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pixel skylines
Xuebing Du
romaâ
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Origami Around
noise dept.
Aqua Utopiaď˝ćľˇăŽĺşă§č¨ćśăç´Ąă
RMH
Cosimo Galluzzi
Keni
Love Begins
đŞź
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
taylor price
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
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$LAYYYTER
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
seen from TĂźrkiye
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@thefunnydeepandrandom
"Guy" and "man" have different connotations with adjectival nouns. Like "tree guy" = arborist but "tree man" = he lives in a tree, or maybe he is a tree.
"I know a guy" = "I have a useful contact."
"I know a man" = "I am about to tell you a story."
âHeâs a great guyâ = he is pleasant and fun and well-intentioned
âHeâs a great manâ = he has saved countless lives and changed the world irrevocably
[id. A twitter post by @/Bennieeexyz Jury duty letter came addressed to my cat. Not a mistake. "Felix Martinez" - that's his full name according to his vet records. My last name. His first name. Somehow he's a registered voter now. Called the county clerk. Me: My cat got summoned for jury duty. Clerk: Is the name correct on the summons? Me: Yes, but he's a cat. Clerk: Is Felix Martinez a legal resident of this county? Me: He's a legal cat. Clerk: Sir, if the name matches our records, he needs to appear or file an exemption. Me: He can't file anything. He has paws. Clerk: You can file on his behalf. Me: Under what exemption? There's no box for "is a cat." Clerk: (pause) Check "unable to serve due to medical reasons." Me: What's the medical reason? Clerk: He's a cat. Me: That's not a medical condition. Clerk: It is if it prevents him from serving. Sent in the form. Got rejected two weeks later. "Insufficient documentation. Please provide medical professional's statement." Took the letter to my vet. Me: I need you to write that my cat can't do jury duty. Vet: Why is your cat summoned for jury duty? Me: Excellent question. No good answer. Vet: This is the weirdest request I've gotten. Me: Can you just write that he's medically unfit to serve? Vet: On what grounds? Me: He's a cat. Vet: (started typing) "Patient is unable to serve due to species-related limitations including inability to speak, read, or comprehend legal proceedings." Me: Perfect. Sent it in. Got another rejection. "Summons is mandatory. Failure to appear will result in contempt of court." My roommate thought this was hilarious. Roommate: Felix is going to jail. Me: This is serious. Roommate: Bring him to court. See what happens. Decided that was actually the only option left. Day of jury duty, put Felix in his carrier. Brought the entire paper trail of rejection letters. Checked in at the courthouse. Clerk: Name? Me: Felix Martinez. Clerk: (looked at the cat carrier) Is that Felix? Me: Yes. Clerk: (long stare) He's a cat. Me: I've been saying that for six weeks. Clerk: Why didn't you file an exemption? Me: I filed three. All rejected. Showed her the letters. She read through them, expression shifting from confusion to disbelief. Clerk: Someone rejected the veterinary documentation? Me: Twice. Clerk: (called her supervisor over) You need to see this. Supervisor read everything. Looked at Felix. Looked at me. Supervisor: How did a cat get registered to vote? Me: You tell me. Supervisor: This is a data error. Me: Took you six weeks to figure that out. They dismissed Felix immediately. Apologized for the inconvenience. Supervisor: We'll remove him from the voter registry. Me: Appreciate it. Supervisor: (pause) Out of curiosity, how would he have voted? Me: Probably whatever party supports universal treats. Got a formal apology letter a week later and a voter registration card. For me this time. Apparently I wasn't registered, but my cat was. Roommate: Felix committed voter fraud. Me: Felix committed nothing. He's innocent. Roommate: That's what they all say. Felix is sleeping on the jury summons now. Fitting end to his legal career. end id]
its not exactly malicious compliance. Its exasperated compliance, perhapse incredulous compliance
the thing about being nonbinary is that you really do start to forget that other people have such strict walls around what is and isnât allowed for genders. i thought we all agreed that we made that up. could you climb out of the cave real quick and feel the sunshine for a minute.
just remembered that my middle school bullies were named Chase and Hunter. what was up with that. what was going on there.
were you bullied by the pope?
reading a historical romance novel and reflecting on the way these stories often present woke nobility for the contemporary reader. a big thing is servants. you canât not have servants in those times but many modern readers think âbut I would never have servants. it would be so weird to have servantsâ and in order to make the protagonists of the story more relatable they are actually friends with the servants. but flip your perspective and think of it from the side of the servants. wouldnât it be so awful if your boss was always trying to be friends with you. a really common thing youâll see is the woke baronet having tea in the kitchen with the servants bc heâs not like other baronets. but what if your boss wanted to hang out and talk during your lunch break every day. not so charming when you think about it that way
i think everyone in the whole world forgot that mystery doesnât have to equal crime
sometimes itâs just like. what happent ?
One time this man approached me in a bar talking in Spanish. So I assumed he was Spanish and we started speaking, we had a whole ass conversation and at some point he was like. So what part of Spain are you from? And I said well Iâm Italian actually. What part of Spain are you from? And he was like. Iâm Greek.
One time I was in Argentina and I was so tired of trying to speak Spanish because Iâm not very good at it lmao so I broke into exasperated English and the retail seller girl quickly understood me and engaged me in conversation. We talked for a while, she introduced me to a makeup brand, and then I decided to buy it. While she was packaging the purchase, she asked me if I were from the US or perhaps the UK and I just said âoh no Iâm Brazilian hahahâ and she looked me straight in the eyes and said, in clear Portuguese, âIâm Brazilian tooâ
When my dad went to China on a work trip, his Mandarin speaking wasnât great but his listening was fine (his first language is Cantonese) and he encountered a German guy who had moved to China to work. My dad knew how to speak German because he studied it in university (but wasnât great when it came to listening to new vocab he hadnât studied before), and the German guy knew Mandarin because he lived and worked in China, so they had a conversation where my dad spoke to the German guy in German and the guy responded in Mandarin. Iâm sure it confused a lot of their coworkers who just saw the Asian guy speaking German and the white guy speaking Mandarin.
Some years ago, I worked for a manufacturing company that had a service depot in China. One of the engineers from the main office here in the US spent most of his time at the depot. The problem was that he didnât speak *any* of the various Chinese languages, and no one at the depot spoke any English. They all, however, spoke Spanish.
I love the world
posts with fake songs i can imagine so perfectly itâs like they were real
doing research on people's preferred formats for how restaurants have their menus displayed online and i'm including responses to the post to send to my boss but um. i don't think i can include this specific response
I regret to inform you all but my Google drive name at my job is Dirk Strider because that is also my real life legal name in my life
ALSO..some more masturbation facts about me. theres a nonsexual scene in a book where a kid gets spanked for some reason. it was set in like the 40s and he was in a boarding school i forget. but i think i either misread the scene . or maybr the author actually did write this and theyre just fucking weird. and i thought the protag got hit (with like a ruler or something). on the penis instead of on the arse. and i remember my 11 year old brain being like. i wonder why i think that would feel good.
and so my first ever "experiment" with masturbation was. slapping my dick with a ruler. and when that felt good. my first ever way of masturbating was. stacking heavy books on my penis. and then hitting the top book. so that the force was distributed down the series of books. into my penis. and of COURSE it didnt work i was punching books into my dick but it laid a strong foundation for a great gooning career . hey everyone PLEASE pretend you didnt read this post
not she berry or he berry but no berry
and that is berry good
controversial stance but i do wish i could live forever. i certainly live like i'm going to live forever. i take my time. realistically however my lifespan is dreadfully limited and there are things i've "been meaning to do" that i will never get around to. the Emoji Movie came out almost 10 years ago. in all that time on any random day i could've decided to sit down and watch it, and i did not. how many more decades will slip by like this? conceivably, it could be all the decades i have left. watching the Emoji Movie would not be, after all, a crucial use of my time. much better things to do. i could easily postpone it over and over and over until my final breath where it may not even register to me that i never did watch the Emoji Movie. no great loss, certainly; and yet i find myself intrigued by Patrick Stewart's involvement
"going out to get milk" is a common turn of phrase used to describe a man abandoning his family.
the "milkman" is a common figure in stories depicting a woman's infidelity and adulterous affair.
this implies that the ability to provide milk would both decrease the likelihood of a man abandoning his wife and children, as it would eliminate the need for leaving to get milk AND would secure that man's marriage, as his wife would have no need to seek milk from an extraneous source.
therefore, all men should produce milk, through various means such as:
- being a cow
- being an almond
- being a woman
- being a coconut
- being in the omegaverse
- being an oat
(list is exemplary and not finite)
in this essay, i will redefine the nuclear family and explain the seductive and inflammatory nature of the 1993 "Got Milk?" commercials.
you shut your mouth.
Shout out to trans women who arenât computer scientists or musicians or avant-garde artists or whatever.
Shout-out to tgirls who work at Taco Bell. Thank u queen, society would collapse without you
Over twenty years ago my big brother got me a job at a Taco Bell in the St. Louis suburbs-West County. He warned me that it was the âgay Taco Bellâ, but since I was coming from the âgay Howard Johnsonâsâ I wasnât shocked. It turns out it was the black trans women Taco Bell complete with black trans women in management. And theyâd worked out an arrangement with the local teen Narcotics Anonymous group so that twice a week we would shut down the drive thru and the dining room and exclusively serve 60+ teens in various stages of recovery. And many of the women I worked with were in various stages of being out or transitioning and they were from all generations from teens to over 50. One woman I worked with had a regular corporate job presenting as a man 9-5 Mon-Fri and then came to Taco Bell and worked 6pm -2am Friday and Saturday night so she could be herself surrounded by other black transwomen in those stolen weekends. And we had customers come from all over the metro area because they knew they could be themselves in the dining room. I only worked there from 1999-2001 but for young me, this was a vital, formative experience. Some of the girls came from north city all the way out to the âgay Taco Bellâ on Manchester in west county because they heard it was safe to work there. Like- I know times have changed but they havenât changed much in 20 years. Iâm still convinced that for lgbt youth, finding a job at your cityâs version of the âgay Taco Bellâ is key to survival.
Thank u for sharing this with us
I guess the reason all that Backrooms stuff has never really fazed me is because I worked in on-site networking support for a while, and literally every city's downtown district is just Like That once you get off the beaten path. Not just the really big cities, either; the one I'm currently living in has a population of less than 250 000 â metro area included â and a downtown area about six blocks across, and the service corridors still manage to do some House of Leaves shit. At one point I was trying to map the route of a misbehaving network cable, started out in a shopping mall parking garage, and ended up surfacing in the basement of the casino across the street. Totally unsecured â apparently neither the mall's administration nor the casino's managers knew that particular service corridor existed.
Like, I once bumped into a fully stocked and operational Coke machine in an unlit maintenance corridor twenty feet below ground level. Its display lighting was the only illumination for a hundred yards in either direction. I don't even know what it was plugged into.
Somewhere below this city there's a room the size of a high school gymnasium filled floor to ceiling with rotting mattresses. I've seen it with my own eyes â and, more importantly, smelled it with my own nose. I can't recommend the experience.
(That last one isn't even mysterious. The room in question is within easy walking distance of the basement of a major hotel, if you know where you're going; I imagine the hotel started stashing their old mattresses there at some point rather than pay to have them hauled away, and over the ensuing decades the situation got out of hand.)
In response to a couple of recurring questions in the notes:
I don't have any experience with the weirder corners of university campuses â my work in that particular job just never happened to take me there. I did, however, once have to do a cable trace in the basement of a former Christian elementary school. It had haphazardly been subdivided into numerous tiny rooms, some as little as ten feet across, with no central hallways or apparent floor plan. Every single room was, for reasons that were and remain unclear to me, full of broken kitchen appliances. One room in particular contained an enormous industrial freezer unit that was larger in its smallest dimension than any of the doors leading to it. Was it delivered in pieces and assembled on site? Did they build the room around it? That one still bothers me a little bit.
No, I did not drink the Morlock Tunnel Coke. What are you, nuts?
