occasionally subtle
⁂
NASA
cherry valley forever
Today's Document
Mike Driver
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
we're not kids anymore.
No title available
Xuebing Du
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
JVL
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Claire Keane
will byers stan first human second
styofa doing anything
tumblr dot com
titsay
Monterey Bay Aquarium
PR's Tumblrdome
seen from South Africa
seen from Poland
seen from Malaysia
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seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
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@typicalily
One of my favorite things to see is random people trying to interact with unfamiliar outdoor cats. Just standing there with a hand out, making kissy noises, maybe meowing at the cat while it ignores them. Mankind at its best and least dignified
#stop calling me out
hope your pets stay healthy in 2017
I almost didn’t blog this and felt guilty
Not risking it
hope ya pets even healthier in 2018
hope your pets discover immortality in 2019
y’all
a mutual of mine
suddenly has posts on their blog
with links to “find women to have sex with”
my mutual is NOT POSTING THESE
tumblr just got even worse
on that note PLEASE let me know if i’m suddenly posting random pictures of women with a link underneath the photo. don’t click the link, just FYI.
i do suggest reblogging this in case someone sees this happening to someone else they follow
when this happened to me, I immediately logged out of everything & changed my password, then went to my queue, where I found whoever had hacked into my account had dropped 190 porn advertising posts. (it would have been easier to clear out my queue entirely using xkit, but I’m a stubborn jackass & had posts I wanted to keep in there… so I counted.) I don’t recall clicking any odd links (though it’s always possible) & was only online in the app at the time, so no chance of phishing. it’s possible some of these bot accounts are just running dictionary attacks on blogs at random trying to log in. anyone can be targeted by this, so I recommend making your new password a strong one. it’s doubtful tumblr staff is going to be much more help in this situation than what you could do on your own, but you can still save your page. good luck & godspeed.
this website is so broken
@staff
So I was rereading Harry Potter, when I came across this and thought- what if instead of Cedric Diggory, Cassius Warrington had been chosen to compete in the Triwizard Tournament?
Imagine Dumbledore calling out the name of the Hogwarts champion and it isn’t a Gryffindor, or a Ravenclaw, or even a Hufflepuff, but it’s a Slytherin. A student from a House most people hate.
Imagine Cassius Warrington getting up, and three out of four Houses are booing at him and shouting things like “NO!” or, “We can’t have a Slytherin champion!” or demanding a retry. But he’s a Slytherin- he’s been dealing with this shit since he got sorted, so he keeps his head high and joins the other champions.
Imagine Harry trying to catch Warrington alone because he doesn’t really want to associate with Slytherins (plus Malfoy has this tendency of being around the guy ALL THE TIME since he got chosen), but at the same time he’s also fair enough not to want him to walk into the first task unprepared.
Imagine Warrington walking over to Harry a few months later, and Ron and Hermione both jump into a protective stance, wands out, but instead of attacking Harry he just tells him to stick the egg underwater. (Because Slytherins don’t forget those who helped them out).
Imagine Warrington and Harry helping each other out in the labyrinth.
Imagine Harry being devastated when Peter kills Warrington- because Voldemort doesn’t care what house they’re form, a spare is a spare.
Imagine the uproar that causes among the Slytherins, because some of their parents really are Death Eaters and they know what really happened.
Imagine Slytherins fighting in the Battle of Hogwarts and shouting “This is for Cassius!”
Imagine Harry returning with Warrington’s body, and the crowd realizes what’s happened, but Warrington’s parents don’t show up. There’s no one to mourn him, to cradle him in their arms and cry for their son. The Slytherins know why. His parents were Death Eaters, too.
Imagine Slytherins reaching out, asking for help from classmates from other houses. They’re terrified, truly terrified because the being their parents claimed would never hurt them because they’re pureblood, they realize that he does not care.
Imagine Slytherins in the 5th book sneaking off to join Dumbledore’s Army, to learn more about who Voldemort is without their parents acting as a filter.
Imagine the shock when they’re told what he’s really done.
Imagine that a few talented Slytherins went with Harry and the others into the Ministry of Magic. The others are a bit wary but they prove themselves as friends.
Imagine them being confronted by Lucius Malfoy in the the Hall of Prophecy, and when the Death Eaters descend, they know that any one of them could be their parents.
Imagine the shocked gasp of a Death Eater as they realize their own child, a pureblood, is standing defiantly with Harry Potter. They choke back a cry. They can’t let their child know that they were about to duel to the death.
Imagine a DA Slytherin facing off against their own Death Eater parent. That they make the decision to let their child defeat them, because in that moment, they realize that they love their child more than they fear Voldemort. They go down, mask unveiled, and the Slytherin kid has to be dragged from the fight before he gets killed.
Imagine Book 6 Slytherins getting more friendly and cooperative with the other houses. Two years of Voldemort terrorizing the muggle and Wizarding world, two years where their parents just up and leave some days, cringing from the pain in their arm, two years after the death of the first Slytherin pureblood, Cassius Warrington, killed by Voldemort’s right-hand man, and they’re slowly hitting the breaking point.
Imagine Slytherin kids keeping tabs on their parents, sending the information to Harry, who shares it with the Order of the Phoenix, and hoping that their parents won’t be killed.
Imagine Book 7 Slytherins low-key rebelling against the new oppressive Hogwarts staff.
Imagine the final siege on Hogwarts, where Slytherins stand proudly by their fellow houses, knowing full-well they could be fighting their own parents. Some Slytherins know their parents were in the fighting. They hope to find them first and sneak them away. Their fellow students understand. Professor McGonagall allows 7th Year Slytherin, Pansy Parkinson, to duel a death eater in her stead; her father is under that veil. She knows it.
Imagine the aftermath of the battle; every house suffered loses. Slytherin students crying over the deaths of friends they made in every house.
Imagine a Cassius Warrington statue made in his honor, the first Slytherin to fight and die nobly with Harry Potter, the boy who lived, in the face of ultimate evil. He was a true Slytherin, and it’s in his name that Slytherin children and their families have cut all ties with the Death Eaters, denounced Voldemort, and are finally living in peace.
#i do enjoy cedric #but this would have been immensely wonderful in many ways (via batty4u)
Imagine a story in which Harry wasn’t in love with his fellow champion’s girlfriend, but after her boyfriend’s death just hugs her so long, so hard, and says “he wanted to win for you. You should know–you should know he won, he did it for you” and gives her the best hug and shoulder he knows how to be because her parents aren’t there either and she must know why.
Imagine Harry staring over her head at everyone else until Hermione steps up–it doesn’t take long, but it takes long enough that when she does all eyes are on her as a source of motion–and says “we’re never going to forget this. They’re not going to get away with it” and the girlfriend just latches onto Hermione and everyone is in wands-out stance convinced she’s about to attack the shit out of Hermione, and then the girlfriend stares into her eyes and says “do you promise me” and Hermione just gives her this super-firm nod and says “I promise” and the girlfriend just collapses on her, sobbing.
Imagine Dumbledore trying to give some flowery speech about inter-wizard solidarity while glossing over why, because Slytherins have always been a touchy subject, and Ron gets to his feet and says “Professor, I need to say something important” and Dumbledore is so surprised he just cedes the floor, and Ron–after that awkward moment when he realizes everyone is staring at him–says he didn’t know Warrington particularly, but he knows how Warrington and Harry played. That each was always cheering on the other. Both wanted to win, but neither was willing to undercut the other by underhanded means. He finishes up saying “I think–I think it’s important everyone should know he died being what a champion should be. Because he could have abandoned Harry and instead he stood up with him to play the game the honest way, and he died for it. And–and Slytherin House should be proud, and we should all be proud, because Warrington was a good bloke.” He sits back down all flustered because he didn’t actually stand up meaning to make a speech. And then Pansy Parkinson stands up before Dumbledore can take back control of the room and says “I want to tell Weasley thank you.” And all of Slytherin House raises a glass–to Warrington, to Weasley, to Potter–and the other houses follow suit. Many years later, Wizarding scholars will say that was the moment Voldemort truly lost.
Imagine later that summer. Harry gets several owls on his birthday, all unsigned. The birds are plump and pretentious and well-cared-for. He will never know which Slytherins sent him their treasures: parchments with hexes developed by the Death Eaters; a strange locket that will only open if he whispers a special spell but that always shows him the picture he most needs to see; a page torn from a potions book that, brewed properly, will allow him extra time to summon a Patronus by giving him a few crucial seconds not just of happiness but of bliss. It doesn’t matter. Harry knows these gifts not as birthday gifts but for what they really are, and he treasures the locket and copies out the potion to send to Hermione and Mrs. Weasley, and when first summoned by the Order of the Phoenix he marches straight up to Dumbledore with the hexes and says “I can’t tell you where I got these, Professor. But they’re in use by the Death Eaters and I think you should have them.” Months later, Sirius will recognize the spell Bellatrix shoots at him, and will dive out of the way just in the nick of time.
The final battle. Everyone is there. Sirius somehow ends up herding a group of Slytherins. They all stare at him and he at them, across a centuries-old divide Voldemort has only succeeded in deepening. Then he remembers the hexes. Harry’s locket, now tucked under Sirius’ shirt because Harry’s friends are with him in this battle but most of Sirius’ are dead. The moment that happiness potion saved Remus’ life, his very soul. Snape’s final words to Harry, finally seen not as mockery but real true advice. What Harry said Voldemort said–his first words in his new form. They are kids, and they are sharing the same kind of hurt he once wouldn’t admit to, watching his mother burn his name off the family tree. “When we go in there, it’s going to be hell,” he tells the Slytherins. “Some of you are probably going to die. I might go down too, and if I do I want your best curser in the front. But I want you all to remember one thing. There are no spares.” Later retellings of the battle never fail to mention the moment a group of angry, screaming teens burst into the Great Hall, wearing their green and silver as the badge of honor it should be, shouting NO SPARES, NO SPARES at the tops of their voices in between hexes and curses and the occasional physical punch. When Hermione is present, she always interrupts the storyteller to be sure everyone knows about the moment Blaise Zabini shoved her to the floor, dropped on top of her, fired off three curses in rapid succession and said “stay alive, Granger, we need you” before jumping back to his feet and vanishing into the melee–how, for all anyone knows, those may have been his last words, and she will not let his sacrifice go unnoted.
The aftermath. Malfoy holds out a hand to Sirius, badly injured on the floor. Sirius asks how Malfoy is willing to trust him. Malfoy nods at his chest. “You’ve got my godfather’s locket,” he says, and when Sirius and Harry finally speak after the battle Harry gives his full agreement to the very first thing out of Sirius’ mouth. They give the locket to Malfoy. Sirius grits his teeth and closes his eyes and opens them and says “He probably saved my life, giving Harry that.” He doesn’t say thank you. Malfoy hears it anyway.
The school reopens under a single banner: the four Houses united. The House rivalry is reduced to just that–a competition in fun–with those deep divides slowly healing to scars, and eventually away to nothing at all.
Imagine it.
oh my goodness
Terminated Account, But Not Foodffs.
So… my foodffs account got terminated.
I contacted Tumblr stuff and still waiting to hear from them.
I’ve had that… this blog for 4,5,6,…7 years? I never made any profit off it - and that’s not why I do it. The blog turned out to be as much as a hobby as my cooking. It’s very weird for me if a whole day gets by and I don’t ‘do’ something with it. Whether it’s collecting recipes for food days or holidays or just plain browsing what could I cook on the weekend… and the endless worries about week summary if I’m not home on Sunday! Call me crazy, but it helps my mental state, and I cried when I saw this picture.
Anyway, I just wanted to say I really hope they get me back up, and if that’s not the case - I’ll continue here for now. I’ll keep you guys updated as soon as I find something out.
I really hope that terminating foodffs was a mistake and this is not the end.
Thank you
STAFF NO HOW COULD YOU
I know! I just found out! I saved a lot of recipes in my favourites section but not on my laptop and now they are all gone. I used her recipes for every cake/cookie/other type of dessert I made. :( I feel so bad for her.
Stop taking people with dementia to the cemetery
“Oh yeah, every time that dad forgets mom is dead, we head to the cemetery so he can see her gravestone.”
WHAT. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard some version of this awful story. Stop taking people with dementia to the cemetery. Seriously. I cringe every single time someone tells me about their “plan” to remind a loved one that their loved one is dead.
I also hear this a lot: “I keep reminding mom that her sister is dead, and sometimes she recalls it once I’ve said it.” That’s still not a good thing. Why are we trying to force people to remember that their loved ones have passed away?
If your loved one with dementia has lost track of their timeline, and forgotten that a loved one is dead, don’t remind them. What’s the point of reintroducing that kind of pain? Here’s the thing: they will forget again, and they will ask again. You’re never, ever, ever, going to “convince” them of something permanently.
Instead, do this:
“Dad, where do you think mom is?”
When he tells you the answer, repeat that answer to him and assert that it sounds correct. For example, if he says, “I think mom is at work,” say, “Yes, that sounds right, I think she must be at work.” If he says, “I think she passed away,” say, “Yes, she passed away.”
People like the answer that they gave you. Also, it takes you off the hook to “come up with something” that satisfies them. Then, twenty minutes later, when they ask where mom is, repeat what they originally told you.
I support this sentiment. Repeatedly reminding someone with faulty memory that a loved one has died isn’t a kindness, it’s a cruelty. They have to relieve the loss every time, even if they don’t remember the grief 15 minutes later.
In other words, don’t try to impose your timeline on them in order to make yourself feel better. Correcting an afflicted dementia patient will not cure them. They won’t magically return to your ‘real world’. No matter how much you might want them to.
It’s a kindness of old age, forgetting. Life can be very painful. Don’t be the one ripping off the bandage every single time.
I used to work as a companion in a nursing home where one of the patients was CONVINCED I was her sister, who’d died 40 years earlier. And every time one of the nurses said “that’s not Janet, Janet is dead, Alice, remember?” Alice would start sobbing.
So finally one day Alice did the whole “JANET IS HERE” and this nurse rather nastily went “Janet is dead” and before it could go any further I said “excuse me??? How dare you say something so horrible to my sister?”
The nurse was pissed, because I was “feeding Alice’s delusions.” Alice didn’t have delusions. Alice had Alzheimer’s.
But I made sure it went into Alice’s chart that she responded positively to being allowed to believe I was Janet. And from that point forward, only my specific patient referred to me as “Nina” in front of Alice—everyone else called me Janet, and when Alice said my name wasn’t Nina I just said “oh, it’s a nickname, that’s all.” It kept her calm and happy and not sobbing every time she saw me.
It costs zero dollars (and maybe a little bit of fast thinking) to not be an asshole to someone with Alzheimer’s or dementia. Be kind.
I wish I had heard this stuff when Grandma was still here.
I read once that you have to treat dementia patients more like it’s improv, like you have to take what they say and say to yourself “ok, and” and give them more of a story to occupy them and not just shut it down with something super harsh.
A nurse I used to work with always told us: “If a man with dementia is trying to get out of bed to go to work, don’t tell him he’s 90 and in a nursing home. Tell him it’s Sunday and he can stay in bed. If a woman with dementia is trying to stand because she wants to get her husband’s dinner out of the oven, don’t tell her he’s been dead for 20 years. Tell her you’ll do it for her and she can sit back down.”
Always remembered that, always did it. Nothing worse than hearing someone with memory loss ask the same question over and over again only to be met with: “We already told you!”
Just tell them again.
Yesterday I overheard someone talking about how he was taking classes at the University of Maryland because they offer free tuition if you’re over 60.
My brain IMMEDIATELY began scripting a screwball comedy in which a broke millennial who desperately want to finish his long-abandoned degree but is drowning in student debt pretends to be a senior citizen in order to attend college for free.
I’m picturing someone Channing Tatumesque, applying age makeup every morning before he heads off to class. It’s sort of a cross between 21 Jump Street and Mrs. Doubtfire. He keeps forgetting which hip is supposed to be his bad one. His classmates laugh every time he uses slang. There’s definitely a scene where he attends a college party and busts it up on the dance floor.
He catches the eye of a fellow returning student, a woman in her 50s, but she thinks he’s like 70 and she’s already buried one husband, you know? She’s not interested in doing that again. When his charade unravels (hilariously) at the end of the movie, though, she finds out he’s actually like 30 and has abs you could bounce a quarter off. And he’s still super into her. And really, maybe it’s time she gave May-December romance a chance.
Okay so to refine this concept a little:
Our Hero is stuck in a job where he keep seeing people get promoted past him because they have a 4-year degree and he doesn’t. He can’t afford to go back to school until he finishes paying off his student loans for the degree he’s one semester from completing. If he got the promotion he wants he could pay them off a lot quicker. But he can’t get the promotion without the degree.
Along comes a clerical error in his almost-alma mater’s records which lists his birth year as 1948 instead of 1984. He gets a call from them about their “free tuition for seniors” program. “Wow, that sounds amazing!” he says. “I’ll be sure to tell my, uh, grandpa, as soon as he gets home.”
It’s one semester. If he can keep up the charade, he’ll have the degree, get the promotion, pay off the student loans. Hell, if they figure it out after the fact and come after him for the tuition, he’ll be able to afford it by then. He just needs to pass as a 70-year-old until graduation. How hard could it be?
(also, someone in the notes suggested “Senior Year” for a title, which is PERFECT.)
[Image: A screenshot of a post that says FATIGUE SCALE
10. Can barely move. Can’t talk.
9. Can barely move. Can talk.
8. Can move, but can't do much more than watch TV.
7. Can watch TV and play a game on my phone simultaneously.
6. Can do work on my computer lying in bed.
5. Can get around the house, but definitely couldn’t go out.
4. Can run a light errand.
3. Can get in my 10,000 steps for the day, making my fitbit happy.
2. Can do three or more activities in a single day.
1. GOING CLUBBING!
Blue text at the bottom credits the post to www.mistreated.org @MissKatieErnst
End image description.]
8 right now (2 earlier). Spent most of the past two years 3-4 on my good days and 11 on my bad days (11: completely immobile). Now I’m usually around a 2.
Also for those who haven’t seen it, the actually useful pain scale:
My face is having uncontrollable spasms. Great. It hurts really, really, really bad.
I think part of why I have trouble explaining pain to the doctor is when they ask about the pain scale I always think “Well, if someone threw me down a flight of stairs right now or punched me a few times, it would definitely hurt a lot more” so I end up saying a low number. I was reading an article that said that “10” is the most commonly reported number and that is baffling to me. When I woke up from surgery with an 8" incision in my body and I could hardly even speak, I was in the most horrific pain of my life but I said “6” because I thought “Well, if you hit me in the stomach, it would be worse.”
I searched and searched for the post this graphic was from, and the OP deactivated, but I kept the graphic, because my BFF does the same thing, uses her imagination to come up with the worst pain she can imagine and pegs her “10″ there, and so is like, well, I’m conscious, so this must be a 5, and then the doctors don’t take her seriously. (And she then does things like driving herself to the hospital while in the process of giving birth. Probably should have called an ambulance for that one!)
So I found this and sent it to her. Because this is what they want to know: how badly is this pain affecting you? Not on a scale of “nothing” to “how I’d imagine it’d feel if bears were eating my still-living guts while I was on fire”.
I hate reposting stuff, but I’ll never find that post again and OP is deactivated, so, here’s a repost. I can delete this later, i just wanted to get it to you and I can’t embed images in a chat or an ask.
This is possibly why it took several weeks to diagnose my fractured spine.
Pain Scale transcription:
10 - I am in bed and I can’t move due to my pain. I need someone to take me to the emergency room because of my pain.
9 - My pain is all that I can think about. I can barely move or talk because of my pain.
8 - My pain is so severe that it is difficult to think of anything else. Talking and listening are difficult.
7 - I am in pain all the time. It keeps me from doing most activities.
6 - I think about my pain all of the time. I give up many activities because of my pain.
5 - I think about my pain most of the time. I cannot do some of the activities I need to do each day because of the pain.
4 - I am constantly aware of my pain but can continue most activities.
3 - My pain bothers me but I can ignore it most of the time.
2 - I have a low level of pain. I am aware of my pain only when I pay attention to it.
1 - My pain is hardly noticeable.
0 - I have no pain.
It’s also really important to get this kind of scale to people who have chronic pain, because chronic pain drastically lowers your perception of how “bad” any kind of pain actually is, and yet something like this pain scale is extremely user friendly.
For example, if someone asked me how much pain I’m in at any given time, I’d say hardly any, and yet I’m apparently at a chronic 2.5, and it only goes up from there depending on the day.
There’s also a similarly useful “Fatigue Scale”
WARNING: THE INCREDIBLES 2 IS NOT EPILEPSY SAFE.
This is not a joke. I was at a premier showing tonight, and my immediate thought was how disasterously unsafe this movie is for my photosensitive epilepic friends. @markingatlightspeed I’m tagging you with this specifically because this would be extremely dangerous for you to watch. There are multiple scenes in this movie with full-screen, black-and-white flashing strobe effects. They all happen without warning, and last anywhere between a few seconds to more than two minutes. In a darkened movie theater, this means the likelihood of a seizure could be VERY HIGH if you are sensitive to these effects. If you have photosensitive epilepsy or another disorder that is triggered by strobe lights, I would highly recommend you DO NOT SEE THE INCREDIBLES 2 IN THEATERS. Wait until the movie’s released on digital/Bluray, and you can watch it in a fully-lit room, with someone with you who will be able to help if the strobe effects do trigger a seizure. Please stay safe.
I saw this last night (6/14) at an early release and can confirm. Part of the movie’s plot centers around these lights, they recur throughout the movie and episodes of strobe lighting do vary in length and predictability.
Important update for Monday’s final episode of Lucifer.
I’ve never seen the show, but I want the same outcome for you guys as we got in the B99 world ❤️❤️❤️
Hey guys! So I was wondering if everyone who considers themselves a part of the b99 fandom on here could like or reblog this post? (either is fine)
I’m just super curious as to how large our fandom is, so I thought this would be a good way to find out. Plus it could be a way to connect with new b99 blogs!
Rape Escape
Easy and very effective
Requires nothing but your body
Includes attack
Very useful to know, pass and share please.
Worth watching
I don’t mean to impose a personal favour on you guys, but I really would like to ask that everyone who follows me reblog this.
I don’t think I made it very clear but last month I was sexually assaulted by someone who I thought was my friend (I don’t want to talk about it don’t ask), and it’s… really fucked with my head.
Had I known this a month ago I would have been able to get away.
So, essentially, I’m really pleading with you to reblog this so everyone who follows you doesn’t get stuck in the same position I was with no way out.
I mean again I don’t want the point of this to be my sob story or whatever but if you could reblog this it would seriously mean a lot
and im asking to all of my followers who see this post in your dashboard to please press play to this video, you never know when this is gonna be
useful, PLEASE DON’T IGNORE IT.
This is one of the first moves I was taught in Krav Maga, and it is one of the most effective.
It took me about a half hour to get down with practice, but once you get it, it’s an intuitive movement.
Please pass this along, it will save lives.
Important
Please reblog this.
Please, if you see this, Reblog it.
If you see this, reblog please.
not witchy but definitely worth watching, stay safe
Always signal boost. Stay safe everyone.
WATCH THIS SHIT!! It’s easy, and it’s important. Please, please stay safe
DO NOT DO THIS.
This makes me so angry.
If you work in a movie theater and you do this I have no respect for you.
My younger brother is Type 1 Diabetic.
When we go to a movie theater, we always get him diet soda. If he were to get regular when we asked for diet, we would not give him the insulin he would need for it. If that happens, his blood sugar level could go so high he could go into a coma, go blind, or even die.
If somebody gave him regular soda instead of diet without telling us, that person could be responsible for a nine-year-old being killed or blinded.
Just thinking about that makes me so angry. I get scared every time we take him to a movie in case the people working there saw this picture and decide to do the same thing.
Please signal boost this so people know.
This also applies to baristas
Fun story about the baristas doing this kind of shit.
I am very sensitive to lactose, not Lactose intolerant but because of stomach ulcers that are still healing. A couple years ago I went to Starbucks right after my classes with some friends and asked for a green tea latte with soy milk. The barista, for some reason out of malice and/or hate for her life so she took it out on me, gave me whole milk in my latte.
5 minutes after my first sip of latte, my stomach cramped BAD. Not the “Oh! time to poop!” kind of cramp but it felt like someone had stabbed me with a knife and twisted it. Now I’ve had this happen before so I knew the cause of it. I went up to the barista clutching my gut screaming at her that she put dairy in my latte rather than soy LIKE I REQUESTED. She denied it and called me a “pretentious white girl for wanting soy”and so my friends got the manager. I had to explain that I had stomach ulcers that were still healing and if I were to go to the hospital for this incident, they would be responsible for it.
Manager flipped his shit and the barista was terrified out of her mind. Pretty sure both thought i was gonna sue. Manager actually fired her on the spot because of the negligence. My friends managed to get me home in one piece while I stayed home for 3 days in absolute agony and missed my midterm.
So remember kiddies, if someone is asking for Diet or “Skinny” or “soy” or anything that is not regular, give them what they requested because it may not be them being healthy, but a dietary need that can possibly be life or death
also if they ARE trying to be healthy you should give it to them to!! Its not your decision to police or question others food choices!!!
also im lactose intolerant AND ive had stomach infections/ulcers so i feel this.
I have Celiac Disease, so I’m very gluten intolerant. When I go out to eat at restaurants a lot of people just assume that I asked for my food gluten free because of the gluten free diet fad (which is usually a bullshit diet btw).
Last month I went out to dinner with a friend at an italian restaurant that had a small gluten free menu. I had been there once before and had their gluten free pasta and it was great! I think one of the managers had been there and was super helpful when taking my order to make sure that everything was gluten free for me. When I ordered the gluten free pasta again this time though, the waitress who took my order all but rolled her eyes at me. I didn’t think much of it at the time, because the restaurant was so accommodating before, I just assumed it would be the same this time.
But sure enough, they brought out my pasta, I ate it, and about an hour later I had extreme stomach pains and was throwing up (in a movie theater no less).
Barfing and agonizing pain aside, eating gluten when you have celiac causes a lot of internal damage that’s hard to notice. The biggest thing is that it damages your intestines, preventing your body from absorbing nutrients properly, which can take months to heal.
So PLEASE, if you work at a restaurant or anything with food and someone asks for something a certain way, please listen to them and don’t just disregard someone’s order. It’s not funny and it can have serious consequences.
I will reblog this with every single story about someone getting sick because of an asshole giving them the opposite of what they ordered until it sinks in for everyone.
Recently on the news a 16 year old boy with a dairy allergy had gone to eat at IHOP with his family. The specifically asked if they could make dairy free pancakes and they said yes. Not too long after he had a reaction and was rushed to the hospital. This kid died because the was dairy in his pancakes that they asked for no dairy. His epi pen that his mother had wasn’t enough to help him. I know working in fast food or any job that’s serves food and beverage sucks but not as much as causing someone to get sick over negligence.
My youngest cousin – who is now five, he just started kindergarten – has Celiac’s disease. You would not BELEIVE the amount of times I’ve heard my aunt say she’s ordered something gluten free, only to watch the waiter or waitress’s eyes go huge when she gives it to my cousin – my cousin with the medical id band on his tiny five year old wrist proclaiming I HAVE CELIACS and have to take it back. Shit like this could kill my cousin. Knock it the fuck off.
I cannot tolerate caffeine–it makes me have chest pain and a racing pulse, and also gives me horrible body pain, so I always ask for decaf if I order coffee when I’m out, and doublecheck with the waiter/ress when they bring it. but instead of saying “is this decaf like I asked for?” I always say “oh, did I remember to order decaf?” I shouldn’t have to act like I’m the forgetful one (because I know damn well I asked for decaf) but it seems to work better than implying that they screwed up when I take the blame on myself like that. and if there’s any hesitation when they answer, I tell them, “if there’s any doubt, please get another one, or just give me water–if this is regular, it’ll mess up my heart” and lots of times when I say that, they look alarmed and go change it or get another one.
but I shouldn’t HAVE to share my personal medical history with strangers just to get my order right! no one should! how is it their business? it makes me really uncomfortable to have to do that. JUST GIVE PEOPLE WHAT THEY ORDER!
I’ve reblogged this maaaany times before but there’s a few new stories on here so i’m doing it again.
cut this shit out
don’t be that kind of asshole.
As a diabetic, this would make me so beyond angry. Skinny doesn’t mean they don’t have a life threatening illness. Skinny doesn’t mean they can process sugar the way you do. People that do this are the worst kinds of people. DO NOT DO THIS!
Me and my family went to a restaurant a few years back and one of the dishes we ordered was made with wine vinegar, which I am allergic to, so we asked the waiter to skip it, and he said sure, no problem, that’s fine. So my food gets to the table, and I start eating and then my throat closes and I can’t breathe and then I start coughing and throwing up right there in the middle of the restaurant and it was very fortunate that I was with my family and they knew what was happening to me. I had to be rushed to the hospital, and admitted, and I came damn near close to having my throat cut open so I could breathe through a whole on my neck. Because they put wine vinegar in my food when I explicitly told them not to, because they were assholes, and I could have died. They probably didn’t mean to hurt me but they did. I missed class, and work, and, again, I COULD HAVE DIED.
i have cyclic vomiting syndrome and can’t tolerate dairy or red meat. violating my dietary restrictions triggers an acute episode, and i have to be hospitalized and given iv saline, ativan, and anti-emetics to stop the (extremely painful and incapacitating) vomiting. if somebody put regular milk instead of soy milk in my latte and i didn’t notice the taste immediately, i could wind up in the er and then spend several days in bed recovering, eating nothing but saltines and dry toast and clear liquids until my body was able to tolerate food again, unable to work or go out or do anything besides rest. whenever i go to starbucks, i WATCH them make my drink. cvs episodes are horrible and i hate them, and i can prevent them if i do everything right, but that means my damn barista has to cooperate. if somebody decided i was a stuck up white girl and gave me whole milk instead of soy they could put me in the hospital and cost me days of income. give ppl the food they fuckin order. it’s not that hard.
Reblogging because it’s so important. I’m “lucky” I don’t have any food allergies or intolerence, but it makes me mad when people take them not seriously, think you are picky or just following a “white girl diet fad”.
90% of people don’t take my cats and dog allergies seriously when I tell them I’m allergic and wondering if a cat or a dog is present at X place. They think it’s just watery eyes. Nope. Well yeah, watery and itchy eyes, but I start wo wheeze and have trouble breathing. They don’t give epi-pen for those (anyway you have to go to the hospital after) just inhaler. It’s no miracle, specially if I didn’t take other meds before.
When people tell you about their allergies or restriction, trust them!
Reblogging for all the stories here because this is sooo important!
I have a severe allergy to gluten and relate to MANY of the stories above. My daughter has a severe allergy to milk fat, and I have had to hold her hair many times while she vomits on the side of the road because we couldn’t even make it home from the “accidental” whole milk instead of skim.
I’m super lactose intolerant so accidental milk is always fun. Severe diarrhea, stomach cramps, bloating, and gas like you wouldn’t believe. Better than death you might say but, I have other medical conditions, so that diarrhea could lead to vomiting(it’s so bad the vomit comes out my mouth AND nose) and dehydration that in turn becomes low cortisol and adrenal crisis. A bitchy barista can land me in the hospital with an intramuscular shot and saline iv. Hun, it takes no time to listen and follow my order. It takes me at least 24 hours to get out of the hospital. Be nice.
I’m allergic to pork. Legit allergic. I can’t count how many times I’ve had to ask it off my food only to receive it with bacon or ham or something on it.
Please respect peoples food requests. It costs 0.00$ to not be a dick.
I actually have customers who say they’ll only eat at my restaurant when I’m there, because they know I require all policy to be followed, as in “I will kick you the fuck off your shift if you skimp,” if someone says the words “I have an allergy.” I developed our allergy policies, for that matter, because what we had in place before was “I guess you shouldn’t change your gloves … . ?” On my shifts your gloves get changed, that line gets wiped down with a new cloth, paper under EVERY ITEM for the person with the allergy, bag their food separately to prevent contact. If there’s a risk of cross-contamination with an allergen, like tomatoes in the guac because stuff spills when you’re moving as fast as we do, I’ll open a new bag of food. I learned the ingredients in every item we serve so I could advise people on hidden allergens (e.g., there’s a small amount of wheat in our beef as a thickener; we fry with safflower oil). We have a grease pencil to mark special builds and I use it liberally on allergy orders. If all of this sounds like overkill, you’ve never watched a child suffer from anaphylaxis. I don’t play around.
Like, I bitch about my job a lot, but food allergies and special needs are not something I will ever bitch about. Even if you’re a complete asshole I won’t risk contaminating your food. (Although people with allergies seem to be way nicer than the general population, I gotta say.) Don’t do it. If someone’s a petty asshole to you, give them too much ice in their drink. Don’t play with their health.
DO NOT FUCKING SCROLL PAST THIS P L E A S E
Reblogging this again because it is important. Doing the right thing has no cost but doing the wrong thing can cost a person’s life. Don’t be a dick, give the person what they ordered
hey if you identify as a woman and you don’t shave your legs everyday and let your stubble grow free and natural for long periods of time could you reblog or like this post, I’m trying to make a point here, cause apparently I’m a weirdo for not shaving for weeks or months at a time
Everyone who reblogs this before New Years (11:59 PM 12/31/17)
will be given a small art piece based off of their blog! (Well a photo over Tumblr of it but it’ll be good quality)
And I mean EVERYONE as long as it’s before the end date! Reblog fast for cute art things!
