do u ever wish you could be like. a greco-roman lady in a 19th century painting. just lounging all day, looking bored. probably got ur tiddies out. thats the life
every neoclassical/early romantic piece of art is the dream honestly like
hang out in this rose garden with your girlfriend while she dumps flower petals on you. nice
alternatively hang out with your whole squad of nymph gfs in some water. just you and your gal pals, and this guy i guess. letting your tiddies hang out and all that
take a nap on these pillows surrounded by beautiful ancient frescoes, what’s not to love
tiddies out, nap game on, divine boyfriend, not a care in the world. these ladies have it so good
Dressed in gorgeous flowing clothes, hair game on point, sitting on warm marble by the seaside, responding ambiguously to yet another handsome suitor’s advances
h*ck yes
I love this era so much.
Napping on outdoor furniture that somehow never gets musty, and it’s warm enough to wear a gauzy nightie.
“Elon Musk smoked weed on Joe Rogan’s Podcast and now his billion-dollar space/car corporation is utterly collapsing” is a statement I fucking WISH i could send back in time to my past self from earlier this year to let myself know it really could be worse
i hate when people ask me to “watch their stuff” like what if someone comes and actually tries to steal it. do i have to fight them. i’m not ready
I still remember the one time I was sitting in a coffee shop back when I was in college. I had my books spread out everywhere and umpteen empty mugs around me, and this woman comes in with her stroller, sits down and starts taking the baby out. After about ten minutes she looks over at me and goes “Could you watch her for a second? I really need to go to the bathroom and my husband is late.”
Expecting her to put it back in the stroller and push it toward me I said “sure”, though somewhat reluctantly as I imagine every scenario ranging from the opening sequence of Roger Rabbit to Taken managing to occur in the time it would take me to blink.
Instead she walks over, plonks this infant toddler down in the middle of my French notes, says thank you and walks off.
She was gone for forty minutes.
And that’s the story of how I tried to teach a toddler to say “my mother abandoned me here” (“ma mère m’a abandonné ici” still the only words I fucking know) in French and almost resigned myself to motherhood.
Big Mean Sweaty Dyke 