17" x 12" x 13" high closed. 38" x 20.5" x 18" high when fully opened. No dolls or accessories included, just the house with its built-in stuff, fold-out floors and patios, and openable refrigerator. Was a bit grubby from long storage. I've wiped it [...]
from Craigslist http://ift.tt/1Hk4gxL
via IFTTT
Looking for a sublet starting mid-January 2016, but starting date is negotiable. Apartment is in a great location, only 1 block from Camp Randall and Engineering campus. Apartment is sunny and spacious, with hardwood floors and large double doors connecting the bedroom to the living room. The apartment is one of 4 units that make up a house, and is located on the second floor. Apartment is sized nicely for 1 or 2 people. If rent is split between two people, it is only $472.50!
Apartment features:
-ALL utilities included (Gas, heat, electricity, garbage disposal, etc.)
-Can leave you window air conditioning unit, meaning you can have FREE air conditioning all summer
-Refrigerator and gas stove
-Storage unit available in basement
-Coin operated washer and dryer are available in-house in the basement
Lease ends 8/16/2015
Please contact if interested, and feel free to reach out with any questions!
I have posted pictures of the apartment to a Craigslist ad here: http://ift.tt/1k0NM90
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TL;DL- I had a really bad trip due to a bad set and setting. I was alone for most of it and really paranoid, felt like my life was like a hellish version of the film "Truman's show", and that everyone in the world are actors, and are trying to end my life. I also walked in a middle of a highway, confessed taking acid to my mom, almost got arrested, and lost my keys, wallet and earplugs, not to mention the insane audio and vision hallucinations. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=loTIzXAS7v4
So this story took place two days ago. I met a friend of mine, and we decided to drop together. We're not that close, so maybe this is what triggered my bad trip. Anyway- he took 150mg, and I did 300. We took a walk and smoked some weed a before the come-up. Me being not that frequent of a weed smoker, this definitely effected my trip, as I'm used to tripping without weed. So It started okay, it was his first time, so as we came up we each spoke about how we feel and what are the effect we're getting, at some point I was walking in some sort of trance, when the land became very slow-paste trippy (http://ift.tt/1PcCmu9 ), but more creative kind of trippy, more then your usual acid hallucinations, probably because i'm not used to mixing those two substances. Which was pretty cool. I like trippy. :) We walked a bit more and we came across a dark ally, in which he noticed two of his friends. We joined them and all started talking about acid, and in some point the two of us confessed of coming up on it right now. One of them tried to tell me a story, and I was nodding and smiling, and then told him that I didn't even hear a word of what he just said, i'm tripping so hard! This followed by a joined laughter of all of us. A conversation of bad trips started, and I told them I never had a bad trip. I said it proudly. "I know how to stay calm. I know how to put myself in a state of peace."
Ironic.
At some point I was getting bored with them, and my friend that tripped suggested we take a 1 mile walk to the beach! I was up for it! Could be fun! "LET'S GO TO THE BEACH!" -He said, in a way that later in the story will creep the hell out of me... We started walking and listened to some more music, both having a fantastic time. About 2/3 of the way, he wanted to light up another blunt, he was more of a heavy marijuana user, so he really wanted it. I agreed, lit it up, and passed it over. We walked some more as we saw 3 cop vans, driving maybe 5 feet from us. This really gave me the creeps. I instinctively dropped the joint, then realized this was the stupidest thing I could've done. I picked it up and put it in my pocket. They can't search me without a warrant or a probable cause, so I was praying to god they didn't see what I dropped. Thankfully They continued on the path we were taking and already passed us. I told my friend that this freaked me out. He agreed that it was intense. "We have to go back!" -I said. He convinced me to keep going, and that everything was okay. I believed him. We walked some more and sat on a bench. He asked me to pass him the joint. At this point I got suspicions.
Did he not see the police cars? Does he not care if we get arrested? Is he trying to get ME arrested?
-As these thoughts spiraled down my brain, I realized that it's all in my head. I shared what I thought with him, telling him I just had my first actuall bad trip,and that I thought that he's an undercover cop. (Bad trip? I didn't even know the start of it.) "Relax." -He tried to calm me as we got up and walked some more "This happens to me a lot actually, I sometime trip with my friends and they get the idea that i'm an undercover cop. But it's always the drug. I'm your friend." As if this way of calming me down is not enough, the creepiest thing is that he sounded like he was couched to say these exact words.
Like he was reading them of a script.
He kept turning his head, as if expecting someone to show up. Does this has to do with the cop vans we just saw? "Pass me the joint." -He said. At this point I was really freaked out. Felt like this is a set up. I shouldn't be here. I MUST LEAVE! I stopped. "I'm sorry. But you're making me uncomfortable. Let's call it a night." -I said. "-What?? NO! Why?" "I'm not having fun anymore. I'm going home. cye" "-No. wait! At least leave me the joint. HEY! Is the joint still in your pocket?" I didn't replay. He could be taping me and I can't give him anything. I started walking away. "Hey!" -He said. "Stop walking away! Come on..... LET'S GO TO THE BEACH" -Again, sounded like he was reading it off a script. Followed be a really creepy smile. He kept calling my name in a weird tone, like an authority figure, with a complete and drastic change in personality. Always smiling. The not-that-smart friend that isn't even near a threat became a brilliant actor that very cleverly manipulated me.
The terror was real. I'm in danger.
I didn't know what to do- but I did know one thing- I have to get as far as I can from this guy. "Please leave me alone. You're disturbing me". He didn't listen. "LET'S GO TO THE BEACH!" "LET'S GO TO THE BEACH!!" He kept saying in recitation. Always with a smile. He know's i'm onto him and he's teasing me now. I went to the opposite side of the road. At this point not only that i'm sure that the 3 cop vans are coming back, but each car that passed by i'm sure is an undercover cop. I'm just waiting to get arrested. I'm so petrified. I kept on walking and now I was hallucinating a big helicopter light following me. I was sure that This is not in my head. This shit is real. And is happening when I'm most vulnerable- tripping hard. I'm way too deep now. My "Friend" Rushed and got near me. "What are you doing? Why aren't we going to the beach??"
"GO AWAY OR I'M CALLING THE POLICE." At this point I pulled out my pone and dialed 911. He saw me do it and said "Okay!! Okay!! I'm leaving!"
He left.
I was relived. I was on my own now. Am I safe? I don't feel safe. The helicopter light is still following me. Every single car that passed by has undercover cops that are just waiting for me to slip. I now got into the city. The streets are empty except for cars. Not a single person. I saw a group of people from far away. They were watching their phone and pointing at me. As I came in their direction they ran away. People were watching me from their houses. Babys crying. People at the streets were staring at me. I felt like everyone were watching me. But not just everyone near-by. I got the feeling the the helicopter is shooting a live-steam of me to every house in the country. A story kept building up in my head about the reason they after me. Acid is a pretty serious drug. They investigated and found that I was using it, that i'm distributing it to my friends. Am I A bad person? Am I ruining my city? Is my mom and little brother watching the stream? Thy're probably disappointed.
My mom was probably crying. Her son is a fugitive, a discrimination.
As I kept walking towards my house, piece by piece I realized that the cops are just waiting for me to show them where is my home, so they can locate it and search whatever other drugs I have in my house. So they can put my in jail forever. With this tought I took the wrong turn intentionally, deciding to walk as far away from my house as I can. I can't let my mom and little brother be at home as FBI raids it. It will scar them for life.
At this point I just wanted this to end, but I knew the only way for this to end is for me to get arrested. It was only a matter of time. Bacause I took acid, I got the idea that that makes me this young evil schizophrenic genies that has the world biggest drug operation. The whole world is now watching the live-steam and waiting for me to get arrested and this huge sting-like operation to be over. I deserve to be locked up for good. I'm a bad man. I'm corrupting my city. I kept on walking, knowing that every second it will be over. At some point 2 black vans passed by from two different directions. They both drifted, blocking me from running away.
-At least this is what I tough was going to happen, instead they just passed each other. I kept on walking and at some point things got even more fucked up then they were already are. Suddenly the city was interacting to me. Light's were turning on and off. The floor was moving. sudden winds were blowing. As crazy as it sounds, I felt as if the city was communicating with me with speakers that were invisible, at very low volume, Telling me something along the lines of-
"This is where you live? You sad, sad man. Your life are fake. This city was built only for you. There are no other human being living on such bad conditions. Your life are fake. Every person in your life is a fraud, everyone are actors hired to investigate your life and how you're ruining your own it, making mistakes at every turn, taking people with you. You're ruining this city. Your friends, ex-girlfriends, your family. You have no one. You ruined this city."
Every bystander that walked passed me was laughing at me or making a sarcastic statement about how sad my life are. Is this city and everyone in it really are fake? Everyone I've ever connected with. I was so mad and hearbroken. I started calling the people that were the closest to me, to confront them for the last time, I called a few friends, also called my mom, that almost imminently knew something was up with me, asking if i'm taking drugs. I hung up. they all sounded confused and not sure what I was saying, but I was convinced that someone was giving them answers to give me on the other side of the line. I was so paranoid.
I put on some music, because if i'm going to get arrested, at least there will be a good background song, that sums up my "career". I put on some Beatles, and got on the highway. A lot more cars on the highway, I got the idea that if every car has agents that are here for me, then they all paying full attention at me. That's why I wasn't afraid walking like this road belongs to me. Thank god nobody ran me over. After a few miles of walking on an almost empty stomach, I felt I was getting really dehydrated.
A few minutes later, I came across a 24/7 gas&go convenient store. At the entrance there were water bottles. I Immediately opened one and started chugging, knowing the the government probably put all the bottles here for me. I don't remember the response of the seller, but i'm sure he was confused at my behavior, that for me seemed very legitimate. The Seller had an earbud, that I was sure he was getting instructions from and updating his boss on my every move.
Now I was feeling as if the livestream was shooting trough a camera in the glasses that I'm wearing, that they have some kind of high-tech technology. The weirdest thing was that brand names and logos were standing out the most, like the livestream had sponsors. "I have to eat something" -I thought to myself. All this food that I can choose from. Shelves on top of shelves. All for me. My life are over tonight, but at least I can have all the Pringles I can eat. I ate a few Pringles and tossed the rest away. Sweets everywhere. I asked the seller if they have any salads. The seller pointed at the refrigerator that was just now packed with yogurts, as it turned into a bunch of salads. I ate it and headed out. "Are you going to pay for all of this?" -He asked. "-Let the government pay" , I answered casually. I thought I was so damn important. "Listen man," -He said, "If you're not going to pay for this they're going to fire me. I need this job." I felt bad for him. I payed him the money and got out. it was freezing. I got back in and bought an Inflatable mattress, because that was the closet thing I could find to a blanket. I payed him and left a tip of about 50$, He said that I should take it, but I have no use in money in the place i'm going- so I told him to keep it.
I was out now, sitting near the gas&go store. All this experience reminded me of Jim Carry's "Truman's Show" film, so I decided to search it on Youtube. I found some footage from that show, But I hallucinated as if my phone was also high-tech interactive and it felt as if he was acting live, for me. Telling me what a bad person I am, laughing at me.
I can go on and on about how terrible this night was. I lost my keys, earbuds, and wallet, which had about 180$ in it. At some point I had an actual interaction with cops, and I asked them to take me and end this. They refused and were confused by me. I thought they were playing mind games. I couldn't come back home and look at my mom in the face because she wasn't my real mom, she was an actor, I took another walk in the city and people kept teasing me and following me. When I finally was coming down off the trip and went to sleep, I still had a feeling I was living a fake life. That everyone in the world was watching me sleep. Such a feeling to drift off to...
Thank you for whom ever read everything. This night was terrible, but the moral of the story for me, is that set and setting are THE MOST important thing in taking psychedelics. I knew this, but I already did LSD a bunch of times prior to this experience, so I thought that I mastered the drug. I was wrong. The second I treated it with less the respect It deserved, It got me- and it got me hard. Please always make sure you're in a positive atmosphere, in a good place in life, and with people you trust. Have a fantastic evening :)
I now keep a small bag chilling in the fridge at all times. It almost tastes like pralines at this point in my sugar-restricted journey.
A spoonful of whipped cream a close second.
Are landmark images trademarked or copyrighted? Being from western Washington can i make say a Space Needle watch (watchface) and sell it or can i expect to be sued and lose in court? Can i make refrigerator magnets with the image of Devils Tower and sell those?
scene opens in a dimly lit room, the only source emanating from a thin strip of light seeping its way through a crack in the curtains drawn over the window. The camera pans down to reveal our vexed hero… “Vile” Vic Studd… sitting cross legged on the carpeted floor. He looks up and sighs heavily as his fingers subliminally trace drawings of penises and huge pairs of boobs against the grain of the carpet’s matting. Finally, Vic works up the courage to speak…
”Vile” Vic Studd: So… Hi. I’m Vic.
Vic waits for a response, his eyes darting back and forth across the room… only to be met with silence.
Studd: You’re supposed to say… nevermind. Look, this is kinda new for me. While I feel I’ve made tremendous strides in solo therapy sessions, I feel the need to get some shit off my chest in a sort of group environment. Not in the literal sense of course. I’m no Stephen Alexander, after all.
Vic cracks a wry smile expecting a laugh or a chuckle. Only to be met with silence yet again.
Studd: Right. Look, really what I need is to just bounce my admissions off of some neutral parties. Individuals that are pure of heart and untainted from any prior misconceptions they might have about my character. Human beings who can take a step back and really chart the progress I’ve been working so hard to facilitate in myself. So I guess I should start off by letting you all know a bit about myself, huh?
Vic readjusts himself on the carpeting and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. He pulls one out and lights it up, taking one long drag before continuing.
Studd: Where to begin? Well… I like feet. Like… a lot. I hate potatoes. I once got loaded on painkillers and MDMA and assaulted a biker gang at a gay pride parade. I totally get why the ladies all love David Harvey, to the point that I may as well admit I’d probably fuck the guy under the right circumstances. If anyone disagrees with me I almost immediately begin calling them an Anti-Seimite and compare them to Hitler. I know next to nothing about the human reproductive system other than the fact that sticking your dick in between the strip of padding on a refrigerator door feels a lot better than it has any reason to. I enjoy the mystery of not knowing whether I was inside a woman or simply had got my cock stuck in one of her fat rolls…
Vic’s eyes start to water for a split second. But he wipes it away and takes another drag as he looks up into the heavens.
Studd: And I’ve done a lot of… bad things during my career renaissance. I threw an autistic Canadian with acute schizophrenia in front of a taxicab in order to take away the one thing he ever loved. Just because I felt like it. I blinded a soulless ginger kid with cleaning fluid that in turn ruined his career. Not that he had much of an upside anyway. I’ve driven over and/or through several co-workers in what was essentially a stolen van, stopping only to celebrate with chicken and waffles. I blackmailed a backstage official to get my way, only after I completely ruined his life by getting him addicted to various over the counter substances to the point where he not only lost his job for his ineptitude, but his wife and custody of his children as well. Let’s see… what else… oh yeah, I attempted to drown my former best friend after I caught him post-coital with my ex-wife. Failed. So I broke into her home a couple weeks later and sexually assaulted her to get said former best friend to agree to fight me at a later date. Then I pissed all over her couch.
Vic looks down at the carpeting almost pleased with his rap sheet of crimes committed over the past year or so. He takes another long drag of his cigarette before putting it out directly into the carpet.
Studd: And I was punished for all that. Got a road spike driven into my spinal column. A little harsh, but I’m not one to judge Allah’s adjudication. Praise be to him. I mean… it probably would’ve killed a lesser man… basically anyone else from my understanding. The fact that I’m still here is a fucking miracle on par with maintaining an erection while thinking about CJ’s sister. But you know what? I accepted my punishment. A near death injury for all the pain I’ve caused simply out of my spite for others. And in turn for that acceptance I was gifted… silence. I was forced to confront my sins within the solace of my own mind. And in doing so, a veil was lifted… I beheld the man behind the curtain. The machinations of society began to unravel at the seams. I was baptized anew into the glory of all things as I was swept up into the realization of the reason for being… LOVE.
Vic brings his left hand up to his heart as he takes a deep breath, picturing his beloved.
Studd: If only I had known sooner the booty… errr… bounty that waited behind the veil. My own Irish Fudge Truffle. For her... I would do ANYTHING for her. My beloved would no longer have to wait with the uncleaned masses of talentless jobbers plaguing this company, for I would carve through their filth leaving only a red carpet of blood behind me for her to glide upon like the Angel that she is. The officials would be forced to turn a blind eye to her offenses, or suffer having me take that eye from them. I would bequeath upon her a life of privilege where we dined nightly on steak and cuts of sashimi reserved only for royalty, served on the naked and glistening bodies of European fashion models. And as we beat guts in the pale moonlight of the Shangri-La I construct for her, I will cry to the heavens –WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING!?
Vic stops abruptly and walks over to the window. He pulls open the curtains allowing sunlight to bathe the Montessori Classroom with its warmth. A dozen or so children shield their eyes as they all sit cross legged in a circle, leaving only a small gap where Vic was sitting.
Studd: Were you eating your fucking boogers?
Vic points at one particularly husky child with streams of snot free flowing from his nostrils. The child simply shrugs as he reaches right back up in his nostril and continues mining for crusty fool’s gold.
Studd: Damn it, kid! Do you have any idea how distracting it fucking is to see you mainlining boogers like a stoned pelican while I’m monologue-ing? Fuck. I was in a groove too.
A little girl dressed head to toe in pink raises her hand and immediately starts speaking.
Little Girl: I thought we were playing Duck, Duck, Goose.
Studd: Duck, duck… what? Is that anything like a “Screaming Seagull”? Because hell, I’ve done that before.
Little Girl: NO! Duck, Duck, Goose! You walk around in a circle touching all of us and you say...
Studd: WHOA! UH UH! NO WAY! No one is touching anyone here! Who taught you that shit?
Suddenly one of the closet doors begin to shake and rattle, jarring loose the ruler keeping the closet sealed shut. The doors swing open and out falls a man bound and gagged with duct tape. He hits the floor and all the children giggle and laugh at seeing him fall and struggle to remove the tape binding his wrists and covering his mouth.
Studd: You son of a bitch…
A look of abject fear forms in the spindly young man’s eyes as Vic marches across the classroom towards his target. The man just barely removes the tape before Vic reaches him.
Mr. Goodhead: No! Please! Get away from me! Run children! AHH!
The children continue to giggle as Vic pulls the poor man to his feet by the collar and slams him up against the closet doors.
Studd: You sick fuck. So that’s what a Montessori School is! Some kind of twisted European Sex Dungeon masquerading as a school to prey on the innocence of children?
Mr. Goodhead: You don’t understand-
Studd: Oh I understand perfectly well. Hey kids? Who wants to see me staple this punk’s butthole shut?
All the Children: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!!!
A fresh stain of urine forms on the man’s khakis as Vic reaches for a stapler.
Mr. Goodhead: PLEASE! Please… (starts sobbing uncontrollably) I’m a pacifist, man!
Studd: Like what baby’s suck on!?! YOU FUCKING PERVERT!
Vic starts dragging Mr. Goodhead across the classroom towards the window.
Studd: Hey kids! How about we solve a little physics problem, hmm? How long does it take a pedophile to reach the ground after getting tossed out a second story window?
The children all start shouting over one another with their answers… “4 seconds!” “1 Minute!” “10 seconds!” “2 seconds!”. Vic cups his hand to his ear pretending to listen as he stares into Mr. Goodhead’s eyes.
Studd: Well… looks like we’ll only know one way for sure.
Vic hurls Mr. Goodhead through the window, the glass shattering outward as he falls down to the sidewalk below with a splat. The children all rush to the window, eager to count as Vic pretends to wipe off his hands.
Studd: Problem solved.
All the Children: YAAAAAAAAAAAY!!
Studd: So, what’s next on the agenda? Nap time?
All the Children: STORYTIME! STORY! STORY! STORY!
Studd: All right, all right. Gather round children as I tell you the tale of… ”Stephen Romero: An Apology from Planned Parenthood“
The children all form a circle on the carpet in eager anticipation of storytime with Vic Studd. Scene fades to black.
Individual Skillet Pecan Pie
Yields 6
A recipe for pecan pie made in 5" cast iron skillets
For Pate Brisee
For Pecan Filling
Instructions
For Pie Filling
Notes
Adapted from Martha Stewart's Baking Handbook and Marilyn
Pics and printable recipe available at:Nourish and Nestle
I generally feed my kids some sort of cheese and grain type main dish (ie, plain cheese pizza, macaroni & cheese, or grilled cheese). That sort of diet needs to stop. I also offer them servings of vegetables (either canned or homemade). They usually don't eat the vegetables unless I literally spoon-feed them.
So, we have decided to offer them the same meal over and over again, without giving them anything else, until they eat it. As in "When I was a kid, if I didn't like what was served, I didn't eat." The meal consists of:
They both ate none of it for lunch yesterday. For dinner, the eldest ate the noodles out of the casserole but not the rest. Today, the youngest ate the mixed fruit. They have both drank some milk, from time to time.
I have offered it for lunch yesterday, dinner yesterday, breakfast today, and lunch today. And by offered, I mean set their place at the table with their tray and drinks and silverware. I have served it hot, cold and warm. The time ranges sitting at the table range from 10 minutes to 1 hour.
Most of the time is spent with them crying that they want something else, and me explaining why they are not getting something else, why this food is good, what each thing is and what it tastes like. I have explained that they can have something else after they eat their food. I have also explained that they can have Halloween candy after they eat their food.
They do have access to other food, in the sense that they could get in the refrigerator and eat something, or open up their Halloween candy, but they haven't done that, so at least I have that going for me.
It is tasty food, definitely not spicy or bitter, and some of it (the baked beans and the fruit) is very sweet.
They haven't complained that they are hungry. After their "lunchtime" or whatever is over, they go back to playing without complaining, even though they complained during the whole lunchtime.
I have thought about just making their "normal" (ie, cheesy) meals, and slowly adding new things into it. But they refuse to eat macaroni & cheese w/ hot dogs cut into it, even though they like both separately.
Am I doing a good thing or a bad thing? Should I keep going with this? For how many more meals? How many more days? Are they really just not that hungry? If they get hungry enough, will they actually eat what's been served to them, or will they whine through the hunger for another day?
EDIT: I forgot to add that after trick or treating, we got together and sorted through their Halloween candy to get rid of duplicates, boring unhealthy stuff (like "candy sticks" which are just relabeled "candy cigarettes"), stuff they know they don't like (Twizzlers) or that I know they won't like (Warheads or Sour Patch Kids), stuff that is really bad for their dental hygiene (jawbreakers, taffy). If we ask them what will happen if they eat too much candy, they will respond with "Get cavities" or "Get fat". After sorting the candy, the youngest proudly showed his mommy what we had done and he said (with prodding) "I made good decisions!". Sooo... they generally get the idea of healthy nutrition and making good decisions. So, this whole not-eating thing really seems like a very long power play (since they won't even eat the mixed fruit).
scene opens in a dimly lit room, the only source emanating from a thin strip of light seeping its way through a crack in the curtains drawn over the window. The camera pans down to reveal our vexed hero… “Vile” Vic Studd… sitting cross legged on the carpeted floor. He looks up and sighs heavily as his fingers subliminally trace drawings of penises and huge pairs of boobs against the grain of the carpet’s matting. Finally, Vic works up the courage to speak…
”Vile” Vic Studd: So… Hi. I’m Vic.
Vic waits for a response, his eyes darting back and forth across the room… only to be met with silence.
Studd: You’re supposed to say… nevermind. Look, this is kinda new for me. While I feel I’ve made tremendous strides in solo therapy sessions, I feel the need to get some shit off my chest in a sort of group environment. Not in the literal sense of course. I’m no Stephen Alexander, after all.
Vic cracks a wry smile expecting a laugh or a chuckle. Only to be met with silence yet again.
Studd: Right. Look, really what I need is to just bounce my admissions off of some neutral parties. Individuals that are pure of heart and untainted from any prior misconceptions they might have about my character. Human beings who can take a step back and really chart the progress I’ve been working so hard to facilitate in myself. So I guess I should start off by letting you all know a bit about myself, huh?
Vic readjusts himself on the carpeting and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. He pulls one out and lights it up, taking one long drag before continuing.
Studd: Where to begin? Well… I like feet. Like… a lot. I hate potatoes. I once got loaded on painkillers and MDMA and assaulted a biker gang at a gay pride parade. I totally get why the ladies all love David Harvey, to the point that I may as well admit I’d probably fuck the guy under the right circumstances. If anyone disagrees with me I almost immediately begin calling them an Anti-Seimite and compare them to Hitler. I know next to nothing about the human reproductive system other than the fact that sticking your dick in between the strip of padding on a refrigerator door feels a lot better than it has any reason to. I enjoy the mystery of not knowing whether I was inside a woman or simply had got my cock stuck in one of her fat rolls…
Vic’s eyes start to water for a split second. But he wipes it away and takes another drag as he looks up into the heavens.
Studd: And I’ve done a lot of… bad things during my career renaissance. I threw an autistic Canadian with acute schizophrenia in front of a taxicab in order to take away the one thing he ever loved. Just because I felt like it. I blinded a soulless ginger kid with cleaning fluid that in turn ruined his career. Not that he had much of an upside anyway. I’ve driven over and/or through several co-workers in what was essentially a stolen van, stopping only to celebrate with chicken and waffles. I blackmailed a backstage official to get my way, only after I completely ruined his life by getting him addicted to various over the counter substances to the point where he not only lost his job for his ineptitude, but his wife and custody of his children as well. Let’s see… what else… oh yeah, I attempted to drown my former best friend after I caught him post-coital with my ex-wife. Failed. So I broke into her home a couple weeks later and sexually assaulted her to get said former best friend to agree to fight me at a later date. Then I pissed all over her couch.
Vic looks down at the carpeting almost pleased with his rap sheet of crimes committed over the past year or so. He takes another long drag of his cigarette before putting it out directly into the carpet.
Studd: And I was punished for all that. Got a road spike driven into my spinal column. A little harsh, but I’m not one to judge Allah’s adjudication. Praise be to him. I mean… it probably would’ve killed a lesser man… basically anyone else from my understanding. The fact that I’m still here is a fucking miracle on par with maintaining an erection while thinking about CJ’s sister. But you know what? I accepted my punishment. A near death injury for all the pain I’ve caused simply out of my spite for others. And in turn for that acceptance I was gifted… silence. I was forced to confront my sins within the solace of my own mind. And in doing so, a veil was lifted… I beheld the man behind the curtain. The machinations of society began to unravel at the seams. I was baptized anew into the glory of all things as I was swept up into the realization of the reason for being… LOVE.
Vic brings his left hand up to his heart as he takes a deep breath, picturing his beloved.
Studd: If only I had known sooner the booty… errr… bounty that waited behind the veil. My own Irish Fudge Truffle. For her... I would do ANYTHING for her. My beloved would no longer have to wait with the uncleaned masses of talentless jobbers plaguing this company, for I would carve through their filth leaving only a red carpet of blood behind me for her to glide upon like the Angel that she is. The officials would be forced to turn a blind eye to her offenses, or suffer having me take that eye from them. I would bequeath upon her a life of privilege where we dined nightly on steak and cuts of sashimi reserved only for royalty, served on the naked and glistening bodies of European fashion models. And as we beat guts in the pale moonlight of the Shangri-La I construct for her, I will cry to the heavens –WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING!?
Vic stops abruptly and walks over to the window. He pulls open the curtains allowing sunlight to bathe the Montessori Classroom with its warmth. A dozen or so children shield their eyes as they all sit cross legged in a circle, leaving only a small gap where Vic was sitting.
Studd: Were you eating your fucking boogers?
Vic points at one particularly husky child with streams of snot free flowing from his nostrils. The child simply shrugs as he reaches right back up in his nostril and continues mining for crusty fool’s gold.
Studd: Damn it, kid! Do you have any idea how distracting it fucking is to see you mainlining boogers like a stoned pelican while I’m monologue-ing? Fuck. I was in a groove too.
A little girl dressed head to toe in pink raises her hand and immediately starts speaking.
Little Girl: I thought we were playing Duck, Duck, Goose.
Studd: Duck, duck… what? Is that anything like a “Screaming Seagull”? Because hell, I’ve done that before.
Little Girl: NO! Duck, Duck, Goose! You walk around in a circle touching all of us and you say...
Studd: WHOA! UH UH! NO WAY! No one is touching anyone here! Who taught you that shit?
Suddenly one of the closet doors begin to shake and rattle, jarring loose the ruler keeping the closet sealed shut. The doors swing open and out falls a man bound and gagged with duct tape. He hits the floor and all the children giggle and laugh at seeing him fall and struggle to remove the tape binding his wrists and covering his mouth.
Studd: You son of a bitch…
A look of abject fear forms in the spindly young man’s eyes as Vic marches across the classroom towards his target. The man just barely removes the tape before Vic reaches him.
Mr. Goodhead: No! Please! Get away from me! Run children! AHH!
The children continue to giggle as Vic pulls the poor man to his feet by the collar and slams him up against the closet doors.
Studd: You sick fuck. So that’s what a Montessori School is! Some kind of twisted European Sex Dungeon masquerading as a school to prey on the innocence of children?
Mr. Goodhead: You don’t understand-
Studd: Oh I understand perfectly well. Hey kids? Who wants to see me staple this punk’s butthole shut?
All the Children: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!!!
A fresh stain of urine forms on the man’s khakis as Vic reaches for a stapler.
Mr. Goodhead: PLEASE! Please… (starts sobbing uncontrollably) I’m a pacifist, man!
Studd: Like what baby’s suck on!?! YOU FUCKING PERVERT!
Vic starts dragging Mr. Goodhead across the classroom towards the window.
Studd: Hey kids! How about we solve a little physics problem, hmm? How long does it take a pedophile to reach the ground after getting tossed out a second story window?
The children all start shouting over one another with their answers… “4 seconds!” “1 Minute!” “10 seconds!” “2 seconds!”. Vic cups his hand to his ear pretending to listen as he stares into Mr. Goodhead’s eyes.
Studd: Well… looks like we’ll only know one way for sure.
Vic hurls Mr. Goodhead through the window, the glass shattering outward as he falls down to the sidewalk below with a splat. The children all rush to the window, eager to count as Vic pretends to wipe off his hands.
Studd: Problem solved.
All the Children: YAAAAAAAAAAAY!!
Studd: So, what’s next on the agenda? Nap time?
All the Children: STORYTIME! STORY! STORY! STORY!
Studd: All right, all right. Gather round children as I tell you the tale of… ”Stephen Romero: An Apology from Planned Parenthood“
The children all form a circle on the carpet in eager anticipation of storytime with Vic Studd. Scene fades to black.
Free working Refrigerator Works great, just getting rid of because we got a new more efficient model. Holds more than our new one. Water works, but ice maker doesn't. All the parts are there, just couldn't get it to make ice and didn't really care [...]
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This "FU" happened this week.
So the past few months, I've had a problem in the office where I work. Specifically, the air conditioning or lack thereof.
Now, I generally run pretty hot. I think it's because my body is constantly fighting off a seemingly perpetual yeast infection amongst other things. A steady stream of sweat permeates from my arm pits, my hands, my underboob; but it's at its worst around my taint. I swear I could soak a ShamWow within an hour. Because of this, I need to blast the AC in my apartment.
Unfortunately, at my job, most of my coworkers are older women and a their decades spent sitting in place had cursed them with poor circulation. This meant they are always chilly and exceedingly loathe to use the office AC. Since they outnumber me (though I'm sure I could have taken down at least half a dozen of them if it had there had been fisticuffs), I was left with no choice but to stew in my own perspiration.
Recently, though, I devised a way to cool off without annoying the rest of the old shrews in the office. Each morning, I bring in several pairs of underwear and place them in the breakroom refrigerator. Throughout the day, whenever my current ones became too warm and saturated with sweat from my naughty bits, I swap them out for a fresh pair. Kind of like switching out tires on a racecar. Each new set blast chills my gonads and, by extension, the rest of my body.
So this worked for about a month. Then, Beverly from accounts receivable found my stash. It was in a paper bag clearly marked with my name. That dumb rag probably thought she was about to surreptitiously swipe the tuna sandwich from my lunch sack without my knowing. Instead, she got a fistful of sweaty, skidmark-stained panties (it was near lunchtime so I'd already swapped out for freshies quite a few times).
Maybe she would have kept this discovery to herself. Unfortunately, the old cow passed out on the breakroom floor with them clenched firm in hand. That's where they found her.
After we brief internal investigation the next day, it was decided that Beverly did nothing wrong and also that the breakroom needs a new refrigerator. Oh, yeah; my employment has also been terminated, which means I have to go back to living with my nana.
It's my first time on reddit and i think its a good forum to let all out...
I know i am gay, why i said discrete is because i hardly make a move, neither want other people around me to know or just gay. Literally i am not out, and i fear to be out. And by that, i haven't told my roommate about my sexuality.
We are both college students, different courses, and his few months older than me in age and at the institution. When i first walked in the room, it was filthy dirty, the refrigerator, the washroom, the floor, wall, you name it. It couldn't understand how i am gonna live in this mess. I am quiet clean, organized and very smart in many things...so the next morning, he was a away, and i was my turn to transform the room at least to a livable environment. I did the job perfectly well. when he got back, he was blown away, amused, he almost cried, and at the same time he felt a little embarrassed. it went ok.
As the days go by, i realized his quiet clean, his transformed, taking three showers a day, i only do one, his wearing men cosmetic, expensive and his quiet a groom.
he once asked me if i have a girlfriend, i said no, asked him same question, he said, currently nope but he didn't wanna go in details. Many times he get into shower he takes forever, shaving, body toning, and God knows what else, he comes out smelling good, and he often say, please don't think i am gay...he says this a lot, untill i started thinking like, what's with the gay thing, he says it a lot.
One time his male friend (white), came over..we had few beers, and then the gay topic pop from no where, and his friend made a funny joke to him, "that, please come with me in my room, it's gonna be just me and you, i gonna rock your ass, really good." Of course i brushed off very fast, because i didn't want to be engaged in such a topic, but again, i asked myself, what if i asked questions, why do they talk lost about gay?
My roommate is definitely handsome, he mostly walk in the room with just underwear. Its hard to predict him though, he say, he likes me, because he feels so free with me than other roommates he had previously. and i noticed this by how he takes care of me while we go out dancing, when his drunk, his freestyle, he holds my hand even when i don't want to, he hugs me a lot and he always shouts my name just not to miss me around. But when sober, sometimes he doesn't talk...and recently i am developing something for him. i once walk up and found him looking at me, that was creepy but he quickly ignored.....what do i do, can i open up, do you think he might me discrete too? please advice
There is a chance that some version of this might already exist but I have never seen it.
You bake 2 really thin bread to the point of being crisp. Almost like a cracker. You lather small amount of honey on the inner part of the breads. You put strawberries or banana in the middle and sandwich them with breads you baked earlier. Put it in a refrigerator to cool it down. Whip cream optional.
What do you think.
I feel like my refrigerator and pantry are excessively empty. I have to remind myself that when my refrigerator was full, I lived with three other people. I eat and everything...but it just looks so empty, I find myself trying to think of excuses to go grocery shopping.
The entire bottom shelf in my fridge is reserved for dirty dishes. Because if I leave them anywhere else, ants find them.
I have a Seaga Da 700 Vending machine that I'm giving away. The machine turns on, and the refrigerator gets cold, but the machine will not vend. If you want it, you must be able to take it off the property..... PS I talked to a gentlemen from Long I [...]
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Totals: 7 days, 70 posts, 285 comments.
Included in this report: The top 70 posts, and 284 of the top comments, by 145 distinct authors.
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I was a relatively small guy, at 6'2" and 160 pounds; Iwasn't thin, but I felt small for my height. After realizing that I was unhappy with myself at that weight, I decided to do something about it. It's normal for guy to want to go to the gym to get bigger, right?
After a few months of weightlifting, with some success in better definition and bigger muscles, I came to a startling realization. It was deeply embarrassing, but I had to acknowledge it: of the guys I saw in the gym, and those among my friends, I generally found myself wishing more and more like I looked like the ones who were built like football players. I don't know what it is about that look; maybe it seems the most masculine to me, so it's what I want to be. I want to be built like a brick wall. I basically realized that I wanted to be a chubby wall of muscle, like an offensive lineman on a football team.
When I realized that, I began to switch to powerlifting, and I tried to increase my eating. In the time since I made that switch, I have gone up to 200 pounds, and the comments that I get from people seem to indicate that I am succeeding in my lineman quest. People generally think that I look "big" and "strong," and a couple people think that I have gotten a bit chubby. I would say that all of that is true.
I realize that this is my goal and that I am trying to achieve it for myself, but I have remorse about it because it is embarrassing to me to want to be chubby-muscular, even though I know that it is what I want. I am afraid to continue getting bigger because I am afraid that criticism will become more constant. I hope that I will become a refrigerator one day, though.
[Remorse]: If you feel bad
Curbside alert Free commercial refrigerator fridge, works well. Disconnected it and left in front of 167 Madison avenue in NYC manhattan. Come and get it. Fridge, leader, refrigerator, commercial, residential, leds, cool. Free, soft drinks, cooler, [...]
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Fully Furnished junior 1 bedroom apartment connected to Yonge/Eglinton Subway for short term lease. I am out of the country for 3-4 months and I am looking to sublet the apartment. Subway is connected to the apartment. LCBO, Metro store, Goodlife Fitness, The Source, Silvercity (cineplex) all in the building. Best place to spend the winter in!
Includes everything listed below - 50 inch LED TV - Office space with large desk, Comfortable chair, printer\scanner and a monitor - Three seater recliner sofa - coffee table with four cabinets - Queen size bed with two side tables - Indoor Swimming pool\sauna in the building - Heating available during winters - Large closets - all required utensils in the kitchen - Refrigerator - Four burner stove\conventional over - Microwave Oven
High speed Rogers internet (over 95 Mbps unlimited) available on request
It was Wednesday night and I was watching game two of the Baseball World Series. The Royals were up on The Mets in the top of the 8th. Cut to a commercial break and surprisingly enough, I actually paid attention instead of checking my phone or refrigerator. It was an Android Google commercial, nothing incredibly spectacular about this commercial in general, however, at the end it showed a bunch of trick or theaters and someone asked Google "How old is too old to Trick-or-Treat?" Google replied, "You're never too old to Trick-or-Treat". It may have been one of those "you had to be there moments", but I was laughing out loud hysterically. It was so funny and cute to me I was ecstatic. I immediately picked up my new Note 5 and asked Google, "How old is too old to Trick-or-Treat?" The response: "Lisa Maxwell, a mom of four from Cookeville, TN, feels that once kids are 16, the party's over..." WHAT?!?!?! I was SOOO disappointed it didn't say have the same response that was in the commercial, 'you're never too old'. #toooldGoogle
So I posted this on r/progresspics already, but I figured I'd post it on here too because it's my favorite sub and why the hell not? I'm proud of what I did. It's not as much of an achievement as other people on here who have lost hundreds of pounds, but it's certainly an achievement for me. At 185 lbs, I was struggling with bulimia, binge eating disorder, depression and body image issues. Last March, I was diagnosed with a heart murmur and my doctor said that if I didn't lose weight, I could be shortening my life by up to 10 years. That hit me really hard, and I realized that if I wanted to enjoy life to the fullest, I couldn't keep living the way I was. Food was an emotional crutch for me. My best friend and my worst enemy at the same time. Food didn't judge when I got up at midnight and crept down to the refrigerator to stuff my face. Food didn't judge when I sat alone in my room in high school, eating and crying at the same time because I felt so lonely and disgusting.
At the same time though, food was one of the main things preventing my happiness. I found that I was never truly happy because food was always at the back of my mind. What can I shove into my face when I get home from school? My parents are going out for a few minutes, what can I shove into my face as quickly as possible? It was no way to live life.
I decided to get my shit together. I started using MyFitnessPal, which is now the most visited app on my phone, and started trying to move more in general. I've never been a huge fan of running, so I took long walks, rollerbladed with my friends and took a few Zumba classes. I try to go to the gym at least a couple times a week (with exams now, it's getting pretty difficult, but I'm still trying). I still eat sugar and chips and pizza and all the foods that I like, but in moderation.
I've dropped almost fifty pounds since. I realize now that being healthy made me so much more happy than food ever did. I don't feel fatigued anymore, and while I still get a lot of urges to binge/purge, I don't act on them anymore because I know that even if they make me feel better for a short time, they're only hurting me in the long run.
Thanks for listening to my story, whoever you are. You might be in the same position as me, or the same position I was in a few months ago. If you are, just know that it does get better. It really does.
So, last night I dreamt that I "took" my husband's penis and proceded to masturbate to climax. But when I was ready to climax, I opened the refrigerator in our kitchen and ejaculated on all of our food.
I want to also add that I'm 6 months pregnant and my dreams have been very strange lately. I'm not sure if my pregnancy has something to do with my bizarre dreams, but I think it might.
If anyone has any ideas as to what this dream means I would appreciate it so much.
Refrigerator makes this loud sound like once every hour. Only lasts for 10 seconds or so. Any ideas just based on this?
At 10:02 on a Sunday morning, Norman walks into the local grocery store to stock up on TV dinners, food for Norman, and a new bag of his daily office snack, Mandarins. When he reaches the fruit section however, he learns that Mandarins are no longer in season and won't be available for the next few months. Norman thinks for a moment about how the farmers and orchard owners in Spain, where the last bag was from according to the sticker, must be glad to have a few months off work. After daydreaming for about fifteen minutes about what it would be like to be a Spanish orange farmer, Norman decides to go back to his old ways and just get a bag of plain old oranges. He spends another five minutes or so looking for a bag full of oranges that all seem ripe, but not too ripe so that they'll last a while in his refrigerator at home. He selects a bag which is a pretty red color that he didn't remember seeing before. "Perhaps it is a new brand," he thinks to himself while standing in the checkout line. It is only just before he reaches the register however, that he realizes that what he holds in his hand is a bag of blood oranges. Norman has never heard of a blood orange before and doesn't exactly wish to try them now, but as the cashier's voice snaps him out of his thoughts, he realizes that it is far too late to put them back. They cost 22 cents more than regular oranges.
The next day, being almost late for work after his alarm failed to go off (though he was thankfully woken by Norman jumping up on his bed in order to lead him to his empty food bowl) Norman hurriedly grabbed an orange from the bag, not remembering that it was a different kind of orange until precisely 10:30 am when he began to peel it. "I suppose this is why they call it a blood orange," Norman muses slightly aloud as he notes the ruby red color of the fruit, remembering yesterday's escapade at the grocery store as he does. Figuring he may as well at least eat this one so as not to waste the whole bag, Norman finds himself pleasantly surprised at the tart, yet mild flavor which is more robust than a normal orange. Norman even goes so far as to imagine himself having a lengthy conversation about blood oranges with Lisa, who in his thoughts is quite impressed with how discerning he is in his citrus tastes. He did not see Lisa that day, but figures that a conversation of that nature may happen since she seemed interested in Mandarins earlier.
A week later, Norman never did manage to talk about blood oranges with Lisa, but has grown quite fond of them and resolves to buy another bag, theorizing a possible yearly routine of buying Mandarins when they are in season and blood oranges when they aren't. As he nears the fruit section his thoughts return to reality as he searches for the blood oranges. After nearly twenty minutes of searching the whole fruit section of the store multiple times, he finds none of the distinctive pretty red bags. After an additional ten minutes spent waiting for a nearby store employee to finish restocking grapefruits Norman learns, to his slight dismay, that blood oranges are now also out of season. With a bag of ordinary navel oranges in his hand, Norman slowly walks to the cashier, thinking about how orange farmers in Italy must also enjoy their vacations.
The Soylent on the left is my roommate's and the right is mine. Both of these are 1.5 and they have similar taste and texture, but for some reason mine is darker colored. It was initially a lot darker, but got lighter as it sat overnight in the refrigerator. I've made it several times (same box, so same lot#), but they always come out just as dark. I just switched to 1.5 after finishing my 1.4.
Any insight?
Remodeling my grandmother's house and I tore up some linoleum flooring in the kitchen and when I moved the refrigerator I saw this. I'm trying to be a more DIY selfer but worried this is a bit much. The joist looks half rotted in the one section. Only explanation is that the refrigerator started leaking. how do I fix joist and replace the subfloor. I'm going to laying some floating floor in the kitchen and what should I do level it out.
I don't know a more appropriate sub to post in, sorry. But seriously, my mom even said her fridge had the same cheese compartment back when she was a kid and she still doesn't know why we do it. Does it dry out more easily? Can it contaminate other foods?
So you don't go blind at 2:00 AM
When putting beer in my refrigerator, I noticed that one of my keystones was white and not orange. I looked up the promotion and did not learn anything. Did I win something?
I'm sure this question has been asked before, but is it true that you are supposed to keep LSD in a refrigerator/freezer if you don't plan using it for a while?
I was so nervous, I liked her so much and I couldn't believe my luck that she'd agreed to come over. I wasn't going to blow it this time.
I'd offered to make dinner, and when I went to the refrigerator to grab something, I noticed her smiling up at me. I met her gaze & smiled back.
She really was beautiful. A woman like this was worth taking a risk.
I took one last look at her unseeing eyes before closing the fridge door. It was time to get the rest of her out of the freezer...
I tried this last night. I put 1/2 cup of steel cut oats into 1 quart of water, instead of the usual 1 cup oats to 1 quart water, and cooked it overnight on the Porridge setting of my rice cooker. I stirred it a couple of times overnight, as I drank tea right before bed and was up a few times anyway.
The next morning, the oatmeal wasn't as thick but I still enjoyed it very much, and it only clocks in at 80 kcal or so per cup instead of the usual 160 (before you add cinnamon/sugar/toppings, but I'm weird and I like it plain).
Anyway, this is a good thing to know to do, if you like the flavor of oatmeal with your breakfast. I'm sure you could cook this overnight in a crock pot set to Low and get similar results. Just remember, it needs to sit for at least 8-10 hours and get a few really good stirrings in during that time. This also keeps very well in the refrigerator.
tl;dr - steel cut oats are pretty forgiving of being "watered down"
Did Peter David just Fridge Spidey's GF in Spider-man 2099?
Peter David has always been one of my favorite writers, someone who I respect for the quality of his writing, and will follow him from book to book.
So at the end of S-M 2099 #1 when his pregnant GF dies in a random explosion, I wanted to give David the benefit of the doubt before being annoyed. But issue 2 makes no mistake about the outcome - Tempest (the GF) was killed for the sole point of driving Spider-man 2099 to fight. It was cheap and frankly, well beneath David as a writer.
The host will touch raw chicken, and then grab his/her knife or open the refrigerator or something. Is that not potentially spreading salmonella all around the kitchen, and to whatever else you touch when you later touch that knife/refrigerator/whatever?
Do they just do this because it would be bad television for them to wash their hands each time they touch raw meat? Or am I being overly cautious by doing that?
Also, speaking of cross contamination, I'll sometimes see someone touch the raw side of meat with a spatula before/after flipping it, and then later using that same spatula to take the finished meat off of the grill. Is this (touching raw meat to spatula to cooked meat) also a cross contamination risk? Isn't that just putting whatever contaminents that might be on the raw meat back onto the cooked meat?
Am I being paranoid or are less cautious people rolling the dice?
Thanks!
Norman was excited. Norman was venturing out of his comfort zone. Norman was about to do something with his life. Norman decided to apply to go to Mars.
Okay, actually, Norman was kind of freaked out. This was so unlike him, but going to Mars? He would be able to tell the best stories in the break room at work. Maybe he would even start a space club! No, that’s stupid. Adults don’t have clubs, do they? Oh! A space-themed book club! He could even host the book club at his house. He could keep extra Cokes in his refrigerator for the group. Maybe he could even write a book and title it “Norman Goes to Mars.” Maybe it would even be a best seller. He wonders if they would let him take Norman with him. A cat on Mars; now there’s a story for the book!
No, of course they wouldn’t let him take Norman. That settled it, then. Norman took on a responsibility that he would not abandon, not even for a trip to Mars and a space-themed book club. This is for the best, though, thought Norman. He would feel guilty leaving his work group to pick up his tasks while he was on Mars.
Norman almost watched X-Files instead of CSI that night.
This all started a little over 2 weeks ago. I am 22, just graduated college, and still live with my parents. They go down to our beach house on the weekends, so I'm home alone every weekend. I sometimes go down during the summer, but it's boring down there in the off season. Being home alone doesn't scare me, but my house is pretty big, and I always feel weird being alone in it at night as I go to sleep.It traces back about 8 years ago when I was 14 and laying in bed one night. My room is in the front of the house, so when someone pulls down our driveway at night I can see the lights shine through my blinds. One night I woke up around 2 a.m. and and saw someone pulling in our driveway. Seemed weird, so I got up and looked out the window. I saw a small black car sitting in our driveway, and a man got out and began to walk towards our front door. I ran downstairs and looked out the window on the side of our front door. You can see out, but people can't see in so I felt safe. The guy walked up to our door, stopped for a moment, then turned around and left. I was scared as hell, but he drove away and didn't come back the rest of the night. I didn't sleep another minute. The next few days I was scared every night, but I didn't want to say anything to my parents. Nothing really happened and I was 14, so I figured they would think it was a bad dream or something. Plus I never tell my parents anything. I am very private. I don't like to worry people if I don't have to. Eventually I forgot this even happened as it never happened again. Well...until 6 years later when I was 20 years old, home from college for the summer. I was driving back from my friend's house after a night of playing poker with the boys. As I pulled into my driveway, I saw the same black car from 6 years earlier car parked out on the road at the top of my driveway. Trust me it was the same car, I would never forget it. I opened the garage door with the button in my car, and waited a minute. Finally I got out of my car, ran into the garage, and closed the door immediately. All the lights in my house were off as my parents were already asleep. It was a little after midnight. I stared out the front window for about an hour waiting for this car to leave. Finally, the same man from 6 years prior got out of the car and started to walk towards the front door. Then he started to run. I just sat there looking out the window, knowing he couldn't see me, but regardless my heart was racing. What was I supposed to do? Was he going to break in and kill me? My family? What did he want from us? We're a small family in a nice town in a nice area. Stuff like this doesn't happen here. Well, I ran upstairs and looked around my room for something I could use as a weapon. I had nothing, I don't know why I looked in my room for something. Then it hit me we had old metal baseball bats in my garage from when I used to play in middle school. As I ran back downstairs to grab one, I peeked out the window again. The car was pulling away. What was going on? I didn't sleep at all that night, but nothing else happened. The car never came back either as weeks passed by. I eventually forgot about this too, and stopped worrying as it seemed to be nothing yet again. I told no one about this either, as I didn't feel a need to. Nothing had happened. It was probably just a misunderstanding of some sort, right? Okay enough backstory, that was the boring part. The story really starts here, but I had to include all of that. You'll see why soon enough. Hope I didn't lose to many of you, because trust me, this is a good one. So 2 weeks ago, as I was saying, I was home alone for the weekend. My parents were at the beach house and I had gone out in the city on Friday night. It was Saturday night now, and I just hung out at home watching playoff baseball games all day. I was hungover and tired, so I was fine staying in for the night. Around 8 p.m. I hopped in my car and drove to KFC for dinner. I saw a commercial for KFC and I was craving that Doublicious Sandwich they have. So good. Anyway, I zipped over there, went through the driveway, and started eating my food as I drove home. I was starving, and it was about a 10 minute ride. Fuck waiting to get home. When I was about 2 minutes away from home, I noticed a black car following me. Couldn't see what kind of a car it was or who was driving, but it was following close. I turned down a few side streets necessary to get to my house, and finally turned on my street. The car continued to follow me. There's 3 houses on my street. small cul-da-sac, didn't recognize the car. Could have been a visitor of one of my neighbors though, right? No big deal. I pulled into my driveway where I park my car. My parents have very expensive cars, and we only have a three car garage, so my mom's car and my dad's 2 cars get the garage space. I park at the end of the driveway. Well, I saw this black car pull right next to me into my driveway and I looked to my left and saw the same man as the other 2 times. Fuck. What do I do? I was freaking the fuck out. I still had the car on, so I thought about backing up and driving away. But where the fuck would I go? He was probably going to follow me wherever. Who the fuck was this guy? Should I drive to the police station like they tell girls to do who are being followed by a predator? Well, I sat there for maybe 30 seconds, and neither me nor the man in the black car moved at all. My parents took the Mercedes down to the beach house for the weekend, so I quickly decided I needed to park in the empty garage spot.I pressed the button to open the garage and jammed on the gas immediately. I was going too fast, but I didn't give a fuck. I drove into the middle garage spot and crashed into the extra refrigerator we keep in the back center of the garage. I pressed the button to close the garage immediately and I looked in the rearview mirror and saw the man still hadn't got out of his car. The garage door came to a close and I sat there for a second freaking out. I had to get out though and find out what was going on. The front bumper of my car was fucked up a bit, but nothing terrible. My parents were going to be pissed, but oh well. There were more important things to worry about. Guess I couldn't hide this from them anymore. I ran inside the house and ran to the front door with the windows where I could see out. The man was out of his car and slowly walking towards the front door. Towards me. I was definitely freaking the fuck out, but I honestly had enough of this shit. Sometimes in hectic moments I suddenly get really brave. This was one of those moments I guess. I ripped open the front door and yelled at the man who was approaching. "WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?" He kept walking without reacting. We have about 8 brick steps leading up to the front door, and he walked up them one by one until he was in my face, staring at me. He had a blank look on his face, and he barely moved his lips as he said to me in a quiet but stern tone, "Get in the car." Something about the way he said it I was about to just listen to him. Like what the fuck was I thinking? But that lasted all of a second, before things got crazy. "WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?" I yelled again. This time, he seemed to have heard me. "I'm your Uncle Tommy. Get in the car. I'll explain later" Okay now I was freaked the fuck out. My Uncle Tommy was actually my great uncle, or my father's uncle if you will. He had passed away when he was 42, a few years before I was born, so i had never met him. I had seen pictures of him before, heard a few stories, but honestly he wasn't talked about much. He had died of a heart attack I was told all of my life, but when I was 18 and visiting my grandfather for a week in Florida one summer, he explained to me how he had actually committed suicide when his business took a turn for the worse. He had an assortment of expensive houses and cars, and when he realized he was going to lose all of that, he took out an insurance policy, waited 2 years, and then killed himself. He had to wait the two years to make sure not to void the life insurance policy, look it up, I'm not a lawyer but that's what my grandfather explained to me. Anyway, he was apparently standing in front of me, so uhh, what the fuck was going on? I looked at him and he did look like an older version of the Uncle Tommy I saw in photos. He was 42 when he died, I was 22, and he died 3 years before I was born, so i quickly did the math to see he would be 67 today. Looked about right, but could it really be him? "W-w-what? H-how? Uncle Tommy?" I said. He looked at me and smiled a bit, finally easing up on the death stare he had previously. "Just get in the car Matt, it's a LONG story." Something about the way he said it made me trust him, I locked the front door and followed him to his car. What the fuck was going on? At this point it was after 9 pm and I was apparently getting into the car of my Uncle Tommy who had been dead for 25 years.
To be continued...
I live in a rented house and the fridge freezer broke. would dipping into emergency fund of 150 to 250 dollars be advisable? I'd just buy a mini fridge freezer not sure when if the regular fridge will be fixed. my grocery bill is around 35 a week for myself I mainly store vegetables and milk in it
I always use scaling runes because I tend to play passively and often use safe champs but scaling quints definitely deserves a buff. It only gives you less than twice of its flat counterpart at max level, and it breaks even at mid to late game which by then the winning team of the game might have already been decided.
Sometimes you'll never know the value of a thing until it's too late... That's why I'm breaking up with you. You never appreciate what I've been doing to you and your family. You always treat me like a piece of sawdust. May I ask you? How many members of your family are now working on a stable job? I even convince you to just quit your low-paying job and just stay at home and I'll just provide all your needs because I don't want to see you struggling at your shitty job. You often see me awake at 3 AM and you sometimes ask me "why?" in which I constantly reply with, "about work," but no, I always think of ways to help your family make a living and that's what keeps me sleepless for countless of nights. There's even a time when I got home and our refrigerator's missing. I asked you about it and you couldn't explain why. I know your family took it and sold it for money but what did I do? I just kept mum. Because I love you so much I just pretended that I misplaced our ref. To be honest, I got coworkers and some friends who have expressed their feelings toward me but cheating never crossed my mind. I could've have gone with a better girl but I chose to be stable with you, not just because I love you but also because your family needs me. Rarely do I let anyone enter my circle but when they do, even if your just a company janitor, I make sure that I'm always there when they needed me.
tl;dr I've turned my phone off, I'm out of town, I need to give more importance to myself, I'm so done with you and I deserve better quints.
TL;DR at the end
Background: Ok so let me start off by saying that I've tried a very large number of nootropics/supplements/drugs to help improve my symptoms of aspergers, with many varying results. I don't post too much but I summarized a good amount of my experiences in this single post for anyone interested: http://ift.tt/20bMvfD
Intro: So naturally when I saw my favorite vendor offering oxytocin, I knew this was something I had to try after seeing research with oxytocin for autism. I just want to preface by saying these are my first impressions(first few days), and I'll need a good month or so of consistant dosing to give my favorite reddit community a good detailed experience report. So far, this is what I've experienced:
Effects: -Increased Anxiety. Not necessarily a bad anxiety though. Its kind of hard to describe. Almost like an excited anxiety. Like if you're about to do something important that you've been really looking forward to, like you're nervous/excited at the same time. I would call it a neutral feeling as opposed to traditional anxiety or nervousness
-It has somewhat of a sense enhancing effect. Like immediately after I made the solution (shout out to /u/srubek for explaining exactly how to make the solution), I took a dose and within about a minute I found myself staring at my carpet for some reason and noticing the texture of it. Like it looked even fuzzier than normal. I just ran my hands through it thinking damn this is a nice carpet (lol). I haven't really experienced this since the first time I've tried it though.
-Sort of a giddyness type feeling. Like while texting me girlfriend, she texts me that she misses me and I always reply that I miss her too. That first night I tried it, I got that text from her and I just had the biggest smile on my face, and just kind of "felt" that she was missing me. We text each other this all the time, but this time it just felt more meaningful. Like it wasnt just simply something we always text each other; rather I felt happiness and a connection knowing that she misses me and I miss her too. I'm actually hanging out with her tomorrow night, so it should be interesting to see if I notice any changes while being with her in person.
So this is all I have for now; For some reason, that first night immediately after my first dose I felt it the most, and the other 3/4 times was sort of a similar feeling, just to a smaller extent. What I'm starting to think is that putting it in the refrigerator was a bad idea. I read online that it should be refrigerated so it doesn't degrade, but that first time I tried it was at room temperature immediately after making the solution, so maybe it became less potent? I'm not sure if I should keep it refrigerated or at room temperature, or if I can leave it back at room temperature once I've refrigerated it. Isn't it supposed to be refrigerated? Any feedback would be greatly appreciated. Also the effects seem to last about an hour or so, and maybe after consistently taking it for a month will help it build up some in my system and last longer.
Either way, a good consistent month of dosing will give me a good idea of how it really affects me. I've read many raving posts about different nootropic experiences during the first few days, only to be updated some time later saying it wasn't really all that great; the placebo effect is definitely real. And I have asperger's, so it may affect me differently than it would a neurotypical person. Also I apologize in advance for any possible misspellings or bad sentence structure, I just felt compelled to write this up and share with you guys really quick before bed because I haven't seen any reports yet and I know some people have been asking about it.
TL;DR -these are only my first impressions after a couple of days -increased anxiety(not the bad kind)/excited type feeling -increase in senses/attention to detail -giddyness/ big cheesy smile to everyday text from gf that would not normally give me that feeling
I need to get a new refrigerator/freezer, for kitchen, family of 4. Looking for 25cu ft+, outside ice water... What should I buy ,and from where? Thanks!
I made these 70% hydration batards using a 750 mL bottle of Trader Joe's Providential Golden Ale.
809 grams King Arthur Bread Flour
270 grams King Arthur Whole Wheat Flour
5 grams yeast
20 grams kosher salt
755 grams beer (The 750 mL weighed 755 grams)
Mixed liquid, flours and yeast in stand mixer using paddle. Allowed it to stand covered in the mixer's bowl for 3 hours. I have one pound of leftover dough (pate fermente?) from last weeks batch. I add the 20 gr salt to that leftover dough. After the three hours, and using the dough hook, I add 1 ounce pieces of the preferment to the dough and machine knead for about 12 minutes. The dough temperature is about 77 to 78 degrees F and makes a pretty good windowpane.
I empty the mixing bowl and take off 1 pound of dough to be used in next weeks batch. I put that into a silicone bag and store it in the refrigerator for 3 days. Then it goes into the freezer for a couple of days. I put it in the refrigerator the day before I want to make the next batch of dough.
I then make 4 one pound rough shaped loaves. Put them into plastic bags for one 1 hour.
I use the convection setting for 500 degrees F. After the hour I degass and make final shape. That rests an additional hour. By then the oven up to temperature.
Loaves are put into oven and oven sprayed with water. It gets sprayed again each minute for 3 minutes. Timer is set for 8 minutes. Then the temperature is dropped to 450 F and timer is set for an additional 12 minutes. Total time 23 minutes.
Normally I make boules and they fit the baking stone just fine. These batards had more spring than I anticipated consequently they kissed.
Personally, I would never use the beer again. The bread flavor was excellent, however I don't think the flavor is $5.00 better than water. Anyway, I enjoy drinking that ale much more.http://ift.tt/1RfkmhJ
Hi, i am planning to buy some home appliances(Washing machine, refrigerator) this holiday season. Experienced users please suggest some shops where i can get good offers.
Something to listen to. You're welcome. :)
The house had gone quiet. You perk your ears up to listen, but can't hear anything. For the umpteenth time you struggle against the restraints around your wrists and ankles.
Christ, you think. Where did she learn to tie such a knot?
The kitchen is dark except for the light over the island counter. You can hear the refrigerator hum. How long had she been gone for? Twenty minutes? Half an hour? What was she doing?
You are tied to a kitchen chair. Earlier in the evening, after work, you had driven up here to your lake house. It was private. Secluded. Rebecca would be out with Skyler polishing off a bottle of wine or two, getting sloppy drunk per usual, and bitching about you and Skyler's husband Todd.
You'd put that thought out of mind as you slipped into a warm bath with scented oils. You'd taken your time shaving your legs and then moisturizing after. You'd slipped into the navy blue empire dress with dark tan, seamed stockings you'd bought from Macy's, and black suede heels. Yes, this was a weird habit. And no, no one -- not even Rebecca -- would suspect that this is how you relieved stress. No one would understand your secret desires. You can't help what feels good. You're the VP of Blinding Edge. You were allowed to indulge. But that doesn't mean that you wouldn't be mortified if your golf buddies found out about this little hobby.
You hear the sound of high heels on hardwood floors. She walks in quietly wearing tall leather heels, a black high waisted pencil skirt, and a pink silk blouse. Her platinum blonde hair is pulled back into a fierce looking updo. Your whole body trembles. Her big blue eyes seem to swallow your very essence. In her hand is an old school polaroid camera. She snaps a picture of you. Smiles. Then takes the photo the camera ejects and pins it to the fridge with a magnet.
"Miss Sawyer," you breathe. "Ashley ... look ... if you untie me I promise I won't tell anyone about this. Hell, I'll write you a letter of recommendation for your next employer if you like. C'mon now! Before this gets out of hand."
She takes a seat on one of the island stools. You glance up as she casually lights a cigarette, and gently blows the smoke toward the ceiling. You watch as she crosses her legs at the knee and places her hands on her lap. You can inhale the sweetly feminine scent of her perfume from where you're sitting. She reaches into a white envelope that had been sitting on the island counter and holds up a glossy 3x5 photo. You cringe when you see it.
"Did you write Emily Dupont a letter of recommendation?" she asks cooly. "Or once she was done sucking your dick you no longer had any use for her?" She holds up another photo. "What about Sonia Carter? Did you write one for her after your stooge Kyle used her and threw her away like a tissue? Good luck on all future endeavors, right?"
You stop struggling against your restraints. "Ashley ...," you try again. "It's obvious you're very upset. Is it money you want? I can write you a check. Just name your price."
She exhales a plume of smoke and casually holds up another photo. "Did you write Angie Miller a check when she threatened legal action when your little boys club were passing around nudes of her that were stolen from her personal computer?"
You were losing control of the situation. How in the world did she know all this? This was Ashley Sawyer. Receptionist. Blonde. Friendly. A bit aloof at times. Not some ... some mastermind. You decided to try a different tact.
"My -- my wife is going to be up here soon," you said. "I -- I wouldn't want her to get the wrong idea."
"What idea is that, sweetheart?" she says. "That you look better in a dress than she does?" She slips another photo out of the folder and when you see it it turns your blood cold. "Besides, it looks like she's a bit busy getting her brains fucked out by her friend Skyler's husband Todd tonight. I don't think she's thinking about you at all."
You're anger is boiling over now. You're hurt. Embarrassed. "Let me go you cunt!" you bark.
But she doesn't match your anger. Instead she makes a little clicking noise with her tongue and walks over to you. She places a hand against your cheek. You can smell her perfume mixed with the cigarette. She brings her face close to yours -- so close you can feel her warm breath on you.
"It's not that simple," she says. "I sent an email from your personal computer that informs the office you're taking a two week hiatus."
"What?" you frown. "Why?"
She smiles. "Because up here, Mr. Thatcher, we're going to be making some beautiful music together."
Thank you SO much for reading if you made it all the way through. I hoped to write something that would catch your attention, and give you an idea of how I write. I also hope that I was somewhat subtle in the type of story that this will be. Please no Alpha Doms. This is not the story for you. I promise.
I wanted to write a really fun and engaging opening scene to hopefully attract the right type of partner. My only request is that you be a serious writer and be willing to add value and not take away.
As far as my kinks go I do enjoy deep sensuality, romance, passion, edging, chastity, forced feminization, sissification, emasculation of male subs, light humiliation, orgasm control and denial, domestic servitude, corporal/domestic punishment, strapons/pegging, face sitting, foot and ass worship, etc.
Google is my writing home. I prefer to chat and build stories there. I'd love to turn this into something great. :)
I'd love to hear from you if you're interested!
+Ashley+
