“Yeah, you do know me.”

(via yesknopemaybe)

throughthewildblue:

You cannot buy electronics with food stamps. You cannot buy cigarettes with food stamps. You cannot buy pet food with food stamps. You cannot withdraw money with an EBT card (food stamps).

Do you know what else you can’t buy with food stamps? Shampoo, soap, laundry detergent, toilet paper, paper towels, tissues, tinfoil, plastic sandwich bags, toothpaste, cleaning products, tampons, pads, over the counter medications (such as Tylenol, Ibuprofen, etc.), and anything else you can think of that you cannot physically ingest for nutritional purposes.

Do you know what you can buy with food stamps? Food.

Do you know what it’s like to scrounge for change to buy non-edible necessities, use a credit card and EBT card (food stamps) during the same transaction, and then have the person in line behind you judge you for buying the ingredients to make a birthday cake?

People who disseminate false information about food stamps have never had to use food stamps.

(via petpluto)

popculturebrain:

New Trailer: ‘Orange Is the New Black' Season 2 - June 6

*grabby hands*

But what made the [How I Met Your Mother] pilot pop, what made it seem smart and nuanced and surprisingly philosophical, was the closing moment when a “cute guy meets cute girl” story concluded with the narrator, the man telling the story of How He Met Your Mother, saying that this cute girl was not the mother. This was how he met “Aunt Robin.” He’d get to the mother later.

This was a move legitimately subversive of a rule that television knows all too well: The answer to “will they or won’t they?” is always “they will,” and that’s why we’re all here. Knowing that Ted did not wind up with Robin, but wound up with someone else — but still remained close enough to Robin that his kids addressed her as “Aunt Robin” — said something different. It said, “You know what? They won’t. But don’t leave yet.” It said that there is value in stories about things that don’t work out, and value in romances that end. Everyone matters, everything is important, everything fits together and makes a whole life.

The series finale revealed that to the degree this is what the show seemed to be saying, the joke was on you. It was a nine-year-long con (as James Poniewozik put it) that fooled you into thinking it wasn’t running on an engine of total cliche when — psych! — it totally was. Because it turned out that of course Ted wasn’t really saying everything matters, that your whole life is important, that you can still love people even if you don’t end up with them, that the good pieces and the bad pieces and the ups and the downs were all part of the story of how you wound up in the right place.

No, he was telling this whole story because he was in denial, and he spoke about the sad and happy moments of his life for nine seasons so that his teenage children could tell him to get over their dead mother and go after their aunt. (As the teenage children of widowed parents always do in this blithe, go-get-‘em-tiger kind of way, in Bizarro World.)

And so he did. He went and gave himself to Robin, whom he’d loved all along. She doesn’t matter because they’d loved each other and that always means something; she matters because he’s still in love with her and now they can kiss. She never wanted kids, but apparently she now wants to be a stepparent to Ted’s kids, something something mumble mumble what was this character about again?

So it was all a trick — they will after all! The end.

That’s not to even mention the other things that went wrong in the finale: The marriage of Robin and Barney, which the show spent its entire final season on, was dismissed with a sort of hand-wave of “she traveled a lot and it didn’t work out” so that Robin would be free for Ted’s destiny to be fulfilled later. The embrace of Barney as a selfish jerk seemed to be the part of its original DNA to which the show would remain true, but then — psych! — he had a baby with a woman he barely knew and we never saw, and it made him nice and domesticated. Neil Patrick Harris played the heck out of the scene where Barney falls in love with the baby, but it still didn’t make any kind of sense, nor did it resonate with anything else that had happened in the show up to that point.

Perhaps worst of all, the fine work of Cristin Milioti as the mother across the final season was wasted as it turned out she was, within the show’s structure, merely a piece of the great love story of Ted and Robin, and died of Unspecified Sad Hospital-Bed-itis so that their romantic balcony scene could happen.

"It’s the journey and not the destination" is usually the right way to look at series finales, a disturbing number of which don’t stick the landing. The problem with this one in particular is that the relationship between the journey and the destination was the show’s animating principle. That Ted was on a journey that was not about Robin was the first interesting thing the show ever said.

Linda Holmes, “Oh, ‘Mother’: An Awful End To A Long Love Story” (via lesserjoke)

The last paragraph is perfection. It’s sad that I like HIMYM-meta much more than I do the actual ending.

(via andthenisay)

lulabo:

I love Arrow and I love Oliver Queen, but I long for the day when Hero Dude intones, “Horrible Thing is my fault” and someone just rolls her eyes and is like “GOD NOT EVERYTHING IS ABOUT YOU” and then deconstructs how Horrible Thing is the result of a long string of coincidences that have nothing to do with Hero Dude, except maybe for how his cultural position is supported by systemic institutional oppression.

And then she like blows a raspberry and moonwalks out of the room.

The “Everybody is done with everybody” Wedding

(via ridiculousdelight)

Alicia Florrick + being real tired of your shit.

(via yesknopemaybe)

Mainstream media tends to hyper-sexualize gay relationships. Hence, many OUAT fans argue that you can’t have a gay couple on a family show about fairy-tales (often in very misspelled social media posts). But um, nope, that’s just not true. When viewers say they want to see Swan Queen, it’s not a request for the show to become sexually explicit, to be Once Upon a Time in My Pants, it’s asking the show and the show’s audience to recognize that all those idealized elements of true love—authentic connection, sacrifice, and loyalty—also happen in LGBT relationships. LGBT romances deserve an idealized, flowers and hearts, aspirational depiction that parents and kids can watch together and sigh and say “Awww!” the way they do currently with hetero ones.

http://www.tv.com/m/shows/once-upon-a-time-2011/community/post/once-upon-a-time-swan-queen-138316970768/

To me, this is the most important paragraph in this article. 

(via lzclotho)

I feel like this is also true of rizzles too

(via gayzzoli-and-is-les)

I don’t think Emma/Regina makes sense as a narrative choice, but Once does unfortunately limit its use of adaptation to elaborating and changing character’s personalities and histories rather than their race, sexuality, etc.  (*obligatory huge sigh about Mulan and Aurora*)

(via alltheladiesyouhate)