Houston, We Have Liftoff

even if you get along great with your family you will get along even better with them after moving out 

generic is almost always just as good as name brand. But there are some things you never buy generic, including: peanut butter, ketchup, liquid NyQuil, Chips-Ahoy chewy chocolate chip cookies

just imagine the person on the other end of the phone hates talking on the phone as much as you do. Even a receptionist. I worked as one and I hate talking on the phone

at least once in your life you will go to Wal-mart to buy something under $20 like an ironing board or something and your debit card will get rejected. No one will judge. Everyone at some point in their lives has had $2.98 in their bank account. 

thrift stores

everyone else is too busy panicking about everyone else noticing every tiny thing that could possibly be wrong about them to notice any tiny thing that could possibly be wrong about you

you will screw up. a lot. you live and you learn. and when you start to think too hard about that embarrassing thing that happened and how you wish you could change it, just tell yourself that what’s done is done. There’s no changing it, so just forget it and move on. It’s the only way to stay sane.

do the dishes before the sink grows its own ecosystem

you can’t put Dawn dishsoap in the dishwasher. 

if you are the only one in the aisle at the grocery store, and you need to get from one end to the other without even looking at anything in that aisle, then you should totally cart-surf down the aisle. Growing old is mandatory. Growing up is optional. Hold on to the little things. They make all the difference.

never try to make cake from scratch at 3am. You end up with a topographical map of Middle Earth.

15% tip. 

the best way to get money for food is to tell your grandparents about how you basically live on microwaved mac and cheese. Their horror may result in twenty bucks and orders to go out and get yourself “a real dinner”.

sometimes life sucks, and knowing that it might get better doesn’t always make it suck any less, but you’ll never get to the non-sucky days without enduring the suckiness. 

no seriously, NEVER put Dawn in your dishwasher

Always check the type of light bulb that goes in lamps. A 60w is not interchangeable with a 40w.

Rice, pasta, flour, sugar, cheese, eggs, milk, a pack of chicken, a pack of frozen veggies and a well stocked spice cabinet go a long way food-wise. Splurge and get the biggest container of rice you can. You don’t have to go back and buy it again anytime soon and it makes a TON of meals in the meantime.

Rice can be cooked on the stove. You don’t need a fancy rice cooker. Two parts water to every one part rice (two cups water for one cup of rice for example). Get your water boiling, add rice, put a plate or lid on it, put it on low for 20 minutes. It should be done.

Keep a calendar on your pc of bill due dates. If your bills are set up at inconvenient times, like all of the services started on the first or something, then call up the company and find out if you can get your billing date switched to something more manageable. A lot of places do try to work with you.

There is no shame in calling a company and asking for an extension on a bill. Let them know what you can pay, pay that amount, and they arrange when the rest of the payment is required. This can stop you from having services shut off man. It shows responsibility on your part.

Take time to eat, even when you don’t feel like eating. Your body needs energy to live.

Wash or rinse your dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. It prevents gross caked on junk.

“The Works” is an excellent cheap toilet cleaner.

MAGIC. FUCKING. ERASERS. THEY WORK ON EVERYTHING JUST DON’T SCRUB HARD. I took the ring out of our bathtub with one. Also generic ones work just as well.

Keep some bleach around but if you use it for cleaning? Dillute it. There’s rarely ever a case where you need to pout straight bleach on anything. A cap full or two in a bucket of water works just fine.

DO NOT MIX CLEANERS. Chemical reactions are can be very dangerous. Here’s a good list. (Note that vinegar and baking soda can actually be a good combo for removing smells from things but it’s not very good at actually -cleaning-.)

If you drink? Don’t take meds at the same time it’s just not good.

Make sure you check the dosages on your pill bottles. No one wants to accidentally overdose on cough syrup or ibuprofen.

If you have a uterus make sure you have a heating pad and ibuprofen on hand for the pain. Hot baths also generally help and Ginger Tea is excellent for any nausea.

Buy a first aid kit. It’s worth it in the long run.

You can often do your taxes online at places like TurboTax.

Here’s some good sex ed resources because I had to explain what a yeast infection was recently. 

Petroleum jelly (aka Vaseline) is good for chapped lips and you can get a decent sized tube or tub of it (generic brand version) for cheaper/same price as Chapstick.

KEEP TRIPLE ANTIBIOTIC OINTMENT IN YOUR HOUSE FOR CUTS AND SCRAPES AND SORES. 

~~Medications~~

Over the counter medications (stuff you can buy right off the shelf no prescription needed) have a name brand and a generic name. ALWAYS buy generic if it’s available it is literally the same thing and way cheaper usually.

Some names to remember when you’re looking for meds!

Acetaminophen = Tylenol

Used to treat pain and reduce fever. Do not take with Ibuprofen.

Ibuprofen = Advil, Midol, Motrin

Used for pain and fever, is an anti-inflammtory. Is good for period cramps because it is an NSAID (non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drug).

Naproxen = Aleve, Naprosyn

Treats fever, pain, arthritis pain, gout, period cramps, tendinitis, headache, backache, and toothache. Is also an NSAID.

Acetaminophen + Asprin + Caffeine = Excedrin

Usually marketed as “Migraine Relief” as a generic.

Asprin = Bayer

Use for pain, fever, arthritis, and inflammation. Makes you bleed easily so should not be used for periods. Might reduce risk of heart attacks.\

Triple Antibiotic Ointment = Neosporin

Used on cuts, sores, and scrapes to reduce risk of infection and promote healing.

if you live off ramen, add stuff to it! add veggies you like, don’t use the whole flavor packet to cut down on sodium and msg or don’t use it at all and add your own spices.

if you’re making something with potatoes in it (beans, stew) potatoes are done when you can easily stab a fork through them.

you can microwave a hotdog as long as you put it in a microwave safe container of water. microwaves work by making water molecules vibrate. also, when reheating rice leftovers, add a small amount of water, like maybe a spoonfull, so it doesn’t get hard and crunchy.

the rice cooking advice above is for long grain rice. if you’re making short or medium grain rice, a 1:1 ratio (one cup water for one cup rice) is better, so the rice doesn’t come out too mushy.

buy a few cans of chicken. wholesale club stores like sam’s, costco, or bj’s tend to carry multipacks for a good price. they’re incredibly useful for when you forget to defrost meat.

buy meat on sale and put it in the freezer. buy vegetables on sale, and put them in the freezer. frozen veggies are often as flavorful and good as fresh ones, keep longer, and often come in microwaveable bags or with microwave directions.

soak ink stains in milk to help get them out or at least lighten them.

soak blood stains in water as soon as possible, with a bit of detergent or stain remover. scrub at them. use cold water, heat binds proteins to fabric. tbh, there’s no real need to change the washer from cold-cold setting unless the thing you’re washing says to wash in warm water.

-coolant or water if your car overheats (coolant is preferable cause it won’t hurt the engine in the long run but hey i know money is tight) 

-flashlight in case you break down at night and need to check under the hood and your phone is dead

-SPARE TIRE. 

-jumper cables.you will at some point leave your lights on. you just will. 

Don’t be afraid to go to your local food bank. They are there for a reason.

1. Buy a roll of parchment paper from the cooking shit aisle. A big roll will last you for-fucking-ever. Pretty much any time you’re using a baking pan you can line it with that stuff and save yourself A: food sticking to the pan and B: it’s a quick rinse and it’s clean.

2. Bread can get fucking expensive, so make your own. A bigass bag of flour and a bag of active dry yeast (store it in the friiiiidge!!!) works out a FUCK of a lot cheaper than buying bread at the store, and you can do so much more with it. Bread, pizza, rolls, cinnibuns, homemade pizza pockets. It seems intimidating but it’s stupid easy.

Seriously. It’s stupid simple to make, and most of the “3 hours” to make it is sitting around surfing the internet or doing whatever the fuck you want while the dough rises. If you have an afternoon free once a week to sit and play video games or surf the net, you have the time to make your own bread on the cheap. Here’s my simple-as-fuck recipe:

2 ¼ teaspoons active dry yeast (You can buy a bag of this stuff CHEAP in bulk stores, the little packets are hella stupid priced) 1 cup warm water (think a hot bath) 1 ½ teaspoons sugar 2 tablespoons oil (any kind works for the most part) 2 ¼ cups flour 1 teaspoon salt

1. Stir the yeast, water, sugar, and oil up in a bowl. Let it sit for about 10 minutes. It will foam up VERY high, this is the yeast getting happy! If it doesn’t get all foamy, the water may have been too hot or not hot enough. Remember, Yeast is alive! Treat it like a nice girlfriend!

2. Mix your flour, salt, and the yeast concoction up in a bowl.

3. Knead that shit for about 5 minutes. It will start sticky as heck, but will come together into a nice dough. If it’s still super sticky, toss in a bit more flour. Here’s how to knead it: 

4. Put your dough in a covered, lightly oiled bowl and leave it someplace warmish for an hour. At that point it will have roughly doubled in size, give it a gentle punch to release the gasses that have built up inside. Cover it again and let it sit for a bit longer.

Boom. You have bread dough. Here are some baking times and uses for ya:

Optional egg-wash: Just crack an egg into a bowl, add a pinch of salt, and mix the bejeebus out of it with a fork. Brush (or if you’re like me, goop it on with said fork) that shit thinly on bread before baking for a nice crust.

Pizza: Stretch it on a pan, stab the fucker all over with a fork, add toppings, bake 425*F 15-20 minutes. 

Bread Sticks: Make snake-shapes, let rest on pan 10-ish minutes, bake 400*F 10-20 minutes.

Dinner rolls: Make ball-sized (yes those balls) balls. Place on greased pan, let rest 10-20 minutes to rise. Egg-wash and bake 375*F 25 minutes.

Bread: Lightly score (cut) the top, let sit for 20-ish minutes on/in whatever you’re using to bake it, egg-wash, bake at 375*F for 20-ish minutes. It’s done when it sounds hollow if you knock on the bottom.

You bet your ass you can deep-fry this shit for cheapie yeast doughnuts. Roll that shit in sugar or dip it in whatever, it’s fucking tasty.

Bagels: YES. YOU. CAN. Form bagel-shapes out of the dough and boil them in salty water for about 2 minutes. Egg-wash them and bake them at 400*F for 10 minutes.

Cinnamon Rolls: Roll that shit out into a rectangle. Brush it with a mix of butter, cinnamon, sugar, and a pinch of salt (no exact amounts here, do it to your taste). Roll it up into a log, and cut it into discs. Let them sit 20 minutes in a pan and then bake at 375*F 15-17 minutes.

You can add whatever you want to the dough for some variety, just if it’s dried spices remember you really only need 1-ish tablespoons. I personally like making bread with about 1 tablespoon of dill in the dough. Roll it out flat, sprinkle it with cheddar, roll it into a log, squeeze the ends shut, and bake it like a regular loaf of bread. Cheesy dill bread OMNOMNOM.

*ahem* That got a bit long. But yeah. Bread’s expensive, yo. Save your wallet.

thrift stores

thrift stores

thrift stores

Do yourself a giant favour on this one. You’re probably not going to get that one sweet waterproof jacket of that pretty color unless you’re really lucky, but it is in no way shameful to visit reputable thrift stores/charity shops to get deals on items that are a third of the usual prices. Nobody will care if that one dress has been worn before and nobody would reasonably guess that the scratches on your kitchen utilities aren’t your doing. It’s always a good thing to have your items new, but you’ll find yourself having to make do for a big part of your life and there are many items (and clothes!) that will make life easier for years to come without having to be new. 

By the time you realise that they can traverse water, it’s too late. The surviving members of your unit manage to make it back by shedding their excess gear and running for their lives; the slower ones were crushed to death within minutes.

You later describe the creature to one of the humans you captured, wanting to know the name of the monstrosity that will haunt your nightmares for cycles to come.

The human smiles as it speaks a single word, slowly and distinctly, in its barbaric tongue.

And at first you are, you’ve learned how to dodge. You’ve learned where their territories are. You know how to defend yourself.

But then one night you are sleeping in your shelter. You’re in a tree covered temperate part of earth. It seems benign. There are been no sightings of the dreaded “hippos” around. Not even any bears. But there is a slight rustle of the undergrowth. You try and ignore it telling yourself it is just the wind.

Then you hear the rustle again. closer this time.

You peer out into the darkness but see nothing amongst the trees.

The rustle again and now you realise you can smell something. It’s musky and slightly foul. It’s the smell of an omen, a warning. But what of? Where is this smell coming from.

You sit up, but it’s too late. The foul smelling creature is on you. You are hit with 17kg of coarse fur and vicious bites. Long dark claws tear in to you and you are pinned down white the striped creature tries to bite your throat.

It takes some doing but you manage to wrestle free. Blood drips from your wounds and already they itch with the sign of infection. The creature has a bloodied snout, rust rad, mingling with the black and white hairs. It lets out a terrifying growl from the back of its throat and looks to attack again. It’s between you and your knife, so your only choice is to back away.

Eventually the creature gives up and snuffles off in to the undergrowth, down a hole near your shelter you hadn’t noticed before.

When you make it back to your base you once again consult the captive human.

BAMrumblerumblethumpcrash!!!

You lost Jaxurn to a plant. Not even a mobile or carnivorous plant, just one that caused a vicious allergic reaction on contact that killed him in less than a rai'kor. Commander Vura'ko died to an insect bite, a tiny local pest that sucked a tiny bit of her blood and apparently replaced it with a bit of its last meal, which was full of disease. Backwash. She died to bug backwash. And yet you honestly envy them after that… thing you encountered…

When you got back to base the quarantine officer refused to let you inside. They had to roll a containment tank outside to put you in, because you all knew there would be no chance of eliminating the smell if it got into the ship’s air ducts. Smell. You wonder if your nasal slit will ever recover from this stench.

And the smell would. Not. Leave. After incinerating your gear the Q.O. had you use every cleansing agent they could think of, including a few janitorial ones, and still everyone fled the stench if they were downwind of your tank. Desperate to protect everyone’s nasal slits from the smell the quarantine officer interrogated the humans. From them, a glimmer of hope: there was a cure. Somehow the juice of a certain fruit on this mudball was the only thing that could break up the chemicals in the little horror’s spray. Immediately the Q.O. sent a team to recover buckets of the stuff and made you bathe in it. That was hours ago and it didn’t seem to be working, though. All it was doing was turning your blue skin an interesting shade of purple.

Sighing in frustration you wave the med-assist on duty over, who only approaches after checking the wind direction. Annoyed, you flip on the tank`s vox speaker.

It came for someone almost every night. 

Any soldier alone was a viable target for this native monster that moved unseen by any but the security viewers, usually only spotted in hindsight.  They were taken as silently as this earth-monster moved.  Sometimes they’d find the remains in the morning taken up a tree and hung there, mostly eaten, as if it were a grisly reminder that the monster was still there, waiting unseen, to strike again. 

What little they saw of the monster on the vidfeed showed true horror.  Yellow eyes that shone with all the light it could gather.  It had fangs as long as his grasping digits.  Claws half that size formed curved hooks that allowed it to climb up their fortifications with impunity.  And in the underbrush, its spots made it almost impossible to see clearly in the undergrowth, if it could be seen at all.

Even the native sentients, the humans, had a healthy respect and fear for it. 

The earth natives called the monster a leopard.  

It was a constant fear that muddied the senses, and let the monster hunt even more effectively as the soldiers were always on edge.  Sleep deprived with fear, it made them even better targets for the monster. 

But rumor was that there was worse on this planet.  Rumors of a monster like a leopard but larger, and bigger in every imaginable sense. Stripped instead of spotted, which leaped from the underbrush with a sound.

The troops were not-quite-looking at her in the way troops do when they don’t want to be seen to contradict a ranking officer, but can’t quite muster a correct Expression of Enthusiastic Assent.  “The name of this species,” she pointed out, “is synonymous with dullness and slowness in the language of the Earth barbarians.”  Well, one language out of several thousand—these creatures needed Imperial guidance more than any other world on record—but there was no point in confusing the rank and file.

“I would warn you not to fuck with us, mate.” Their forced guide, a prisioner, had warned with a chilling grin upon capture. “If you think a moose is bad, wait until you tango with a red back.” To this day Tar'van fears the creature known as the red back, and what horrors it would bring.

The prisioner turned out to be of little help,the stubboness of his people causing them to refuse the danger that the captured human warned of. Tar'van recalls a moment when one of his squad members approached a creature know as a dingo, insistent they had seen these creatures before and they were tame. They barely escaped with 5 of the original 7 members of his squad.

Another moment Tar'van recalls was the brutal mauling they witnessed by the hands of a creature called an ‘Emu’

“Don’t feel too bad,” the prisioner mocked. “We lost a war to the Emu’s as well.”

Now with only 4 members of their squad left, including themself, Tar'van had learned to listen to the prisoner, to be wary of the simplest of creatures. This human was of the sub-species of ‘Zookeeper’ after all.

The ‘Zookeeper’ looks off to the distance, where the creature is.

“It’s a kangaroo, leave it be and you’ll be fine.” Tar'van nods, a human signal of acknowledgement if they are correct. The human smiles a bit.

“That creature cannot possibly harm us.” Tar'van’s squadleader protests. “It is so docile. I will aproach it and bring back it’s head to show this human is a fearmongering liar.”

The human reels back, a look of disgust crosses their face and anger passes through their eyes.

“Fucking do it mate, I dare ya.” The human hisses. The squad leader puffs up their hoinn gland, a sign of pride to their species, and aproached the so called ‘Kangaroo’.

“This will be unpleasant.” A squadmate mutters as they watch their leader raise their fist and bring it down on the creature. The ‘Kangaroo’ looks a little stunned by the impact, before it raises itself upon its strong tail and uses its powerful heind legs to launch their squadleader backwards through the air.

Their squadleader lands upon the ground, unmoving with black blooded oozeing from them. It appears Tar'van is the squads leader now.

“I don’t know what they expected.” the human says, smugness filling their tone. “Kangaroos are fucking shreaded. 8-pack and all.”

Tar'van steps forward to the human, whom inches back in a sign of fear as Tar'van pulls their blade from its holster, and in their first act as leader, frees the human of the bonds around their hands.

L4D2 Mods - Painis Cupcake over Witch by BriefCasey795

Most State Farm agents, when they run into trouble, have to get the customer to do the jingle a second time. That guy with the buffalo was lucky.

The magic takes hold, and she materializes in the aisle of St. Peter’s Basilica, still holding the demon by the tail, in the middle of Sunday morning Mass. The music clatters unprofessionally to a halt as laypeople, deacons, priests, monks, nuns, and the Pope all turn their attention to the surprised demon whose fifth course of dinner has turned, unaccountably, into a visit to one of his least favorite places on Earth.

There is chanting in Latin, and vaguely cross-shaped gestures, and clouds of incense, and the demon vanishes in a puff of smoke, whether from the efforts of the clergy or of his own volition no one can say. The Agent doesn’t wait, fleeing towards the doors and escaping in the confusion.

She gains the exit and walks, purposefully, toward Rome proper; there, she ducks into the nearest alley. A burner cell phone comes out of one of the less-used pockets of her purse, and she dials a number from memory.

“Allstate,” says a smooth masculine voice after three rings.

“State Farm,” she answers. “I’m calling in a favor.”

“Yeah?” Interest. “What sort?”

As she talks she’s pulling out her smartphone, keying an app that was activated by the summoning, and pulling up the policyholder data that enabled the incantation to work.

“Insurance fraud,” she said, and can almost hear teeth sharpening on the other end of the line. She gives him the name, the address, the policy number. “Someone needs some mayhem.”

“That’s my name,” the man says.

She smiles. “Someone needs all the mayhem.”

He chuckles. Slow. Evil. Even with the echoes of demonic laughter ringing in her ears, she’s impressed. “Don’t worry,” he says, almost purring.

Part 2:

It’s not too long later—State Farm will occasionally loan out their teleportation trick, though Heaven help anyone who tries to use it to compete with them—and the man they call Mayhem is squatting next to a demonic circle with tacky half-dried blood under the leather soles of his shoes. Whoever dispelled the circle didn’t do a good job of it; the ring is still faintly smoldering and Mayhem has already singed his fingers on the air above it. He’s in the basement of a house with a State Farm homeowner’s policy, waiting for his partner in, erm, crime, to show up.

“Oh, good heavens.” He smiles at the sound of someone hopping delicately back, then carefully tiptoeing through the mess. Demons are messy eaters, and Flo’s wearing all white.

She steps gingerly over what might be most of a femur, looks from circle to Mayhem to—is that half a skull on the floor? “Freaky. Whaddaya need?”

“Tech,” he says. “State Farm knows the homeowner summoned them, but the Agent reported at least five people present. Maybe six. She isn’t sure, what with being busy evading a demon inside a very small space with zappy walls.”

Flo’s already got a—where does she get those from anyway? a cardboard box in her hands. Mayhem watches as she unfolds it, refolds it, and ends up with something significantly bigger, shaped like a satellite dish. He tries to watch how she does it; they may be working together, but they’re still rivals and his own higher-ups will be very interested in the latest whatever-it-does that Progressive has come up with.

A blue glow lights up the concave side. Mayhem is pretty sure cardboard doesn’t work that way. Flo makes a pleased sound, and starts rattling off names, addresses, policy numbers.

Impressed, Mayhem asks, “How the fuck?” If Progressive is developing some sort of superspy technology, well, that’s kind of ominous.

Flo grins and looks embarrassed. “I, ah, have occasional dealings with a couple guys from That Other Insurance Company. One of them knows someone who knows someone who works in quality control for the Infernal Realms, and it turns out Hell monitors all their summoned manifestations for safety purposes. His contact got me the list of who was there.”

Mayhem nods. He’s had occasional encounters That Other Insurance Company himself. Bland, grey-suited, timid men who are even worse spies than they are insurance agents. “Wait, Hell has a quality control department?”

“And all other forms of administration,” Flo says. “I understand it’s to generate maximum paperwork. It is a place of punishment, after all.”

Mayhem actually winces. “That’s definitely hellish. All right. The Agent who called me in is flying back from Italy and should meet us in a few hours. Should give us plenty of time to plan an attack. Are they all State Farm customers?”

“Just the one,” Flo replies, folding her toy up, and Mayhem watches with vague envy as it becomes a giant sword. “One Allstate, one Progressive, one Geico, two Farmers. We gonna invite anyone else to the party?” She hopes so. Mayhem’s precision strikes on any sort of insurance fraud perpetrators are the stuff of legend, and the Farmers guys would bring in enough absurdity to make it a work of art.

The sun is just a suggestion behind the horizon, but the morning traffic jam is already clogging up the freeways by the time Mayhem and Flo leave the scene of the crime. Flo is driving, weaving her motorcycle expertly through the sea of zombie commuters, and already some jackass in a twenty-year-old Honda has rolled down his window to sneer at Mayhem for riding behind a woman and in the process taken his eyes off the road long enough to rear-end a state trooper.

By the time the sun is peeking over the edge of the world, the freeway has been exchanged for fast-food restaurants and traffic lights, and Mayhem is contemplating commercials. “I’m another motorist doing something you disapprove of” is warring with “I’m a state trooper,” and Mayhem is leaning toward the latter because it might give him an excuse to put on the uniform, when Flo erupts in giggles, jerking her head subtly to the right. Mayhem finds what she’s looking at and nearly pisses himself.

A van, the type that practically screams “covert surveillance,” is parked in the entrance to a Starbucks. Two men in bland gray suits and the sort of ties that give insult to all intelligent life are sitting in the front seat, coffee cups in hand. Mayhem sees the moment they set eyes on Flo—they both jerk upwards in their seats as if jabbed with a cattle prod—and then the moment where they realize who her passenger is. The one in the driver’s seat boggles and reflexively inhales half his coffee; the passenger reaches over to slap him on the back, sees Mayhem, and spills his own beverage all over the dashboard.

When Flo passes the driveway she gives a little wave to the men, and they both dive for cover. Mayhem would be surprised at the level of ineptitude That Other Insurance Company lets their agents display, but he’s seen one of them try to hide behind a stop sign. Surprise has long since left the station, leaving amusement and a hint of second-hand embarrassment which Mayhem relishes rather than winces at.

He’s jarred from his thoughts as Flo hits the brakes, neatly avoiding the SUV that has just moved into their lane without signaling on her way to the upcoming right-turn lane. The driver diverts attention from her cell phone long enough glare at Flo and stick a manicured middle finger in their general direction, and turns to the road just in time to watch as her car veers off the shoulder and makes intimate congress with a speed limit sign. And then the flashing lights come on from somewhere behind them and Mayhem’s faith in humanity is restored.

He revises. “I’m a middle-management commuter on a cell phone.”

Flo pulls over to let the cop car pass, and Mayhem sneaks a look back at the van. God have mercy, the one in the passenger seat has binoculars.

“Shall we lose them or let them follow us?” Flo’s voice interrupts his giggle-fit.

No question. Not like they’re a threat. “Let’s keep ‘em. They’re entertaining.”

Flo merges back into traffic and signals a move to the left lane. Since the lady in the SUV is still in view, glaring up at them as the police officer steps up to her window, Mayhem is extra gratified that she waits five whole blinks before merging into the next lane. It’s doubtless for the benefit of their pursuers, who otherwise might manage to keep with them if Mayhem draws a map and passes it to them at a stoplight, but his black and petty heart rejoices anyway.

It takes them awhile to get to the suburban park where Mayhem has arranged to meet the State Farm agent who called him in. Or rather, it takes them awhile to get there without losing their inept pursuers; twice, Flo has to double back and be found again, and once the van gets stuck behind a railroad crossing and Flo and Mayhem have to stop and pick up a box of donuts in order to still be there when the train finishes blocking the road. The park is a lovely little spot complete with playground equipment and a little waterfall, as completely removed from this business with demons and human sacrifice as a person could want. There’s one car in the lot already, a rental, and a figure in red shirt and khaki skirt standing beside it.

“Is that the Agent?” Flo asks, and Mayhem nods. The woman is short, dark, curvy—very pretty—and the two guys from That Other are in serious danger of twisting their heads off their shoulders as they drive past. Whether it’s for that reason, or because there’s now three insurance companies having a little meeting in a city park like some exceedingly bad spy thriller, Mayhem isn’t sure.

Flo parks the motorcycle and goes up to introduce herself; Mayhem stays put and watches the van make an awkward U-turn in the middle of the road and come back. The State Farm agent walks up to Mayhem and offers a hand, and he is distracted from the spectacle by a warm-toned “A pleasure to meet you” and a gaze and smile as predatory as a shark’s. It’s enough to distract his attention well and properly. This is the person to whom he’s promised vengeance, and this is the face of a person who has fought and outsmarted a demon.

Damn, he’s glad he picked up the phone.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” is what he says, and then Flo lets out a mirthful squeak. Mayhem and the Agent both follow her gaze, just in time to see the surveillance van leave the road, bouncing over the curb and smashing into a tree.

Pokemon GO パルクールで逃げまくる ピカチュウとヒトカゲ

 Maybe, if you don’t tell people what it is.

Scientists think cockroach milk could be the superfood of the future

An international team of scientists has just sequenced a protein crystal located in the midgut of cockroaches. The reason?

It’s more than four times as nutritious as cow’s milk and, the researchers think it could be the key to feeding our growing population in the future.

Although most cockroaches don’t actually produce milk, Diploptera punctate, which is the only known cockroach to give birth to live young, has been shown to pump out a type of ‘milk’ containing protein crystals to feed its babies.

The fact that an insect produces milk is pretty fascinating – but what fascinated researchers is the fact that a single one of these protein crystals contains more than three times the amount of energy found in an equivalent amount of buffalo milk (which is also higher in calories then dairy milk).

Clearly milking a cockroach isn’t the most feasible option, so an international team of scientists headed by researchers from the Institute of Stem Cell Biology and Regenerative Medicine in India decided to sequence the genes responsible for producing the milk protein crystals to see if they could somehow replicate them in the lab.

the narrator just said 

“the first ghost stories were really about coming home”

a lot of books on the Civil War are deadly dull because they’re about battles and shit, but as a transformative moment in mindset and ideology, it becomes *fascinating*

the other book I’d even more highly rec is David W. Blight’s “Race and Reunion,” which is about how the “(white) brother against (white) brother” image of the war was invented and how throwing African Americans to the merciless viciousness of post-Reconstruction racist whites was part of constructing this “oh everybody was white men and everybody was noble let’s celebrate them all” approach to Civil War remembrance