Full text of "United States mineral resources"Make a random name Generate a name from your own name About The Fantasy Name GeneratorCreate fantasy names with the fantasy name generator! You can generate random names, or choose a fantasy name based on your own name. It's great for tabletop roleplaying games (RPGs) and online multiplayer fantasy games (MMORPGs). The fantasy name generator creates both male and female names of all ages, and can be used to create character names for World of Warcraft, Dungeons and Dragons, or to make any cool fantasy name. There are a few fantasy name generators around already, but I couldn't find one that gave the option to create both random names, and names unique to the user of the generator. Many of these generators are very serious and create gobbledegook names. With this name generator, I aimed to create fantasy names that were easy to remember and that conjured up romantic images, with many first names based on old Celtic names, second names based on real words, interesting social titles, and descriptions of mysterious and inspiring far off places.

I've recently done a massive revision of the fantasy name generator – I've improved the way the names work, so they aren't too long and roll off the tongue, and I've chosen surname words that work better together. Check back soon to see additional fantasy descriptions and mythical races!~NGFNote: No room in the title to say this, but there's a section at the end about what men can do to help. So what's dominating the news as I write this -- Oct 9, 2016 AD (AD, you're reading correctly) -- is a presidential candidate talking about grabbing random women by the genitals. A lot of people are confused and think the dirty words he said are the problem. No, you see, the grabbing is the problem. Let me explain in 140 characters or fewer: But this has turned out to be a good moment for a super-common wrong assumption to get spotlighted and debunked: the assumption that the physical sexual harassment of women is an unfortunate, rare, freak occurrence, like fatal chihuahua attacks.

In light of the Trump story, Kelly Oxford posted a tweet calling for women to share stories of their first assaults: This opened the floodgates: Two days later, she had almost 10 million responses -- more than the total number of chihuahuas in the United States. I think even she was a little surprised by the volume. A lot of other people sure were. I thought, "I hope some of those poor women feel safe enough to share," and then after reading some stories, went, "Oh wait, that happened to me," so I chimed in. I surprised myself even more when I remembered two other incidents later. Even after experiencing it three times, I still thought of sexual assault as a rare, outrageous crime that happens to an unfortunate few at a similar rate to being struck by lightning. Let me be clear: I didn't forget the incidents happened. I just filed them into the "Life sucks for me sometimes" basket, and not the "Sexual assaults which many other women experience" basket. Two of the incidents were on public transit.

One was on a bus in Rome and one on a train in the Bay Area, but I'm sure every city has a proud tradition of public space molesters. In both cases, I didn't do anything until it was too late, because I thought it must be an accident or misunderstanding. f-stop loka ul backpackThe bus guy pretended he was looking somewhere else. apta backpack safetyThe BART guy pretended he was sleeping. leatt dbx backpackI kept making excuses for why what was obviously happening couldn't be happening. weyland yutani backpackHe thinks he's grabbing his girlfriend. buy liviya school bags

He's got some weird condition that 60 Minutes probably did a story on. I felt this weird compulsion to be absolutely sure the guy was groping me deliberately before saying something or pushing him -- otherwise, I would be the bad guy. ogio girl's soho laptop backpackI felt like being rude or overreacting if the guy was innocent would be a worse offense than groping. It's like a carjacking victim timidly thinking, "Well, my face will be so red if he just really honestly thought it was his car!" Moments like these are why you should always carry a spare bullhorn in your purse. By the time it finally sunk into my brain that the bus guy was actually deliberately groping, we got to our stop. And I found out afterward that my friend, in another part of the crowded bus, had the same thing happen to her at the same time, and had the same deer-in-the-headlights reaction. The odds it was an "accident" were starting to look like the odds of [insert bad sports team] winning [appropriate championship].

We felt both violated and dumb. Why didn't we do anything? Why didn't we slap the guys? Or just tell them to stop? We weren't, like, high-powered Iron Lady types, but we also sure as hell weren't docile submissive doormats who never stood up for ourselves. We had enough attitude to fill a Dodge Caravan (with rear seats removed). Where was it then? The popular misconception of how an unwanted groping incident goes is that the bad man grabs an unwilling woman, and the woman immediately gets mad, gets away, and responds with a scold or an insult. She walks off, angry. The lasting harm to her is a sense of injustice that this pig gets away with it, and that's all. If she worries about anything it's whether he'll get punished and whether he'll do it to another woman. (If she has any regrets, it's that she left her pepper spray in her other purse.) The answers are yes and HAHAHAHAHA no, respectively. Maybe that's how it goes with some women, and I envy them. But much more of the time, the bad guy isn't just violating your body;

he messes with your mind. That's probably part of why they do it. You're not just angry; you're guilty, humiliated, confused. Is there some way it was your fault? Why did you let it happen? Maybe it was a misunderstanding, and it wasn't as bad as it seemed? Then why are you having these stupid thoughts? The third time it happened was with a co-worker. He was a new employee, and everyone decided to go drinking to celebrate his first day. I wasn't a big drinker, so I met up with them late in the evening. I put on a new "going out" satin halter top I was pretty excited about, because I'm not a big party/club person and this was my first chance to use it. (My idea of classy was usually a T-shirt without a logo on it.) When I got there, everyone was pretty plastered. The new guy got handsy right away, and I just kept politely pushing his hand off and trying to move away, but I felt obligated not to say anything rude because he was new in town and I should be welcoming. In retrospect, I should have realized that nothing says hello like a good crotch grab.

And he wasn't acting like the creepers in the stereotypical "no means no" video or illustration, leering and talking dirty and negging or whatever. He was talking like a nice guy trying to compliment a girl at a bar, but he was moving like a a rapist. Like the bus and BART guys, everything except his hands was pretending that something completely different was going on, and that he had no idea what his hands were doing. These guys think plausible deniability applies to different parts of your body. Later, everybody walked home and he was too drunk to walk, so I had to support him, which went just as well as you would expect. I wanted to get away, but I was afraid if I left he would just fall down on the sidewalk. In retrospect, that seems like a great idea, but at the time I felt (again, insanely) that letting him fall on the sidewalk would have been a worse thing to do than the groping. This is happening to the next guy. The next day I talked to my bosses about it. It was a very small company, like a family.

We all lived in the same house, including the groper. The CEO (female) said it sounded terrible and suggested I talk to the founder (male). He was extremely sympathetic as well, but then gave me a confusing speech about alcoholism. As a recovering alcoholic, he talked about how blackouts work and how people aren't themselves, and seemed to simultaneously be saying this was inexcusable and that it wasn't the guy's fault because he wasn't himself. The final thing he said was that the guy probably wouldn't remember any of this, and would probably be mortified and ashamed if we told him. And so my boss asked if we could just put this behind us and move forward, and I was so confused that I just assumed he knew better (I didn't know anything about alcoholism and blackouts, after all) and decided to trust his judgement. So we never talked about it again. But every time I looked at that halter top, it felt gross, and I felt stupid for wearing it and thinking I looked cool in it. Funnily enough, he turned out to be a crap person in many other aspects, and eventually got let go for other reasons.