Annnnd this is done, probably, maybe.  We shall see!



2005 Smart ForFour Style “Cool & Cosy”




so my school had this thing called “senior skip day,” except that senior skip day didn’t exist and every year the administration sent out emails in the spring that were like DON’T FUCKIN SKIP CLASS OR YOU WILL RECEIVE RESTRICTION (restriction was like, my boarding school’s equivalent of detention where instead of staying after school you had to go to bed early and help stuff envelopes advertising the summer program until your hands were BLOODIED AND CRIPPLED BY CARPAL TUNNEL) and every year the seniors were like YOLO THEY CAN’T PUNISH ALL OF US!!!!!

  • spoiler alert: yes they can? THEY ALWAYS CAN.
  • 200 years of american high school and teenagers still think that there is a cap limit on kids in detention and that you can leave after 15 minutes if the teacher doesn’t show up.

anyway, my senior year, we all got together and nattered at each other until some brave soldier (i feel like it was my friend paula but WHO KNOWS) was like “OK SENIOR SKIP DAY IS THIS THURSDAY!!!! NOBODY GO TO CLASS OR UR A SCAB.”

  • she didn’t say scab because she’s not from the 1920s and we aren’t newsies, though this story would be way more interesting if we were
  • what she said was “YOLO THEY CAN’T PUNISH ALL OF US!!!!!”
  • except not yolo because it was 2009 and drake hadn’t been invented yet except as a dear sweet boy in a wheelchair.

we also used this email system to communicate with one another that has very deeply informed the way i understand email and which probably makes it very frustrating to be my friend and receive emails that have subject lines like “URGENT” and then just 42 links to the same florida georgia line youtube video.

  • I’M NOT ASHAMED, but in that way where like i kind of AM ashamed so i’m really aggressively NOT ashamed? 

so the day of reckoning rolls around and my alarm goes off at 8 (class started at 8:05 but i liked to PLAY WITH FIRE when it came to being late; my mom actually asked the school to stop emailing her when i was a sophomore because i was late so often that their rote “Mrs. Ofgeography we are emailing you to say—” was CLOGGING UP HER INBOX and she was like “i GET IT MY CHILD IS THE MOST BORING MISCREANT OF ALL TIME.”) and i looked at my roommate elle and she looked at me and went, “you going?”

"hell no," i said. "YOLO. they can’t punish all of us."

elle, who was far prettier and far cooler than i was with the notable exception of her obsession with tswift’s “love story” and her tendency to look at the endangered species list and cry sometimes during study hall, quickly bizounced across the street to this shopping center thing where all the cool kids smoked in secret where huge trucks dropped off clothes for the Dress Barn. i think there were also tennis courts nearby. more importantly there was this chinese food delivery place and a lil restaurant that made HELLA BAGELS.

  • HELLA.

off goes elle! meanwhile i’m like, “yessssss i’m gonna use senior skip day to watch 14 hours of tv shows and eat frozen peanut butter bars that i stole from the dining hall! I’M GONNA LIVE LIKE I’M 23 ALONE IN CHICAGO ON A WEEKEND WHEN MY ONLY PLAN IS TAKEOUT AND CUDDLING WITH THE FAUX-SNOW-LEOPARD BLANKET I WILL ONE DAY SURELY OWN.” 

of course, during this time the administration was continuing to send out emails that reminded us with increasing urgency that senior skip day was NOT A THING and that we were ALL GETTING RESTRICTION if we didn’t get our STUPID ASSES TO CLASS, GODDAMNIT, WE ARE NOT RUNNING A CIRCUS HERE. 

but i was like! yolo, motherfuckers!!! i already got into college, YOU CAN’T TOUCH ME.

at some point during the day elle and our friend ginna came back to the room with takeout from the chinese delivery place and we sat on our floor eating it and probably watching veronica mars or looking at the endangered species list and crying.

all of a sudden, elle said, “guys shut up, guys shut up, GUYS SHUT UP,” and ginna and i were like, “WHAT we have a LOT to SAY about FRIED FUCKING DUMPLINGS, ELLE," and elle said, "did you hear that?"

"hear what?"


'that' was the sound of one of our dorm moms, mrs. f, knocking on doors and saying things like, “IF YOU DON'T GET YOUR BUTTS TO CLASS IN 5 MINUTES YOU'RE ON CATEGORY 4 RESTRICTION FOREVER.” elle quickly scampered up our raised beds to hide in the corner, where a tiny human like elle could actually hide from view; i leapt immediately into what we called a closet but was basically a cubby with a flap that was DEFINITELY not meant for a 5'8” individual with knobby as hell knees.

our door, which was never locked because we both hated the effort of typing in the lock code, opened. mrs. f said, “mollyhall?”

i held my breath. 

  • i should add here that i seemed to be operating on like a scooby-doo level of logic where basically i thought that she was somehow NOT ALLOWED to investigate?
  • like, if she can’t see me, there is NO POSSIBLE WAY that she could prove i’m in here, right?
  • she’ll just poke her head in and be like oH GOSH NO KIDS HERE and leave!!

you can see the flaw in my logic.

mrs. f sighed. “mollyhall, i know you’re in here, i literally heard your voice ten seconds ago.”

  • there’s no WAY she guesses i’m in the closet!!!

"mollyhall, i know you’re in the closet."



there was a creak. mrs. f stopped. it wasn’t actually a “creak,” so much as this like, prolonged groan? like it’s the sound an elephant would make if it sat on a really large accordion.

i poked my head out of the closet. mrs. f looked at me. elle sat up.

i said, “where’s ginna?”


"um," said elle, "she’s in the—"


ginna yes.

i really wish i could describe the sound the ceiling made when it collapsed. it sounded a lot like the way losing your breath feels. i sort of remember ginna falling in like, really slow motion, like i could see the expression on her face. i didn’t really think about how i would describe this in words. ginna’s face said:

  • oh no.
  • what have i done?
  • this was a mistake. 
  • i regret a series of decisions that i have made.
  • is there a way out of this?
  • are those oreos under mollyhall’s pillow?
  • why are there oreos under mollyhall’s pillow?
  • mollyhall, you HAVE a food cupboard, what good is a food cupboard if you don’t—
  • oh, crap.

she belly flopped onto the floor. i mean, the girl bounced. and then she just laid there. mrs. f looked at her. elle looked at her. i looked at her, still mostly in the closet. we were all going to get category 4 restriction forever.

ginna said, “hi, mrs. f. i feel like i should explain.”


You know what gets me about “autism parents”?

At least, some of it.

I’m autistic.

Don’t you dare label me “high functioning” or “mild”.

I’m “profoundly” autistic (I’m autistic and profound. I’m as philosophical as a person can be without going full nihilist and offing themselves).

I’m as autistic as they come and I’m proud to stand with my sisters, my brothers, and with those of us who don’t care to have gender labels.

And I have worked in childcare.

I have done a shit ton of child care. I was the first ever carer for a five month old infant in high school. I have cared for kids from infancy to teenage years. In high school, I was widely sought after for my “child whispering” abilities, because I could get good behavior from “difficult” kids without undue effort on my part.

I’ve always been the “safe person” kids are able to pick out. I have a cousin/niece I met once. Within the half hour she was busy hiding on my lap when she felt shy. Because she knew I was safe.

Similar things happen with animals. Whenever I’m at a friend’s house who has a shy animal, they seek me out within the hour of meeting me. they’re all over my lap. Again, because they know I am safe. Animals and children know I will respect them and their boundaries as most adults won’t.

this is a common theme among not all, but many, many autistics. people who lack status know that we are trustworthy. they somehow understand that we don’t see the world in terms of hierarchies, and we will treat them well regardless of their “status” or “place”.

this is part of what makes it so difficult for me to swallow “autism parents” and their abusive behaviors.

Because it’s apparently sooooo difficult to parent autistic kids. Well, I’m an autistic (ooh, scary, right?) who’s had charge of a whole shock of kids. My SO and I hope to have our own in the next 2-3 years, my physical health permitting, and I have no doubt about my ability to handle them. I have no doubt that my parenting abilities will far surpass my neurotypical peers’.

In ten years of childcare, I have never once had to so much as raise my voice to a child.

Not once. Not when I was watching one kid. not when I was watching 5+ kids alone who were jazzed up on sugar and having a sleepover. Not when I was watching “difficult” kids that nobody else, parents included, could apparently handle.

I handled every kid I watched by being respectful.

By being a safe adult.

By only using my authority when it was necessary: safety reasons, or being decent to other people reasons.

I was willing to repeat myself. I was willing to explain, even if it took time and several different analogies. I was willing to be firm but kind if the situation warranted it. I was willing to listen. I was willing to compromise so long as nobody got hurt or excluded and everyone behaved safely and respectfully.

I was not willing to be mean or nasty or authoritarian. I felt this was unnecessary. As it turns out, it was. I was able to encourage and maintain good behavior in my charges without any of the kind of garbage that your average person apparently thinks is good discipline (“tough love” etc).

Because of this, a mutual respect (respect is inherently mutual) developed. the kids I watched knew I wasn’t a bossy jerk. they knew I wasn’t out to ruin their fun. they knew I understood their perspective and only interfered when necessary. When I had to be firm, they understood my reasons for doing so.

I had this kind of parenting modeled for me by the more autistic of my two parents. Logic. Reason. Explaining why we shouldn’t do something in case it had a negative effect on someone. Actively teaching a child to consider and empathize with everyone around them; teaching them about how their actions affect other people, and how it feels to be someone else in a different situation than theirs. Not interfering in happy kids having fun without cause. It worked on me. It has worked on every kid I’ve cared for.

that’s what autistic parenting looks like.

Occasionally I babysat with neurotypical friends. When we watched kids, they took charge. they threw their authority around. they said “time out because I said so”, “time out because you disagreed with me”, “time out because I feel like it and I’m in charge”. And the kids hollered, threw tantrums, acted resentful. they behaved in ways they never did with me. When they were with me, they listened. Sometimes they forgot and I had to explain it again. Sometimes they got rowdy and I had to gently get them to calm down. But it never took more than a few gentle reminders.

None of this required me to be a punitive, authoritarian asshole. All of my disciplining taught consideration for others. What I didn’t do was authority for authority’s sake, because I’m autistic and I hate power imbalances and I don’t want any part of that.

Everyone resents authoritarianism. Why should kids be any different?
Children aren’t pre-people for others to mold. Children are just people. they may need reminders and repetition, but they are reasonable beings and they can be reasoned with. treat them as such and you won’t have such a problem with discipline. treat everyone as such, it will simplify your life immensely.

What is so wrong with the neurotypical parents of autistic children that they do not understand this? Where is their theory of mind?

Basically what I’m trying to get at here, in a long-winded and roundabout fashion, is that:

a. “Autism parents” who abuse their kids, force them into “treatment”, and sometimes murder them are presented as the sane ones, yet

b. “Autism parents” are unable to be as effective as people who are regarded as “disordered” autistics (or the rare enlightened neurotypical) in child care and family life.

You think we’re the ones who have something wrong with us?

It’s not that damn hard to be a decent parent.

it’s not that hard to take good care of your kids.

If you can’t, please seek out someone or some situation that can.

If you can’t, please don’t buy into excuses that blame it on your kids and any diagnoses they may have.

If you can’t, then please leave instead of killing people.

Don’t let your kid be a victim of your own failings.

It’s not your kid that has the problem.

It’s you.

t;dr: If little old autistic me can handle and excel at childcare then all the “autism parents” who think they “function” better than I do ought to manage okay with the supposedly arduous task of not killing their kids.

Protip: if you can’t, then do something about it. If you’re honestly incapable of not being abusive then remove yourself from your position of authority over children and your caregiving responsibilities to them.


Keep telling yourself that, sweetie.


danger roomba two doodles


"Just when did i… Turn into a witch!?"



so this housewife decided to rewrite the harry potter series into christian books so that her kids wont be reading about witchcraft and i just cant eveN BREATHE BC THIS IS SO HYSTERICAL

read it here:

Hogwarts School of Prayer and Miracles



bird seller, i need your strongest bird

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Miley: “Dad I have something for Tanners bug collection”

my uncle: “that’s great”

Miley: “it’s a bird”

my uncle: “no its not”

-chirping noise-


They let it go and it flew away just fine, so we’re wondering how she caught it.


she caught another bird.


update: she caught a squirrel today


She is gonna rule the world one day with this power

is that eliza thornberry


food should be free. water should be free. housing should be free. power, fuel, electricity should be free. basic necessities should be free.

the idea of “people should have to work for a living” carries the implication that some people deserve to die


this is literally my favorite trend ever please never let this die



In which seven cats all discover the same slightly elevated flat thing and claim it as their own while pretending the other six cats don’t exist.

game of thrones



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#art #queue