds, which previously were too expensive to afford. Who can afford $7500.00 a month? I still tire easily despite getting stronger every day and I’m in agony pretty much single every moment of every day, I’m still on disability because my doctor is adamant that I’m not strong enough to get back in the kitchen and I know she’s right when though I fucking hate it, we’re poor and struggle to make ends meet though we manage, we always have; but I have The Bubba and that makes my life so fucking good. He’s my heart and I’m thankful for every moment we’ve had, the good, the bad, the ugly and the terrifying.

    Recovering but still not perfect. I’ll be myself physically again one day. Plus the big ole hole in the neck and suture scars around it make for interesting conversation!

    Amazing story, incredible love and one more reason why we (gays) should be allowed the same rights and privileges as our straight counterparts.

  4. nervous-princess:

thegreenwolf:

sachimo:

abeardfullofbees:

alilnugget:

wanashou:

beatonna:

If you aren’t totally quaking in your boots at the news of millions of bees dead, yet again, you’re nuts.

this should be concerning a lot more people than it is
not only because bees are one of the most important animals in the world and their job is a lot more than gathering honey but also because they are what scientists refer to as an “indicator species”
this means that when their populations start dwindling and then rapidly dropping, humans need to watch their shit because that means that environmental factors are too difficult for THEM to live in, so it might be difficult for US to live in, too. bees basically act as an indication that humans have a lot to worry about and when they start dying like this it deserves a lot more than a few headlines.

last year my biggest worry was the steep decline in bee population and apparently thats not about to change anytime soon. people have told me to my face that they think its strange I’m so concerned for the bees. read this you selfish fucks

Get excited, motherfuckers.  Without bees, we will die off.  Bayer and Monsanto continue to produce the chemicals that have been proven to kill them, and the government has their backs.  Bees pollinate 30% of our food in the US and we are passing legislation to PROTECT the scumbags responsible for killing them.
I preach this shit to everyone who will listen and I always get “WAAAAH I HATE BEES THEY STING AND THEY ARE BIG MEANIES!” but think about your future life without kiwis, cranberries, blueberries, strawberries, blackberries, peaches, sunflowers, cotton, apples, plums, pears, mustard, celery, peppers, tomatoes, eggplant, beans, cherries, melons, turnips, canola oil, alfalfa, soybeans, lemons, oranges, and I could go on forever.
Bees are amazing creatures who are responsible for the comfortable lives we lead in this country and we cannot sustain and feed our population without them.

Alright you guys, there’s a good amount of notes on this but it’s only making us aware of the problem, not telling us what we can do to help. We can do something to help and YOU CAN HELP, YES THAT MEANS YOU. ALL YOU NEED IS DIRT, A FEW BUCKS, AND A MOMENT OF YOUR TIME TO MAKE A WORLD OF DIFFERENCE, LITERALLY. 
Plant flowers that bees like and that attract them.
Bees prefer flowers that are blue, purple, and yellow. Choose flowers that bloom successively over the spring, summer, and fall seasons such as coreopsis, Russian sage, or germander. They especially love clover! Other plants include sage, salvia, oregano, lavender, ironweed, yarrow, yellow hyssop, alfalfa, honeywort, dragonhead, echinacea, bee balm, buttercup, goldenrod and English thyme. Buy seeds online.
GET RID OF THE PESTICIDES!!
If pesticides are killing off the bees so easily, what do you think it’s doing to us? The EPA says studies have shown pesticides can cause birth defects, nerve damage, and cancer. There are other ways to get rid of pests in the garden than using chemicals. Organic Garden Pests shows you how to keep off the bugs the organic way.
Give the bees a free home!
Giving bees a “bee block” alone is a huge load off their backs! You can buy homes here or  You can even build your own. 
Please, if you have already reblogged this, reblog this is again with what I have posted onto it so you know what you can do to help. We can make a difference.
Sources and other helpful links:
5 ways to help our disappearing bees
How to “Friend” Your Native Bees
Why gardening is good for your health
Silence of the Bees

Quick mention of the Xerces Society for Invertebrate Conservation, a nonprofit group doing a LOT of good work for bees and other pollinators, among others.

signal boost

    nervous-princess:

    thegreenwolf:

    sachimo:

    abeardfullofbees:

    alilnugget:

    wanashou:

    beatonna:

    If you aren’t totally quaking in your boots at the news of millions of bees dead, yet again, you’re nuts.

    this should be concerning a lot more people than it is

    not only because bees are one of the most important animals in the world and their job is a lot more than gathering honey but also because they are what scientists refer to as an “indicator species”

    this means that when their populations start dwindling and then rapidly dropping, humans need to watch their shit because that means that environmental factors are too difficult for THEM to live in, so it might be difficult for US to live in, too. bees basically act as an indication that humans have a lot to worry about and when they start dying like this it deserves a lot more than a few headlines.

    last year my biggest worry was the steep decline in bee population and apparently thats not about to change anytime soon. people have told me to my face that they think its strange I’m so concerned for the bees. read this you selfish fucks

    Get excited, motherfuckers.  Without bees, we will die off.  Bayer and Monsanto continue to produce the chemicals that have been proven to kill them, and the government has their backs.  Bees pollinate 30% of our food in the US and we are passing legislation to PROTECT the scumbags responsible for killing them.

    I preach this shit to everyone who will listen and I always get “WAAAAH I HATE BEES THEY STING AND THEY ARE BIG MEANIES!” but think about your future life without kiwis, cranberries, blueberries, strawberries, blackberries, peaches, sunflowers, cotton, apples, plums, pears, mustard, celery, peppers, tomatoes, eggplant, beans, cherries, melons, turnips, canola oil, alfalfa, soybeans, lemons, oranges, and I could go on forever.

    Bees are amazing creatures who are responsible for the comfortable lives we lead in this country and we cannot sustain and feed our population without them.

    Alright you guys, there’s a good amount of notes on this but it’s only making us aware of the problem, not telling us what we can do to help. We can do something to help and YOU CAN HELP, YES THAT MEANS YOU. ALL YOU NEED IS DIRT, A FEW BUCKS, AND A MOMENT OF YOUR TIME TO MAKE A WORLD OF DIFFERENCE, LITERALLY. 

    Plant flowers that bees like and that attract them.

    Bees prefer flowers that are blue, purple, and yellow. Choose flowers that bloom successively over the spring, summer, and fall seasons such as coreopsis, Russian sage, or germander. They especially love clover! Other plants include sage, salvia, oregano, lavender, ironweed, yarrow, yellow hyssop, alfalfa, honeywort, dragonhead, echinacea, bee balm, buttercup, goldenrod and English thyme. Buy seeds online.

    GET RID OF THE PESTICIDES!!

    If pesticides are killing off the bees so easily, what do you think it’s doing to us? The EPA says studies have shown pesticides can cause birth defects, nerve damage, and cancer. There are other ways to get rid of pests in the garden than using chemicals. Organic Garden Pests shows you how to keep off the bugs the organic way.

    Give the bees a free home!

    Giving bees a “bee block” alone is a huge load off their backs! You can buy homes here or  You can even build your own. 

    Please, if you have already reblogged this, reblog this is again with what I have posted onto it so you know what you can do to help. We can make a difference.

    Sources and other helpful links:

    5 ways to help our disappearing bees

    How to “Friend” Your Native Bees

    Why gardening is good for your health

    Silence of the Bees

    Quick mention of the Xerces Society for Invertebrate Conservation, a nonprofit group doing a LOT of good work for bees and other pollinators, among others.

    signal boost

    (via avianawareness)

  5. missyay:

    nazerine:

    excessivecompulsive:

    nazerine:

    the anti vaccination movement basically consists of random people with no knowledge of medicine going “I can medicine better than doctors” and it would be hilarious if it wasn’t literally killing people

    you dont need vaccines, I havent had any and Im still doing great

    wow, what a compelling argument. you’ve got me

    in other news, i am still alive therefore death must be a myth

    (via lamesta-r)

  6. ultimateventist:

    charlesoberonn:

    If something is ‘old as fuck’ then it’s about 1.2 billion years old because that’s when life evolved sexual reproduction.

     

    (via lamesta-r)

  7. oatmeal:

Read more comics here.

    oatmeal:

    Read more comics here.

  8. jawnsbejawnin:

    dynastylnoire:

    vulcsmash:

    george takei is a gift to humanity

    the last one though

    George is that dude

    (via lamesta-r)

  9. chublacka:

spookymays:

#HUMAN YOU ARE HERE WOULD YOU LIKE A PILLOW

I love dogs so much.


My dog does this with random stuff too. I call it the “instrument of cuteness.”

    chublacka:

    spookymays:

    I love dogs so much.

    My dog does this with random stuff too. I call it the “instrument of cuteness.”

    (via lamesta-r)

  10. bitterassfandom:

rae-rose:

rad-and-broke:

campdracula5eva:

youbestnotmiss:

smitethepatriarchy:

viva-la-fat:

"You’re 6’4", 240-pound Marine, and you’re injured, and you need a Marine next to you to carry you back to safety, and the Marine next to you is a 5’4" woman who weighs 115 pounds,"

No problem.

in before “well most women can’t do that” because NEWS FLASH most men can’t either, that’s why it’s a highly specialized career that requires a lot of devoted training

One of my former coworkers was a very slim girl only a tad taller than me, and she was training to be a fireman, and she could lift the biggest dude on my crew like this who was around 6’5 and super bulky.One time she picked him up and ran around the crew room with him for about 5 minutes before letting him down.

Even though I haven’t exercised in over a year—if you count DDR—and I’m incredibly petite (5’0”, 100 lbs), I can carry most guys. If they’re under 200 lbs, I can run with them on my back for 5 blocks, but I can walk for a mile. Once they’re about 250, I can only walk about a block or two before my spine feels like it’s about to break. If I were in a survival situation and their life depended on it, I could go on much further, until my legs gave out.
It’s why I hate the bullshit that women are inherently weak. Nah, man. Nah.

More power to you all because I can barely lift my five year old nephew without hating myself ten minutes later….

People have done studies of the military that demonstrate that with the same training for the same length of time, both men and women can achieve the same fitness level. They can carry as much, run as far, shoot as well, you name it. The idea that women are weaker than men is a total myth, and one that that the patriarchy is desperate to make us believe. (I wish I could give you a source for this but it’s been a while since I read it)

    bitterassfandom:

    rae-rose:

    rad-and-broke:

    campdracula5eva:

    youbestnotmiss:

    smitethepatriarchy:

    viva-la-fat:

    "You’re 6’4", 240-pound Marine, and you’re injured, and you need a Marine next to you to carry you back to safety, and the Marine next to you is a 5’4" woman who weighs 115 pounds,"

    No problem.

    in before “well most women can’t do that” because NEWS FLASH most men can’t either, that’s why it’s a highly specialized career that requires a lot of devoted training

    One of my former coworkers was a very slim girl only a tad taller than me, and she was training to be a fireman, and she could lift the biggest dude on my crew like this who was around 6’5 and super bulky.One time she picked him up and ran around the crew room with him for about 5 minutes before letting him down.

    Even though I haven’t exercised in over a year—if you count DDR—and I’m incredibly petite (5’0”, 100 lbs), I can carry most guys. If they’re under 200 lbs, I can run with them on my back for 5 blocks, but I can walk for a mile. Once they’re about 250, I can only walk about a block or two before my spine feels like it’s about to break. If I were in a survival situation and their life depended on it, I could go on much further, until my legs gave out.

    It’s why I hate the bullshit that women are inherently weak. Nah, man. Nah.

    More power to you all because I can barely lift my five year old nephew without hating myself ten minutes later….

    People have done studies of the military that demonstrate that with the same training for the same length of time, both men and women can achieve the same fitness level. They can carry as much, run as far, shoot as well, you name it. The idea that women are weaker than men is a total myth, and one that that the patriarchy is desperate to make us believe. (I wish I could give you a source for this but it’s been a while since I read it)

    (via lamesta-r)

  11. soloontherocks:

    chowchowmotherfucker:

    every medicine on the market is like

    pros: you’ll stop coughing

    cons: you might die

    my favorite side effect warning is for antidepressants

    pros: you won’t want to kill yourself

    cons: you might want to kill yourself

    (via thehilariousblog)

avatar_128
My name is Kevin, I'm a 23 year old Radiologic Technologist living in the great state of Virginia. I LOVE cars and run a secondary car blog. I'm a raging homosexual, but that has little to do with my personality. I love antiquated things. If you've got questions, by all means ask.
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