This giveaway if for the Gorillaz fandom! Thanks to all of you for being so supportive! What you could win is a life sized cut out of any character you want from Gorillaz!
I am a senior in highschool now so while things aren’t too busy I would like to kick this giveaway off now!
- Must love Gorillaz!!
- You can reblog as much as you like and you can like but ONLY IF YOU REBLOG. If you just like it but don’t reblog, it won’t count and I will check.
- I will only ship to the continental U.S. Sorry guys!
- You must have your ask box open and feel comfortable with giving me your address. If you’re under 18 let me know it’s okay with your parents.
- If you don’t reply to me within 2 days then a runner up will be chosen
- You MUST be following Gorillaz-Confessions AND 23-Hour-Party-People
- Please NO GIVEAWAY OR ASK BLOGS.. Only personal blogs
Because that’s me, the person who runs the Gorillaz-Confessions! I’ll try to put more effort into reblogging more Gorillaz but hey, I’m pretty rad.
Also if you win, I’ll let you know and you need to give me a full body picture of what you want. Please make sure that the picture is clear and not blurry. And please have different image as a back up photo just in case.
It may take me about a 1-2 weeks to finish the painting. It’ll be down on one long paper roll and cut out around the edges, leaving some white border. Shipping will of course be free and it’ll be in a cylinder tube.
Giveaway ends September 16th at 9 pm central time. Winner will be chosen by a random draw. If you have any questions, feel free to ask at either account!
Reblogging for the afternoon people
So I know this is lame, but does anyone wanna give me suggestions on how I should conclude my essay? It’s about gender identity, so I think it’d be interesting to read. Everything’s done, but I just have no idea how to write this ending. (Sorry there’s no Read More, I’m on mobile)
There comes a point in every person’s life when they are asked what their favourite colour is; and from the moment I was born until about fourth grade, that colour was pink. Of course, it wasn’t as if I had the mental capacity to choose pink as my favourite colour when I was born. No, the colour had chosen me… or at least my mother had chosen it for me. I was, after all, her first baby girl.
From the looks of my childhood albums, chock full of baby photos, my life was a pastel wonderland of so much pink cotton candy, you could choke just by scanning the pages. My earliest interests included princesses, make up, & fashion; and I could often be found either looking in the mirror or waltzing around the house donning my mother’s glamorous shoes and jackets. I was the epitome of a “girly girl”… to an extent.
It’s not like I only pretended to fancy princesses because that’s what society expected me to like. There really is a lot one can learn from a beautiful bookworm who just so happened to trek down the unholy path of beastiality. The thing is, while I really did enjoy the elegance of fairies and fair maidens, I also really liked playing rough, and was heavily influenced by my three older brothers.
The first time my brothers had dressed me up as a boy was when I was about five years old. Thinking back on it, I could’ve been described as your generic 90’s teenage boy; complete with baggy pants, a polo shirt, and a sideways baseball cap to disguise my long, girlish hair. I was christened as Alex, and I felt liberated to finally be one of my brothers.
Sadly, all good things must come to an end, and just as soon as he was born, Alex had died away in the memories of my family; but not in mine. Nevertheless, I continued living my life as the princess everyone expected me to be, but when I turned eight, the princess was shut away yet again. This time, my brothers had dressed me up as a boy, and also dressed my brother Michael as a girl. I was called Anthony, he was called Michelle, and everyone thought it was hilarious.
They didn’t find it so hilarious about two years later when I had decided that pink was for sissies and that I was going to be a tomboy. My daily attire started to consist of my brothers’ old hand-me-downs, my hair was cut short (into a hideous bowl cut, mind you, but still short enough for people to mistake me for a boy from behind), and I would always try to play the most riotous games during recess. My favourite colour had changed to green, because it was the exact opposite of pink, and it was my oldest brother’s favourite colour as well.
It’s around this part of the essay where I’m assuming most people would think that I had finally begun my epic “transgender journey”, and let me just clarify that such journey never happened. Honestly, it wasn’t until eighth grade that I even knew what transgender meant. My “tomboy phase” still hasn’t passed, but I think that over the years, it just sort of blended in with the disarray that is my gender identity.
Some days, I will come to school in maxi skirts and a face caked with makeup; and other days, I could be wearing a blue flannel shirt in a futile attempt to look somewhat masculine. Regardless of what I am wearing, though, I will not be a “girl one day” and a “boy the next.” There is so much more to me than the sex between my legs or the gender between my ears. I am not limited to one finite colour; rather, I am a whole spectrum of ideas, beliefs, interests, and personality.
I interviewed a young anthropologist working with women in Mali, a country in Africa where women go around with bare breasts. They’re always feeding their babies. And when she told them that in our culture men are fascinated with breasts there was an instant of shock. The women burst out laughing. They laughed so hard, they fell on the floor.
They said, “You mean, men act like babies?”"
okay okay okay guys, but listen. i’m going to take on life with a new approach: pull all nighters so i’m too tired to give a shit anymore, then do everything i’ve been procrastinating on/worrying about with no stress whatsoever. foolproof, i tell ya.
if you’re blue and you don’t know where to go to
why don’t you go where fashion sits