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For the best senior photos in the yearbook, you just need David Harbour and a trombone
When it comes to senior pictures, there’s not a ton of variability. Sure, there are seniors who get creative on occasion, but pretty much everyone has the classic set: a pose by a window, a pose by a plant, maybe a pose with a musical instrument or a piece of sporting equipment or a pet, depending on his or her interests.
But a pose with a celebrity? That’s a little more outside the box.
Damaris Fregoso, a 17-year-old student from Newmam, California, is a big fan of Netflix’s Stranger Things (same, TBH), and she had a brilliant idea for her senior pics: She tweeted at David Harbour, who plays Police Chief Jim Hopper in the series, asking him what it would take to get him to pose with her.
.@DavidKHarbour how many retweets for you take my senior photos with me
— damaris ◟̽◞̽ (@postydamaris) October 29, 2017
Surprisingly, Harbour saw the tweet in what must be a flood of mentions he receives every day, and laid out his conditions: 25,000 retweets, plus he wanted to wear Fregoso’s school sweatshirt and hold a trombone.
25k. And I get to wear the school sweatshirt and hold a trombone. https://t.co/xPNEE681J4
— David Harbour (@DavidKHarbour) October 29, 2017
Since this is the internet and anything can happen (especially if it’s something totally ridiculous like this), Fregoso’s tweet went viral. She got more than the 25,000 retweets she needed, and Harbour, bless his heart, didn’t back down from his promise.
“Holy hell, internet. How can you be in favor of this? Friends don’t lie,” he wrote, asking Fregoso to send him a private message to arrange their joint photo shoot.
— David Harbour (@DavidKHarbour) October 30, 2017
And thus, the internet was gifted with the photos.
Fregoso posted a selection of shots, and Harbour posted another collage to Instagram, showing even more of them. Needless to say, we know who will have the most epic entry in Fregoso’s school’s yearbook.
“Well this is certainly something I didn’t think would actually happen!” Fregoso wrote on Instagram in a later post, sharing a video of Harbour hamming it up behind her during the shoot. “David is such a sweet dude!”
“Literally I still can’t believe it. I never thought that David would have ever tweeted me back,” Fregoso told the Fresno Bee. “I’m still shocked for the most part. It’s crazy to think this happened because of retweets.”
Even the photographer behind the epic pics weighed in, writing in a tweet, “I don’t always take senoir portraits, but when I do, it’s because @postydamaris gets 25k+ retweets and @DavidKHarbour agrees to take them with her as long as he is allowed to hold a trombone,” followed by a laugh-crying emoji.
I don’t always take senoir portraits, but when I do, it’s because @postydamaris gets 25k+ retweets and @DavidKHarbour agrees to take them with her as long as he is allowed to hold a trombone. pic.twitter.com/XTmYjrvm9r
— Tommy Garcia (@iamtommyg) January 12, 2018
Yep, a laugh-crying emoji pretty much sums this up.
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It seems like everyday, a new story is breaking about a sexual assault scandal.
How many of our favorite actors, producers, and news anchors are going to be exposed this year for their heinous actions?
The list goes on….
But do you know what’s more outrageous than the claims themselves? The outrage that is coming from the other side. No, I’m not talking about the outrage for the victims — I’m talking about the outrage from people who are “tired” of hearing about the #metoo movement; people who “don’t believe” that these perpetrators are guilty.
Can you hear me rolling my eyes?
Now, don’t get me wrong. There are certainly, very obvious motives that could be fueling claims like these; however, we have prominent, public figures stepping down from their empires because of these claims. An innocent person doesn’t do that.
We have huge networks firing their leading anchors. A network doesn’t do that without evidence.
We have public apologizes and admissions, and still people are trying to rationalize the claims.
Still, we have people questioning the validity of these allegations.
“Why didn’t she leave?”
“Why did she wait so long?”
“Is there any physical evidence, bank drafts, photos or witnesses?”
As if standing up to a sexual predator who just so happens to be writing your checks is an easy thing to do.
As if going to war with one of the most powerful men in your industry is a given.
We’re talking about men, like Harvey Weinstein, who could not only destroy your career, but destroy your life. He has the money. He has the power. He has the mental hold on his victims because he understands his position of power and what he can get away with.
And while I’m so incredibly amazed by the confessions of these women, I hope that everyone following his particular scandal, understands the recent confession from Salma Hayek — a successful woman, actress and producer who has nothing to gain from sharing her experience, other than to support the women who had everything to lose.
Because it’s easy to say that some D-list actress is just looking for attention or money or fame, but when you have an A-list actress/producer/influencer, like Salma Hayek, confirming what so many people are doubting, well, that’s a tough argument to make.
But, at the end of the day, are we really that surprised? Really?
Are we surprised that, in this hyper-sexualized society we live in, men in positions of power are taking advantage of women?
Are we surprised that women who are victims of sexual assault and rape are not running to the police station after the incident when we beat them down online for confessing?
Are we surprised that our most favorite actors and tv personalities are not who we think they are — who they portray themselves to be on camera?
Are we surprised to see the power in numbers?
Are we surprised to see women/victims banding together?
Are we surprised perpetrators and pedophiles can be charming and good looking and rich?
Or do we just not want to think about it?
Do we just not want to see that and think about that everyday?
Because, I for one, am not surprised.
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If you visit my home unexpectedly, be prepared to be shocked and possibly disgusted.
I have a three and a half year-old little boy, a six month-old, and a 75-pound black lab.
Disclaimer: I also have a husband named Logan, but he does not usually cause people to be shocked and disgusted so I’m leaving him out of this one.
When you ring the doorbell, you will most likely be greeted by me. I will be wearing a pair of leggings and an over-sized sweatshirt that has spit up on it. My hair will be in a top knot and I will not have a stitch of makeup on. I will be cradling the baby in one arm and holding the barking 75-pound black lab back with the other hand. I will motion with my head for you to enter and yell “Come on in!” over the sound of the barking.
As you enter, I will probably have to choose between letting go of the dog or dropping the baby. I always choose letting go of the dog because this is one area of parenting where I excel.
The dog will proceed to jump on you numerous times while I yell at him to get down. The bad thing is, he does not give a shit what I say so he will continue to jump on you.
If you are scared of dogs, I should forewarn you against ever visiting my home.
At this point, I’ll lay the baby down somewhere that looks to be partially safe, grab the dog by the collar and drag him out the back door where he will stand and bark for the next 20 minutes or so.
After placing the beast of a dog outside, I will turn around, apologize for his animal-like behavior and offer you a seat in the living room.
But please don’t sit on the baby that I placed on the loveseat.
I will then proceed to pick up the baby who will spit up on me because of his acid re-flux. I will gingerly brush the spit up off with my sweatshirt sleeve and I will take a seat.
I will apologize for the fact that my house is a disaster.
You will probably agree that my house is, in fact, a complete disaster, but smile and say that it’s fine, your house looks the same way.
I know there is a large possibility your house could also look the same way, which makes me feel better. But then you could also be a clean person with no small children and live in a pristine state. If that is in fact true, welcome to the jungle.
There will be toys all over the living room, shoes and socks spread across the floor, a half-folded load of laundry on the coffee table, a blanket and play mat on the floor for the baby, and a slight dusting of black dog hair everywhere.
At some point during your visit, you will see my prized robot vacuum scoot by. The majority of the time there will be a random shoe and maybe a dish on top of it. Luckily my three-year-old has not tried to place his baby brother on it yet.
This is when the three-year-old will probably enter the room to see who is visiting. There is a 90% chance he will be naked or only partially clothed. We are still getting him fully potty-trained and letting him run around naked always guarantees he goes in the potty.
I will most likely forget that it’s not normal for a three-year-old to be running around like a tiny caveman on crack and carry on a conversation with you like nothing is out of the norm.
I will ask if you would like something to drink, but will let you know beforehand all we have is tap water, whole milk, expired coffee creamer, cheap beer, and an $8 bottle of wine.
If you are the Jimmy John’s delivery driver, you will probably just give me an odd look and ask me to sign my receipt before escaping as quickly as possible. Don’t trip over the robot vacuum on your way out!
If you are a friend or family, you will not be phased by the madness because you have experienced it before. You will make yourself at home and drink my cheap wine.
If you are a stranger selling something, you will probably wonder why I’m offering you wine and a seat on the couch. If you expect me to buy some random crap from you, you have to at least listen to my partially-clothed kid sing Jingle Bells while standing on top of the coffee table.
Twenty-five year old me would have been absolutely shocked and aghast if she saw this as my future, but here I am, living the dream. Just not the same dream I had when I was twenty-five.
So if you ever want to stop by, please do. I’m writing this so you don’t go into shock upon arrival. I’ll have a cheap bottle of wine waiting!
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