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14 years ago when I had recently moved to Alaska, I went hiking with an Aleut friend, and she pointed to a feather lying on the ground and said "hey that's a bald eagle tail feather, you should grab it!" and I was like "uhh I'm very white and that's very illegal" and she went "they're fuckin everywhere up here man. I have 20." so she grabs it off the ground and hands it to me and says "there, now it's a ceremonial gift from an indigenous person."

and I'm like, okay, cool, I guess this is how we do things in Alaska. nice.

so I keep this bald eagle tail feather around for years. display it in my home among other cherished memorabilia from places I've lived and visited, etc.

on a whim, I have just now looked it up. there is no exemption to that law for a ceremonial gift from an indigenous person. the last 7 years I lived in the US, I was technically a bald eagle poacher.

When I was 14, my friends and I went to see Madagascar 3 - told our parents and then walked to and from the theater by ourselves. When I got home, my mom asked me all kinds of questions about the movie, and I told her about it, and I kept singing the stupid Afro Circus song

One day, between our pokemon trips, my friends and I crashed at my house. We bided our time by baking some sugar-packed monstrosity brookies and settling down for a movie.

About halfway through, my dad comes up, visibly shaken. We pause the movie and ask him what what's up.

"Did you put...something... in the brownies? I had a couple of them, and I'm feeling weird."

My friends and I are thoroughly confused for about two seconds. And then it clicks. This entire time, my Dad has been convinced that 'Pokemon Go' has been code for hotboxing. He's placeboed himself into thinking that we've made weed brownies under his own roof. Mind you, to this day, I have never had even a puff of weed.

like even sitting in an office for eight hours a day isn’t particularly pleasant (or healthy, as we are beginning to see) but when we’re talking about doing *actual work* for that same amount time it gets pretty fucking brutal

doing literally *anything* (even leisure activities) for eight hours straight tends to be less than enjoyable but when we’re talking about things like construction, landscaping, factory work, and hell, even foodservice and retail, eight hours is a fucking ETERNITY