vaspider:

So, in order to not reblog the long-ass post that I posted previously: this year has beat the crap out of my family. Both my spouse and I lost our jobs, we had two dogs die, one really expensively, and we’ve been hanging on by our fingernails. 

And I’m about to lose my unemployment, while @dadhoc‘s second job hasn’t picked up like we thought it would. We’re literally right above the line for food stamps, and in January I have to start paying for insurance even though I qualify for Medicaid… because I can’t get to pain management on Medicaid. (Really. I tried. For months.) So I have to pay to get back to Dr. K. 

Right now, I’m trying to get through the holiday season. I have a ton of shows scheduled for NerdyKeppie, the rad-ass, queer as fuck business I started to try to rise like a phoenix from the ashes of this BS year, but I need to have gas and to be able to buy stock (like these kickass stickers) so I can sell them at shows.

So, like. If you like what I do, check out my Etsy shop, my Patreon (queer fiction for $1!) or toss a couple bucks into my PayPal so I can pay the vendor fees and buy sticker and shirt stock for these shows. <3 

If you can’t donate, two things you can do to really help me a lot: 

1. go follow NerdyKeppie on Facebook (and Instagram). Like/comment/share. Facebook’s algorithms are absolutely brutal for small businesses if we don’t pay or have a LOT of people following us. Post likes are awesome, comments are awesomer, shares are awesomest, in terms of getting my posts through the noise without paying Facebook $$$$.
2. boost this post & other NK posts. <3 

You all rule. 

faun-songs:

cdrshiphard:

thischick25:

laughingmyaspergersoff:

If someone says something that you only partially understand:

DON’T ask for clarification with a generic “What?” or “I’m sorry?” (In my experience, people will repeat the phrase the exact same way without helping you to understand).

Example:
Them: “Hey, do you like pahganabasa?”
Autistic Person: “What?”
Them: “Do you like pahganabasa?”
Autistic Person: “I’m sorry, what?”
Them (annoyed): “Do you like pahganabasa?”

Instead, DO repeat the part that you did understand, and substitute a “What?” for the unintelligable part.

Example:
Them: “Hey, do you like pahganabasa?”
Autistic Person: “Do I like what?”
Them: “Pineapple pizza?”
Autistic Person: (Understands the words!)

I’ve also had successes with “I’m sorry, I only heard the first half of that sentence,” or actually verbalizing my interpretation of the part I heard incorrectly as a question: “Pahgana… basa?”.

Sometimes that makes the speaker think that they might be mumbling, or verbalizing in a way that makes them difficult to understand (because there are times it’s really not your brain–it’s their mouth).

This is also a lifesaver if you have Auditory Processing Disorder. It stopped the amount of annoyed sighs because ppl thought I was deliberately ignoring them or them saying the same thing but louder (which does not help when volume isn’t the problem)

depending on the group, if you’re comfortable enough around them you can really tell them what YOU heard (sometimes i do hear mumbo jumbo but a lot of the times i just hear a totally different legit word*). it causes for some good bonding laughter bc its oftentimes fucking comical; and they will repeat the ‘missing’ word several times, loud and clear. i do that with my colleagues all the time

another cousin of repeating the sentence up to where you heard it is saying ‘i caught everything, but—–’ or ‘what did you say after [last word u understood]?’

*rather, my brain chooses an incorrect translation of sounds over no translation at all

gatheringbones:

so i had this horse named max when i was growing up who didn’t have a mean bone in his body, i believe he genuinely had no desire to hurt anyone in his life, the only problem being that he was at times almost too clumsy to live.

he was a dirt-speckled white tall stocky arab gelding with absurdly long haunches and very dark quizzical eyes. he was very interested in new people and new objects and utterly terrified of anything that he couldn’t automatically define. he had very pronounced withers that would jam right up into your goddamn crotch when you were riding him bareback, and he had the worst, bumpiest, most broken-laundry-machine of a gait that would jar the teeth from your skull right as you were losing your virginity. 

he was the world’s largest dog. he would wander over without fail to come over and say hi and then he would slowly and sedately lick you all over your hands and arms without using his teeth once. the man. loved. to lick things. you offered him something to eat and he would ever so delicately pick it up with his front lip, deposit it dexterously in his mouth, then gently chew. he never bit or kicked a person in his entire life. he didn’t mind being sat on while he wandered around and grazed, and he was so tall and broad that you could sit on him backwards and lay forward with your arms folded on the big black-spotted white of his butt like he was a couch.

he loved having his feet trimmed. he would always be so interested in the man working with his feet, and he would lick them on the arms and they never knew how to deal with it. “This is the lickiest damn horse I ever saw” said one while he had one of max’s knees locked between his legs while he carved away at the long overgrown toenail of his foot. 

he’d trip over himself every four seconds, and while he’d amble like a lanky sedan chair on the way out on a trip, on the way back you’d have to keep your elbows yanked back to your sides and your biceps straining as you kept his head glued to his chest and kept him from going faster and faster. he had this amazing lunatic bursts of insane energy when the situation called for it, and while he wasn’t particularly fast, the mere sight of that much poorly aligned and desperately out-of-proportion horsemeat attempting to fling itself through the sound barrier was enough to make you want to sit down for a minute.

he became desperately unhappy once his lifelong partner-in-horse would leave  while someone took her out on a ride alone and he’d stand in the farthest mile corner of the six miles of pasture and scream his head off until she came back. his sweat always smelled more acrid and sour than hers did, and he always foamed in big greenish smears. he loved being brushed until his hair fluffed out gleaming white, and while hoses terrified him into emotional outbursts, he very much loved to swim, and stand in the shallows and churn the water while jerking his head up and down in dogged delight.

on hot summer days he would lay down in the softest most nibbled to the quick part of the pasture and sleep for hours in the sunshine with the breath wheezing in and out his mouth and his legs stretched out. 

he absolutely had to walk in front of his horse partner at all times. 

he didn’t like dandelion flowers. he liked eating hollyhocks and thistle flowers, and he destroyed my mother’s lilac bush by literally walking over it until it was on his undercarriage and scratching back and forth with a look of complete and total bliss on his long stupid face. 

if you walked up to him in the dark he would walk over, inspect you for food, then breathe on you and keep you company while farting gently. if you were taking a nap in the grass he’d walk over and lick you mournfully on your face, while farting gently. if you were riding him and he saw a leaf that looked at him wrong he would explode in seven different directions at once and yank your arms out of their sockets, excitedly farting the entire time. 

he was, in every respect, the sweetest, dumbest farmboy who ever lived.