dragonlady7

Jun. 14th, 2016

via http://ift.tt/1VWcWoL:galadhir replied to your photo “Refatshion outfit of the say– men’s T-shirt with shoulders altered,…”

penguin with a jet pack! awesome!

Dude bought me that t-shirt in like. 2003? and I seldom wore it because it was a men’s shirt. But I figured, heck. Now’s the time.

It was greatly admired by the small children I spent today with. :)

via http://ift.tt/1U6C5Z6:
eartheld:

eartheld:

i honestly cannot wrap my head around the fact people buy a single article of clothing for four figures. honestly even over like, two hundred dollars. like what the fuck. like, a car payment but a shirt. twenty houses worth of rent for one dress. a years worth of groceries for a like a hundred families for a necklace. i’m speechless what the heck

like i love the TREAT YO SELF sentiment. luv feeling good. splurging on ya self. indulging ya materialism. i get it n support it
but like, kyle jenners shoe closet is literally like, college tuition for an entire graduating class. oscar outfits are the equivalent of time and resources and energy and publicity that could deadass build towns! what the HECK!! can you believe this is real ugh

It’s at least in part because our notion of how much clothing should cost is severely distorted by the fact that basically all clothing for sale in the Western world is made in sweatshops by exploited or enslaved workers.
Like, I get your point about extravagant luxury– I for one don’t get how there can be cars that cost hundreds of thousands of dollars– but this post so incredibly specifically is about clothing?
Clothing is heavily devalued. Your $10 t-shirt was made by slaves. That’s why.
If you knew how much labor went into spinning, weaving, and sewing, even with machines, and then imagined those laborers being paid a craftsman’s wage, which in the case of couture garments they often are, then it is not at all difficult to envision a two hundred dollar shirt, a thousand-dollar anything. Most of those incredibly high numbers are ballgowns with hand-applied details, and because it is couture those details were not applied in a sweatshop, and so they actually paid those laborers.
It’s not hard to imagine at all.
And it’s also not hard to understand why of all luxury goods to be appalled by, the OP and everyone who has reblogged this so specifically stuck on clothes– because that’s a “women’s” thing, both the making and the wearing, and both of those things are also traditionally devalued.

via http://ift.tt/1YpdWCD:
I’m kind of giving up on keeping up with Tumblr for a little bit. Yesterday I worked the morning at my job, trying frantically to get caught up on everything I could, and then met my older sister at the airport, where she’d flown in from Georgia with her 3 kids– two boys, 8 and 6, and a 4-year-old girl. The 8-yo told me, “Atlanta is the biggest airport in the world!” and I immediately looked it up on my phone and confirmed it, and now I wonder if that was obnoxious of me, but I was curious. Anyway! (For the curious, London has the largest airport *system*, but of its six airports, Heathrow is third in line. So if you took those six as one it would be different, but if we were combining airports all the stats would be muddied. If you wondered, though, Beijing is second. And this is only passenger traffic.)

We ran around all afternoon; my mother-not-in-law is hosting them, since she has a large house that a small boy used to live in (my dude, who left some sweet Legos behind), and another small boy lives in during most summers (dude’s nephew is 8 and usually comes for the month of July, but this year he cannot, so the house is sad and empty). This is ideal, since my house is tiny and cluttered and also less than a quarter of a mile away.

(We stopped by my house briefly, enough for the kids to find the cat [poor Chita and my harp [which probably still has all its strings?], and my sister delightedly recognized the settings of ten years’ worth of social media posts. Prior to her kids being born, she was deployed overseas, so there’s really been no easy time for her to make it up here for a visit.)

Today we’re going to go see Niagara Falls, and tomorrow we’ll be exploring various playgrounds and the Canalside district of Buffalo, and then they’re heading east to the farmstead, I’m trying to eke out two days of work, and then we’re following and I’ll be working on the farm and family-partying. BUT I think I’ve caught up on the necessary two chapters of writing, so I’ll be able to post them– as I suspected, I just had to be able to focus and settle down, and the things I was worried about banged themselves into shape.

Chapter 5 has the excerpt I posted about maybe having to cut months ago, so I’m quite pleased to finally get to use it:

“I can fly anything,” Dameron said, looking around the interior of the ship, “but that’s the kind of thing a man says to himself about cool shit, and never really examines when it comes to the actual hunks of junk that apparently still operate in this galaxy.”

“Don’t think I’m not still jealous that you got to fly a TIE fighter,” Rey said.

“Straight into the ground,” Dameron said, giving her a jaunty finger-gun gesture, “and don’t you forget it.”

Ha ha. Also I self-indulgently let Poe and Rey banter for way too long so it’s a long chapter, but I have few joys in life so let me have this.

In other news, though, I have to share my mother’s latest Facebook observation. Farm Baby (I gotta keep all my niblings straight– ok, there’s three Georgia Kids, two boys and the girl, and then Farm Baby is the other sister’s kid and she’s two and a half) insisted on Grandma and Grandpa sitting with her at her little table out on the patio. She pulled up a chair, looked solemnly around at them, and said, “We have to talk about our responsibilities.” As they stared at her, dumbfounded, she finally cracked a smile and added, “Just kidding!”

This kid is two, what the heck.

via http://ift.tt/1sE6oje:
bomberqueen17:

also I really can’t handle it when I explain why I’m so frazzled and someone says, “Well, I’m even busier than you!” You know what, buddy, you’re probably a lot more mentally competent than me too, so you know what else, you can fuck right off. There’s no Valedictorian of Overcommittedness. It’s relative to your abilities. I’m overextended for my abilities so back the fuck off because guess what? It makes me grumpy, and when I get grumpy, I get violent, and just tell me one thing, punk, do you feel lucky? Well, do ya?