There was a thread on reddit where an Asian lady made a prank call to Australians. She would start the call with a lead in to a classic prank-call joke (i.e. is your refrigerator running), then say something really messed up like your daughter's in the hospital. hahah
PSA: Don’t ever try to chase down a face changing demon. Turns out they’re EXTREMELY venomous.
I didn’t wake up until a couple of days ago. I can’t say I woke refreshed. But I’m out of the woods now, Caleb says. I just need to take it easy for a few days. I told him that wasn’t likely. He laughed. It was a kind of grim sound but I know we both feel a little bit better about things now that I’m not screaming and cursing and vomiting everywhere anymore. A seven day fever is nobody’s idea of fun, let me tell you.
I guess I should back up. Last you heard, I was waking up with the elusive figure of Caleb himself standing over me.
I was completely disoriented and at first couldn’t focus on anything. I closed my burning eyes and tried to breathe steadily while I flexed my other senses. I was lying on something flat and wooden with a lumpy bundle of cloth pushed under my head to elevate it. There was a damp cloth lying across my forehead, although damp with water, sweat or blood I couldn’t say.
I blinked a few more times. I wasn’t wearing my glasses so everything was blurry anyways. But my vision was going crazy. I was looking up at a dense tangle of tree roots overhead, and they seemed to be alive and moving, groping blindly for one another like worms in the earth. I shuddered. My belly was so empty it felt like it was knotted in on itself but I still felt nauseous watching the slow sinuous writhe of the ceiling. Slowly the figure standing beside me swam into focus – as much as my poor eyesight allowed, at least. My weak eyes couldn’t pick out the features of the blurry brown oval that comprised the figure’s face with any clarity, but the eyes were dark and kind. As I looked into them I was flooded with relief. I knew who he was, and that I was safe.
“Caleb,” I croaked.
He smiled (I think). His face was cast in shadow and my eyes were bad. But his voice was deep and reassuring when he said, “Let’s get you out of here, kid.”
“Where is here?” I gulped, sitting up slowly.
As soon as I was upright, a case of the cold shivers racked my body.
The blur of Caleb’s face looked concerned.
“Hey, take it easy,” He cautioned. “You’ve been sick, man, you’ve been laid out for days. Poisoned. That thing you thought you were chasing? Well, you weren’t. She had you right where she wanted you. If I hadn’t knocked you out of her orbit when I did you’d be dying slowly down there in her nest as a snack for her babies.”
I pulled the roughspun blanket I had woken up beneath over my shoulders. Caleb kept up a steady patter as I looked blearily around the root cave for my things.
“I couldn’t save you from the Dog Head Man, though. Sorry about that. He’s the one that brought you here. Looks like he piled you with blankets to sweat the poison out of your meat. Once that’s done he’s going to boil you in that big old soup pot over there on the fire, so you have got to get up, dude. Hurry, while he’s still gone. He always goes out during the day. I can help you but first you have to help yourself.”
My brother used to say that to me when I went to him with tricky homework projects or girl problems. I clenched my jaw, pulled the blanket tighter and stood up. My legs were shaky and weak. It took a minute to get my balance, but once I did I started shuffling slowly around, looking for my shoes.
I stumbled around in the half light from the open hearth in the corner until I found my shoes, hoodie and phone bundled together in a hole in the roots that formed the walls and the ceiling. I reached out for them but stopped when my hands turned into fat pink snails aimlessly bumping into one another.
“Caleb,” I said with what I thought was remarkable calm given the situation, “My hands are snails.”
“It’s the poison, man. You’re not clear of it yet. You’re almost there but the next few hours are going to be rough, I won’t lie. But I’ll be right there with you. We’ll get you through it. Put your shoes on.”
I waited patiently until my hands had turned back into hands and snatched up my things before they could morph too. My shoelaces turned into snakes, braids of human hair, and wet spaghetti before I was through with them. But I got my shoes on. Once I was ready Caleb directed my attention to a small gap in the roots. He pulled them aside to reveal a dark hole about half my height.
“In there?” I heard the note of terror in my own voice with disgust.
“I know, I’m sorry, but it’s the only way out. The Dog Head Man moves this huge stone over the other entrance every morning when he leaves, but he doesn’t know about this one. We’ll have to crawl. It won’t be so bad. Look, I’ll go first. You can hold onto my ankle if you want. Just…..whatever you do, whatever the poison makes you think you see or feel or hear, don’t let go, alright?”
The terror I felt was immediate as the roots fell back into place behind us, submerging us in darkness. I clutched awkwardly at Caleb’s skinny ankle. He crawled slowly, I’m sure for my sake, but I still fumbled in the dark. We crawled across loose, damp earth that smelled like rotten leaves and earthworms chopped into fleshy halves by the gravedigger’s spade. I cut my knee on a sharp pebble in the floor but I bit my lip and kept going. The last thing I wanted to do was stop down here.
Caleb’s ankle felt strange in my hand. One moment it felt like a living snake, smooth scales taut over sinewy muscle, then cold and slick as a rotting log in the rain, then hard and bony as if I were clinging to a skeleton crawling through the earth. I kept his words in mind and held on firmly, pushing away my disgust as his ankle changed and shifted against my fingers.
“You ok back there?” He asked, and his voice sounded distorted and muddy. The meat of his leg bloated beneath his sock like an overfull balloon, oozing slime through the material to coat my hand.
“Crawl faster,” I said through clenched teeth.
He sped up.
His ankle was changing sizes now, rapidly growing and shrinking as if it had a mind of its own. It swung between wild extremes, tiny and frail as a toothpick, then massive, so swollen that I was a gnat in comparison. I was an ant hitching a ride on a shoe. I was a flea clinging to a dinosaur’s ridge bone.
“Don’t let go,” He reminded me, and there was something so achingly familiar about his voice if I could only place it. But I couldn’t. All I could do was cling mutely to the twisted thing that I hoped was just an ankle and crawl after him, following with the faith of a blind man up out of the dark.
I burst through the ground in the back yard of Holly and Jude’s apartment, crawling out from a gap in the roots of the weeping willow.
I was met with a chorus of meows. I straightened up to see a whole fleet of cats perched in the tree branches. The biggest one, which I’m pretty sure was the same one that showed me where the music box was buried, leapt lightly down and set off across the yard.
“Follow the cat. She’ll get you home safe,” My guide said, his face a lighter patch in the black of the hole beneath the tree.
“You’re not coming?” I felt myself beginning to panic.
“It’s almost daylight. I can’t be above ground when the sun comes up……long story. Look, buddy, you’ll be fine. Just follow the cat and everything will be alright. I’ll take care of the rest. Go home. Get some sleep. Take a shower. I’ll meet you at your place right after dark.”
“Then what?”
“Then we set a trap.”
“A trap? For what?”
“Not for what, for who. For the Dog Head Man. Once he gets your scent he won’t stop until your flesh is sitting in his belly. You gotta mark your territory with salt and arm yourself with silver, make him bleed and banish him back to the boneyard where he belongs He’ll never stop hunting you if you don’t. He’ll come rap-tap-tapping round your windows and scratching at your door every night until you think sleep is just a fairytale. You’ll be so tired you won’t know what’s real. And when he finally catches you alone, off guard, he’ll drag you off to his cave to cut you into pieces and boil you up and suck the meat from your bones.”
I swallowed audibly.
“See you tonight, then,” I managed.
Caleb chuckled. “Good man.”
He disappeared between the roots.
I followed the cat.
It wasn’t as easy as it might sound. The ground bucked and heaved like an ocean in front of me as I walked. I did my best to just focus on the gray striped furry tail bobbing up a head of me, held in the crooked shape of a question mark. Somehow she got me home.
I stumbled up the front steps like a zombie. Checked the front door. Scrabbled under the flower pot for the spare key. When I got inside the light on the answering machine was flashing. My mom had left an exasperated sounding message. Something about plumbers not knowing how to do their jobs without having their hands held, and if you wanted something done right you had to do it yourself. Long story short, she was holed up in a motel in Springfield overseeing some unanticipated repairs in one of her properties there. Thank God.
I did some running around. Wrote you guys that last update. I still felt like a dog turd left out in the sun to dry, but I was limping along. I decided to lie down for a while. I fell asleep almost instantly but it was not a restful sleep. I woke up hot yet shivering in an unpleasant wet patch of my own sweat. I got back up and went downstairs. The last fiery glow of sunset was shining through the west windows. There were lines of salt poured along the baseboards and across all of the doors and windowsills. The air smelled like burnt sage. A shadow fell across the door to the kitchen.
“Oh, hey, good, you’re up.” Caleb said cheerfully. “I pulled out all the weapons I could find. Yours are on the counter. You can watch the back door, I’ll watch the front. Stay alert. He’ll be here soon.”
He disappeared, heading down the hall towards the living room. I went to take up my post. There was a small heap of silver glittering on the counter –a letter opener, a few butter and dessert knives from my mom’s wedding set, and this artsy ring she never wears that’s covered in metal points and lumps that could probably do some damage if worn while punching someone. I left them all where they sat.
I watched the light fade with a cold pit of anxiety in my stomach. The nap hadn’t really helped. If anything I felt more tired and disoriented than before. I wished I knew where my glasses were.
I was also ravenously hungry. My gurgling, pinched belly reminded me loudly that I hadn’t eaten anything since Saturday night. My mind went back to the note about dinner in the refrigerator.
I have this theory that every red blooded American male has that one woman in his life who cooks the best, cheesiest, meltiest, perfectly layered, bomb ass lasagna ever made. It’s like a law of nature. For me, that woman is my mother. She uses fresh herbs, sweet Italian sausage, slathers of rich red tomato sauce and handfuls of mozzarella that all bake down into a bubbling, toasted brown strata of perfection. It’s ridiculous. It’s the best thing on the planet.
When I opened the fridge and saw that’s what mom left me, it felt like the heavens had opened up just enough to allow a tiny ray of light to shine down on me and remind me that the sun still exists behind the clouds. I pulled the Tupperware container out and stuck it in the microwave. Tears prickled at my eyes as I watched the glowing digits count down. I miss my mother something fierce just then. I was grateful for inept plumbers and leaky pipes, glad that she was out of the range of fire, but all the same a part of me just wished she were here. Call me a mama’s boy if you want. My dad split when I was just a baby. My brother is gone. My mom and I are all the family we have, and we stick together like a couple of stubborn burrs.
Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!
I pulled the steaming container out, grabbed a fork and a bottle of water, and sat down at the kitchen table, feeling very small and alone. It was not a sensation I enjoyed. I shook my head as if I could physically clear the fog from my mind. I dug into the lasagna, eager for a taste of something warm and familiar and comforting. I needed a touchstone to reorient myself by in this storm of madness. Something to remind me of home, and of safety.
I was so hungry that I was already three bites in before I realized that something was off.
The texture…….it was all wrong. My mom’s lasagna is the ideal balance of chewy, crisp and gooey. My teeth were tearing at gristle and lukewarm gelatinous flesh and sour grit and slimy softness that oozed when I bit into it. My molars crunched something that spurted foul-tasting liquid into the back of my throat. I retched, spitting the half-chewed mouthful back into the container.
I stared into the dish in horror.
What I had taken for a fat slice of my mother’s homemade lasagna was actually a squirming, interlocking mass of fat, glistening white maggots, hard black beetles, matted snarls of hair, and juicy tangles of red earth worms.
My stomach churned. I heard a rapping sound at the window out in the hall.
There it was again at the kitchen window. I flipped the light off, quick as a whistle. I glimpsed a tall black shape flickering by the glass outside. Something scratched and scraped at the exterior of the house.
There was a knock at the back door. The door knob rattled. I tried to shout for Caleb, but instead bent over and heaved the contents of my stomach all over the floor. The door swung open.
I slid to my knees as I saw the Dog Head Man through the burning of vomit-induced tears. He was a dark silhouette in the doorway, huge and solid, blocking out the light from the porch, so tall that the tips of his (ears? Horns?)nearly brushed the lintel. He made a small motion with his hand.
My glasses clattered onto the floor next me, narrowly missing a splatter of vomit. I put them on and reached up to flip the light switch back on.
I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this. When the light came on, the Dog Head Man turned from a nightmare giant towering over me into something somehow far more bizarre – a tall, masculine figure with the muscular build of a football player, dressed in threadbare Army issue camo pants, a hooded sweatshirt, and a t-shirt that proclaimed in bold font, YES I LIQUOR. His broad shoulders stretched almost the entire width of the door frame, and from those sprouted a black dog’s head with a mane of thick, coal dark fur. He was gazing at me with unsettling, mismatched eyes. One was the brilliant blue of a shepherd or a husky, the other the warm, sad brown of a hound. He looked, as far as someone with the face of a dog can look, like he was vaguely irritated. A shadow fell across me from the doorway into the hall at my back.
“Careful, Isaiah,” Caleb cautioned behind me. “He can’t get in unless you take your eyes off of him.”
“Look,” The Dog Head Man growled. He pointed past me.
“Don’t listen,” Caleb countered. “He’s trying to trick you. Don’t look away.”
My guts in knots, my mouth sour with stomach acid, I looked down and found myself holding my mother’s biggest silver-plated dessert knife with no idea how it got in my hand.
“Do it. Cut him. It’s the only way,” Caleb whispered urgently.
I gripped the knife tightly, mentally assessing the distance from me to the door, trying to gather the shreds of my common sense from where I had barfed them onto the floor. All I had to do was nick him. Just enough to draw blood, and then it wouldn’t matter how much stronger he was. I hoped, at least.
”LOOK!” The Dog Head Man barked. I jumped. The knife slipped out of my sweaty grasp and clattered onto the floor, spinning away behind me. I spun out of reflex, already bending to grab it.
“Zaya, NO!”
It was too late. I had seen him, and this time I was wearing my glasses.
The figure behind me wasn’t Caleb at all. It was as familiar as the pattern of freckles on my own hands. It was my brother.
Eli stood there, young and strong, his brown skin glowing with health, looking just like he did the last time I saw him alive. He reached out his hand to me, a silent plea in his eyes. I nearly took it. But as I watched, the firm skin turned saggy and thin, sinking over the bones of his face. It split and peeled like old wallpaper, showing the muscle and skull beneath. His eyes swelled, bulged, burst in a shower of viscous and maggots falling from the gaping sockets. He made a thick, meaty sound with his ruined mouth. Then he collapsed in a gush of blood and skin and bones and rot all over the floor, where the whole mess melted into the tile, leaving no trace.
I’m not ashamed to say it. I fainted right there on my mother’s kitchen floor in a puddle of my own sick. I bet you would have too. The last thing I saw before everything faded out was the dog’s head looming down towards me with an exasperated growl rumbling out of the back of its throat.
I phased in and out over the next week. When I wasn’t tripping balls and staring at the moving walls of Caleb’s den (yes, Dog Head Man turned out to be the real Caleb, congrats, you want an award?), I lay huddled in a miserable, feverish heap of blankets on the bench where I originally woke up. Often I was alone in the cave of roots, with nothing but the crackling fire and whatever was constantly cooking over it to remind me I wasn’t the last sentient being left on earth. Caleb left early every morning, before sunrise when the birds were just beginning to sing, and he didn’t return until well after midnight. Sometimes there would be a cooling bowl of clear broth sitting beside me. I drank it down greedily when my body allowed. Once in awhile I would wake in the night and see Caleb sitting at the workbench next to the hearth, his wide shoulders and pointed ears casting shadows across the packed earthen floor, working by the light of an old fashioned oil lantern and ignoring me for the most part. Maybe it was the psychedelic poison leaving my body, but each night his outline seemed a little less hulking, his ears a little smaller and lower down, and his fur a little less shaggy. He was filling these tiny bottle with….I don’t know. Stuff. Some of it was cool – tiny colored feathers, bits of stained glass, dried flowers. Some of it was strange – , glowing sand, glittering stones, small nuggets of silvery metal. Some of it was just weird – dead bugs, crumpled lottery tickets, cigarette butts with lipstick stains . Each bottle was filled with a random assortment, corked, and hung on the wall with literally thousands of other glittering glass vials. Being that he has the mouth formation and soft palate of a dog, Caleb is understandably a man of few words, but when I had finally sweated enough of the venom out to start asking questions, one of the only replies I did receive was loud and clear: do not touch the bottles.
Near as I can tell, the face changer’s poison functions similarly to her other abilities. It causes a high fever accompanied by intense hallucinations. Familiar things turn scary and strange while the poison shows you visions of people you love telling you to do terrible things, like stab the guy who is trying to help you. It was just my luck that without my glasses, I couldn’t tell exactly who it was that I was hallucinating. The human brain sees what it expects to see. Even more so under the influence of mind-altering substances. I saw Caleb, coming to save me, because that was what I wanted to see. I didn’t want to see my brother’s bloody corpse melting into the kitchen floor. I’ll never be rid of that image. But at least I’m here. I’m weak and exhausted from over a week of fighting off the poison flooding my body, but I’m alive. Today is the first day I’ve felt strong enough to get up. I’ve been sitting by the hearth where where the sun shines down through the roots, watching clouds skim past and finishing this update. The light is almost gone now. It's almost midnight, and Caleb will be back soon. Maybe tonight I’ll be able to get some answers.
After much pleading, he gave me back my phone before going out early this morning. It was under the condition that I agree to some ground rules regarding its use in his domain. No pictures, no tagging, no telling specific details that might lead to “civilians” discovering the “secret hideout” (yes, those were his words. His appearance grows more human by the day, and he seems to be having an easier time forming words along with it). The only new messages were my buddy wanting to play League and my mom, thanking me for doing a bang up job on cleaning the kitchen. I guess she didn’t even get home until yesterday. I texted back and told her I was staying with a friend for a gaming marathon. It’s not unheard of for me, so she wasn’t surprised.
I don’t know if you all are aware of how difficult it is to type out a 4,000 word update on a little tiny glowing screen when your eyes don’t seem to have fully committed to seeing normally after getting dosed with psychedelic demon poison. It was rough. Let me tell you. But I did it because I love you guys, and because Caleb seems almost amused at the idea that keeping an online account to document what’s going on could be useful. Let him scoff. I’m walking proof that you guys are a valuable resource. For better or worse, I wouldn’t be where I am right now if it weren’t for you.
Keep those eyeballs peeled.
You’ll be hearing from me soon.
It can never happen at an opportune time. Here I am, midway between standing and sitting when I hear the knob turn. Shit. In both senses. I was going to use the bathroom, but okay there's this too. It's been a day since my call. I know he never came home yet because my note is still on his door. More on that later.
I have to hear his reactions, infer them from the weight of his steps. Sounds strange, I know, but trust me - you'd be surprised how much you can learn from the sound of feet.
I can tell at first there's a brief relief - the living room has power! That'll teach him, I knew my complaint would get thro-- ah the hall light is out. My room is dark. What's this? A note.
He has to shuffle to the bathroom to find the light to read by. Believe me, I tried to shut that one off too. It would have made a hell of a point - unfortunately the genius who wired this place made my room and the shitter connected in the same breaker. Maybe I'll just shut that one off when I leave for work.
The steps have stopped. Actually, all sound has stopped. Have you ever heard the sound of thought? It's eerie - there's no shuffling, breathing. I even hear the sound of the notecard being flipped over. shff. It's maybe two minutes. Then I hear the electric razor. Ah, well. I guess I was expecting him to look for the breaker, but really this may be a better introspection into the mind of such an individual. What their priorities are.
He shaves. Stops. Shaves. Stops. The sound of metal scraping carpet. I'm guessing that's the hall lamp.
I haven't even left the room yet. But I'm guessing he's tried to connect a lamp to the wall socket in the bathroom and then reeeeeeach it into his room. From experience I can tell it isn't long enough, and I know he knows how shitty it would look for me to see that. He leaves.
But the bathroom light is still on.
Foreshadowing, maybe. We will see.
I know I'd be interested to see what kind of notes YOU guys leave for your roommates, so I've copied verbatim my note to him. It was wedged in his doorframe for the last day. Except for the names of certain individuals it's all there. I think it's important to show that I'm not writing one thing HERE for you to read, and then being a complete ass-hat in real life, thereby undermining the point of /r/badroomates.
"I hate confrontation, but you have to put your foot down over what matters to you.
If I miss a payment, I lose power. Internet. Get kicked out of an apartment. They have deadlines and terms. I may not be a business but I do hold you to the same terms expected of me. I've been honest with you every step of the way about costs and conditions of living, down to the insects and carpet stains. I do value your communication, and how we can live our own lives. I just didn't expect I'd have to spell out "you get things when you pay for them. -->(flip card over)
I called _____, our leasing agent, about the complaint. They didn't know about the payments. Officially, because A/C and the refrigerator are running, this is a "roommate dispute" and they will not mediate.
I get if this is about money, really. But I don't empathize with my pocketbook. I work six out of seven days a week and I don't fancy adding hours to that to cover a bill which lets somebody not paying get full use of something legally I am accountable for, for free. I wish money worked the way you're asking for it to, but it doesn't in my experience.
I don't ever conflict with anything else you do, and I tell you if it does. Sorry if this seems sudden. But I need to send a message about how MY money works."
Our dog is a big old German Shepherd that gets lazy if he doesn't have something to do. The latest thing I've been teaching him is to take stuff to my husband. It started because the remote was on my side of the living room and my husband wanted it. So I have a nipple infection that hurts like hell and I can only feed baby on one side so I'm pumping on the other. I was in the nursery because baby was overdue for a nap so I was hoping to trick her into falling asleep. It didn't work and I didn't come prepared. (she was supposed to go to sleep, damn it!)
Crap. Baby is screaming her head off. Maybe if I can burp her, it will distract her until I can get a bottle. It works but now I'm afraid to stop lest she start howling again. As I'm walking around the room bouncing her on my shoulder and patting her back, I spy the diaper bag. Carefully, I open it. Score! There's an empty bottle. Call the dog. He comes rushing in. Give him the command and put the bottle in his mouth. "Take it to daddy!" Puppy trots away. Hear husband in living room. "What have you got there? Do you have something for me? Let me have it. Good boy! Let's go get a treat!" No! Treats later, crying baby now! They go to the kitchen and I hear the treat bag rustling. Then miracle upon miracles, the refrigerator opening. Here he comes to save the day! Hubby walks in with bottle full of breast milk! Quickly insert into baby's mouth and breathe a sigh of relief. Puppy gets all the treats!
I'm telling you ladies, I have never been so relieved that I taught my dog a trick. Most of them have been important like finding mommy or daddy if we're separated or come here now, but this started out as a joke. (Though I'm sure it will prove useful.) This story could have gone much differently if it weren't for Rebel and the quick thinking of hubby.
I have a white, freezer top, frigidaire refrigerator. It works, but it would need a deep clean and needs to be hauled out.
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Eh, this was okay. It just misses so many opportunities and it wastes Karloff in what could have been a good role. Here's the setup. Baron Victor von Frankenstein (that would be Boris, natch) has agreed to allow an American film company to shoot in his castle. The most amusing part of the film is how much the Baron obviously loathes the brassy Hollywood troupe and doesn't try to hide it; I guess most of this was Karloff's own distaste this way, especially for this particular movie.
Meanwhile, down in the secret laboratory in the crypt down in the basement, the Baron is of course trying to make a Monster like his famous ancestor. He has the darndest time getting anywhere with this, everything goes wrong. At one point, he gets a pair of new eyes for the Monster out of an ordinary refrigerator in the lab (how mundane) and clumsily drops them on the floor. Damn. (Karloff snaps his fingers and slaps his hand against his thigh as if he had locked his keys in his car.) Needing parts, the Baron starts murdering servants and assorted members of the film crew. Does this seem like a good idea? Does it seem like no one will miss a film crew and some stars, of all people? Sheesh.
But then, the Baron doesn't seem to have given much thought to anything in his project. He really has nothing much in mind to do with his Monster when he gets it up and lurching around the castle. Not revenge on anyone, not fame with the scientific community. The Baron is all scarred and crippled, with a bad limp and other problems he alludes to as being from torture by the Nazis. Now, the big reveal at the end is (wait for it) the Baron gave the Monster his own younger face. Fair enough. I suppose if he had a plan of somehow getting his brain transplanted into the creature, he could swap his hacked-up old body for a towering powerful carcass with his own face. Not a bad deal.
Aside from Karloff, the rest of the cast is nothing special. The Baron's business manager Gottfried and the humble servant Shuter aside, everyone is a bitter wisecracking unlikeable Hollywood phony. The ingenue (Jana Lund) is okay but bland, I suppose. The film itself lacks that dramatic flair a good drive-in movie needs. It's flat. The Monster is brought to life, not in a lightning storm with buzzing gadgets and horrified onlookers, but just being slid into a big oven on a tray. It's as exciting as making a pizza. The Monster himself is a dud. He is big enough, played by a guy well over six feet, wrapped entirely in bandages including mittened hands and for some reason, his head is in a cylinder that looks rather like a wastepaper basket. And he has no personality good or bad, he just sluggishly stumbles around following orders (well, his brain did come from the Baron's butler) until he goes on a brief half-hearted rampage on the very end.
So I feel like I've gotten to a pretty good place where I am comfortable eating 1200cals because I've been doing high volume foods(and vegetables. so many more vegetables than ever before in my life.......), but I kinda have a weird school schedule this summer where I'll be at university for at least 12 hours a day, 2 days a week, for 5 classes, with the biggest break being 1 hour(yes, kill me now).
I do have access to a locker(but it's right by a huge window and pretty much becomes an oven), and there is a refrigerator in one of the study spaces where I could probably be pretty safe storing food(especially if it's veggies, lol), but I don't know how I'm going to handle bringing all of my food.
One big problem is that I'm used to kinda grazing all day at my desk job(and low cal food is always so crunchy and loud....), so I don't know If I'll be able to do that so much because I'll be in class and most classes you're not really supposed to eat in. On the other hand, maybe simply not having time to eat all of the time will help me, haha.
Okay, so I'm rambling now, but basically I'm wondering if anyone has any advice for my situation? Just suck it up and eat more condensed meals? :P
I'm about to buy a hybrid water heater to replace the old electric that is causing our electricity bill to explode, and I think I have the right model, but when I look at the EF rating it's listed as 3? Is there some kind of trickery here that marketers use, or can you really get EFs over 1?
Edit: nevermind, I found the answer; here it is for future reference:
Heat pump water heaters are very different. Electricity isn’t converted directly into heat; rather it is used to move heat from one place to another. This is counter-intuitive because the heat is moved from a colder place (the room air where the water heater is located) to a warmer place (the water in the storage tank).
This seemingly magic process happens because a specialized refrigerant fluid is alternately condensed and evaporated in a closed loop. This process relies on phase changes of the refrigerant that capture and release significant amounts of heat.
A detailed explanation of the refrigerant cycle is beyond the scope of this blog. Trust me that it works. (It’s the same basic principle used in your refrigerator, which extracts heat from inside that insulated box and dumps it into your kitchen.)
The net result is that for every one kilowatt-hour (kWh) of electricity consumed, two or more kWh’s of hot water are produced. The energy factor, which is often thought of as a measure of efficiency, is 2.0 to 2.5 for most heat-pump water heaters on the market, while a 100% efficient electric-resistance water heater would have an energy factor of just 1.0.
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I'm currently so unemployed it's not even funny, and I was trying to come up with a few small business ideas I could do. So I thought to myself, why not combine what I know (playing cocktail piano) with what I like (drinking)!
So here's my idea: I construct a mobile bar in someone's home or wherever they'd want it. I bring a barkeep who serves 5-6 different cocktails and meanwhile I play smooth lounge music. I have an easily transported instrument and amp system, so that takes care of the music bit.
The bar would be nothing fancy, essentially a front from panelled wood and maybe a nice stone top that houses the things that I need to serve the cocktails, a back panel that has a few shelves for glasses and a mirror (the mirror is important). As a whole, something that looks like a saloon, but that's easily built, transported and unbuilt.
The reason I'm posting here is to see if anyone has any input on the sort of equipment I would need for the bar. Assuming we serve a party of thirty people, how much materials would we need? Let's say we serve a whisky sour, a manhattan, margaritas, mochitos, gin and tonic. (I know, but that's what's popular here)
How much ice does a party need (and what size of refrigerator would I need to acquire). How much fruits do I need to bring. What's a good way to clean glasses on a mobile station? Am I missing something really obvious?
I didn't quite realize that the two were connected until around two months ago. Dreams and the afterlife. Reality and perception.
Have you ever heard about those dreams that people have? The ones where they’re feeling stressed, and their dead mom comes to reassure them? Or when they dream about playing fetch with their recently passed dog one last time? I have. I’d never really thought about them much. Dismissed them as feel good stories or the brain attempting to deal with intense situations. I’d never actually thought that they might have actually spoken with them, and especially not from the other side.
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
It began threeish months ago, when I ran into an old friend of a friend. I had remembered this guy from middle school as being one of those weird kids. Not like the gamer weird or the smelly guy weird, but the one that always had the weirdest theories about everything.
Like Buster, from Arthur, I suppose. Or Agent Mulder.
Anyways, he was odd, but really friendly and got along with most people. It was a trait that he seemed to have kept when I met again, almost seven years later. I met him at a party that our mutual friend was throwing, where he immediately remembered my face. I had no idea who he was, right up until he started going off about one of his weird theories. It was something about the Sun being a living being or something like that.
Yeah.
Anyways, we were talking for a few minutes in between songs from the band (who sucked, by the way. Fuck you, Jared), and he mentioned that he ran a blog. I’ll admit that I was actually curious and inquired further. At this point, he got really shifty and asked me for my email, and he’d send me some stuff he didn't have on there. Interesting stuff.
Naturally this set off my radar. I didn't want the FBI knocking at my door. At the same time though, I guess I’m one of those people who embody the phrase “curiosity killed the cat.” I gave him an email address that I never used in case it was something weird (hint: it was, but not in that way) and told him to hit me up. I didn’t hear from him for a few days, and after a couple weeks I had stopped checking that email account completely. It wasn't until the week after that that I randomly checked the email again and saw that I received a message. It came on the day I stopped checking, of course. It contained a series of pdfs, filled with insane theories, experiments to back them up, and photo “evidence”. I was actually kind of interested, and spent about a week just skimming over them. There was one that kept my attention, however. It concerned lucid dreaming. Now, lucid dreaming can be done, and it’s not like this particular file is the only source on it. You can google it and find a million different methods for lucid dreaming.
However, most of these methods don’t involve connecting yourself to the afterlife.
You heard me. I said the afterlife. "Well Asher," you'll say. "The afterlife doesn't exist!" Then I'll laugh at you and you'll be all mad at me and nobody will have a good time, so I'll preempt that by saying yes, yes it does. I've been there. Not that that's something particularly amazing or impressive. Getting to the afterlife is actually surprisingly easy if you know exactly how to do it (and no, I'm not going to tell you for reasons that should be clearly obvious after we're finished with all of this). Also, the afterlife is really fucking weird and, quite frankly, I don't like it much. It's not what you're probably thinking, not even close.
Back to the story: I decided to check it out for myself. It was one of the saner sounding theories in the file and had the least chance to get me in trouble with the law or cause me to seriously injure myself. All it required was for me to pick up some small, cheap, unnamed items and follow the the instructions:
Sleep during before noon or after midnight (same thing). Between noon and midnight, the connection to our world is much weaker. Don't ask me why.
Use one of these small items before you sleep. Apparently it helps you establish a connection.
Close your blinds and shut your door. Sleep in a basement if you can. Being underground helps, and blocking all the light that you can is essential.
Place another one of these items on your stomach while you sleep (meaning you have to sleep on your back)
Don't be interrupted. Sleep in an area alone. A cave is the best (ever wonder why oracles always hang out in caves?) but basements work as well.
Lastly, drink the last of these items. It will combine with the first and help you establish a connection.
It sounded fun and I had nothing better to do that night (what with finals being done and whatnot), so I decided to give it a go. I felt sort of embarrassed as I started the ritual for all of about thirty seconds before I realized that I was home alone so I was allowed to do whatever dumb stuff I felt like doing. Doing steps 2-6 was quick, and I was dead tired anyways (working until 2AM the night before will do that to you), so step 1 came naturally as well. Before long I was snoring almost as loudly as my sister did that one time on vacation where the entire family was in one hotel room.
I had taken some precautions when I first went to sleep, so that when I "awoke" I was moderately sure that I was actually in a lucid dream. The clock being random gibberish confirmed it. I was actually somewhat impressed at the fact that this method did seem to produce lucid dreaming. Whether it really connected you with the afterlife remained to be seen.
I decided to investigate. The file said that the dream world was just slightly above the afterlife (the crust to the proverbial mantle) and that there would be a way to descend into the dream. It described it as being sort of like the Nolan movie, Inception. There are multiple layers to the "dream," where each of these layers represents a layer of the afterlife. Apparently this has inspired religions around the world, producing such things as the Jewish Three Heavens and the Seven Circles of Hell.
This meant, of course, that I had to go deeper. Literally. There would be some sort of hatch, door, cave, etc that would allow you to descend into the afterlife. Apparently this used to be ascend, but something about humanity's perception of the afterlife dictated that it should go down instead of up.
Which wasn't terribly comforting.
I awoke in a facsimile of my bedroom, though it was slightly different. The clock was gibberish, as I said. It was a fair bit neater than my real room (not that I'm a slob, but I'm not exactly a neat freak) and the door was wide open when I ALWAYS keep it shut. It wasn't different enough to make me truly upset, but the subtle differences actually were kind of bothering me. It felt like I had gone to sleep and some people had been in my room before I had woken up. It was a strange feeling, and I didn't like it one bit. My blinds were also shut, but as I went to open them the strangest feeling overcame me, like something was just outside my field of view, waiting for me.
All of this combined led me to feel distinctly nervous, which I was not expecting. I left my room and quickly shut the door behind me, which put me in my living room. All the windows had been boarded up, and the door was chained shut. Caution tape had been layered over it to the point where you almost couldn't see the wood underneath it. The floor was slightly different as well. Instead of the tan carpet I had laid down, the floors were made of concrete, which glistened wetly. The dripping sound of water came from somewhere over my head, and the whole area just felt... unclean. Like a swamp, where the water is just disgusting.
I felt even more uneasy and looked around for something to potentially defend myself. Luckily (or maybe I created it?), my knife was laying on the table next to me, which I quickly snatched up. Going upstairs was out of the question at this point. I can't really explain where the idea came from, but I felt like the house had been reinforced for a reason, and that going outside the defenses that had been assembled would be extremely unwise. Instead, I decided to investigate the storeroom.
I had always hated the storeroom. It was shaped like an L, so you couldn't see one end of it. It had no lights, so it was always dark, and the door to it was just to my right of where my computer station had been set up. I always felt like it was watching me whenever I sat down at my computer, so I usually made a point of keeping the door shut. Of course, like my bedroom door, it was open and the interior was completely pitch black. I looked for a way to illuminate it, but saw no flashlights or matches, or really anything of the sort.
It was then that I realized that I was wearing clothing, instead of my pajamas (yes, I didn't notice until now. Shut up. I had slightly more worrisome things on my mind). Instead of the bottoms and t-shirt I had gone to sleep in, I was now wearing my black hoodie, with grey jeans and my black shoes, all of which I distinctly remember leaving upstairs in the washing machine before I went to sleep. Yes, I realize that I'm in a dream, but it was just one of a series of things that led to everything feeling wrong. Usually you don't remember what you wear in a dream, and usually the dream doesn't go into so much detail that it actually reconstructs clothes that you own, and in a pattern you usually wear them in.
But more importantly, I found my phone in my pocket. It had no bars or wifi, and the clock was just gibberish (weird characters in a language that I didn’t know) but the battery appeared to be fully charged, and my flashlight app was installed. I turned it on and entered the storeroom, guided by its cold white light. The room was completely empty. All the usual things in it were gone. No food, no clothing, no refrigerator, nothing. However, as I rounded the corner, a rusted iron(?) hatch was set into the floor at the end. On it was carved a single symbol/marking/whatever, which I recreated here.
I had no idea what the thing meant, but in this moment I was euphoric I was pretty psyked. Here, in front of me, was the entrance to the afterlife.
As I inspected the hatch, I noticed that it seemed to be recently opened. A layer of displaced rust ringed the hatch, and it hadn't yet become completely damp from the extremely moist air. It set off some red flags and alarm bells, but I had gone too far at this point to go back. So with a mighty heave, I flung open the hatch and almost squashed my foot. A deep, black hole stretched deep into the earth in front of me. A ladder, similarly rusted, fell into the depths. My light revealed that the hole was actually pretty thin, with the sides being made of what looked like concrete.
I hesitated, considering my options, but eventually swung a leg over and gingerly tested it. The ladder, despite looking shoddy as all get out, held surprisingly firm. So after one quick check to make sure I had everything with me, I began my descent. It was exceedingly dull and went for way longer than it should have. I kept expecting the hatch to slam shut above me, or for something to spring from the darkness below and grab me, but nothing ever did. The light from above gradually faded, which forced me to climb mostly one armed while using my phone for illumination. Luckily for me, the battery didn't seem to be draining at all. This was pretty comforting, as having a steady source of light seemed like it was going to continue to be important.
Eventually the shaft began to get brighter, illuminated by some light source below. It was a deep red, like the light you expect to see when a starship goes into red alert in some scifi movie. It wasn't much longer until I ended up at the end of the ladder. Below me appeared to be some sort of generator room. A large metal turbine took up the center and majority of said room. Several metal shelves were set up against the walls, and a single red light (a naked bulb in one of those steel cages) flickered on the ceiling. I didn't feel like climbing back up that damn ladder, so I dropped the last ten feet into the room. I noticed that it seemed to have been abandoned in a hurry. Several small items seemed to have been left behind. A wrench, a black plastic case, a box of bullets (which was somewhat disturbing, I don't mind telling you) and what looked like a busted up power drill. An eclectic bunch, to say the least. The plastic case turned out to be a tool case, but it was empty. Sure. Why not?
I gingerly approached the door at the other end of the room, which had a large stamp on it that simply read "L1." It opened surprisingly smoothly for how big it was and led into more pitch blackness. My light illuminated a concrete hallway, with shattered fluorescent lights stretching along the ceiling into the blackness in either direction. I heard scuffling down the left corridor, what sounded like multiple people walking barefoot on concrete. I exited the room cautiously, putting me into the pitch black hallway. I proceeded slowly, but somehow managed to get almost 100 feet down the hall without seeing anything, despite the shuffling getting louder.
Acoustics are a bitch.
That was when I noticed that something was written on the wall. I shined my light on it for a closer look, and saw scrawled on the cement wall in what seemed to be black permanent marker: “Level One is HELL!!!!!” The letters were scribbled on in what seemed to be a mix of haste and probably insanity, and just looking at them made the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach grow even deeper. Obviously the L1 on the door stood for “Level 1,” which meant the first layer of the afterlife (which was apparently Hell). Supposedly there were currently four levels once you're underneath the “dream” world. This meant that I was three levels up from where I wanted to be.
Unfortunately, I was so wrapped up in these thoughts that I failed to notice that shuffling sound had been growing steadily louder. Hey, I never claimed to be a genius.
I turned to see what was making the noise and was promptly greeted with what was probably the scariest thing I'd ever seen. It was at least nine feet tall, with fishbelly pale skin and no hair. It had the face and torso of a human, though down around it's waist, it bent backwards and became almost a horse, though it still looked like a human's back. Protruding from the sides of its body were multiple pairs of arms ending in hands with no fingernails, which it used to walk towards me startlingly quickly. A centipede (inb4 hur dur Human Centipede) would be the closest thing I would compare it to. It had two more arms where a regular human would have them. The hands, unlike its “feet” were tipped with wicked claws, more like a dinosaur's than a human's fingernails. Also, it moved way too fucking quietly for how big and creepy it was.
It took me all of a second after processing this gruesome display for my brain to start screaming at me to run. I concurred, and turned to run. Before I even took my first step, it was on me. It grabbed me with one hand around my leg. My leg screamed in sudden pain as its claws went through the meat of my leg and out the other side, and I went crashing to the ground. My forehead hit the floor with a sickening crack, and everything sort of... went away for a couple seconds. My brain couldn't actually remember why I was so stressed out, though it was certain that it was nothing good.
Everything snapped back into focus and I realized that yup, it was nothing good. My face was about an inch from the thing's, and it just watched me from empty eyesockets for a moment or two. The scene was completely silent, apart from the steady drip of blood from my leg to the concrete five feet below.
Then, without warning, it opened its mouth and shoved me towards it. I screamed. I'll admit it. But just as I was about to enter that gaping maw, the world shattered in a blast of noise.
I awoke to my alarm screaming at me, letting me know in no uncertain terms that it was, in fact, 7:00 AM. I was sweaty and shaking, and felt like I had a really bad cold.
But most importantly? My bedroom door was open, my hands were covered in dirt/rust and the back of my jean's left leg had been torn open to the knee, though my leg was unblemished.
A week or so ago I read a writing prompt which suggested writing a biography of a character whose life starts relatively normally but which gets more unlikely as their life progresses. I couldn't find the original prompt and so I am posting it here
Born in 1911, Robert Falchion grew up through the shadow of the Great War. He attended Juningberry High before studying electrical engineering at Manchester polytechnic, graduating in 1931. He married his high-school sweetheart, Frida, in 1932, and in the summer of that year they had their first son, Robert Jr., named for his father. Following his graduation from University, and marriage to his dear wife, Robert started work as a researcher for Jameson Electric. It was at Jameson that Robert devised ways of using to electricity to keep things both hot and cold; technology which go on to provide the basis for what we now know as refrigerators and microwaves. Following the moderate acclaim brought about by these inventions, in 1935, Robert was head-hunted by the state-owned Soviet power company, Atomovisk, and offered the opportunity to become the head of their Research and Development department. In order to better provide for his young family, Robert accepted the job offer and he, Frida and Robert Jr. moved to the small and idyllic Russian town of Obninsk, overlooked by the Atomovisk facility.
Behind the heavy iron gates and windowless walls Robert was tasked with developing methods of producing electricity from nuclear material. At this time nuclear power was a new and exciting field, and Robert was at its forefront. After just one year at the facility, Robert was able to meet all of the facilities energy needs through electricity produced by his research. A month later and the facility provided nuclear power for the entire town of Obninsk.
Two years after arriving in Russia, Robert’s accomplishments had caught the eye of the Soviet government. With war in Europe looming once again, Falchion was visited by several Soviet officials who turned his talents towards more military matters. Having devised ways of producing electricity from nuclear material, Falchion was tasked with the production of electrical and nuclear weapons for the Soviet army. For the next three years Robert produced a number of prototypes, eventually producing a working weapon, capable of firing a concentrated beam of electricity, the energy for which was produced by a nuclear fusion reaction housed within a backpack worn by the user.
Following the breakout of hostilities between Soviet Russia and Nazi Germany, Falchion’s guns, christened Falchiova by the Soviet propagandists, were first deployed in 1941 in the battle of Kiev. Immediately successful, the use of the falchiova by Soviet forces was widely believed to be responsible for turning not just the tide of the battle, but of the war itself. Following the full surrender of German forces, and the annexation of much of Europe by the Soviet Union, Robert was awarded the Order of Labour Glory, First class, the highest honour awarded to civilians by the Soviet Union. The medal was presented to Robert by Stalin himself in a ceremony held in Berlin in September of 1941. It was on this night that Robert Falchion made the acquaintance of one Igor Grouzenko, then Marshall Commissar of the Soviet forces. Owing his success in the war to Falchion's electric guns, Robert and Grouzenko struck up a friendship.
Following the war, Falchion was stationed back in the facility in Obninsk. After the success of his electrical rifles, he was given free rein to work on any and all projects he deemed fit. He began work on smaller, more powerful falchiova, as well as a more devastating device which would later become known as Falchiomba. Falchiomba were enormous shells, fired by purpose built artillery. Upon detonation the energy produced by a small fission reaction inside the warhead would harness the latent electrical charge of regular air particles. Spreading like a vast lightning storm from its epicenter, a chain reaction would spread a lethal electrical charge through the air over a diameter of up to 15 miles.
During these post-war years Robert had maintained a correspondence with Igor Grouzenko. Over time, it became clear to the men that they were both dissatisfied with Stalin’s Soviet Union. They both saw it for what it was, greedy and corrupt, and they both sought change. Talk turned to revolution, and upon hearing of Falchion’s new electrical weapons, Grouzenko pledged him the allegiance of large swathes of the Soviet army. Grouzenko was able to secretly produce Robert's Falchiomba artillery in various strategic locations around Soviet Russia, and forces loyal to Grouzenko were armed with Falchion’s improved Falchiova. On the morning of the 5th of May 1946, an envoy was sent to Stalin’s residence delivering to him the proposed terms of his surrender. Stalin refused these terms, and later that morning the first falchiomba used in combat was launched upon his Stalingrad residence. Stalin, along with his household guard, and everyone within a 15 mile diameter were electrocuted to death. Over the next week, four more falchiomba were used across Russia against forces who remained loyal to Stalin, until those that remained pledged their allegiance to Grouzenko and Falchion.
With the coup successful and the Soviet empire now in their hands, Grouzenko turned his hand towards policy changes within Stalin’s system, while Falchion continued his electro-nuclear research. For a time the New Russian Empire prospered under its joint leaders, until Grouzenko, fearful of the power of Falchion's machines, showed his true colours with an attempt on Falchion’s life. Seeking sole power for himself, Grouzenko sent 150 his best men to Falchion’s palace in the dead of night with orders to murder Falchion in his sleep, which he planned to explain as the acts of Stalinist rebels. Falchion was woken by the sound of guns, and the electrical cracks of falchiovas in the grounds of his palace. He was able to able to escape from a window to his workshop, where upon he equipped himself within his newest research project, the Falchbak. A nuclear powered mechanical body suit which stood roughly nine feet tall, the falchbak provided a man with electrically powered mechanical limbs, and an array of falchiova mounted on its shoulders. Protected within the metal casing of the falchbak, Robert Falchion fought bravely against the intruders, electrocuting to death many of the one hundred and fifty men who had entered the grounds. Seeking out Grouzenko, he walked, still clad within his falchbak, through the streets of Grouzenglad to the military base where Grouzenko was stationed. Falchion fought and killed by various means many of the two thousand or so of Grouzenko’s men who were stationed at the base, before finding Grouzenko and taking him as his prisoner.
Grouzenko, unrelenting in his traitorousness, was kept captive by Falchion for several weeks while he finalised his latest electrical apparatus, with which he planned to expose Grouzenko’s treachery. After a time, the Falchvidenya was complete. Using a technology similar to that of the falchiomba but non-destructive in nature, the falchvidenya also utilised the latent electrical charge of the particles in the air, manipulating them to display moving pictures and sounds on vast scales, two miles in the air and one mile across. Entire cities watched and listened as Grouzenko admitted his crimes. His image projected into the skies above them, Grouzenko talked of his treachery, of plotting to murder our Great and True Lord Falchion, as well as his secret heinous desires for the flesh of the innocent and of those no longer living.
Grouzenko’s confessions, as well as his execution by electric firing squad were seen by not only those of the New Falchonian Empire; but through the use of long-range falchvidenya, the confessions were projected over the capitals of the treacherous pig countries who had not yet seen fit to offer allegiance to Our One and Only True Lord Falchion.
Following this projection over their capitals, several of the least backwards nations, most notably the USA, The Anglo-Franco Alliance, China and the South American Coalition declared immediate war upon our great and powerful nation, seeing this intrusion into their skies as an act of hostility. Other countries, fearful of Falchonia’s advanced technology declared immediate allegiance to Our Just and Almighty Lord Falchion. For not having declared allegiance sooner, these spineless nations were given the punishment of the execution of just 60% of their population by electrocution by falchiomba. For those countries who had declared war upon our righteous empire, Our Great Lord Falchion, Defender of Freedom and Liberty decreed that the punishment would be 97% execution by electrocution by falchiomba. In order to enact the punishments, Our Great Lord, Supreme Commander Falchion, Whom We all Dearly Love designed his masterpiece, the Falchollosus. A terrifying weapon of destruction, The falchollosus stood 150 feet high 250 feet long. Resembling a giant and terrifying mechanical dog, this colossal metallic beast was able to rear up on its rear quarters, revealing on its chest an array of both short and long range falchiomba capable of liberating entire cities of the sinful filth that would stand against our noble and righteous cause. Defended from ground attack by electrified surfaces, the falchollosus also carried a new technology, the Falchsila, an electrical field which sheathed it within in a blue and crackling glow, through which enemy projectiles could not pass.
Our Great and True and Noble Lord, the Light of Our Lives bravely lead the charge against the hordes of sinful demons who sought to overthrow all that is good and right in the world with their wicked deeds. The falchollosus, piloted by Our One Hope, Our Single Salvation against Those That Would Harm Us, Lord Commander Falchion Whom We All Love With All Our Hearts, strode across the wicked world, from city to city, from army to army, across seas and continents, for seven years making good that which was bad, finding truth in lies and casting to fire and hell those who would sin against the free and right people of the world. Praises Be Upon His Name, the Highest of High, the Mightiest of Mighty, Love of our Lives, Rightful Ruler of all the Lands and Seas, Supreme Lord Falchion Astride His Terrifying Falchollosus, He Whom hath Brought Heaven to us on Falchearthia.
How long can you safely store bacon grease in a refrigerator? Days, weeks, months?
I am traveling for work M-F for the next 2 weeks, and I am obsessing about what to eat. I know that there are only crap restaurants around the hotel (except for one nice steak house I would have to take a cab to). There is a microwave and refrigerator in my room. There is a fitness center in the hotel and one down the street with free weights. There is cable. There is wifi and I have Netflix. I am a traveling robot. Ahem... so, here is my spreadsheet for Sunday night shopping (the night I arrive each of the 2 weeks). I know you all have opinions! http://ift.tt/1HSKMTM
This is the first recipe I've conceived independently. The flavours are Persian-inspired; Persian cuisine piqued my interest one day, though I'd never had any exposure to it.
The cilantro in this soup is used like celery in chicken soup; indeed, cilantro and celery are closely related plants. The stalk and young leaves in the inner layers are the aromatics that impart sublime flavour into the broth, while the large outer leaves are better for garnishing because they lose their aroma with heat. I can't stress enough the importance of the cilantro stalks in this recipe.
I typically prepare this soup with baby spinach, but it's also turned out well with baby gai lan and yu choy. As such, you should feel free to experiment with various leafy greens: kale, watercress, arugula, et cetera.
Unlike most soups, this one's flavour actually seems to depreciate with time in the refrigerator: the broth turns cloudy and the flavour weakens after I reheat a bowl of it in the microwave. With this in mind, you'd be wise to consume it promptly.
In a soup pot, sweat the onion in the oil over medium heat, sprinkling with the salt after 2 minutes, until the onion is soft. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute until fragrant. Add the mint, turmeric, cinnamon, and chili flakes and cook 30 seconds until very fragrant. (I recommend lowering the heat to medium-low to prevent the spices from burning.) Add the barley and toast it for 1 minute over medium heat. Add the carrot, cilantro, and broth; cover, bring to a boil over high heat, then simmer at least 30 minutes over low heat until the barley and carrot are tender. Add the beans and simmer 5 minutes. Add the greens and simmer until completely wilted, 5 to 10 minutes depending on your choice of vegetable.
Serve sprinkled with pomegranate seeds and cilantro leaves.
Meal prep doesn't have to be about dividing one meal into six containers. You can make every meal different in the same amount of time. You just need to break free of recipes. Here's how to cook without recipes, whether its one meal or 15 meals at the same time.
Pick out raw ingredients to fill the plates
Wash, portion, and cut the ingredients into bite size pieces, placing them in individual containers
Season the ingredients with some combination of THE STARTING 5: SALT, PEPPER, ONION, GARLIC, OLIVE OIL (OR FAT OF CHOICE). This will make it savory. Then for variety and the fun of it, add to each ingredients some seasoning or combination of seasoning from whatever you've got handy. Generally you want to add something SOUR, something SWEET, something SPICY. Or all of the above.
Divide your seasoned ingredients into two camps: Cook in oven. Cook on stovetop. Cook everything in the oven at 400 degrees for 15 minutes, check and pull what's done, then send the items that need more time back in for another 10 minutes or so, however long you think. Cook everything on the stovetop using four pans and four burners at once. You just stand there and stir until things finish cooking. As they finish, transition to storage container, rinse the pan and repeat. Do this until all your stovetop items are done.
Store the finished ingredients in the refrigerator in groups - proteins on one shelf, produce on another, grains on another. For meals you want to take out of the house, pack them up as complete meals and put them on their own shelf.
If you are new to cooking without recipes, I suggest trying this with just one meal. Then do two different meals at the same time, then three until you get up to the output you want.
I also suggest limiting your meal prep time to 2 hours and doing whatever you can in that time. Each time you will be able to do more and more as you get better.
Happy to answer questions.
I recently got a steal on a Kenmore Pro Series fridge; possibly "too good to be true" thought it does appear to work (two weeks now, hooked up water last night and icemaker and water also work).
They retail around 6k and sell used for 2-3, so I felt like I came upon a unicorn when I saw it for $300.
Anyhow, it doesn't have door handles. That's part of the catch. That said, I can get them (297128200 is the part number) from a variety of online sellers for about $125 each. Can anyone who has been down this road tell me if there are any resources I'm ignoring? I'm basically limited to searching by part number, but I'm wondering if there are some handles that are compatible and perhaps cost less.
Even with this expense the fridge is worth it for the great look it has, but if I can avoid it, I'd love to do that. I've also considered making my own out of some kind of cool wood, but thought it might clash with the stainless.
I have always been a big time base builder, and didn't really consider barricading a structure.
However, after seeing how cool the apartment buildings are, I am thinking some of these ideas could diversify gameplay a little bit....
Instead of just wooden barricades, we should be allowed to craft a lock for a pre-existing door, and reinforce it with sheet metal. When this is done the door should look reinforced so that players know it's occupied by a player.
The person who made the lock should be able to program a code for the door which they can then give out to friends for access.
These doors, if heavily reinforced should take as much explosives to get into as a metal gate (which should be harder to get into currently)
When someone uses explosives to get into your house or apartment the door should slam open (not destroy door) not sure if I think the lock should be destroyed as well?
That way we could have an experience using the cabinets and refrigerators for storage and organization.
There should be levels of upgrades for the door to provide more protection from raiding all requiring more and more metal. Since the door is the only point of protection for an apartment unless you take the whole building.
SIDENOTE: you should be limited to one secured and locked structure per server to prevent total map takeover. I would say one door, but if there's multiple doors in a structure you should be able to secure them too.
I was wondering if I have any legal ground to stand on and if I could receive some compensation for spoiled food. A little more than a month ago I noticed that the refrigerator had stopped working(Friday March 20th). I immediately typed my landlord an email and sent it to her. She responded the following day (Saturday) and told me that she would have somebody come to the house to check on it either Tuesday or Wednesday. Personally I felt that was too long to wait, and would prefer someone check on the refrigerator much sooner so that I could attempt to save the food inside of the fridge. Eventually her husband came out and checked on the fridge and said that nothing appeared to be wrong with it. Sometime between Friday and Monday the refrigerator started working again, I was out of town and was unable to keep an eye on the fridge. Without knowing how long the refrigerator was off I threw my food out just to be safe. Didn't mention anything about the food and thought that the fridge was fixed because the landlord said that it was. On March 25 a repairmen checked on the refrigerator and couldn't find anything wrong with the fridge. April 15 I get home from work and the fridge has cut off again. I emailed the landlord letting her know. Sent an update later that evening and told her that I flipped the switch and that the refrigerator had cut back on. Within the body of the email I stated that something appears to randomly shut the fridge off. Her husband came out a few days later and said that he would get an electrician within the next couple of days. A couple of days pass and still no electrician. The fridge shut off and this time would not cut back on after I flipped the breakers. The one mistake that I made was that I didn't notify the landlord that the refrigerator had cut back off, mainly because the issue was getting redundant and I was expecting an electrician to show up at any point to hopefully resolve the issue. Finally on Thursday April 23 I came home the fridge wasn't working, the outlets in my room and my roommates room weren't working and I sent the landlord an email asking if she could send out an electrician as soon as possible. It had been well over a week since they said that an electrician would check out the breaker. I woke up and left her an additional voicemail asking that she send an electrician. She responded via text that someone was coming to work on the breaker that day. I thanked her on saturday for getting someone out and fixing the breaker. Within my email I stated that unfortunately the food inside the fridge was spoiled due to the amount of time that the fridge had been cut off. I let her know that this was the second time I had to throw food out and asked her if I could receive some compensation. I was very cordial and felt that I had been more than patient throughout the process. She responded back highlighting a few sections within the rental agreement that stated she wasn't required by law to replace food within the refrigerator. I was somewhat taken aback because I honestly didn't think that she would be so catty and unapologetic. She also informed me that I didn't have renters insurrance and that I was apprently unaware of what renters insurrance was. It was patronizing and completely unproffesional. I took some offence to that because I didn't someone could have their head shoved so far up their ass that they couldn't recognize the decent thing to do would be to at least offer to help out and apologize for the faulty equipment. I let her know legal or not the decent and obviouse thing to do would be to somewhat compensate me for my troubles. I was not asking for much just a sign of good faith, possibly $50.00 off next months rent to help off-set the food that was spoiled. Again throughout this process I was respectful and very cordial but her response to me just set me off and now I am pissed. Sorry for the rant, but do I have any legal recourse.
While it may seem far-fetched, the answer really is in taking daily baby steps and being disciplined to stick with the plan. It does not require buying any fancy weight loss pills or some other magical potions. Losing weight is really all about burning more calories than you take in everyday, so with a good diet plan combined with moderate exercises can have the results you desire within a short time. Your diet will consist of foods that are loaded with nutrient but low in calories- whole grains, healthy fats and lean proteins. At the end of it all, you’ll be leaner, fitter and cleaner on the inside. First things first It is important that you approach the plan with the right attitude and mind set. This is a major factor for success in your weight loss goal. Tell yourself that it is doable and that you’ll go through it successfully. Get rid of thoughts of limitation. Secondly, if during these 15 days, you slip, don’t berate yourself or backtrack. Just dust yourself and tell and give it another go.
**15 Days Weight Loss Diet Plan**
DAY MENU 1 • Your diet will consist only of fruits. Grapefruit is an excellent choice. Apples, watermelon, avocado, cantaloupe and Pomegranates are equally good. • Avoid eating bananas on day 1. • You can begin the day with 2 medium-sized grapefruits or 2 apples and one pomegranate. • You can eat as much fruit as you desire throughout the day such that by the end of the day you’ll have had a minimum of 4 Apples, 4 Grape juice, a Watermelon and 2 Pomegranates. • Additionally, you should have taken at least 10 glasses of water or about 2.5 liters. • Green tea can also serve as good alternative for water.
2 • Your diet will consist only of vegetables. • These can be eaten raw as salads or boiled with a little salt and pepper. Avoid milk, oil, butter or cream • You can start out your day with one boiled potato • Vegetables you can include in your salads are Cabbage, Carrots, Radishes (optional), Tomatoes, Cucumber, Celery and Broccoli • Keep your salad in the refrigerator for about an hour before eating. • Take at least 10 glasses of water throughout the day.
3 • You will eat a combination of fruits and vegetables but no potatoes • The vegetables can be eaten raw as salads or boiled with a little salt and pepper. Avoid milk, oil, butter or cream • You can eat the choice of fruits from day 1. No packed or processed fruits • Avoid eating bananas on day 3 • Drink at least 12 glass of water.
4 • Your diet will consist of a combination of Bananas and milk • Eat minimum of 8 to 10 bananas and 3 glasses of milk throughout the day • You can start out the day with a banana and a glass of milk, 2 bananas at midday, a glass of milk and two bananas for lunch, another 2 bananas later in the day and finally, 2 bananas and a glass of milk at night.
5 • You will eat a combination of fruits, vegetables and rice • Start out the day by eating 2 tomatoes or other fruits • For lunch, you can boil a cup of rice • Eat more tomatoes throughout the day (up to 8) • Drink a minimum of 12 Glasses of water throughout the day
6 • Diet similar to that of Day 5 but eat more of vegetables than fruits throughout the day. • Drink a minimum of 12 Glasses of water throughout the day
7 • Fruit juice, vegetable salad throughout the day and rice for lunch • Drink a minimum of 12 Glasses of water throughout the day
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Fully furnished, cozy 1-bedroom efficiency in Illini Tower, conveniently located minutes away from the Main Quad. Includes attached bathroom, full kitchen (refrigerator, microwave, electric stove, sink), and attached balcony. Ample closet space. The following utilities are all included in rent, with no additional payment: AC/heat, water/sewer, gas, electricity, cable television, and lightning fast wireless internet connection powered by Pavlov Media. Includes access to amazing amenities such as on-site IT washers/dryers, theatre, gym, and study lounges.
Full lease is for $1250 per month, but this price is negotiable.
I had a very long and detailed dream last night with obvious symbolism, but I'm having a hard time decoding it.
I start out in a classroom with the director of a movie, and he's doing demonstrations. I am the person he chooses for all of them, and even though they seem horrific I'm happy to have it done to me. First, he has needles in his mouth and he takes them out to poke them onto my lips. He then goes behind me and chops off some of my hair. I would normally freak out, but I was convinced it was okay because I really liked the teacher. After class was over, I followed him and told him how I loved him and I wanted to kiss him. He told me that we should go on a date the next day, but I was devastated and told him that I couldn't because I was from the future and today was the only day I had to be with him. He said okay, and we kissed, and then I left because I had to catch the bus. The bus was about to leave, but I banged on the door and the driver let me in. For some reason in the 70's the bus had an auxiliary cord and let me plug in my phone (???) and I started to find music to play. I kept trying to decide, do I play music from this time period, or should I wow them all with music from my day? I searched and played a bunch of Led Zeppelin. Anyway, I go to my dad's old house and some bad guy is there trying to prevent me from returning to the present, and he tells me to check out the refrigerator. "There is tons of sandwich stuff in there, oh yes, sandwich stuff" he says, almost maniacally. I look, and it's seriously just ham and cheese. There's a bag of lettuce in there and it has my dad's name on it, and I just get really confused and wake up.
Any ideas?
Im living on a budget at the moment. Dont have a stove or refrigerator, just a microwave. Any good suggestions??
Giving away various antique items. We are also giving away a refrigerator, televisions and washing machine. There is also a bedroom set, love seat and armchairs. You must bring transport and movers with you. Keep in mind, 4th Floor walk up & items m [...]
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I didn't quite realize that the two were connected until around two months ago. Dreams and the afterlife. Reality and perception.
Have you ever heard about those dreams that people have? The ones where they’re feeling stressed, and their dead mom comes to reassure them? Or when they dream about playing fetch with their recently passed dog one last time? I have. I’d never really thought about them much. Dismissed them as feel good stories or the brain attempting to deal with intense situations.
I’d never actually thought that they might have actually spoken with them, and especially not from the other side.
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
It began threeish months ago, when I ran into an old friend of a friend. I had remembered this guy from middle school as being one of those weird kids. Not like the gamer weird or the smelly guy weird, but the one that always had the weirdest theories about everything.
Like Buster, from Arthur, I suppose. Or Agent Mulder.
Anyways, he was odd, but really friendly and got along with most people. It was a trait that he seemed to have kept when I met again, almost seven years later. I met him at a party that our mutual friend was throwing, where he immediately remembered my face. I had no idea who he was, right up until he started going off about one of his weird theories. It was something about the Sun being a living being or something like that.
Yeah.
Anyways, we were talking for a few minutes in between songs from the band (who sucked, by the way. Fuck you, Jared), and he mentioned that he ran a blog. I’ll admit that I was actually curious and inquired further. At this point, he got really shifty and asked me for my email, and he’d send me some stuff he didn’t have on there. Interesting stuff.
Naturally this set off my radar. I didn’t want the FBI knocking at my door. At the same time though, I guess I’m one of those people who embody the phrase “curiosity killed the cat.” I gave him an email address that I never used in case it was something weird (hint: it was, but not in that way) and told him to hit me up.
I didn’t hear from him for a few days, and after a couple weeks I had stopped checking that email account completely. It wasn’t until the week after that that I randomly checked the email again and saw that I received a message. It came on the day I stopped checking, of course. It contained a series of pdfs, filled with insane theories, experiments to back them up, and photo “evidence”. I was actually kind of interested, and spent about a week just skimming over them. There was one that kept my attention, however. It concerned lucid dreaming. Now, lucid dreaming can be done, and it’s not like this particular file is the only source on it. You can google it and find a million different methods for lucid dreaming.
However, most of these methods don’t involve connecting yourself to the afterlife.
You heard me. I said the afterlife. "Well Asher," you'll say. "The afterlife doesn't exist!" Then I'll laugh at you and you'll be all mad at me and nobody will have a good time, so I'll preempt that by saying yes, yes it does. I've been there. Not that that's something particularly amazing or impressive. Getting to the afterlife is actually surprisingly easy if you know exactly how to do it (and no, I'm not going to tell you for reasons that should be clearly obvious after we're finished with all of this). Also, the afterlife is really fucking weird and, quite frankly, I don't like it much. It's not what you're probably thinking, not even close.
Back to the story: I decided to check it out for myself. It was one of the saner sounding theories in the file and had the least chance to get me in trouble with the law or cause me to seriously injure myself. All it required was for me to pick up some small, cheap, unnamed items and follow the the instructions:
Sleep during before noon or after midnight (same thing). Between noon and midnight, the connection to our world is much weaker. Don't ask me why.
Use one of these small items before you sleep. Apparently it helps you establish a connection.
Close your blinds and shut your door. Sleep in a basement if you can. Being underground helps, and blocking all the light that you can is essential.
Place another one of these items on your stomach while you sleep (meaning you have to sleep on your back)
Don't be interrupted. Sleep in an area alone. A cave is the best (ever wonder why oracles always hang out in caves?) but basements work as well.
Lastly, drink the last of these items. It will combine with the first and help you establish a connection.
It sounded fun and I had nothing better to do that night (what with finals being done and whatnot), so I decided to give it a go. I felt sort of embarrassed as I started the ritual for all of about thirty seconds before I realized that I was home alone so I was allowed to do whatever dumb stuff I felt like doing. Doing steps 2-6 was quick, and I was dead tired anyways (working until 2AM the night before will do that to you), so step 1 came naturally as well. Before long I was snoring almost as loudly as my sister did that one time on vacation where the entire family was in one hotel room.
I had taken some precautions when I first went to sleep, so that when I "awoke" I was moderately sure that I was actually in a lucid dream. The clock being random gibberish confirmed it. I was actually somewhat impressed at the fact that this method did seem to produce lucid dreaming. Whether it really connected you with the afterlife remained to be seen.
I decided to investigate. The file said that the dream world was just slightly above the afterlife (the crust to the proverbial mantle) and that there would be a way to descend into the dream. It described it as being sort of like the Nolan movie, Inception. There are multiple layers to the "dream," where each of these layers represents a layer of the afterlife. Apparently this has inspired religions around the world, producing such things as the Jewish Three Heavens and the Seven Circles of Hell.
This meant, of course, that I had to go deeper. Literally. There would be some sort of hatch, door, cave, etc that would allow you to descend into the afterlife. Apparently this used to be ascend, but something about humanity's perception of the afterlife dictated that it should go down instead of up.
Which wasn't terribly comforting.
I awoke in a facsimile of my bedroom, though it was slightly different. The clock was gibberish, as I said. It was a fair bit neater than my real room (not that I'm a slob, but I'm not exactly a neat freak) and the door was wide open when I ALWAYS keep it shut. It wasn't different enough to make me truly upset, but the subtle differences actually were kind of bothering me. It felt like I had gone to sleep and some people had been in my room before I had woken up. It was a strange feeling, and I didn't like it one bit. My blinds were also shut, but as I went to open them the strangest feeling overcame me, like something was just outside my field of view, waiting for me.
All of this combined led me to feel distinctly nervous, which I was not expecting. I left my room and quickly shut the door behind me, which put me in my living room. All the windows had been boarded up, and the door was chained shut. Caution tape had been layered over it to the point where you almost couldn't see the wood underneath it. The floor was slightly different as well. Instead of the tan carpet I had laid down, the floors were made of concrete, which glistened wetly. The dripping sound of water came from somewhere over my head, and the whole area just felt... unclean. Like a swamp, where the water is just disgusting.
I felt even more uneasy and looked around for something to potentially defend myself. Luckily (or maybe I created it?), my knife was laying on the table next to me, which I quickly snatched up. Going upstairs was out of the question at this point. I can't really explain where the idea came from, but I felt like the house had been reinforced for a reason, and that going outside the defenses that had been assembled would be extremely unwise. Instead, I decided to investigate the storeroom.
I had always hated the storeroom. It was shaped like an L, so you couldn't see one end of it. It had no lights, so it was always dark, and the door to it was just to my right of where my computer station had been set up. I always felt like it was watching me whenever I sat down at my computer, so I usually made a point of keeping the door shut. Of course, like my bedroom door, it was open and the interior was completely pitch black. I looked for a way to illuminate it, but saw no flashlights or matches, or really anything of the sort.
It was then that I realized that I was wearing clothing, instead of my pajamas (yes, I didn't notice until now. Shut up. I had slightly more worrisome things on my mind). Instead of the bottoms and t-shirt I had gone to sleep in, I was now wearing my black hoodie, with grey jeans and my black shoes, all of which I distinctly remember leaving upstairs in the washing machine before I went to sleep. Yes, I realize that I'm in a dream, but it was just one of a series of things that led to everything feeling wrong. Usually you don't remember what you wear in a dream, and usually the dream doesn't go into so much detail that it actually reconstructs clothes that you own, and in a pattern you usually wear them in.
But more importantly, I found my phone in my pocket. It had no bars or wifi, and the clock was just gibberish (weird characters in a language that I didn’t know) but the battery appeared to be fully charged, and my flashlight app was installed. I turned it on and entered the storeroom, guided by its cold white light. The room was completely empty. All the usual things in it were gone. No food, no clothing, no refrigerator, nothing. However, as I rounded the corner, a rusted iron(?) hatch was set into the floor at the end. On it was carved a single symbol/marking/whatever, which I recreated here.
I had no idea what the thing meant, but in this moment I was euphoric I was pretty psyked. Here, in front of me, was the entrance to the afterlife.
As I inspected the hatch, I noticed that it seemed to be recently opened. A layer of displaced rust ringed the hatch, and it hadn't yet become completely damp from the extremely moist air. It set off some red flags and alarm bells, but I had gone too far at this point to go back. So with a mighty heave, I flung open the hatch and almost squashed my foot. A deep, black hole stretched deep into the earth in front of me. A ladder, similarly rusted, fell into the depths. My light revealed that the hole was actually pretty thin, with the sides being made of what looked like concrete.
I hesitated, considering my options, but eventually swung a leg over and gingerly tested it. The ladder, despite looking shoddy as all get out, held surprisingly firm. So after one quick check to make sure I had everything with me, I began my descent. It was exceedingly dull and went for way longer than it should have. I kept expecting the hatch to slam shut above me, or for something to spring from the darkness below and grab me, but nothing ever did. The light from above gradually faded, which forced me to climb mostly one armed while using my phone for illumination. Luckily for me, the battery didn't seem to be draining at all. This was pretty comforting, as having a steady source of light seemed like it was going to continue to be important.
Eventually the shaft began to get brighter, illuminated by some light source below. It was a deep red, like the light you expect to see when a starship goes into red alert in some scifi movie. It wasn't much longer until I ended up at the end of the ladder. Below me appeared to be some sort of generator room. A large metal turbine took up the center and majority of said room. Several metal shelves were set up against the walls, and a single red light (a naked bulb in one of those steel cages) flickered on the ceiling.
I didn't feel like climbing back up that damn ladder, so I dropped the last ten feet into the room. I noticed that it seemed to have been abandoned in a hurry. Several small items seemed to have been left behind. A wrench, a black plastic case, a box of bullets (which was somewhat disturbing, I don't mind telling you) and what looked like a busted up power drill. An eclectic bunch, to say the least. The plastic case turned out to be a tool case, but it was empty. Sure. Why not?
I gingerly approached the door at the other end of the room, which had a large stamp on it that simply read "L1." It opened surprisingly smoothly for how big it was and led into more pitch blackness. My light illuminated a concrete hallway, with shattered fluorescent lights stretching along the ceiling into the blackness in either direction. I heard scuffling down the left corridor, which was somewhat disconcerting, to say the least. It made me hesitate, unwilling to go outside, which meant that I was still in the blood red room when my alarm went off and woke me up. I was sweaty and shaking, and felt like I had a really bad cold.
But most importantly? My bedroom door was open and I was wearing my (completely dry) sweatshirt and jeans.
What the fuck?
1Ed
Victreebel Has been traded, first card from my recent 1st Ed pulls to be traded. Pictures provided upon request for these others
Holo
Electrode
NH Rares
Ditto (Fossil), Lt. Surge's Raichu (Gym Heroes) Cleffa (Neo Destiny )
Commons/UC -- Would Love to trade most of these
Jungle :
Dodrio, Exeggutor, Lickitung, Parasect, Persian, Rhyhorn Eevee, , Jigglypuff, Mankey Nidoranf, Bellsprout, Paras, Spearow, Cubone Eggcute, Goldeen, Rhyhorn, Meowth, Pokeball
Fossil:
Slowbro Golbat Cloyster Omanyte Psyduck Horsea Gambler Geodude Ekans Tentacool
Gym Heroes
Misty's Poliwhril, Erika's Eggcute, Erikas, Weepingbell Bl's Charmander, Misty's Goldeen, LS Rattata, Br's Geodude, Erika's Bellsprout, Energy Flow, Water Energy
Merch
Pikachu Pal (Tomagatchi sort of device, still on original packaging)
Weird Pokeball action game of catching pokemon, by leaning from side to side? Currently not working.
6 Packs of Action Flipz!
Koby Pokemon Figures
Burger King promo- 13K Gold Poliwhirl Plate in pokeball. CiB with CoA
Pikachu Skull Cap/ "beanie"
Original 151 Pokemon Backpack! complete with pokeball zipper accessories. Used less then 2 times.
Refrigerator Magnets
Original Pokemon TCG League Badges from Kanto and Johto.
Stickers! Original 150 square stickers ca. 1997.
1999 Pokemon TCG Summer League Tour Sticker
Goodie bags, like ones you give out at a birthday party.
Squirtle notepad, like one for your top shirt pocket. College ruled.
google doc - 31 cards left to finish out sets I collect.
W- stamps - Vulpix and Arbok.
paypal
Misc.
Shining Magikarp
1st Ed Jungle Jolteon