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a 19 year old that looks like a normal 19 year old: mitch marner

a 19 year old that looks like a straight up 14 year old oh my god release your birth certificate stop conning the NHL: sebastian aho

a 21 year old that surpasses Hockey Years and absolutely looks a solid 32 years old also stop conning the NHL dude: aaron ekblad

Due to the well of my friends’ “def not an axe murderer” date recommendations drying up, I have turned to that most sacred of modern relationship institutions: online dating. As a very busy person trying to get it in with other very busy people, I prize honestly and directness above all else when it comes to profile creation. I include full body shots in my photos, try to minimize the use of MySpace angles in selfies, and write at the very top of the summary/caption/profile that I am fat. Not “curvy,” not “thick,” not “lots to love”–I’m f*cking fat. I’m not ashamed of it, but I also known that weight is a dealbreaker for lots of people. I don’t want to waste anyone’s time.

About a year ago I met “Evan” via Tinder. We exchanged friendly messages for a few hours one night and agreed to meet up for drinks the following evening. I waited for a full hour past the designated time, and just as I was getting up to leave, the texts started rolling in.

“I can see you sweating from here.” “How long does it take you to roll out of bed every morning?” “Is there an earthquake or are you just getting up for more pretzels?”

Really idiotic, juvenile shit. Four separate numbers, commenting on things like my clothes, which clued me in that the senders were nearby. This went on for 15 minutes before I finally saw Evan, trying to hide in at a corner table and giggling with a group of buddies. I made eye contact, saw that he saw me, and then walked out. The texts kept up until I blocked the numbers a few hours later.

I ran into Evan about 3 weeks later. We got on the same elevator, and he tried really hard at being super interested in the emergency phone instructions. I just confronted him, and he admitted it was just some “game” that him and his friends play. He knew I was fat before agreeing to meet up; they all did, because that’s what they do. Match up with fat women, then either ghost them or “troll” them at the meet-up. It was also kinda obvious he’d never seen any consequences from this bullshit, as he was sweating pretty hard and looked more humiliated than I felt. I just said whatever and walked out, expecting to never see him again.

About a month ago, some local foodie wrote a great review of the restaurant I own, and we’ve been slammed ever since. In the past, I stayed mostly in the kitchen, but I’ve been doing more and more front-of-house stuff lately, and Valentine’s Day I was working a bit of a split between the two.

I saw Evan just as he was pushing in his date’s chair. My name isn’t on the restaurant, and he didn’t see me. I checked the section up at the hostess stand and saw that one of my favorite old-timers, Nan, was going to be his waitress. I went to the bar till, took out $400, put it in her hands, and said, “This is going to be your only table for the rest of the night. You are going to make this the worst date he has ever been on.”

She spilled every single thing she brought out to the table, all over him. I was waiting for him to blow up on Nan, but he bottled it up, obviously trying to make a good impression on his date. She seemed like a perfectly lovely lady; I told Nan to make sure everything was good for her and terrible for Evan.

She poured ice water on his d*ck. She smacked the back of his head with the edge of a tray. Spilled soup on his shirt. Dropped every fork he asked for. I personally oversalted his food, used the shit liquor for his drinks, used flour instead of sugar on his dessert. To be honest, I don’t know why he didn’t just walk out. He must have really wanted to f*ck this woman.

Finally, he cracked. Demanded Nan find the manager and bring her out. I was only too happy to emerge from the kitchen with my chef’s coat and say what, I’m not ashamed to admit, I’d been planning out all night.

“I would have said hi earlier, but I didn’t want the earthquake to disturb your dinner.”

I will savor the look on Evan’s face for the rest of my life.

He was a little too flummoxed to explain, so I pulled a chair up to the table and introduced myself to his date, Amanda. Told her how I met Evan. Showed her some fun old messages. Then I told gave her a voucher for a free meal on her next visit and told Evan to get the f*ck out and never come back.

Have you ever noticed that young gay men seem to vastly, overwhelmingly outnumber old gay men?

Alex Hibbert (‘Moonlight’), Jaden Piner (‘Moonlight’), Saniyya Sidney (‘Fences’, ‘Hidden Figures’) and Sunny Pawar (’Lion’)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/General_Motors_streetcar_conspiracy

So, with pressure from those guys it was effectively replaced by the Interstate system even within cities, and from then on urban planning was done specifically with every family owning a car in mind, which resulted in the vast urban sprawl of the suburbs built from the 1940s onwards, and why it’s now impossible to get anywhere without a car in most of the US. Which is basically unheard of elsewhere in the world unless you’re in the middle of nowhere.

First, you have to get people to VOTE for a light rail.

Then, you have to bid out the light rail, and this can take–at minimum–18 months to two years.

Then, after choosing the proper bidding, you have to ARRANGE to even get materials where you need it.

While you are also getting materials, you have to be certain the people supplying you the trains are worth a good goddamn in terms of delivering reliable trains. There are a number of companies whom are COMPLETELY reliable, but if you are selling your trains as USA manufacturing, it’s a goddamn crapshoot. I’m pretty sure, with the demolition of my former employer, no one makes trains in the US anymore.

I wanna be clear on this: The US was not making fucking stellar trains that everyone should want. We legit bought plans from a company that’s been making trains for DECADES and pretended like we knew what we were doing. WE DID NOT KNOW WHAT WE WERE DOING.