I just need to rant for a minute. I’m having issues with my landlord, I pay 2000$ a month for the place I rent with my partner which is just barely within our budget and doesn’t allow me to save anything at the end of the month. Thank god for my partner or I would be screwed and even then I hate relying on him. The reason we can’t move is because my partner has a large dog which we may be having to give up soon so we may be able to move but not at the moment. Our lease is up this month and we are re signing the lease, but I asked my landlord for a lower amount (1900$) which she agreed to previously for a year. Now she’s saying it will only be for six months because she’s financially struggling. This person has two sets of tenants paying for her entire mortgage, owns four cars and just finished major renovations on her part of the house and is starting renovations on the backyard. I really am having a hard time not telling her to just sell one of her cars if she’s struggling that much. I am grateful for thé reduction in rent but it’s probably not going to help much when I go on mat leave and am making half what I normally make. We will need to start using food banks and places for free diapers when that time comes. My landlord knows this and is still expecting sympathy from me. I am sure she’s not the best off right now with how things are, but she is still 3 cars and a house better off than I am so I don’t think she should be seeking sympathy from me. Thanks

so um, yeah.
i left town on a trip to visit family for about 2 weeks and my pet sitter who i’ve known for over a year, and trusted ended up feeding him every day instead of every other day. i have no idea how she got this confused, i had a checklist for her to check off things every day, and notes on all his food saying one scoop every other day.
She did a great job on all my other animals (livestock and cats/dogs) I have no idea how this happened but now I have no idea what to do.
like do i put him on a diet?

Warning: Not so happy content
My cat had five kittens just two days ago. I came back from church 30 minutes after leaving yesterday night, and I find they're all dead, only one corpse remaining... we had left the mama with her kittens in a barrel outside (she was okay with a blanket, heat lamp, and food), but when I came back to check on her, the barrel was half across the yard, blanket torn out, with the mama cat nowhere to be found. She eventually came back, and was looking for her kittens... it was heartbreaking... worst part is, I think it was my dog. He was left outside that 30 minutes, and he's known to do bad things without people around, kinda goes wild? I know he wouldn't let any wild animal that'd kill a cat near the house, and out of all the times we're away, it happens to have happened the 30 minutes he's outside and we're not here. He's an old cranky dog, but I never thought he'd do this. I have no idea what to do at this point. I honestly doubt it could've been anything else though.

On Twitter, Danny is saying that Tori told him that Jordan is unbeatable in a final. Implying that it's her idea and she's playing both sides. People are eating it up and not questioning Danny at all. So I decided to do a thought experiment, Challenge versus Survivor style, lol.
To everyone eating it up:

1. Be fr! It is common knowledge that Jordan is unbeatable in a final. Jordan is one of the best finalists ever. And that's been a popular opinion since Dirty 30. What is Tori supposed to do, lie? Not say what everyone else in the house is already saying? What would be the point?
2. Every season there are people like CT and Jordan that the house is afraid of running a final with. Why aren't they targeted immediately? Because the other vets have to live with the fact that they're coming back next season.
3. It's a point of honor on the Challenge to want the best people in the final. That's the most respected form of gameplay on this show - yeah I know they're unbeatable, but I still want to beat them. It's a double standard to question Tori on this but to accept Kyle and Devin letting CT walk to the SLA final for the chance of beating him. Maybe Tori wants the chance to beat Jordan.
4. On Survivor you don't know who the biggest threats are going into a season. Maybe that's why Danny thinks that this was some massive statement from Tori. Even after playing this game twice, Danny still doesn't understand it.
5. On the Challenge, the winner isn't always the biggest threat. Anything can happen in a final. On Survivor it's the opposite. A jury decides the winner based on their resume. So there's actually no way to out-run a known "massive threat" in a final other than to remove them prior. In Danny's mind, he thinks Tori is saying "Jordan has the biggest resume". But the Challenge isn't like that - the winner isn't always the big dog. And if you beat the big dog, it's better than winning for some people.
6. Danny is acting like Tori gave him the idea to target Jordan. If he values her opinion so much, why is he fighting against her wanting to protect him? lol

I know what people say - "I'm living for the mess I don't care" yeah I agree, but we can still keep it real. Everyone's hatred for the network sanitizing the show is turning into outright hatred for the mainstay vets. Danny is either ignorant about the game or misrepresenting the situation, and clearly he's manipulating some of you, because you're all eating this up like it's the tribe's last bowl of rice

On Thanksgiving, my boyfriend's parents found a pitbull right outside their house. They live in a newly developed area, not a whole lot around, and it's clear she was dumped. But someone loved her at some point, she's white, and was clean on Thanksgiving, no fleas, clean ears, only thing wrong was just a bit skinny and had a limp and a wound like someone had shot her in the leg. Bf's Parents have multiple dogs and since I grew up with a pitbull it seemed obvious for us to take her in. Her face and demeanor reminded me of my childhood dog, so we took her home. I love this dog with all my heart, and when we first brought her home we "did everything right" by keeping her separate from our two cats and much smaller dog for about a month. We went through the proper introductions, and outside of the "new place new people" anxiety we didn't really see anything to worry about with her. Since we don't know what kind of environment she came from, we've made sure to keep an eye on how she interacts with our other animals and she'd honestly just been as sweet as can be. By mid January it seemed she'd become totally comfortable in our house, but developed anxiety. Or, became comfortable enough to show us how much anxiety she feels? I'm positive she hates men, because she has a huge issue with my boyfriend now. We've tried to get them to bond through food and on his days off they spend a lot of time together, but still, EVERY time he comes home, she starts barking, hair raising on its end, is TERRIFIED of him. He'll be sitting at his computer playing video games and will creak his chair, and it's the same reaction. I can almost never get her to calm down, the only thing that really works is by leaving the room completely so she follows me, but if I'm on the couch with her and my boyfriend suddenly enters, SAME REACTION. It's starting to wear him down and cause some arguments between the two of us because she's completely fine with me. Now she's developing jealousy issues with our other pets. Nothing aggressive, but she does try to wedge her way in. I'm buying her one of those anxiety toys for puppies, I'm thinking that maybe because she hasn't bonded with our other dog (old man, has no patience) she just doesn't feel "at home", but that sucks to think about. I just have absolutely no idea what to do. I'm starting to feel my boyfriend's frustration. She's terrified of cars, trying to get her to the vet right after we got her was a fight and a half, not to mention the cost of an actual trainer. Obviously that would be the best option, but it's not in the cards right now. If you've dealt with something like this, any tips?

Me (28) wife (23) Living in SG. Growing up my mom always cook simple food like fried chicken or fish with chili kicap and rice maybe once awhile dishes reason being we didn’t have much back in the days as she was a single mother of 5 and I guess that’s part of the reason why I dont eat a lot too. I’m now married and I don’t ask my wife to cook dishes coz I will eat a small portion of it and the rest will turn bad and that’s a waste so most of the time she will fried chicken or fish same as what my mom used to cook for me. I can’t help but blaming myself for the weight loss of my wife. Currently now I’m weight at 58kg and she’s at 41kg. She is insecure of how skinny she is and always tells me how she really wants to gain weight. So is it my fault that she’s not gaining? What should I do? I can’t force myself to eat Soo much, not easy sia want to force makan.

Hi,
Today this issue happened in the morning. I woke up at around 8am, went downstairs and decided to start doing college research as I have completed school and am possibly moving to another country for college as where I live won't give me many possibilities.
I heard my mum going outside and feeding our dog, we usually feed him around 8am. So hence I did not bother going outside. She then started cleaning the house while I was opening up different useful links that would help me with my research, asides some that my dad helped me find.
Things were going alright, but then she started getting angry at me. Complaining why I wouldn't help her, and how im lazy sitting around doing nothing. I thought it was insane how she would assume that, so I said "im doing research for colleges", she merely responded with "I dont believe you, you're probably talking to your online friends as always". The argument started out of nowhere, I told her that if she would like me to help her she could simply ask me and Id do it- as I am not studying and do not really need to spend so much time to research. But this was just fuel to an already burning fire.
This went on for a bit with yelling and insults coming from her, soon enough I have really had enough of it, and I decided to put on my headphones once she was done yelling. As I was cleaning one of the drawers she started getting mad again. In the end she took my headphones and threw them across the room, leaving them so broken that there were wires sticking out and parts in different corners of the room.
While continuing with my tasks, I remembered I had a 1 year warranty that is still valid- I do not remember just what kind of warranty I had so I figured why not drive to the store and ask them if I have the chance to replace the product.
Once I was done, I came up to my mum and told her about me visiting the store. She asked me how much the headphones cost, once the price was given, she gave me the exact amount. I did not question it, I tried apologizing to her for the argument, as i believe that I had a fault to it as well- but she simply told me to get lost. So I just took the money and drove over to the store.
Unfortunately, my warranty did not cover physical damage. Even if it was physical, they could have done some repairs, but it had to be minor damages that are easily resolved. So in the end, I bought new headphones that were way cheaper (I need bluetooth headphones specifically for my laptop as the speaker is not functional, and the typical plug-in headphones are not working. But to understand this issue further- this happened as water was spilled onto the side of my laptop, hence causing such issues. And I like listening to music or watching videos about certain information that I would possibly need, eg- visa applications, what I should know about courses that I would possibly enroll into and etc, and asides that I do VC with my friends here and now when I have the time to, and play games with them)
But the headphones are a mere temporary fix. As the repair for the sound is not very cheap, and I would rather wait until I can pay for my own repairs or on my birthday, which my parents said they would cover, as the repair would be a decent birthday gift.
So after coming back home with the goods, and giving back the balance that was left over from the purchase (the new headphones I got are way cheaper, and due to the member card I was able to get a relatively decent discount), there was not a single word said between us.
So I went upstairs to put away the clean laundry to the closet, my mum walked into the room and said how I chose headphones over her and said I am no longer her daughter, how she would never help me with anything again, and how because of me we now dont have the money to buy food (despite her cooking lunch and dinner. Today is Friday- and we buy groceries on Saturdays/ Sundays with my dad, or go outside for the said dinner or lunch)
I dont understand what I did wrong, I did not request for the money. I said i would go to the store and check if the warranty covers it. But she voluntarily handed me the money, and now I am at fault?

A felled log lay across the rutted mud trail which twisted up into the woods. It was green with moss, and the soggy, rotten wood sank under our boots, first Sam’s, then mine. The woods breathed around us. They arched overhead, completing a green ceiling that let in beams of hot sunlight, which clung to rising steam. Arms reached out from the trees, snatching at our clothes and skin. The mud was red and thick.
“Smells like a campfire!” Sam called back.
He walked ahead as usual. Birds called out in warning, and leaves russled as squirrels, alarmed by our intrusion, scattered frantically for the safety of higher limbs.
“We should go camping soon,” Sam said, “or hiking. Let’s do the Appalachian!”
“What does this feel like to you then?” I asked.
“This is just a walk in the woods.” He said, “I mean a real hike.”
A mosquito brushed my neck, and I swatted at it. A cool wave settled onto my hot skin. The air here was still, suspended. A dark spider hung in the void above us, wrapping a struggling moth in her deadly blanket.
Sam slipped in the rut and rose with a handful of the red clay, tossing it back playfully. The birds, seeing no imminent danger, turned to singing songs. Melodies rang out around us as we twisted and climbed further. A monarch, large and silent, danced with us as we went.
“Where would we go?” I asked.
Sam paused and looked back wistfully.
“Somewhere with a river.” He smiled, “we could bring fishing poles, and beers.”
“So who’d carry the cooler of beers on this imaginary trip?”
“We’ll bring them in our backpacks, and leave them in the river to cool as we fish.”
He started back up the trail.
“We’ll catch fish for dinner, so we don’t need to bring food. And we’ll take tents and cook our catch by the fire while drinking beers with the stars.”
We came to a curve in the red trail, that broke off in a fork. The smaller off-shoot led down the mountain.
“Which way do you think?” I asked.
“Probably need the road more travelled in this case.” Sam said, and kept hiking up.
“You have a place in mind?” I asked.
“Colorado.” He said, looking ahead. “They have stars in Colorado.”
The red clay pulled at our boots with every step. Sweat started to roll down my back. Little gnats and mosquitos buzzed around my eyes and ears. As the beams through the canopy started changing shades of orange, the trail started to level.
“I heard Colorado has clean rivers, full of trout.” Sam said. “And skies with millions of stars.”
The trees started to open up ahead of us.
“I think I’d like that.”
The smell of campfire around us grew stronger, and smoke started to drift around the tops of the trees near us. In the clearing we saw a small White House with a couch on the porch. The paint was chipping, and the couch was torn and dark. The steps to the large porch were crooked. The door was green, with old mud stains. As we got closer we saw the smoke rising from just beyond the porch, behind the house. A mousey-looking woman peeked out at us from behind the curtains. A old brown lab lay in a patch of sand next to the broken steps. He rose, and stretched, and wandered up to see us.
Sam crouched, taking off his hat. The old lab had silver hairs on his face, and his tail wagged limply as he came up to smell sams hand.
“Look at this old guy,” Sam smiled. The golden sun washed over them.
I looked wearily past them to the side of the house to where the smoke was rising. Sam rose and we walked cautiously around the edge. The woman inside followed our progress at the window. Sam raised his hand to motion for her to be still.
The first thing we saw was the trash. Broken glass and bottles. Broken wooden legs of an old table jutted out like pilars, and cardboard and plastic and old tires were piled sporadically. In the middle of this dump was a rusted fire pit, with a small fire burning, and next to the fire pit stood a man, naked. His hair was gray and as wild as the woods around us. His skin was deep with weathered wrinkles. His feet were bloody and bare. He had a smear of blood down the cheek, and his eyes were furious.
When he saw us he picked up a red can of gasoline, and poured it over his head. The gas splashed around his feet and pooled in the well of an old worn tire.
“Woah!” I said firmly, “we’re only here to help.”
We froze where we were. He turned to the woman inside.
“You bitch!” He screamed.
The woman squeaked and disappeared behind the curtains. He turned back to us. Sam had his hands up over his head, harmlessly, while mine hovered near my hips.
“Frank, right?” He started, “were just here to help. Talk to me.” He smiled at him.
Frank looked back and forth at us, still holding the gas can. He started pacing around the fire pit.
“Frank, can you tell us what’s wrong?” Sam said.
“She called you here huh” Frank said viciously, “she called you here to kill me.”
“She’s just worried about you Frank. She wants to make sure you don’t hurt yourself.”
“We’re here to help.” I said.
When I spoke, Frank’s head snapped around. His eyes were black, bloodshot.
“You want to take me away, huh?” He said, pacing. Gas spilled from the red can, splashing down his leg. Sam sat on a tire, and ran his hands through his blonde hair.
“Look, I don’t want to take you away. She called us to help you. Can you just put the gas down and talk?”
I backed away. Frank looked nervously at me, then sam. He put the can down next to the fire pit. He was pacing over the broken glass, leaving bloody footprints with every step. “What’s your dogs name?” Sam asked lightly.
“That’s...that’s Lee,” Frank said, “General Lee.”
The dog was back on the porch, sleeping. I glanced around the yard. Trash was scattered everywhere. An old truck sat on flat tires by the trail we came up on. Frank was standing still now, listing as Sam spoke soothingly. The woman was still behind the curtains. The air was still calm and the monarch still danced above our heads. The birds no longer called, watching solemnly with the squirrels at the drama beneath. The sun still glowed and washed the yard in golden light, hanging on the thin smoke from the fire pit. General Lee rose again from the porch, and walked back towards Sam happily. Sam rose with a bright smile, and turned to pet the General.
“We’ll need a dog like this for Colorado.” He said smiling at me with his blue eyes.
Then Frank dropped the old, gas-doused tire around Sam’s shoulders, who was still smiling at the thought as Frank pulled him backwards into the licking flames.

I’ve been gluten free for a long, long time. Over the years I’ve discovered a long list of other food intolerances and drifted into near-veganism, with an emphasis on very basic whole food, with a few things like rice noodles and gluten free bagels.
My healthcare provider referred me to a dietitian for pretty minor midlife weight gain. I have found dietitians helpful for things like basic nutrition—but they don’t seem to get celiac and how strict the diet is. Have any of you found a dietitian helpful?

Hey there ReddX gang, it looks like I finally got a little bit of time to write, so let's not delay any longer and get into another story about Chris.
Who is Chris? Chris is a very fat and sweaty man, surrounded by an imepenetrable aura of poopycum stinkystank. He is an opprobrious pooptroll of a human being, content to dwell in his own personal dark triad of meth, anime, and lot lizards. Chris and I both used to work for a trucking company - a major one - and we would take turns driving our big rigs down the road. Things would usually be okay when Chris was driving, usually being the operative word, but whenever his shift would come to an end and I would have to take the wheel, or worse yet, whenever we would pull over for the evening, then Chris would find himself free to do Chris things. You know the things. Then, despite all my valiant efforts to make him behave, mind his manners, and act like a normal human being, it would be in vain. Fortunately, I no longer have to ride with Chris.
Chris and I had returned to California after our last haul, and I couldn't depart from that yard hastily enough. All I wanted as to be back at home and see my wife and my kids, and so I ran away from that truck to the muffled sounds of Chris yelling "you better not bring back any diseases with you". I jumped in my little car and drove off towards the house. I got home, and things were mostly serene and sane. Now my wife had been keeping an eye on the news, of course, as everyone was in those days, and she had almost latched on to the paranoia a bit herself. She asked me if I thought we should run to the store and stockpile up. I, having lived in California all my life, and remembering the horrors of the '94 Northridge quake quite vividly, had always made it a point to keep some disaster provisions on hand. I replied that we already kept a well-stocked pantry that would last us at least a couple weeks if anything really went belly up, following through with a "but I honestly don't think it will." I had seen enough end-of-the-world scares about the holocough 2come and go and life just kept on trucking in spite of it all. Swine flu, ebola, hell, even AIDS back in the 80s - and life still goes on. And, just as sure as life continued to go on, the big disaster always was a result of the human element reacting to its own fears.
We passed that week back at home. It was kind of refreshing, seeing my kids all day to boot, our county having moved all their curriculum online. It was actually kind of nice. The coof had unintentionally brought us all together a little closer as a family. When it had finally come to its conclusion, and I had to return to the fleet yard, I was kind of sad to walk away from it, but walk away I must, because somebody had to pay the bills. Begrudgingly, I woke up that morning and walked out to my car, loaded on up, and headed back to the yard. I got to the truck early that morning, climbed on in, and took off my mask. The company had started to mandate a mask policy when on company property, but we were allowed to remove them whenever we entered the big rigs, you see, because many of the rigs were on a sort of work-lease program for many of the operators, or were owned outright by the operators. So, as far as everybody was concerned, when walking the fleet yard, masks were required, but upon entering a truck, it wasn't a big deal anymore. Now, I followed the regulations, because, well, I wasn't going to risk getting fired for something so stupid as wearing a mask, but if I didn't have to wear it, well, I wasn't going to. This did not stop some of our more gung ho personnel, however, from trying to extrapolate this policy to every facet of our lives.
Enter Chris, sweating profusely in the spring air, already fatigued from having to haul around his corpulent girth, doubly so now by a restricted flow of oxygen. He came up into the cab gasping. Now, this had been the norm for awhile, ever since he donned his milsurp gas mask, really, but now that the mandates were in and people were starting to switch over to cloth and the initial paranoia had begun to wane, he had made the switch as well. He almost looked normal, as normal as the poopycum man could look anyway, without a leather mask clinging to his face dangling an air filter off of his double chins. What wasn’t normal however, was that his stink was worse than usual, if you could actually believe that. I practically wretched as he came staggering in. It was the usual Chris smell, alright, amplified by one thousand times. Where usually it was at least bearable, today, it had reached a new pinnacle of putrescence that rivaled even the aroma of jenkem. The metallic stank of old tools and armpit sweat combined with smegmal smearage and plastered poop that clung between his swollen cheeks. The sordid smorgasbord of scents drifted into my nostrils and twisted its rotting way down into my lungs. I coughed and wretched and struggled not to throw up as he came staggering in with an almost dismissive “hey honker donkers.”
I stifled back my disgust and stammered out “hey Chris,” rolling down the window as quickly as I could and sticking my head out of it. He shrieked “what the fuck are you doing” in response, and as I practically leaned out of the side of the truck to gasp fresh air, I remarked “airing out the cab.” He said, “no dude, what the fuck are you doing! Don’t you know it’s company policy to wear a mask when you’re on company property?” I said, “yeah, I do, and yes, I did wear one when I came in this morning, but we’re in the truck now, and the policy doesn’t apply to the inside of our rigs, man, so I took it off.” Chris scoffed, “bro, are you insane? COVID doesn’t end at the truck door, dude. And you’ve got the window open? Who knows who’s carrying it out there, huh? And you’re just gonna let it in the cab? Are you trying to get us both killed, man, because sometimes I legitimately think you’re trying to get us both killed. You’re always, ohhh, it’s not a big deal, ohhhh, Chris, you’re taking everything way out of proportion, ohhhh dude, it’s just a bunch of bullshit. I swear, dude, if you compromise my health, we’re gonna have problems. We’re gonna have some big fucking problems, okay?” I was in shock, particularly with the olfactory revelation that Chris smelled like a week-old sun-baked swamp-soaked cadaver at this point. I gagged as I said, “Chris, you’re worried about your health, but… man… there’s no nice way to put this. You smell like death, dude. What the hell is going on, man?” Chris said, “no I don’t dude. Don’t try to change the subject by making shit up.” I dry heaved and replied, “yeah, no, you fucking stink, man. Like, worse than you normally do. What changed, did you roll in a dead animal on your way to work?” His voice lowered and he averted his eyes. Under his breath he said “you wouldn’t understand it even if I told you.” I responded through the tears welling up in my eyes, “try me.”
Chris started up: “Well, you know how there’s this shortage of everything going on right now, right? Well, cleaning supplies are flying off the shelves left and right, so I started rationing my soap and shampoo just to make sure that I have enough to survive the collapse.” I jabbed “wait, you actually shower?” He responded “of course I do, dude. Like, every day. Sometimes even multiple times. We’ve been riding together long enough for you to know that, man. Hell, every time we pass a truck stop, I ask you if we can pull over so I can get one, but you don’t let me do it.” I replied, “jacking off in the shower isn’t the same as taking a shower Chris. You’ve actually got to use soap and water or you’re not actually cleaning yourself at all,” and he shouted back “I’m not jacking off in the shower, okay! I’m a very health conscious person, bro, not like you knew that. COVID is a big deal, okay? I’ve got to look after my health and this is the best way to do it. Look, whatever, it doesn’t matter. Can you put on your fucking mask or what?”
I thought about it. Even with the window down, the stagnant aura of Chris’s poopycum stinkystank had multiplied in the absence of any effort to actually clean himself. I didn’t know what his new bathing regiment looked like, but apparently, it was much more dismal than it was before, and it had only accelerated the rotting of his groin. Fungal aromas danced gently on the breeze, interspersed with human excretions. I remarked, “sure, I’ll wear a mask, dude. But it’s not because I’m worried about your health. I’ll wear a mask because you smell like death.” Chris retorted, “whatever, man. It’s not my fault you can’t handle a real man’s pheromones.” Then, he punched the truck into the gear and we took off down the road, the muffled cries of “nani? Baka!” reminding me that beside me sat a disgusting troglodyte who had decided that not showering was somehow going to be better for his health than partaking in that hygienic ritual the few times a month that he already did.
It was miserable the whole way down the road. Where usually keeping the window open did something for the smell, Chris was just particularly pungent today, and the circulating breeze served only to grab a hold of that fecal and ejaculatory particulate matter that clung to his fatty folds wherein it slowly decayed against his corpulent flesh and instead distribute it freely about the cabin. By the time we pulled over, I was fishing around in my backpack for a second mask to put over my face, because even though that little piece of cloth was surefire protection against covid, it was not enough to protect me from the rancid matter that found its way up my nose and into my olfactory receptors. Two, three, four, I pulled out every single mask that I had from my backpack, and by the time the ride was over, I had donned every single one I had in hopes to stifle the rank, and at first, I think they did, but after awhile, when the odor had perforated the facial covering, it only served to hold it pressed against my face. Eventually, I ripped them off, and shouted, “I just can’t take it anymore!”
Chris looked over at me from behind the wheel and murmured “what’s wrong with you?” I said, “what’s wrong with me is you smell like shit, Chris, and I shouldn’t have to sit there and take this. The next truck stop we see, we’re pulling over and you’re going to take a shower. A real shower, not just a spank-it session in the bathroom. Do you understand me? Or so help me God, you are not getting back in this truck.” Chris retorted, “bro, I told you, I’m rationing my soap!” “Don’t give me that crap,” I said, knowing full well that every truck stop stocked their shower stalls with soap dispensers for those without their own, and I relayed that fact to him with enough venom in my life to even give a spitting cobra pause. Chris replied, “yeah, well… I don’t want to take one.” I said, “Chris, can’t you fucking smell yourself?” He said, “yeah, I can. But I also don’t want to shower too much because it’s the smart thing to do. Check this out. If you’re dirty, your immune system is primed to tackle new threats that are introduced to it, right? So if I tread the perfect line between dirty and clean, my immune system will be nice and strong in case I encounter the coof because your dumb ass dragged it into the cab.”
One more cope in the line of coping that served to prevent me from unduly suffering at the hands of one poopycum man beside me. I couldn’t do anything so long as Chris drove the truck – and his shift wasn’t up for another hour at least. I could make one more hour, right? And after that hour had passed and I found us at a truck stop, come hell or hot water, I was going to throw Chris into a stall and make him bathe.
Well, sure enough, his shift finally came to a close, and he pulled us over at a truck stop in some bum-fuck middle of nowhere spot outside of Las Vegas Nevada, and he got up from where he sat, a moist wet splotch from where the damp fabric of his sweatpants had pressed against the faux-leather seats. As he separated, I could hear what sounded like the back of a sticker being pulled off of the adhesive side, and then he lumbered over the mounded goods in the back that he had failed to unload during our last stop at the yard before we set out anew once again, and maneuvered towards the passenger seat. I didn’t want to get close to him at all, so I exited the truck, walked around the driver’s side, climbed up, and then pulled the keys out of the ignition. Chris replied, “what are you doing?” I said, “shower. Now.”
Chris said, “oh ho ho ho, I know what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to get my immune system nice and weak so that that way I end up getting sick and dying, and then you can just lay claim to my apocalypse horde. Don’t think I don’t know your game, honker donkers. Hell, you’re probably one of them science deniers or something.” I paused. There was no reasoning with Chris. There was never reasoning with Chris. If I were to make Chris do my bidding, I had to play a game of coercion, because coercion is the only language that Chris spoke.
“Chris,” I started up, “do you know where we are?” He scoffed, “of course I know where we are, bro. We’ve been at this truck stop like a hundred times before. We’re outside of Las Vegas on the I-15 going north.” “Good,” I said, slow and measured. “And tell me, Chris… during plague times, what are cities known for?” Chris got pale behind his mask and said, “they’re known for a lot of disease.” I was surprised he was smart enough to put that together, but even something that obvious couldn’t be overlooked by the poopycum man, I guess. I said, “exactly. Now. Here’s what’s going to happen. We are going to sit here, outside of that cesspit called Las Vegas for as long as I want, but you can get us out of here, Chris. All you have to do is go and take a shower.” Chris paled at the thought, stammering “but I still have to wander through the parking lot back to the truck. Any one of these people could be infected, bro! I can’t just go out there. And then you’re gonna make me take a shower, too? My immune system is gonna relax, man, and then I’m gonna get sick! Don’t think I don’t know your game, honker donkers.”
I cooed, soothingly, and said, “Chris… my guy… we’re not leaving until you bathe. But I’ll tell you what I will do for you. You humor me halfway, and I’ll go into the truck stop, get you the shower ticket, and then you can go and, you know, actually clean up. When you’re done, you can send me a text message, and I’ll pull the truck up to the closest pump to the door on the diesel island, and you can come back in with minimal exposure to the outside world. How does that sound, bro? I’ll meet you halfway. But if you don’t meet me halfway, we are going to sit here, at this truck stop, until we both waste away and die from COVID. Do we have an understanding?”
Chris thought about it for a moment, He looked helplessly down at the filth plastered on his clothes and whimpered. Sweat began to roll and perspire down his forehead and soak his armpits. It was fear sweat – the stinkiest kind of sweat – and it re-moistened the degrading filth that had adhered to his body, amplifying its pungency with a heretofore unknown vengeance. He was like a dog that had just rolled in shit and was now afraid of bath time at the behest of its owner. Of course, like that dog, he would yield. He said, “fine, bro. If that’s how it’s gonna be, we’ll do that, but I swear to god, dude, if I get sick because of this, it’s gonna be your ass that gets it. You hear me?” I replied, “Chris, bro. You’re not gonna get sick. Now, look. I’ll be right back.” I closed the door on him, sealing him in that stinky sarcophagus and walked off towards the door to the travel plaza. The door chime rang overhead as I came inside, fumbling to place a mask on my face, and the clerk mumbled “welcome” and I sauntered up to the desk. I redeemed a few points for a shower ticket and then headed back towards the truck. Chris was still in there, of course, and instead of just sitting in the seat like a good boy and waiting for me to return, he was now pacing the cab with nervous energy, working up even more of that fragrant sweat to assail my senses. I threw open the door and held the shower ticked up in my hands. Slowly, he came clambering down, clutching some (albeit less) filthy clothes of his own against his greasy chest, and begrudgingly went to take the shower ticked from my hands.
As he grasped at it, I pulled back, and his hand closed on empty air. With a stern voice, I said, “a real shower. No jacking off.” He shouted loudly in the middle of the lot, “oh my god, honker donkers, I don’t jack off in there!” A couple of nearby truckers looked over at us with a bemused expression on their faces. I said, “sure, Chris, of course you don’t,” and then handed him the shower ticket. He lumbered off towards the travel plaza to embrace the queen of clean, Hygeia herself. I sat there at the side of the truck, wondering what the Hell I was going to do. I had no desire to climb back in there of course, with the air inside thoroughly saturated with the aura of poopycum stinkystank. Instead, I left the driver door open, walked over to the passenger side, threw it open as well, and let the refreshing afternoon breeze drift through it, purging as much of that coomlord’s unwashed filth as possible before I even dared to climb back in.
Now Chris had been gone for quite some time, of course. Long enough for him to have actually taken a real shower, believe it or not, and I was almost startled when after an hour or so an alert came up on my phone with a message from Chris. It said, “hey bro, I’m done in the shower.” I hopped up into the driver’s seat, closed the doors, rolled down the windows, and pulled into the queue for the diesel island. When the truck in front of my finally moved, as promised, I pulled up to the nearest pump and shot Chris back a message saying, “alright, come on out.” The door to the truck stop swung wide and out came the poopycum man. He wandered up to the truck, threw the door open, and climbed on in.
I retched. He smelled even worse than before. Motherfucker had gone in there and jacked off and didn’t even bathe. Without a word, I pulled up to an empty truck parking stall, and held good to my threat.
Eventually, Chris did succumb. But it took almost 3 hours before he finally went in there and washed off his filth. Then, when all was said and done, we got back on the road, and I no longer had to imbibe the fetid odor of an unwashed poopycum man. He never did try to pull that “soap rationing” bit on me again, either, because I made it adamantly clear to him that if he so much as dared to walk into that truck smelling like he did that morning again, he would rapidly find himself kicked out, on food, trudging through the mean, coof-laden streets of Las Vegas without anybody else to rely on except himself.
And that will conclude todays tale I think. I can hear the real world a calling my name, and I’ve gotta go and get back to it. But don’t you folks worry, because I will be back in the not too distant future with another tale about our favorite coomgolem, Chris.

Usually I would never consider keeping cats outdoors, both my current cats are indoor only. But I also have a large yard with a rodent problem, especially in my garden shed and garage that has evaded other control methods (especially since I worry about using toxic bait in a neighborhood full of dogs/cats/owls/hawks.) I saw that my local animal shelter is adopting out essentially feral cats as mousers. The cats are spayed/neutered, have their shots, etc but are not very friendly towards humans, hence being adopted as outdoor only cats. Obviously I would still be taking care of the cat, in the hopes it might help with the rodents, and would make sure it had shelter from the heat and cold, food and water, etc. I feel guilty about keeping a cat outside but if that means they don't die in a shelter, is it worth it? Any advice as to shelters in the heat and the cold? Would it even work?

My tabby will be a year old in August. I give her a single serving of soft dood for breakfast and dry food the remainder of the day but she acts like shes starving. She snuck into the pantry for maybe 10 minutes while I was cooking and ate through the plastic to get to cinnamon raisin bagels, followed by hot dog rolls. She ate through the tin foil to get to brownies and she managed to get through some really hard plastic to get to donuts. I cant leave a single container on the counter. She ate through a plastic sandwich bag in less than 5 minutes and devoured an entire chocolate donut that was inside. I'm just wondering if theres something mentally wrong with her because shes eating things that arent food and she would eat all day if you let her. She begs constantly, sometimes we have to put her in the laundry room just so we can eat in peace. Constantly meowing and opening up her food cabinet. I just want to know what could possibly be wrong and I already made her a vet appointment, its not until the 17th. I came in the other day to her gagging and all I could think was what the heck did she eat now.

I have a 55lb lab/australian shepherd mix she’s a little over a year old and I’ve been feeding her 4health since she was a puppy. She did great on the puppy food. And I now feed her 4health chicken and rice (not grain free). But recently she has been itching a lot (she’s an indoor dog) and dragging her butt and licking/biting it. I do her glands myself and I noticed her glands get full QUICK. My vet told me before that usually larger breed dogs glands usually do not constantly get full. I am considering swapping her foods. Here’s where I do not know where to start. There are so many different things I’m reading about food brands. Is purina pro plan/purina one good? I’ve heard a TON of mixed reviews on every brand. I am open to ANY recommendations on any brand as long as I know it is beneficial to her. There are so many different forums I don’t know where to start!! I also see a lot of people say to ask our vet, then I read that vets push purina and people say it’s not good?! HELP!

We live in an apartment complex and so residents sometimes unfortunately litter. Litter ranges from cigarettes to bottle covers/corks, and food pieces. There is a pond nearby and so lots of frogs (including dead ones). My little golden girl is very curious and loves putting everything in her mouth. Every potty break and walk includes me prying objects out of her mouth, including dead frogs (while I'm gagging uncontrollably). I want to enjoy our walks and not focus on ensuring she doesn't ingest anything harmful. She's raising my blood pressure because I worry about her constantly l'm considering a muzzle as a solution: thoughts? Solutions? I've considered teaching her the drop it and leave it command but then I'd say them 20 times per walk. Please help. Signed a desperate 1st time dog mom

Credit to u/bluefishcake for writing the original SSB story and building the sandbox for us to play in.
And a big thanks to the authors and their stories that inspired to get off my ass and put fingers to keyboard. RandomTinkerer (City Slickers and Hayseeds), Punnynfunny (Denied Operations), CompassWithHat (Top Lasgun), Rhion-618 (Just One Drop), UncleCieling(Going Native), RobotStatic (Far Away), Kazevenikov (The Cryptid Chronicle).
Super thank to SmolDs1337(Convenient Narrative) he was a massive help in editing this chapter and Grey_bit how has been a big help as well.
as always comments, complaints and suggestion are welcome.

When Lorian left Robert, she was in a foul mood. This bunch of clam digging flotsam needed to be investigated for criminal negligence and abuse. If things did not change before she left, she would be contacting naval criminal investigations. She could not go to the interior due to the classified nature of the evaluation for being declared a strategic asset. She asked the guard to take her to the facility commanders office.
When she entered the facility commander there were three naval officers waiting for her, the only one she had met to this point was Lt Cmdr Ashix, the security officer that had cleared her and her team for entry into the facility, she was seated to her left as she entered. To her right appeared to be an Edixi Lieutenant Commander also from naval intelligence with medical insignia and the woman behind the desk was and was a full commander from engineering.
Taking the last seat, the guard closed the door and remained outside “before we get started, I would like to know why I should not be in contact with NCI to investigate the abuse my client has endured at your hands” The stunned looks told her they were not prepared for that.
Commander Vashini was many things, but a boy bashing child abuser was not one of them. This sand clamed piece of turox shit dared to claim that she was … she did not complete the thought she pushed her temper down growling, “Explain yourself.”
Smiling predatorily, “Certainly, a fifteen-year-old human child kept in chains and in solitary confinement for three days. Also, there was no food or water at that time. Other than a few pieces of food he took from your lunch your lunch” pointing at the woman with the medical insignia, “and no basic hygiene since he was taken into custody. Now if you do not believe me, ask the guard outside if she is allowed to remove my client’s chains.”
“I am Dr Arandis Norroe and if that is the case then why did he not speak up?” Arandis realized just how moronic her statement was out of her mouth closing her eyes, ”He does not vocalize and none of the guards knows hand speak.”
Lorian continued, “add in the Fact that that a large number of young males from this world disappear all the time and believe he is next on the tragic list. The only reason I would not get the interior involved is because if I did, the odds of him ever going home drops below fifty-fifty.”
The woman to Lorians right, Lt Cmdr Ashi, spoke next.” I had heard stories that it was happening, but I thought it was an exaggeration, you know, just stories. Is it really that bad?”
Looking at Lt Cmdr Ashi, ”In the almost five years since the imperium liberated this world there has been a loss of almost six hundred million people and those are the planetary governesses own numbers and if you ask an human that would give you and honest number it would be closer to a eight hundred million. With either number I would start calling it a genocide or a mass enslavement. When I first arrived, I came to get a man and make a ton of credits. I naively used to believe that we in the Imperium were the righteous and virtuous ones, not anymore. The interior and the nobility are all out of control of this world. Now there are some who are doing the Empress's good work, but there are not enough of them.”
Zirlyn turned to Cmdr Vashini “This changes things, we are going to need to protect him from not just external but internal threats. I will take care of the boy, Robert and make sure safe and not abused and has everything he needs. I will make sure he has access to communicate with family and other involved persons. Once my background investigation is complete.”
Cmdr Vashini was reeling, she was complicit in boy bashing, almost. She had fucked up now she had to fix it. “Advocate, LtCmdr Ashix will see to all of the issues you have raised” Raising her voice “Guard Please get in here.”
The guard replied as she entered, ”Yes Ma’am”
“Please get our guest fully kitted out with the exception of weapons, armor, and electronic devices he will not need for now. And return any personal items again with exceptions identified. All personnel that need to interact with our guest will be equipped with a translation program for terrain hand speak. Once kitted out you and two others will escort our guest to an area where he may take care of his personal hygiene needs without intrusion. Per naval protocol our guest will not be restrained unless he is being interviewed by a technical person. That means leave the restraints in the interview room. Dismissed.”
When the guard acknowledged her orders and left, Cmdr Vashini “That should improve his treatment. The restraints are required, unless overridden by a flag officer. Advocate is there anything I can do right now to correct his mistreatment.”
“That should be sufficient for now. When this meeting is over I will check in with my client and see if he needs anything else and coordinate with LtCmdr Ashix ”, Lorian replied, relieved that there was no fight or recrimination, just fix the problems and more on.
Cmdr Vashini turns to Dr Norroe, “Doctor you're up.”
Dr Norroe sat up and began her presentation, ”I start with a complete review of his medical and educational records which are interesting to say the least. I was able to verify four items identified by a human psychologist from before the liberation, any one of these if he were not human, he would have been institutionalized with the expectation of a pending psychotic break and becoming a danger to himself and others. In curd terms he is a defective and was labeled as so when his mother moved him to Prescott. Fortunately for us his mother chose to parental educate.”
Lorian broke in “Don’t you mean fortunately for him not us?”
Bemused by the interruption” Yes you are correct. Where was I,” looking back to her notes “parental education option. To say I am impressed with her success is an understatement. He completed the imperium basic primary education curriculum in less than three terrain years with exceptional marks in every subject except language related courses. This shows his raw intelligence is very high and my cognitive test confirms he is at least a one in a hundred thousand intellect.”
Dr Norroe paused to let the good part sink in,” Now the four items I mentioned earlier Dyslexia, digraphia, low latent inhibition, and manic depression. We have different names for them, dyslexia is called ‘non-linear developmental psychosis’, digraphia is called ‘limited developmental cognitive articulation’ these a both defined by humans as learning disabilities and the humans have been aware if this for some though most of the time it is miss diagnosed. When correctly identified there are several strategies to work around and adapt the educational environment for this. For low latent inhibition or hyper process stimulation, this is so rare for us there is almost no research on the subject, except to indicate that it is a death sentence by the age of ten and mostly affects boys.
Cmdr Vashini broke in, “Are you telling me that humans deal with this all of the time.”
Dr Norroe had to laugh,” Hardly, with the learning disabilities they do not just deal they have used it a s a species to drive their technological advancement without dyslexia I do not think the human would have gone from the first powered flight to their lunar landing in one human lifetime, research in the subject showed that half of the engineers involved had the condition. The condition affects about fifteen to twenty percent of the population, so I believe there was an evolutionary advantage. About the same number of humans are left-handed, for the Shil’vita left handedness is about three percent.”
Lorian remembered something Robert had said: it is a blessing and a curse.
“With humans there is a very diverse spectrum of these learning disabilities.” Dr Norroe continued. “ In His case the manic depression is directly tied to his limited ability to articulate what he is thinking. This may be why he produced so many abstract art pieces, he is expressing an idea the only way he can.
Back to the testing I did with Robert showed not only is he very intelligent, but he is very creative as well and like all the others who have dyslexia, he just thinks differently.”
Dr Norroe paused waiting for any questions and pulled up an example, “Here we have two images one titled rain drops on glass next to one titled gravity lensing optical distortion. The first one would be considered art the other science. This is an example in true non-linear thinking, it is clear that the first triggered the second.”
Cmdr Vashini rubbed her forehead.” I do not understand how somebody could go from rain drops on a piece of glass to an understanding of gravitational lensing. There is no logical way to connect the two.”
Lt Cmdr Ashix countered “No, it is a form of pattern recognition. I am trained to see things that do not belong, and that took years, he connects things instinctively. I bet if he did speak, he would be finishing your sentences for you, and be correct better than half of the time.”
Cmdr Vashini,” Now that we have taken Dr Norroe up a side stream, the idea of pattern recognition begs the question if that thing out in the hanger is a piece of a pattern, if it is, then is it the start or the end. If this is the end of the pattern, the kid will be rich off all the things that come out of it. We have figured out about ten percent of what he created but no real idea why. From that ten percent the team has identified six or seven applications for just the navy.”
Lorian had to smile at the commander’s admission. Six or seven new applications in just a few days, this was very good news. “I will need that information in basic concept form, no technical data. It is legally his, is it not?”
Advocates, Cmdr Vashini though bemused, always looking for a quick credit,” Yes, it is all his if we ever figure out what it is. Now if we are done with this subject Doctor please continue.”
/*************/
Garquile was as close to his happy place as the situation would allow. His ankle monitor chaffed as he tried to move around the kitchen. Two things in his life brought him great pleasure. Cooking and barrel racing. Cooking was a creative passion, a chance to tune out the world and concentrate on the creation of a flavor and texture, a single note of a song that would make up a meal. He had prepped all of the fruits, vegetables and was now working on the main dish, two large Copi, fresh from the upper Mississippi River. Deboning and deveining was the tedious and delicate part. If you rushed, you could leave the meat unpresentable. Finishing his cleanup of the filets, he surveyed his handy work, perfect he thought.
Three perfect filets for the adults doing their important adulting stuff, even with all four advocated here. The kids, himself included, would have the other filets with the gill meat and the trimming from the other filets that were too thin to be cooked the way he wanted. The Copi was covered in a mango lime jerk chutney to give the fish a delicate crusted glaze, when cooked in an outdoor brick oven. Waiting for the Copi, would be individual bowls of pad thai, served with a reduced coconut milk jerk spice reduction.
The kids, himself and his siblings would get fish tacos. Fish tacos were not something he made very often for dinner, it was finger food, it was not appropriate for the evening family meal in the dining room, but they were not having a real family meal tonight, so guilty finger food was on the menu.
Tonight’s meal would have been fun if not for the fact that he and Tommy were both wearing ankle monitors and Robert was locked in a cage and was being treated like an animal, from what he had overheard. Afterwards, the adults sealed off the dining room so they could talk in private. The family dining room was the only place in the house that could double up as a conference room.
Tommy had been pretty freaked out over the three days they had been detained. Tommy had explained it to him the day after they got back. Humans until very recently were not citizens of the Imperium and had no legal status for due process, so if he did anything the powers that be could just ship him off to the marines. It was a favorite tactic of the interior to deal with the troublemakers. Now he was a muted version of himself. Tommy always seemed to want to protect Robert, mainly from family shit with his grandfather.
He had met both Robert and Tommy about a month after they had moved to Earth in a Kung fu class. One of his mother’s security detail had started training long before he and his family arrived and suggested it as a way to integrate into the local community in a controlled environment. His sisters loved it from the start, mainly to interact with boys. It was not until he shifted into the Tia chi that he began to enjoy the Kung Fu. The only thing he still dreaded was sparing, the human boys would take the opportunity to hit him a little harder just to piss off his sisters. He remembered that early on Robert never attacked when he spared only using counter strikes.
He remembered his father telling him that every young woman should defend their family and every young man should have the poise and confidence to allow them to do it. Having confidence in your wife’s ability to defend you showed in how you presented yourself, you would never cower because you would never have to. Public displays of confidence in your wives are one of the most powerful displays of love and devotion the world can ever be shown. At least according to his father, he had eleven wives in his forty-six years and his youngest wife, Lalania, was almost twenty.
The timer on the oven pulled Garquile out of his thoughts the Copi was done and needed to be plated. Presentation was important, mother had an image to maintain, he could not and would not serve anything that was just thrown onto a plate. He and three of his sisters would serve the adults restaurant style since this was working dinner. Tommy would be serving the wine, he had the advantage working as a server in the local casino’s restaurant. Servers worked with the waiters to refresh the drinks and bring out the food for the waiters to present to customers. The server position was just a dodge to get around the law requiring waiters to be eighteen human years old to serve alcohol.
Garquile’s mother only tolerated having a large household staff to serve official functions. She had been very forceful when she had become governess. So that her children would not become lazy bottom feeders, all of the children had chores. Garquile had traded his sister Valenlina, laundry for cooking. She hated both chores, but laundry took less time than cooking the family meal four nights a week.
Garquile had chosen a pair of white wines from the Sonoita region, a Albarino and a Verdejo. Tommy had suggested these because they were very popular with fish at the restaurants. The guests would get to choose, and the family would get the leftovers. Garquile had Valenlina call their father and tell him that dinner was on its way. When they arrived with the food the table was not cleared but all the papers and data slate had been moved to the side of their owners. Garquile sighed. So much for his proper presentation, they were too engrossed to really care, but the show must go on. As his sisters presented the meal to their guests and family, Garquile described the meal, detailing each aspect. Tommy picked up with a well-practiced description of the wines when Garquile finished.
With the meal served, the children retreated to the outdoor patio. Garquile and Tommy brought out the tacos and chips and set them up near the fire pit. Valenlina came out last carrying the blender and margarita mix, the only thing missing was alcohol. Garquile intended to fix that at least.
Tommy had been looking out for Robert ever since they had met, not that Robert needed protection. Tommy acted like a filter, keeping the B.S. to a minimum and keeping him engaged with the people around him. When Tommy had asked him and Valenlina to help with the car,both of them had been excited. For Valenlina, a classic human car was a maybe someday dream, but time with Tommy was time with Tommy. Tommy explained that Robert had really started engaging with people when they started the car. It was something he could talk about that others could understand…. right up until the motor that had taken the six months of hard-core scrapping to buy. When the motor had turned out to be a worthless boat anchor, Robert had reverted to being disengaged. Lost in his data slate shell as he had been before, Garquile still did not know what had gotten Robert to re-engage so to speak.
As everyone was chowing down on the tacos, Garquile got the mixer going on the drinks. Valenlina started giving Tommy a back rub in to hope he would relax for a little while when she asked, “So Tommy, I never asked, whose idea was it to make the car fly?”
Sighing in pleasure Tommy replied, ”You keep that up I will tell you all of my secrets and maybe a few lies to make you believe in Santa Claus.”
Garquile brought over a tray of drinks, ”Mother would be aghast if she saw you handling a boy like that, and what do you mean Santa Claus isn’t real? You have destroyed my innocence!” He chimed in mockingly.
Tommy grabbed the drink when offered, Garquile made sure it was the one that was spiked. Tommy noticed the special ingredient, “Trying to help your sister loosen my resolve to her charms I see”.
Garquile feigned ignorance about the fact Tommy and his sister had been having sex for over a year now. Valenlina had told him, as soon as it happened, because she had to tell somebody, and he could keep a secret. There was a problem with the secret as it was not a secret. All of the parents knew and let Tommy and Valenlina believe they were being discreet. Valenlina had explained to him that Tommy was amazing, but he was also safe, and he felt the same way. They were not using each other, just enjoying what they had. Knowing it would be over in less than a year, when she would travel to Shil for University. “Please, my sister has no charm, as well as limited manners, but if you are going to spill your secrets…. I am listening.”
Valenlina worked her hands from the top of Tommy’s shoulders to just below his shoulder blades, ”As I am putty in Valenlina hands, I will tell you it was all Bobby’s idea. The reason he withdrew was he was afraid Granddad would get pissed about wanting to do a Shil’vita based retro mod on a sixty-nine Charger.”
Garquile finally getting his own drink “I would have watched Granddads reaction. I bet he blew a gaskit?.. I think that was the right way to say that.”
“It was, but not the way you would think. His first reaction was to snarf the beer he was drinking right his nose laughing. The guy he got the car from, Martinez, had a couple requests, ‘make it cool, fast and no shit purple shil metal on it’. ates the purple metal because it is a pain to shape by hand.” Pausing for another sip of his drink. “It took my Granddad a good five minutes to stop coughing while Robert was sitting there waiting for him to lay down the hammer on him, but then granddad said something neither of us were expecting.‘show what you have.’ Robert just sat there stunned then like a dam breaking. Bobby asked are you sure and my granddad just said show me what you have. “
Getting up to sit next to him, Valenlinaleaned over to wrap her arms around him. “It took Bobby about three hours to explain what needed to be done to make the car fly, with a top speed that he guessed was around two hundred and fifty miles an hour. When Bobby dropped that little tidbit about going faster granddad asked how much faster. Bobby only said that if he didn't deal with the heat, the car would melt. My granddad couldn'tthink how fast that would be and just told Boddy "let's just make it fly first then go for speed records.”
Garquile then asked, “So how long did it take to design all of this, to me it seemed that it was all in his head?”
Tommy rolled head back and laughed “To be honest, I have no idea, he could have been thinking about it since we started. He is like a dog playing fetch and then suddenly he sees a squirrel and off to the races, then ten minutes later he comes back with a rabbit and toy boat.”
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Janissary: The Joy Ride Ch1 : Sexyspacebabes (reddit.com)
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Extra:
Janissary: The Son Of War : Sexyspacebabes (reddit.com)
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Maybe I overreacted. My mom fed him a bite of her sausage. My puppy has been wanting more of it. I got hungry and decided to make sausage as well. I didn't know my puppy was sniffing around for it. My mom told me to give him some sausage, but he already had some of hers, and I didn't know if it was safe for him to eat in certain amounts. So my dog literally jumped at me and snatched it out of my hand. My mom did nothing about it. We didn't have much food in the house, and I didn't feel like using DoorDash since it's pricey.
It irritated me a lot. Even after he ate mine, he was still looking for more. He was jumping around, barking, and being extremely rambunctious. Unfortunately, my dog later threw up the food. My mom wanted me to get the mop, and my puppy kept jumping at it, biting at it, and playing tug of war with it while I was trying to take care of the vomit. I was trying to get him to stop, but he wouldn't stop. This made me more annoyed, and I ended up yelling at him to move. He eventually moved and ran to my mom. I needed space, so I went upstairs for a while.
I would say that about 30 minutes later, I walked back downstairs. Usually, he would run up to me and greet me. My dog was just lying on the floor, looking at me with the saddest eyes. I instantly felt so guilty. This is my first dog. I didn't think they could sense my frustration. I picked him up and sat him down on my lap. He was so sweet. He looked at me with his sweet eyes and leaned his head against my chest as I snuggled him. He was so gentle. Even though he forgives me, I still feel horrible. I love my dog so much. I can't wait to see him tomorrow morning so I can hold him tight again.

I saw a post on milwaukee that now appears to have been deleted (my own as well) before I was able to add a comment with my own horrible experience about the sham that is Fluffy Dog "Rescue" (FDR). To whomever that was who posted it, I want you to know that you certainly are not alone in your experience.
We adopted a dog from FDR years ago. Unfortunately, after a few months it unfortunately wasn't going to work out with that dog due to an incident that deeply affected us and made us realize that we couldn't keep the dog. Making the decision to give up the dog was truly painful and one that we agonized over for days after the incident, but we knew we had to make it. Please believe me when I say that we wanted to make it work out, but it just wasn't going to happen no matter how much we wanted it to. Unfortunately, due to the contract we signed at adoption, we needed to return our dog to the FDR directly. We sent Lori Marcheck (the owner and founder of FDR) a very sad, sincere, and detailed email about how hard it was for us to make the decision and tried to do our best to ensure the dog would be taken care of. The response from Lori was so heartless, cruel, and so horrific: basically she didn't care about us and said (and I am literally quoting her email) "Welcome to rescue dog. [...] I am sorry that [dog name] will need to go through the stress of being rehomed again. Let's hope she makes it." What a cruel response with absolutely no regard for us; basically, this is what you should expect from us, oh well. We were incredibly close to breaking the adoption contract and giving up our dog to a different local shelter so that it would not go back to Lori; we didn't want return the dog to Lori so much that we even tried to bargain a return of dog to the foster home directly because we at least knew the foster provided a good home (and we certainly didn't feel the same about what Lori would do). After that incident and reflecting upon all of the warning signs that we then were able to see (looking back at prior correspondences with Lori), I realized that we should have done more research into FDR. Oh did I find some interesting things... Lori estimates that she has "rescued" over 5000 dogs since 2005, which multiplied by the adoption fee we paid ($450) means she has received over $2.25 MILLION in sales/revenue. It appears that there may even be an additional(?) $75 fee which is non-refundable, this may or may not be additional sales/revenue Lori would receive. And as far as I can tell, Lori and FDR uses volunteers at their facility (which is just a warehouse with kennels stacked on top of each other) and as fosters. Furthermore, they utilize transport group that volunteer to move dogs from southern states to FDR. Additionally, in our experience, FDR provided the absolute minimal number of vaccines and medication for the dog we adopted as possible, enough to legally allow them to cross state lines to come to Wisconsin; the vet that we took our dog to was SHOCKED at the limited/poor documentation and minimal vaccines given to the dog before we adopted them. Finally, they frequently ask for donations to support the dogs, meaning that even those basic expenses like food are provided via donations. Clearly, FDR has minimal expenses in total (the website even claims they "are entirely volunteer run"), likely only paying for a minimal amount of dog food and other basic expenses required at their facility. Finally, from what I was able to find, prior to FDR having their own facility at 647 Industrial Ct., they were registered at W295 N8427 Camp Whitcomb Rd which appears to be a very wealthy residential house. I unfortunately can't find it, but I don't believe they had a facility until at least 2020, which points to solely using foster households for the dogs they rescued for 15+ years (whom they would not have paid) since they had their personal(?) residence listed on legal documents for FDR's location.
In addition to my own experiences, this is the same "rescue" that discriminated against a 70-year old women and said she should adopt a dog who was 3+ instead of the 1 year old dog she wanted. Did Lori/FDR really expect that a 70+ year old women would die within those 2 years of a dog's life?!
Finally, I want to emphasize the point that all of the fosters and volunteers seem like absolutely wonderful individuals looking to do the right thing to help; our experience with the foster could not have been better, she was a wonderful individual. However, Lori Marcheck appears to be an absolute fraud and appears to be using this "rescue" as a way to make money from people who want to foster and adopt vulnerable dogs.

All in all I buy mostly all of the cleaning supplies because its only 4-7$ so its fine. My parents also give me some stuff so its all good. We do split the paper towels and tissue and trash bags.
I bought hand soap thats lasted us all year LITERALLY. and didnt charge them. I also bought cute soap dispensers. which i will be taking when i leave.
I bought the shower mat and I also have my desk as a dining table and i bought chairs from my parents.
I also tend to dispute with the landlord about certain issues about the house. Its always me which Im fine with but yeah.
I usually clean and when I clean I deep clean lol…maybe every 2-3 weeks and take out trash regularly although I can be a pain when it comes to washing dishes but most ive ever left them was a week because I was sick and it was finals week and I also went home.
After I came back I washed them all and even washed my roommates
I usually leave my dishes 1-3 days. But yes sometimes its a week but i always wash and again its usually when im sick or finals or just busy.
whenever my roommate has people over she uses my dishes which I’m fine with because shes always offering me food and tea.
I bring people over but most of the time its just quiet. and weekends or fridays. I come home late around 8-9 and lock myself in my room or talk with roommate. Sometimes i do hw in the living area but again im usually in my room.
I’m an architecture student so there are times u have paper and glue EVERYWHERE. But then i clean it all up. Usually during finals week. takes me at least a week to gather myself.
Anyway The last roommate that left owed my current roommate $270.
I fought for her and she paid her back. The last roommate left her microwave, vacuum, plants and a tea pot. since she left all of those things I told her not to pay me back but since she left everything we are even and her things become mine.
The girl is still paying for the wifi which im not paying since she still owes me but should i also take the stuff she left? I told her since she didnt have to pay me because she was leaving stuff so we are even. I may just leave the microwave and take everything else not sure
she owes me 4 months of electricity bill which is 72$ about.
I owe her 3 months of wifi which $42.
Im planning not to pay for the last two months im here.. (actually not sure since we have another roommate) the wifi only
But even if I do/ dont pay I am planning on taking the vacuum and some of her plants and a tea pot thing. maybe the rice cooker Lol idk about that one. I’ll leave the microwave depending on weather I pay for the the last two months or not. It would be like $28.
so yeah.

Hello all. It’s 9pm and I just got done moving my vehicle because of a creeper who parked behind me.
It’s a spot I have frequented off and on for a year, it’s normally a super solid spot with great cell reception.
However just about 30 mins ago, I heard a truck pull up and run the engine right behind me. Not many people park on this part of the street, but it does happen so I figured they were waiting for someone or something.
But 15 minutes later, all of a sudden I heard them revving up their engine, once every couple minutes or so. That’s when my spidey-sense kicked in.
Then they finally turned off the engine and just sat there in the dark.
That’s the moment I jumped into the front seat, no shoes wearing just a t-shirt and my sleep boxers. Now currently at another one of my legit spots and feeling 100% better.
Maybe it was just a food delivery person taking a break. Maybe they were waiting on someone. Don’t know, don’t care, super happy to be away from that situation.
Also, I’m a solo female in the PNW where there is an oddly high amount of serial killers. Well, that’s where my brain first went (doesn’t help I just recently rewatched Silence of the Lambs lol).
Anyways, I was reminded it’s always worth trusting your gut. At worst, I had to get out of bed to move my house. At best, I’m not tied up in the back of some wannabe Ted Bundy’s old pickup truck.
Stay safe, y’all!