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my roommates car is named barff. it was originally bought from a dealership called garff, but then she tinkered with the g on the license plate thing so it looks like a b and now the car is just called barff.
my wife once asked our roomate where she was parked in a group chat. but she messed up the word "parked" and instead spelled it as "garked". and then me and my roommate just started referring to parking as garking because its just really fun to give my wife shit. its just part of the professional little brother playbook.
but also, at some point it stopped being ironic and we just started calling parking garking.
then today me and my wife were looking out the window and we saw our roommate struggling to do a three point turn into a parking space. and as fun as it is to give my wife shit its also really fun to give our roommate shit. so we ran outside and we ran around her car while chanting GARK THE BARFF. GARK THE BARFF. GARK THE BARFF. and then she did, eventually, gark the barff. theres no moral to this its just a surreal part of my life that i really enjoy. maybe tease people more? find your barff and gark it and never ever stop?
professional little brothering is a lifelong craft that requires no blood relationship to the people you inflict it upon. all it really requires is a willingness to show your deep affection for someone by annoying them.
I told my little nephew that I'd wave at his airplane when it flew over my house today, and he very calmly and politely explained that it wouldn't be possible to see me due to the limitations of human vision. I said he just had to squint real hard, and he took a deep breath and went into the toddler version of "see, what you're not understanding–"
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genuinely I'm so sick of people wanting all fiction to be ethical. can we all just get a little gross with it. the point of fiction is that it's not real. we can be unethical in fiction; same goes with being perverted with fiction, being unrealistic with fiction, and being grotesque with fiction. not all fiction has to be ethical, not every character has to be ethical, and that's okay. can we stop with the puritanism. be gross. be unrealistic. be whatever. if I don't like it it's not my business as long as we're all clear that its fictional.
via ered.bsky.social, the only kinds of unethical fiction:
people in the replies are going "what about books glorifying unethical things" and "what if it's propaganda" and you, my friends, are who this comic was made for
i think friendslop as a term is soooo fucking funny. ironically mildly derogatory term for something that's only good because you are just doing it to hang out with your friends. im not saying it's a misnomer or anything in fact i think we need to broaden the concept to apply to a lot of non video game stuff retroactively. bowling is highkey friendslop
just finished this month's book club book, went skimming goodreads reviews afterwards as you do, got my breath taken away by this absolutely brutal ending to one of the multi-paragraph 1 star reviews
I don't want to get all "hur hur that's not realistic" to amateur writers, but I want to make sure that everyone knows this: in a medieval or medieval-ish setting, someone who's seen an archer before would definitely be able to tell whether someone's an archer just by looking at them.
Archeologists can't tell for sure whether someone was assigned male or female when alive from bone structure, but they can tell whether someone was an archer. Longbow archer, anyway. The way their arms and shoulders were strongly muscled in a very asymmetrical way is pretty much unmistakable, and they were muscled enough that it's visible in their bones. If someone's seen what archers look like, they can tell whether a stranger they've never seen before can shoot a bow or not.
Finding an unarmed and unconscious, soft-bodied and narrow-shouldered stranger in the woods, the first clue that this mf is not a ranged nor melee fighter is not by whether his fingers are calloused in the right places for a bowstring. A medieval bowman was built like a brick shithouse.
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I got a job at a gas station across from a casino and a guy keeps coming in to buy whole cartons of cigarettes and talks in the third person calling himself "snake eyes pete" and every time I tell him his total hes like "tell ya what if old Pete rolls a snake eyes why dont you give it to him for free?" and he rolls the same set of loaded dice on the counter and it does not matter how many times he rolls snake eyes I will not give him the cartons for free he gets so mad
Snakeyes Pete is from Toronto he gave me a button once that said "Canadians have the best luck" and i said i thought that was the Irish and he said "I fucking hate the irish" and i said okay
There's a Chinese meme that the Yellow River doesn't need rituals to present sacrifices because if it's hungry it'll come onto the shore and eat the sacrifices itself.
#some netizens also say chinese people like unification because only a powerful unified dynasty can survive the yellow river and sometimes #also the chang jiang when they decide to flood and change directions and kill and displace millions #also only large dynasties have the resources to do hydroengineering to try and control the yellow river #yellow river be like: if you don't hydroengineer you die #but if you do you might also die heehee #“we call these our mother rivers not because they are gentle but because we are too scared” tags on above post
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okay so, guy at work, who i find out afterwards is famous at this place for being a sex pest, comes up and starts with what i also learn is his favorite opener to conversations where he’s going to be a sex pest, namely: “Do you know where the term ‘blow job’ comes from?”
and here he made his first fatal error. his moment of hubristic sex pesting. because of course i know where the term blow job comes from, i love learning about sex and the history of sexual terms! i know so much about oral sex that i could write a book on it!
his second error: approaching a little autistic freak with what he intended to be an uncomfortable sex question that would make me feel weird and gross. Friends, Romans, Countrymen, I Have Never Misjudged A Man’s Intentions So Incredibly In My Life. because i did not realize he was trying to harass me. because i love talking about sex facts, albeit not usually at work. unless. someone prompts me. my coworkers are the kind of people who are generally online enough to know terms, but not exactly what they mean, and they realized they could ask me a while back and get good answers without the resulting awkwardness because i do not experience shame. i am primed to answer questions like the one he has proposed.
So I Answered It.
and well, really, what happened is that I began answering it, then realized the answer required a bit more context. I mean, you can’t just say “oh, well, the term first appears in writing in the 1940s” without first explaining that ‘blow’ by itself already had sexual connotations for centuries, and then, really, are we talking about the origin of the term or the origin of the act. and well we have a ton of literature and art depicting fellatio throughout human history, did you know a lot of it was men performing it on other men? oh, that reminds me, there are a multitude of latin words for oral sex performed on penises, and hold on let me quote you the entirety of catullus 16 from memory and explain it’s fascinating insights into the roman world of homosexuality-
i do not know how to turn any of this ^ off, by the way. i’m sure some people out there have a switch that disables their infodumping mid-speech. i do not. and i also didn’t realize he wasn’t looking for a real answer until my other coworker explained so hours later. he could not excuse himself from the conversation he started, and i made a conservative man at least 30 years older than me to listen to my catullus recitation. i will sodomize and facefuck you, indeed.
anyway, i think i got a bad grade in being sexually harassed. my pro tip is maybe don’t start with what a very autistic individual will misconstrue as you earnestly asking them to explain sex to you. the special interest shield will cause splashback damage.
(Not the harassers, they can go fuck themselves once they're done listening to an earnest autistic person monologue for 20 minutes about the history of sexual terminology. I love all the earnest autistics in this bar.)
my wife's hours are bonkers right so, and its been messing up my sleep a little because im not used to sleeping without her around. so i only got about four and a half hours of sleep last night. and then today i came home and i wanted a snack and i sort of accidentally ate an entire large deli container of bleu cheese crumbles + a mangesium vitamin gummy + a melatonin before realizing that the last time i went to sleep after eating Extraordinary Amounts of Psychoactive Cheese i met the ghost of my grandfather who told me that he wasnt upset at me for not being there when he died. and i am not actually in a headspace to deal with that right now. but im also not really able to stay awake. so im just kind of talking to the one crumble i have left like, hey, man, i know i kind of fucked up here, but take it easy on me. im. im scared. no ghosts this time. it actually meant a lot to me last time but i dont want two ghosts in one year thats way too many ghosts. maybe just make this one kind of wacky. nevertheless. not my will, but thine, be done.
no ghost in that night's dream. totally ghostless. i spent the dream wandering around a big warehouse trying to find ghosts, and dream-me was getting really stressed out because he knew there had to be a ghost in there somewhere and then my wife woke me up while covered in flour from her midnight baking shift and in my groggy half-awake half-asleep state i was like, ah, there she is. the ghost of my dreams.
(i may have hollered a little.)
i have a couple tales of grandpa hank. but his ghost story is here.
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