Random woman in Walmart (to me): “Nice body! Nice body!”

Made. My. Night. She’s proof of something that I’ve always believed: that it’s always a good time to tell somebody something nice.

So cute I could barf.

So cute I could barf.

(Source: toostrongtobewith, via withyou-imbreathless)

You Ever Just Feel Chatty, and The Only Way to Get It Out is By Writing? This is That Blog Post.

Did I ever tell you my parents were high school sweethearts? I’d always known they went to high school together and that their families had been friends, but I’d never put the pieces together. 

Once, while I was at my grandmother’s house looking at old yearbooks, I asked my dad about an inscription in one of the books. “Yeah, I remember your mom following me around the hallways.” Immediately my mom cut in with, “I remember it differently. I remember your father trying to kiss me in the stairwell…” 

And for a moment, they weren’t Mom and Dad. They weren’t the hard-working, Conservative-leaning parents I’d always seen. They were High School Sweethearts. They were of that rare breed that, the moment they met, they knew. Their marriage has endured multiple overseas deployments, multiple miscarriages, and me. Dear God, me.  

And yet, through it all, they’ve never wavered. That’s one of the reasons the arguments against marriage equality bother me so much. One of the leading arguments is “…it’ll make a mockery of the institution of marriage.” And that bothers me. Far from making a mockery of it, I want to honor it. I want to enrich the institution of marriage by adding my experiences to the tapestry of monogamy. 

My parents created for me a template of marriage. For me, their marriage is what (any) marriage is about. It’s about mutual respect and admiration. It’s about finding your other half.

I believe in love. With a capital L. And as long as their are enough others like me in this world, then Love will win. It’s already happening across the country and around the world. Love is winning. 

Just a thought…

When people get nostalgic about the “good old days” I always think “…you mean the days when blacks, gays, and women couldn’t do anything? Yeah I’m good.”

When I was in the Navy, we used to refer to ears like this as “blow job handles.”

When I was in the Navy, we used to refer to ears like this as “blow job handles.”


Does “faking emotions” count as a job skill? Because I think it should.

I feel like this needs to be reblogged….


Today, a coworker told me that my please’s and thank you’s sound more like fuck you’s and suck it’s.

I’m okay with that.



i wonder how many people i’m in the “i’d be down if you asked” zone with

I always wonder this…

(via saxophonesquatsandsalsa)

Yasss Big Sexy! Yasss…

(Source: tastyblkman, via phatbrothasblog)


Uggh i was peer pressured into doing the 6 selfies thing by Haroun so here are my best selfies.

You see the last one i got the haute couture on. Fuck wit me. Imma classy bitch

Done. With. You.