FortiDogi

hiiii my car needs various repairs, which means i'm setting all my tabletop games to 60% off for the next month or so! or get all of em for $20!

these games include:

toxic divorce reality-hopping simulator

pvp action movie time loop soundtracked by the mountain goats

house of leaves inspired map-making game

journaling game where you’re a slenderverse protagonist

and poor guy was like "it's uhmm. it's pregnant clippy from microsoft office"

At the start of my employment, my boss showed me videos of people stealing, and we both had a chuckle about it. How silly they were! There was a camera overhead, and it’s not to watch the shoppers. See, we can’t actually stop shoplifters. They get away with it maybe nine out of ten times. But we, who are watched and tallied and witnessed? We are always caught.

At first it was hard to hold one hundred dollars bills. An amount I had never seen before. An amount that didn’t exist in my household. It’s normal now. Here is something that is not for me.

“What the hell, I’ll take another,” says the man, pondering our 200 dollar watches. What the hell. Total comes to 580 and not even a flinch in his face. I have been working for 11 hours today and made only 110 dollars. It will go to my rent. Today I work for free, it feels. When I get my check, I will have 35 dollars left for food and saving.

The six hundreds he hands me go into the cash register. For a moment, I imagine having money. Then I put it away, counting out his change.

I know for a fact we sell our products for double what they are worth. That I could be making commission. That they could hand me those 580 dollars and change my life and not even mark the difference in their checkbooks. He’s not the only sale they make today, but I am the reason they made it. He’s not the only one spending 600 dollars, but if I hadn’t spent two hours with him telling me about his life, he wouldn’t have spent any. I go home. I don’t own a watch.

I have watched and rewatched a video on how to make salmon four ways. My shopping list is always the same. Pasta. Rice. Tuna. If I can afford butter it was a good week. I dream of the world I will never walk in, where I can throw the best fish fillet in the cart with a shrug. I hold hundreds in my hand and look up at the camera. I put them under the cash drawer.

I go to work. I scrap together my savings. I eat my bowl of rice slowly. My manager takes a paid week off from work just for his birthday. He owns a yacht. 

i was part of their college program. i moved to the state for it. they legally owned the building i was living in and still charged me rent. i ostensibly was being charged to work for them. it was a 2 bedroom apartment and they placed 6 adult women in it in forced triples.

as many as one in ten disney employees have experienced homelessness while working for the company. despite huge efforts to unionize, strike, or otherwise demand fair treatment; disney has refused to increase employee quality of life.

disney admits publicly that a good portion of their success is because the employees (“cast members”) are dedicated, passionate, and selfless. this is never reflected in pay. even “face” characters (ie those that are princesses etc) make barely above a minimum wage.

at the time that i worked there, i made $8.50 an hour. at one point i was asked to create a human shield around a bag because a bomb dog had alerted to it. for eight fucking dollars an hour.

i now work a very cushy office job. i have bought the salmon and cooked it all four ways.

i go to the store. i am nice to the person behind the counter. she looks up at the camera while she counts out my change. there is nothing fundamentally different about her and i.

If you guys wanna join me in original character art gifting game land, here I am 👍

my first thought is to "take the bullet for the president." the bullet of course being cat yack, and the president being the thick luxurious carpets of my bedroom.

i discard this thought. im clean. i like being clean. i have been clean for only four seconds.

my second thought is to remember that there is a large, plastic sheeted area in the corner near the cats food bowl. ms. kitty is a messy eater, so she has to eat on the sheet.

i grab my cat and toss it across the room onto the sheet. i feel like im throwing a live grenade out of my trench. cat drives heaves once in my arms, then throws up in midair, approximately one foot out of my grasp.

i watch the barf fly in the same arc as my cat. conservation of momentum. theres not much velocity imbued by peristalsis.

both land at the same time. vomit splats. cat lands gracefully. she turns around, looks at me with total serenity, and throws up a second time. still on the plastic. i tell her that shes a great cat for staying still to do that. she does not give a shit.

i get some dirty clothes out of my laundry hamper and pile them up so she can sit on them. she loves dirty laundry. cats are nasty like that. i clean up the barf and she watches with interest. i have tossed her across the room, and now, stolen her barf. i am utterly befuddling to her. she tolerates me though because i give good scritches.

i toss the vomit soaked paper towels into the trash and come back with a bowl of bottled water (she has preferences) and a cat squeezy treat. she accepts three sips of water but declines the treat. very reasonable. i go back downstairs and put the treat in a ziplock in the fridge so she can have it tomorrow. i come back and shes trotting on her wheel.

i ask how long shes been able to do that. she doesn't answer - in part because she is a cat, but mostly because she is an asshole. she just keeps jogging. i turn to walk away and she meows at me to spin the wheel faster.