If you see something like this, DO NOT CALL AN EXTERMINATOR!
Call a beekeeper, they can relocate the hive instead of killing them. Bees are dying at an alarming rate, please do not contribute to that! They are so important for our ecosystem!
yo fuck this i aint gonna call no beekeeper i’m moving before i’m dead
I’m going to call an exterminator so the exterminator can kill them. I’ll be able to sleep at night knowing that there are less bees in the world.
No bees = no food.
No food = no life.
Congratulations on destroying the world.
Because you seem to not understand that bees pollinate flowers and literally bees are the reason we have food.
Did you guys even watch bee movie
you really really must call a bee keeper!
My family’s house had it’s entire attic taken over by bees one year. They slowly started appearing in the house, and then they were everywhere. We called a bee keeper, and he removed what he said was the largest domestic honeycomb/bee nest he’d ever seen. I was so terrified I’d gone to stay with a friend. My folks called me to meet the bee keeper, and he led me on the most magical journey through the house. He explained the bees were harmless if you move calmly through them and don’t swat at or harass them. He was only stung once because he accidentally put his hand down and smooshed one. The bees landed on me, walked a bit, then buzzed away. All honey combs and bees were safely removed and relocated. Call a bee keeper, they are awesome!
i was teaching my grandma to use computer so we can talk on skype and such but today she went kinda mad at me because “i didnt show her the knitting programme” and i was like what
and it comes out she accidentally opened ms excel and found out its a great way to create knitting patterns
my grandma is 82
The street finds its own uses.
Me: I won't let it bother me I won't let it bother me I won't let it bother me
Me: *lays down to sleep at night*
Me: It bothers me, actually it really fucking bothers me, so let's lay here and think and stress about it instead of sleeping.
As I’m walking through Target with my little sister, the kid somehow manages to convince me to take a trip down the doll aisle. I know the type - brands that preach diversity through displays of nine different variations of white and maybe a black girl if you’re lucky enough. What I instead found as soon as I turned into the aisle were these two boxes.
The girl on the left is Shola, an Afghani girl from Kabul with war-torn eyes. Her biography on the inside flap tells us that “her country has been at war since before she was born”, and all she has left of her family is her older sister. They’re part of a circus, the one source of light in their lives, and they read the Qur’an. She wears a hijab.
The girl on the right is Nahji, a ten-year-old Indian girl from Assam, where “young girls are forced to work and get married at a very early age”. Nahji is smart, admirable, extremely studious. She teaches her fellow girls to believe in themselves. In the left side of her nose, as tradition mandates, she has a piercing. On her right hand is a henna tattoo.
As a Pakistani girl growing up in post-9/11 America, this is so important to me. The closest thing we had to these back in my day were “customizable” American Girl dolls, who were very strictly white or black. My eyes are green, my hair was black, and my skin is brown, and I couldn’t find my reflection in any of those girls. Yet I settled, just like I settled for the terrorist jokes boys would throw at me, like I settled for the butchered pronunciations of names of mine and my friends’ countries. I settled for a white doll, who at least had my eyes if nothing else, and I named her Rabeea and loved her. But I still couldn’t completely connect to her.
My little sister, who had been the one to push me down the aisle in the first place, stopped to stare with me at the girls. And then the words, “Maybe they can be my American Girls,” slipped out of her mouth. This young girl, barely represented in today’s society, finally found a doll that looks like her, that wears the weird headscarf that her grandma does and still manages to look beautiful.
I turned the dolls’ boxes around and snapped a picture of the back of Nahji’s. There are more that I didn’t see in the store; a Belarusian, an Ethiopian, a Brazilian, a Laotian, a Native American, a Mexican. And more.
These are Hearts 4 Hearts dolls, and while they haven’t yet reached all parts of the world (I think they have yet to come out with an East Asian girl), they need all the support they can get so we can have a beautiful doll for every beautiful young girl, so we can give them what our generation never had.
Please don’t let this die. If you know a young girl, get her one. I know I’m buying Shola and Nahji for my little sister’s next birthday, because she needs a doll with beautiful brown skin like hers, a doll who wears a hijab like our older sister, a doll who wears real henna, not the blue shit white girls get at the beach.
The Hearts 4 Hearts girls are so important. Don’t overlook them. Don’t underestimate them. These can be the future if we let them.
You can read more about the dolls here: http://www.playmatestoys.com/brands/hearts-for-hearts-girls