if you are a parent, or may become one, or you are otherwise likely to arrive in the situation of caring for a child while they eat, promise me this: if a child doesn't like a certain food or food group, you will ask them WHY. and specifically, you will pay attention to either confirming or ruling out "it makes my mouth itch" or "it makes my stomach hurt," both of which are medically important info that children may not provide unprompted. which i know because this PSA has been brought to you by "i spent my entire childhood and much of my early teens eating peas and lentils while wondering why everyone else liked the Violently Itchy Mouth Sensation so much, like were they a bunch of legume masochists or something, before i finally realized that Violently Itchy Mouth Sensation was in fact a sinister demon appearing only to me, and her true demonic name was: Legume Allergy"
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I know people like to clown on aspects of classic Disney films that don't feel grounded in reality. But I've worked both front and back of house in restaurants of varying quality. And if I found out our line cook or something served a full plate of spaghetti to two dogs in an alley, I would consider that like. Like not good. But possible.
it's so funny to me how scott and kip are drinking smoothies and buying novelty socks and moving at the speed of lesbians, meanwhile shane and ilya are stuck in individual saw traps but the saw traps are their minds and they forgot the instructions
okay being jewish has been kind of a downer lately but i need to appreciate it more. i just hurt myself laughing about this thread. itβs all true. it would be even funnier if the last tweet had audio
Yes, itβs an organization called Chabad, which is also the Lubavitch hasidic sect. Their goal is to connect as many Jews as they can with Jewish practice and mitzvot.
They have a worldwide network of shlichim (emissaries) who establish Chabad Houses in different cities and towns. The Chabad Houses serve as synagogues and as bases of operations. Many college campuses have them as well. They host Shabbat dinners and other programming.
Some of them go in public and ask people if theyβre Jewish and have them do mitzvot. The ones mentioned in the screenshot are:
- Laying tefillin (they only offer this to men)
- Shaking lulav and etrog
- Listening to shofar
And some other things that werenβt mentioned were giving out candles for Shabbat or for Chanukah.
You might ask what the point is of this if itβs not part of a sustained observant lifestyle for the person. I think one answer is that they believe it could spark that, and another is they see every single mitzvah done by a Jew as a metaphysical positive thing, and also that we can bring Moshiach by doing lots of mitzvot.
You mentioned in your tags that it feels like proselytizing. I hear that. The custom not to proselytize refers to not trying to recruit non-Jews to convert to Judaism. But it doesnβt mean that you canβt try to get people who are already Jewish to engage more (or engage in particular ways) with their Judaism. Basically, their goal is not to convert people to another religion, since both they and the people theyβre approaching are already Jewish.
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For those of you who aren't familiar, I live in an exceptionally flammable part of the United States, and despite the fact that every goddamn year multiple parts of my state catch fire, destroy homes and kill people, the local assholes insist on getting drunk and setting fire to a bunch of illegal explosives anyway.
In 2023, God granted me a Miracle that prevented my house from burning down.
Last year, I had to resort to Psychological and Chemical Warfare to keep the patriotic arsonists at bay.
This year is apparently An Important Birthday for the clusterfuck we have the nerve to call a nation, so despite the fact there is so much smoke in the air that the sun has literally been blood red for the last week, the pyrotechnic fetishists are out in force.
Last year, I hit upon the concept that if my neighbors were going to act like problem animals, it would make sense to use the management techniques on them that you might use on say, a Bear that was doing serious property damage. Thusly, I created The Stench, a nontoxic but FOUL smelling concoction that I could discretely spray around the flammable gatherings and render the area extremely uncomfortable to occupy for the rest of the night, forcing them to give up or move on.
If this seems harsh:
There is no story from 2024 because a grass fire was started by fireworks less than 12 miles from me and the high winds put me in the evacuation zone in under an hour.
Over fifty people lost their homes.
Errant fireworks burning my house down is a very real possibility, and I pay the price in anxiety and insurance premiums.
The Stench is noxious but harmless, and also very effective at building a buffer zone around my home. But sneaking up to parties on foot in this heat is both exhausting and nerve-wracking. There have to be more effective ways to do this
-And there is!
It involves Weeds and Business Cards :)
All of this spring, I've been battling Bindweed and my City Code Enforcement Officers.
The city code people have been professional, but the truth is that one of my neighbors is calling them on use because one of my housemates is transgender. It's extremely grating to get these notices, having to explain repeatedly that I *AM* working on the weed situation, I just have a heart condition and No Money. It's also deeply paranoia-inducing to know that the city is regularly coming by and photographing my house.
The Solution to the Bindweed is 1 gallon of high-concentration vinegar, half a cup of Borax, a quarter cup of salt, and a couple tablespoons of dish soap. Get one of those weed sprayers from a hardware store and mix it up in there. Spray it on your thistles, bindweed, kudzu, garlic mustard or whatever your local herbaceous invasive is on a day with bright sunlight, and in a few hours the entire part of the plant above the soil is Deceased. It's non-toxic to insects, pets and wildlife (just wait a few months before trying to plant anything in the area for the traces to wash out).
The only real downside to this stuff is that it smells HEINOUS.
Sure, The Stench is nauseating, but WeedFucker 5000 is genuinely painful to inhale. Again, it wont hurt people- even my asthmatic housemates can use the stuff- but boy howdy it sure smells toxic. I've got the ingredients for about 40 gallons of WeedFucker 5000 prepared and ready to go.
I've also got a disposable hazmat suit, rubber boots and gloves, respirator, goggles and a shitty little golf cart from the free section of craigslist to haul my shit around in.
I also have Business Cards!
See, the very nice officers from the City Code department left some Very Nice business cards so that I may contact them about "the fucking bindweed is gone, get off my back".
So I scanned the business card into my computer, fired up Clip Studio, and made my own business cards. I've turned my City's Abstract Triangle Logo into an Eye of Providence and the slogan of "E Pluribus Unum" to "E Plurbis Anus", Changed my city's name to a dumb pun, and stated the card originates from "The Department Of Public Nuisances".
Crucially, where the name and contact information of the real city employee has been replaced with the name and business email of the neighbor who has been bragging on facebook about calling the city code department on my home because he hates my housemate :)
It looks, at a glance, very much like the business cards of city employees. If you look at it for like 5 seconds though, there's no way it could be mistaken for the real thing.
I've printed out 500 of these bad boys and will have them on hand as I, a put-upon employee, am forced to work overtime on a national holiday doing weed mitigation, because my boss can't manage deadlines for shit.
You're mad about it? I've been out here since 5 AM! But if we don't finish by the deadline we lose the contract and I could get fired. You know what the economy is.
Here, this is my Boss's Business card- how about you send him an email about how this has ruined your barbecue?
It's golden hour now, so I'm Suiting Up and preparing to embark on some civil service in the form of Noxious Weed Eradication, and by coincidence, Fire Mitigation.
I'll report back later Tonightπ«‘
(If you'd like to support your local disabled storyteller in their Acts Of Public Service, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi or supporting me on Patreon)
Well.
It's not quite an hour into July 5th.
I am very tired, may have destroyed my sense of smell, and am not sure if I'm proud of or VERY disappointed in my fellow citizens.
On one hand: FAR fewer fireworks parties this year!
- Only nine to last year's thirteen
- three of them had the good sense to be firing their recreational explosives out over the local reservoir
- That's far from foolproof
- and really bad for the fish
- also y'all are RIGHT NEXT to where the Bald Eagles are nesting
- but congratulations on at least attempting some risk mitigation!
On the other hand.
Absolutely NOBODY questioned why the hell I was out spraying weeds.
- In a Hazmat Suit (technically it's a coverall for painting rooms, which is much more breathable, but looks the part)
- In a Residential Area
- After Dark
- On a Federal Holiday
Like I'm glad I didn't get into a fight or something, but like.
I was Ready.
I had that conversation locked and loaded.
I MADE BUSINESS CARDS.
...But instead of Very Reasonably asking What The Fuck I Was Doing, the crowds at these parties saw me (5'0" flat, potato-shaped, sweating profusely) trundling up on the slowest and least-intimidating motor vehicle in the county*, hanging a bit out the side to spray thistles and bindweed on the streets and sidewalks**, and instead of raising a rival stink, I was instead greeted by some derisive muttering and a couple of "OH COME ON!"s, but the groups dispersed and retreated indoors or at least away from the general direction of my home.
*Like genuinely, I think Barbie's Dream Car has more horsepower than this golf cart. This thing doesn't have horsepower. It doesn't even have ponypower. It's running on duckpower. It waddles, something I didn't know a wheeled vehicle could do.
**Actually completely legal and a welcome community service in my city. Thank you Neighbor Barbara for telling me the exact part of city code that details what civilians are allowed to do about weeds on public roads, which is apparently "LOTS". Theoretically I could bill the city for my time tonight.
Do people not know how to Make A Scene anymore?
I was absolutely sure I was going to get filmed and shit thrown at me, or someone would call the cops. My beloved was terrified I was going to get shot. I at least had ONE woman shout "YOU'RE RUINING EVERYTHING!" at me, which isn't quite as good as being told I'm ruining Christmas, but she said it with a genuinely heartwarming anguish while gesturing to a homemade "HAPPY BIRTHDAY AMERICA!!" banner, with an attempt at rendering The Evil Orange that as so enthusiastically yet talentlessly executed I almost stopped to get a picture of it. He looked like he'd been put in a wafflemaker.
I promised my beloved that I would turn around and come home at midnight, and I did, having eliminated every fireworks party and Scottish thistle in a five-block radius despite the lackadaisical maximum speed of my Steel Steed.
The complete lack of protest is honestly shocking to me. My flabbers are completely gasted. I waddled home on the golf cart in a sort of stunned silence that this HAS worked so well. The whole world is almost eerily quiet, and reeking of vinegar.
...Which is maybe why I didn't notice the cop pulling up beside me at a red light until he rolled down his window and leaned out at me.
"WHAT'RE YOU DOIN'?" He asked, in a voice that could be used as a foghorn in emergencies.
I probably would have jumped were I not currently melting into a semblance of the Chernobyl Elephant's Foot in the heat, which was the first thing that saved me.
The second was the voice of my Grandfather, coming to my aid through decades of generational memory, to tell me his words of wisdom, usually spoken right before doing something wildly inadvisable:
The Age Of Miracles Is Not Yet Over.
"Weed Mitigation!" I called back.
"CHRIST ON A BIKE, THEY GOT YOU GUYS WORKING THE HOLIDAY TOO?" He said, in the same fontissimo as before. Apparently Officer Foghorn just talks like this.
"Yep." I nodded.
"SHIT." He blared in solidarity. "WHEN DO YOU GET OFF?"
"Just finished."
"MOTHERFUCKER. THEY GOT ME OUT HERE UNTIL GODDAMN 5 AM." Officer Foghorn whined in THX.
"Shit." I commiserated.
The light turned green.
"ALRIGHT YOU GET HOME SAFE! GOD BLESS!" He waved, and drove off at something significantly above the speed limit, and I trundled on home.
I must have still looked shocked when I came in, because My Beloved immediately got up to hug me and ask if I was alright.
"The Age Of Miracles Is Not Yet Over." I nodded slowly as the animals all battered me about the legs for attention. "...For real though, absolutely nothing happened."
"What?" he squints, wobbling slightly as Charlie tries to shove him aside for better access to me. "That's... Is it weird to say I'm almost disappointed?"
"I mean, I confirmed that I inherited my Grandfather's supernatural ability to get out of trouble for no good reason, but we knew that from the code enforcement people." I shrugged. Selene finally noticed the smell of vinegar and retched in disapproval.
"How about a shower and some Ice cream?" My Beloved suggests.
So now it is July the 5th.
- My house is not ablaze
- There are four medium-sized carnivores sleeping on me
- I am freshly bathed
- and I have a pint of Americone Dream all to myself
Here's to you, your health and your happiness, and a reminder to go make good trouble. Goodnight all.
---
(If you enjoy reading about my adventures (and the occasional curious non-adventure) I'd appreciate it if you could tip me on Ko-Fi. Apparently my Patreon link is fucked but it's basically 1 in the morning and I can't be arsed.)
Ohhohohoho DO I EVER. Meet the βsnapback zone,β not an area with cool hats, but instead the unintuitive range at which a hawser can kill you if it breaks under tension.
I donβt think you guys understand how much force this is, a tow rope used to move a 20 foot boat snaps under tension with enough force to dent metal, shatter glass and seriously injure anyone in its way. A Hawser on the other handβ¦ Well Iβve seen a concrete pier with a chuck the size of a sedan ripped out of it by a line failure, and anecdotally, Iβve heard of a 2 ton heavy cargo forklift being skidded sideways, then knocked over. These lines snap with enough force to noticably dent the hull armor of navy ships.
This is a line designed to hold in place a moving object that can be easily in excess of 10000 tons. AND THEY CAN BREAK FROM THAT TENSION ALONE.
THESE THINGS ARE TERRIFYING RUBBER BANDS FROM HELL.
Iβm once again reminded of its much smaller cousin, the haywire.
Youβve heard of the term, βGoing haywire,β right? Ever spared a thought to why that term exists?
See, time was there was a prototype automatic hay-baler. But this was in that magic period juuust before we really got into standardized sizes. So calibration of the machine was handled manually - a mix of guessing and learning from the results of guessing.
If youβve read Raising Steam by Sir Terry Pratchett you know that many people donβt get to learn from the results of their own guesses, due to being dead.
A poorly calibrated hay-baler had the mechanical strength to smush the hay into a tight bundle, wrap the wire around it, and tie that wire off to maintain the baleβs form. But the pressure of the over-packed hay was a constant outward force. Each bale made by an over-tight baler was potential energy in physical form.
We have a word for βpotential energy in physical formβ and that word is βbomb.β
So sometimes, a man would toss a hay bale and it would land with a twang and the man whoβd been reaching down to pick it up where it landed was dead.
Normally Iβd expect wet plant matter to be less likely to go up in flames, but not hay bales! Those pesky bacteria really like to party in damp conditions. And by party I mean βcreate heat.β
starting the countdown until gaylors start saying that Adam Sandler officiating Taylor's wedding (sorry if this is how you found out) is actually proof that it's a sham because it's a reference to I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry (2007), in which Sandler and Kevin James play heterosexual men who enter a mutually beneficial fake gay marriage, a dynamic that Taylor is inverting as a queer woman pretending to be straight while cleverly flagging the obvious farce to those with the eyes to see
funniest reactions to this post are the people asking how Adam Sandler can officiate a wedding. literally anyone can do that, basically anyone can get ordained. I'm ordained.
this is like the opposite of that "wizard vs artificer" post. the one that goes, like, "oh, you've just been summoning from the plane of water! I thought you had to combine hydrogen and oxygen, that's so much easier".
and I like that. because different methods will work for different people. sometimes you find it easier to start up physics and sometimes you find it easier to tear open the layers of reality.
The only way into my building is through the front door which locks itself when closed. There's a back entrance but it's deadbolted from the inside. This means the only people who can get into the building are me, my cat sitter with the spare keys, and the people living in the other two units.
The door to MY unit now... has no doorknob. Impossible to get in.
There is a shared BACK hallway that leads to the shared basement/back entrance. My back door into this hall is always deadbolted. EXCEPT, fortuitously, right now, since neighbor (Molly) in unit 2 had heard Patches meowing when alone and offered to spend some time with her, so I had the cat sitter unlock the bolt.
This, LUCKILY, means there is A Way into my unit. But it requires getting into the building, then going THROUGH my neighbors' unit into the back hall, then up to my unit.
Cat sitter is effectively locked out from Patches, and won't be able to get in if not fixed by the next day.
Text neighbor about predicament. They're willing to look at my door bUT (it's Christmas) they're not home and not getting home until the next day.
Next day, text for an update but hear nothing. (Neighbors aren't attached to their phones much). Communicate with catsitter saying "okay if I don't hear back from neighbors, maybe you go over and I contact a locksmith who you can let in?" (since cat sitter has the keys to the building)
Catsitter is very not keen on the idea
Patches is unaware she's a prisoner.
Hear back from neighbors. Say they should be home around 5pm.
Okay... Good Enough... (Patches graze-feeds so Luckily she hasn't missed any meals but we're going on 24 hours of house arrest Patches).
6pm comes. 7pm comes. 7:40pm I text asking for an update. Nothing.
8:30pm I'm figuring out what friends I can call to break into my own house. Text neighbor again and notice this text doesn't go through.
Text neighbor's partner being like "hey sorry, can't seem to reach Molly--". Get a text back "Sorry this is Molly on David's phone! My phone died." Family Christmas plans ran late but they're on their way back and will be home soon. Thank goodness.
9pm-ish, they get back, give Patches attention and top up her food. I get a text "David fixed your door!" Woo!
Friday 5pm I finally get home
Lugging my suitcase up three flights of stairs while I hear Patches meowing like a dying Victorian child
Shoes off coat off suitcase down fish out keys unlock door grab doorknob
...Doorknob falls off
Falls off right into my hands
Staring at doorknob. Staring at door. Patches meowing. Shove doorknob against door like an idiot and no it does not go back on.
Fucking
Go down flight of stairs, knock on Molly and David's door. David is luckily home. "My doorknob fell off again can I go home"
David lets me in. I scoot past their dogs and apparently I startled the more nervous one since she apparently tried to nip at me but I didn't even notice because I'm like my cat.
Get in through the back hall.
Patches comes bounding over.
My cat.
Doesn't even know she was a prisoner.
Doesn't even know what a doorknob is.
Later that night receive a text from neighbor apologizing for the dog and I'm like "I Did Not Even Notice."
Any attempt to leave my house now is perilous until I fix the doorknob.
Can't even leave my door cracked open because I know Patches is gonna shove her stupid little face through it and become the opposite of a prisoner.
I wanna go buy a reeces peanut butter cup but by god it's not worth the risk
You are completely right because I have now investigated the knob and can confirm the screw holding the knob to bar was loose. I have tightened the screw and it SEEMS fixed but Iβm very Fool Me Once on this since my neighbor also thought theyβd fixed it.
There is a Home Depot trip in my future. Or maybe an online purchase if Patches would get off my laptop
Complication. Doorknob is here and I tried to install it, but because my door is older than God, the latch-majig (technical term) is offset like an inch higher than the knob. Modern doorknob has the latch LEVEL with the knob.
To swap in the new knob I'd need to cut a new knob-hole an inch higher in the door which
With what tools
That would leave an unused gaping doorknob-sized hole in my door which any robber the size of a weasel or smaller will use to rob my home. I don't need fucking Redwall in my home.
Probably bad for the integrity of the door
I don't wanna.
I think what I really want is just the knob like above tags said. Like the knob and the rectangular bar, which I can substitute in for my stripped-bare knob and rectangle bar. I WOULD do this with the new knob, but it's got two welded-on spokes poking out from the knob.
I can maybe drill two holes for the spokes in my door...?
(Squinting at shitty amazon listings trying to see if any knobs don't have the two spokes)
(I think the two spokes might be standard.)
Developing new respect for Jesus (carpenter).
In the meantime, because I'd already unscrewed a lot of things I DID take the genius action of flipping my current doorknob around.
This way the side that causes problems is on the INSIDE.
Doorknob fall of while INSIDE house significantly better than doorknob fall off while OUTSIDE.
New doorknob should get here tomorrow, but in the meantime things in the notes of this post:
Several dozen stories of other people getting locked in/out of bathrooms/basements/classrooms/bedrooms/buildings. Extra shout out to the person whose classmate managed to do this twice, in rapid4reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesdweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
Patches is on my keyboard
whose classmate managed to do this twice, in rapid succession, to both sides of a classroom door after being saved the first time.
Several people taking this as a sign to go tighten their doorknob screws, including someone whose knob fell off in their hands while doing this
10 or so people reading the "can't have shit in Detroit" meme to mean I live in Detroit. Sorry to confess I'm a fake Detroitite. Doxxing myself by 0.00001% more by informing the world I live in not-Detroit.
Many many people wondering why I'm not pestering my landlord about this. Truth is my landlord is way too sexy, cool, fashionable, smart, pretty, funny, and popular on Tumblr to it's me. It's me. I'm me I'm my landlord. It's my condo. Including, with immense regret, every single doorknob inside.
3 separate professional locksmiths who have reached out offering advice, which is very cool. I have burst into a virtual hardware store clutching my shit doorknob and fainted, only to be caught by three very strong and cool locksmiths rushing to my aid.
Person with a story of dogsitting a friend's Tibetan Mastiff who managed to knock the entire backdoor down. Taking inspiration from this to train Patches in battering-ram techniques, should she ever get locked inside again.
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friend whos always planning everything: hey guys lets do something this week!! when are you all available?
friend whos always available: i can do whenever
friend whos constantly busy: im sorry i have work and then school and then the labyrinth and then more work :( i can do tuesday at 3:00 am for five minutes tho
friend with the randomly generated sleep schedule: (no response)
friend who went missing in the woods behind their house 12 years ago and hasn't been heard from since: (no response)
friend whos really into genshin impact: does anyone want to play genshin impact
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is it any surprise that ilya latent suicidal tendencies rozanov was a club rat in the early 2010s when every single song was a variation of Tonight Is Literally The Only Night Worth Being Alive We Are All Killing Ourselves Tomorrow
