My book has a full cover! And it’s available in print! Can’t wait to touch it all over! http://forbidden-fiction.com/library/story/AC2-1.000068
It happened. It’s real. It’s available in pdf, mobi, and epub for now, and will be available in print version at some point in the future.
Click here to check it out!: Inherent Gifts
Anytime I consider that I might have to be homeless to stay in LA…
Ke$ha.
Anytime someone doesn’t like the things I make…
Ke$ha.
Anytime someone gives me crap for drinking…
Ke$ha.
Anytime someone says ~srs relationships automatically > having fun with friends…
Ke$ha.
Anytime someone says I need to grow up and start taking life more seriously…
Ke$ha.
Anytime—
No. Just….Ke$ha.
WHATEVS, BRO. KE$HA 4 LIFE!!!
I will reblog the SHIT out of some Ke$ha love.
FREE DIGITAL CONTENT (and tits!) FOR ALL!
Photo by Tommy Kearns for Under The Radar magazine’s Protest Issue.
Under The Radar magazine’s Protest Auction begins today auctioning off all of the autographed protest signs created by musicians for The Protest Issue of the magazine. All profits made from the auctions will go to the War Child charity and includes an auction of a hand made and autographed sign Amanda made for the issue featured in the photos above.
Click HERE for more information on Under The Radar’s The Protest Auction.
And CLICK HERE to directly bid on Amanda Palmer’s protest sign.look! tits.
“please fix your shirt, i can see your bra strap”
because it’s a big fucking secret rite
secret boobs
secret bra
secrets
(Source: cortnan)
I’m about to do something that is probably a terrible idea. I’m about to talk about STIs. I’m not a doctor. I am familiar with how things said on the internet are quoted out of context or read without full comprehension. I feel like these things need to be said anyway.
The way that I see it,…
I want to be an author when I grow up. Am I insane?Yes. Growing up is highly overrated.
Just be an author.
(via amandapalmer)
i won’t link to the full review of our show the other night, or even name the publication (if you care, google), because i don’t want to give the writer the satsifaction of the hits. but can i talk for a moment about how incredibly much this pisses me off? thanks, i will. the review begins:
…
![sexquestionsfromseventhgraders:
?
I still remember grabbing this card. It belonged to A., one of my very favorite kids of all-time.
A. worked as hard for me as any student I’ve ever had in class, but it was for naught. He could retain main concepts and ideas, but he had a learning disability that turned his brain to bubble gum anytime his eyes wanted to read or hands wanted to write.
When the school had its Parent Night, A. showed up wearing a tie, escorting a thin, older woman around. He walked up and said, “Sir, it is my pleasure to introduce you to my mother, [M.].” He made it easy to like him. After a while, I openly rooted for his successes and secretly mourned his failures.
I found a model car one day in a storage room on campus and gave it to A. to work on (he was always pretending to read car magazines in the library). There were 100 pieces to that thing. It was a mess. He brought it to class the next day and said, “Look, I finished it.” I couldn’t believe it. “I like putting stuff together,” he said. I smiled and shook his hand and he smiled and turned and walked away. It remains one of the most substantial moments of my teaching career.
When I pulled this card out I looked at it and immediately knew it was A.’s. I looked up and his eyes —everyone’s eyes— were on me, the class waiting to stifle their giggles at whatever it was I about to read. I tried desperately to decipher it. I couldn’t. “What does it say?,” asked one of the kids. “I’m not certain,” I replied. The cards were always done anonymously, but A. seemed to know it was his. He slouched in his chair just a tiny bit. And I hated the entire world for that moment.
This is so sad! I think it says “which of the private part gets the most - girl or boy.”](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m7jeyrckRv1qiugneo1_400.jpg)
sexquestionsfromseventhgraders:
?
I still remember grabbing this card. It belonged to A., one of my very favorite kids of all-time.
A. worked as hard for me as any student I’ve ever had in class, but it was for naught. He could retain main concepts and ideas, but he had a learning disability that turned his brain to bubble gum anytime his eyes wanted to read or hands wanted to write.
When the school had its Parent Night, A. showed up wearing a tie, escorting a thin, older woman around. He walked up and said, “Sir, it is my pleasure to introduce you to my mother, [M.].” He made it easy to like him. After a while, I openly rooted for his successes and secretly mourned his failures.
I found a model car one day in a storage room on campus and gave it to A. to work on (he was always pretending to read car magazines in the library). There were 100 pieces to that thing. It was a mess. He brought it to class the next day and said, “Look, I finished it.” I couldn’t believe it. “I like putting stuff together,” he said. I smiled and shook his hand and he smiled and turned and walked away. It remains one of the most substantial moments of my teaching career.
When I pulled this card out I looked at it and immediately knew it was A.’s. I looked up and his eyes —everyone’s eyes— were on me, the class waiting to stifle their giggles at whatever it was I about to read. I tried desperately to decipher it. I couldn’t. “What does it say?,” asked one of the kids. “I’m not certain,” I replied. The cards were always done anonymously, but A. seemed to know it was his. He slouched in his chair just a tiny bit. And I hated the entire world for that moment.
This is so sad! I think it says “which of the private part gets the most - girl or boy.”
