I Love My Boo campaign features real young men of color loving each other passionately. Rather than sexualizing gay relationships, this campaign models caring, and highlights the importance of us taking care of each other. Featured throughout New York City, I Love My Boo directly challenges homophobia and encourages all who come across it to critically rethink our notion of love.
GMHC is the world’s first and leading provider of HIV/AIDS prevention, care and advocacy. Building on decades of dedication and expertise, we understand the reality of HIV/AIDS and empower a healthy life for all. GMHC fights to end the AIDS epidemic and uplift the lives of all affected.
this is fucking adorable
SPREAD THESE IMAGES LIKE WILDFIRE PRECISELY BECAUSE THEY FUCK UP THE MISGUIDED STEREOTYPES WE ALL ARE USED TO SEEING.
I’m still torn on whether this is the greatest thing I’ve ever done or the stupidest.
I DON’T THINK YOU UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS
no seriously this is one of the best things ever
must reblawg every time its on the dash
/hitting reblog so fast
it’s weird playing mass effect 3 because you come across all these feuds between different races of aliens that have existed for centuries and seemingly nothing can possibly get them to reconcile but then shepard steps in and it’s like
this is shockingly accurate to the entire Mass Effect trilogy.
FOR GODS SAKE HELP
These are not mine
i have made a terrible mistake
Day 57: i have been found out. My calls to base camp have not been answered. I believe i will not last long amid this puppy throng.
I think this is similar to being at a family reunion where everybody’s like ‘Look at this baby where is your baby why do you not have a baby here hold this baby’ and then they start trying to hand you babies and you’re just like NNNOOOOOOOPE.
you’ve really gotta hand it to short people
because we usually can’t reach it anyways
Last week I offered to be the “guard Hobbit” at the shop. My boss said she pictured me in Rohirrim armor and it all went downhill from there.
So… that makes me Meriadoc “Merry” Brandybuck? Because I can live with that.
THESE ARE ALL FLAWFREE
I don’t know if I have already reblogged this or not…but eh.
In a statement, the Satanic Temple said that it will use the Supreme Court’s recent Hobby Lobby decision to exempt its believers from state-mandated informed consent laws that require women considering abortions to read pro-life material.
Informed consent or “right to know” laws state that women seeking elective abortions be provided with information about alternatives to the procedure, often couched in language that attempts to personify the fetus. According to the Guttmacher Institute, 35 states currently have informed consent laws, and of those, 33 require that the woman be told the gestational age of the fetus.
In some states, that information consists of pro-life propaganda that links abortion to a higher incidence of breast and ovarian cancers, or discusses “post-abortion syndrome,” a mental condition not recognized by any major medical or psychiatric organization.
Because the Satanic Temple bases its belief “regarding personal health…on the best scientific understanding of the world, regardless of the religious or political beliefs of others,” it claims that state-mandated information with no basis in scientific fact violates its “religious” beliefs.
I have never been so overwhelmed with affection and admiration for the Satanic church in my entire life.
I’m always angry …
Today, my boss asked if a customer had purchased a particular book because it was not where it was supposed to be on the shelf, and he was gone. I walked around the downstairs, looking for the customer; not finding him, I hurried upstairs, and found it empty. I started to panic, and I told my boss “I think he’s gone.”
We both got really pale (a shoplifter hit us a few months back; we’re all still furious about it).
Trying to keep calm, I asked if the book just got misplaced, maybe shifted somewhere wrong. Boss looked, started to shake her head, and then, poof, there is book, sitting on the wrong shelf.
I flopped onto one of our step stools, just suddenly spent, like, all the effort and energy just drained out of me.
Boss said she was going to be surprised if the guy had taken the book, because “not that guy.” I agreed; he wasn’t the type to do that.
And then I admitted: I couldn’t remember his face. Or what he was wearing. Or his voice. Or anything. If something had happened, I’d’ve been useless to describe the guy, even if I’d spent a good five minutes with him in my peripheral vision.
See, this is the thing about July, as busy as it is: faces blend; people blend; I can’t tell one person from the next. It’s a scary aspect of my job, that I start to forget people almost as soon as I meet them. I can remember their books, their tastes, what they do or don’t like to read, but their faces? Names? Forget it.
Losing my temper on a daily basis in July? It happens, quietly, simmering beneath the surface, usually because someone is snappish or unkind to my coworkers or my boss or crowds a cat or another customer, and I take offense to that, like, what gives someone the right to act like that in a public place? And I try really hard not to snap or shout or snark at these people, and it’s hard to keep a lid on it.
Anger is hard to lock up. I was angry for so long at the world. Anger now? It’s draining, it’s not worth my time.
Still, though, it can creep up on me, and I remind myself: anger is fear. And fear isn’t something I can do anymore. Fear is the mind-killer. Anger is what happens when it succeeds.