After 13 years of this, it's still funny to me that detailing a full mental breakdown on tumblr is standard fare, but posting a nice selfie is a fraught decision.
A snorkle basis is a particular sort of set that has some properties and is generally "nice" (in a rigorous sense) and can do many things and is very practical.
As a kid I was confused by how much precious stuff went into ancient graves (gold, furs), but I guess it's often easier as a community to pitch it all into a kurgan than to argue about who gets what
"throwing gold into a pit and hauling a big rock over it is a social technology"
"this guy was buried with more gold than all the other people from the same millennium combined! maybe he was a great guy."
camera pans to a dipshit who refused to declare a successor lying on a bier, as his six dipshit sons who are about to destroy their tiny civilization if they don't get The Headdress glare at each other above his corpse, village elders whispering urgently in the background
a character who truly, legitimately goes âbut why does that matter?â about their feelings when someone who cares about them asks. and the sudden falling of everyone around themâs faces as they realize that this person doesnât recognize themself as someone who needs or should be taken care of. i want Everyone to hurt. surprise at the idea, worry for them, horror at not having noticed. do you see this person who doesnât think of themselves as a person?
i must say, i am a huge fan of when a book is in the middle of a very exciting plot containing many interesting problems when out of nowhere for a few pages it's like, "hey by the way, real quick, here's a detailed explanation of the city's water filtration system! i'm telling you this for a reason and you should worry about it. anyway! haha okay back to the plot" and you just get to be Scared for a while
if George Wickham lived today he would use his career as an influencer to peddle some kind of scammy MLM scheme and end up going to prison for wire fraud, having a Netflix documentary made about him, and a bunch of people would propose to him via letter in jail
I've lived in Germany for 14 years so far. This discussion comes up at least once a year.
A summary of the most common points that come up.
Most Germans do not consider toast bread (i.e. wonderbread) bread.* It is a product you finish baking at home. I have eaten it untoasted many times** in front of them, and a significant number of people*** react in horror.
"Ungetoastetes Toastbrot" is a popular phrase that sounds as insane in German as it does in English to all who hear it, but the reason it sounds insane depends on if the German in question believes it is ethical and proper to consume it untoasted. Alternatively, there is the even more strange but not that uncommon "rohes Toastbrot" â raw toast bread. Which isn't the same as dough.**** Truly die-hard toasters will refer to the bread itself as "Toast" in all forms, as if that will manifest it as the only possible destiny for every slice in existence.
Toast bread is only unilaterally fit for consumption after it has been sufficiently toasted. There are discussions about what shade of toastage makes it "genieĂbar", but the general consensus is that it's toast the second it gets a crunchy crust through the application of heat. This might be achieved in a toaster, but using it to make a grilled sandwich in a pan, toastie maker or a contact grill is equally acceptable. Just letting it go stale does not count. The application of cheese, mayo or butter to the outside does not influence the becoming-toast process in either direction. The cooling down of the toast does not reverse the status change; not even if the toast is exposed to circumstances that revert it to its previous softness, or even make it soggy*****.
One more or less acceptable exception to toast bread needing to be toasted is when one orders 1) currywurst 2) without fries from a 3) street vendor who does not 4) stock white bread rolls and 5) does not advertise the currywurst as coming with a roll. Any deviation from those 5 points negates the toastbread clemency and is a legitimate reason for grumbling******. The toast bread also has to be of a generic brand, white and cut on the diagonal. One triangular half is an acceptable serving, but two marks a more generous******* vendor.
*They, incidentally, are joined in this sentiment by Norwegians. The Norwegians, however, sort it into the same category as baguette and loff (white bread); bread products with little flavor, vitamins, minerals, or fiber, and thus not really something you'd include as a major part of a "proper" meal.
**all standard issue German bread is cursed to go rock hard within 24 hours after baking unless it is hermetically and tightly sealed in plastic. There are many Germans who claim this is untrue and a bread box suffices to not make it so. I've got "proper" bread from other countries to compare it to, I've made my own bread to check, and can confidently say the German bread box enthusiasts are either hopeful and delusional, malicious and lying, or dentists with a mortgage to pay off. I'm guessing the nation as a whole offended Hestia at one point, and all offerings to appease her thus far have been insufficient.
***If you have friends who believe it needs toasting, them regularly trying to convince you to do so is a sign they care about your well-being and never give up hope for your self improvement.
****German toast bread philosophy has more layers than a croissant in that way.
*****This was a very heated debate between two of my coworkers, one of whom had wrapped a lightly toasted ham and cheese toastie in aluminium foil for lunch. She was accused of eating untoasted toast bread by one of her fellow toast-must-be-toasted fanatics and did not take kindly to what she perceived was an attack to her moral and dietary integrity.
******Serving currywurst without any bread or fries, however, is madness on par with eating hot soup with your bare hands.
*******Price for a 24 large slice loaf with no ends from my supermarket of choice: 2,19 âŹ, including 7% tax.
talking about impenetrable accents/dialect just reminded me. when I was in Milan a couple of years back I was staying in this little rathole hotel and I had the biggest fucking migraine, so I was like non c'è problema I'll just go buy painkillers. of course every pharmacy on the map in a three block radius was closed, so my stupid ass just starts wandering around trying to figure out on the fly if you can get OTC from supermarkets in italy.
I walk into this little everything store (to my foreign eyes the kind of place that back home could sell you a bunch of carrots, a 6-pack of beer, pantyhose, bleach and a screwdriver set) and I see some household basics in the back but not what I need. with the confidence of a person who is only in the city for 3 days because he got bored and packed a bag and booked the cheapest flight available the week before (<= MENTAL ILLNESS), I was like no worries I know some italian, I can just ask.
I grab a bottle of water, walk up to the counter, and I'm like Ciao, hai il paracetamolo? And the guy is like che, and I'm like paracetamolo. Per la mia testa. And he's like che?
This is where I would have said 'aspirina' except I can't take aspirin for medical reasons, or 'antidolorifico' except I don't know that word and I've got no phone data for google translate and also I'm stupid. So in my fucked up leith-glasgow-italian accent I'm like paaa-ra-cetta-mollll-ooo. He's like ohhh bene, bene, and he calls another guy out of the back and asks him to go get something. Other guy then walks out of the store into the street, and before I can be like hey, che la fuck, he comes back and hands me a huge bundle of herbs.
At this point I'm like okay this entire interaction has been a bust, but these guys have been very nice and patient and they're both smiling happily at me because they've been of service, so I'm like ahh perfetto, grazie, pay them a couple of euros and leave.
EVENTUALLY I find a pharmacy that's open, and my head is fucking killing me, and my phone still isn't connecting, and now I have this small shrubbery poking out of my coat pocket, so I don't even bother looking around the shelves. I just walk straight to the counter and I'm like uhh ciao, scusi. And hearing my nightmare of an accent the guy answers in english and I'm like thank christ, do you please have paracetamol. Not aspirin, I can't take aspirin. And he's like yeah yeah hold on, goes into the back, comes out with what I need.
Only when he comes out he gives me this look, and then he starts laughing. And then he pretends he's not laughing and rings me up and I pay, and as I'm leaving I can see him losing it. But I don't care, my head is going to explode, I'm going back to the rathole to close the blinds and fall comatose for four hours.
When I get back to my hotel room I take off my coat and remember the huge bouquet of herbs in my pocket. They smell amazing, and I'm like I'm pretty sure this is parsley in which case I can just get some tomatoes and mozzarella later and make it work. but since I have no idea what that interaction was, I want to make sure. I bring out my phone to get a visual reference of what parsley leaves look like, and because I was using it for google translate earlier I put 'parsley' in the wrong box like a dope and translate it to italian.
prezzemolo
I wish I could have been the pharmacist in the moment he looked at my tired pissed off anglophone ass, heard me say 'paracetamol' in my fucked up accent, and turned around saw what was in my pocket. I'd have lost my shit too.
Respect to the first guys who, after you left, said âwhat a nice bloke. He looked so tired. We can relate. Whom amongst us has NOT had a parsley-related emergencyâ
now i donât know enough about omegaverse to say anything definitively but from what i have seen it certainly looks like it emulates insects much more than wolves.
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