She's extremely nice and funny, we always chat while she passes me my groceries, she's very pretty too, rubenesque, i'm always nice to her and friendly too, but without crossing any lines because I know she's working and it's part of her job to be nice to customers, it's a good part of my week when I need to go to the supermarket and I know I'm going to have a good chat with such a nice person. Anyway, $4 a pound.

parents fell asleep in the living room watching nat geo. i looked up from my phone and all i see is two dots in the darkness (she’s a void) looking up at the tv at animals fighting. there’s been so many distractions (cars outside, ppl yelling next door, etc.) yet her eyes keep going back to the tv. nothing has ever kept her attention for this long. should i be scared?

I (24F), am part of a postgrad program. I have really bad social anxiety, and I’m always the quiet kid in class. I’m fairly attractive, but that doesn’t mean anything when you’re always stuttering and mumbling.

But yeah. During the lecture, my professor told me “you always have a little smirk on your face. You’re so cute”.

Edit: the professor is a woman in her early 40s, who is married with adult children. She isn’t trying to comment on my appearance in “that” way

And I got the call that Davy had died. I was close to the end of my shift and my boyfriend was calling me over and over again. Finally I went to the break room and called him back, and he calmly told me his best friend Davy had died in a car accident. I calmly said I would see about leaving early to be with him. We hung up, still calm, with a plan. But as soon as we hung up, my chest constricted and I started breathing so quick, panting a little. A man burst out from the offices connected to the break room; Brent, who oversaw the landscaping arm of the company. He’d heard the whole thing. I could feel his hand on my shoulder. He helped me calm down and I went to see my manager, who released me without a second thought.

I think about Brent surging out from those cubicles all the time. The way he swarmed out, like he’d been ready to be deployed since the day he’d been born. He was born to put his hand on my shoulder.

i just pulled a no-call no-show in the stupidest way. i'm always on call for shifts at my job, as in there's no schedule you only find out when you work on the day of. now for me, i like to ask my boss the day before, but i got super drunk yesterday and was also kinda hoping they would forget about me, so i pulled a no-ask for the first time lol.

now that would be fine cause i'm the only one who asks anyway, but my boss thinks he told me to come in today. last thing he told me was "yeah not today but probably friday though." so today, on friday, i just silently waited to get my starting hour. nobody texted me, and i gladly rotted for hours on my bed in my hungover state.

but then they started asking me where i was, and even though i had a feeling that would go down, i said i thought i didn't work today, and can't get going now. i don't know why, but i just want to go to the bar tonight, i'm sick of my wobbly schedule and sick of telling my friends "i work from whenever the fuck to the fuck knows whenever" and i'm just sick of this thankless industry. one time i almost lost a finger at work and they told me "just go home. it takes 3 minutes to replace one of you." so i don't get why i shouldn't even just give up and become a hermit.

i feel like a super old man who's been working the same job for his whole life, and i just don't give any more shits than this. if you want me there you should have told me. i love my fucking job and i'd like to either show up on time and prepared or not at all.

A few months ago, I finally managed to completely empty my laundry basket and I have remained caught up ever since!

I live alone, so everyday, I put my clothes in the machine and do a wash when it’s full. I have had a rubbish year, but I am completely caught up with laundry, so it’s something at least.

The end :)

The other day I took my kid to his swimming lesson. We had to wait because a thunder storm was predicted, in case it passed quickly or moved further away. While we waited, my kid and his best friend were playing in the little outdoor play area at the swim school. Normally, my kid's friend would be there with his mum who is my friend, but that day his dad was with him. As we waited, the storm came closer and closer until we could see lightning strikes not too far away. Around then, my friend's husband (the dad) made a comment saying 'wouldn't it be funny if the lightening had to strike the kids play gym right then' and both me and the swimming teacher just stared at him for a moment before we both said no, it would not be funny and please don't even say that (the kids were on it).

At that moment I was weirdly relieved that my husband isn't the only one who says stupid things without thinking in public.

The swimming lesson was canceled.

I'm Czech. The Czech language is incredibly hard and has many specific letters.

When I was 18, I got invited to the US for the summer to stay with a family. My English was intermediate at best and I purposely kept speaking a lot, trying to make the most of my time there. I managed to sort of block out Czech from my mind. I started having dreams in (broken) English and my thoughts were in (broken) English as well.

After a few weeks, I was walking down a street in a crowded Florida town when a man's t-shirt with a sign caught my attention. I thought "What ridiculous language is this, that puts a little ring over the U letter?" Then after a few seconds I realised I could actually read the sign and I understood it because it was in Czech. The letter "ů" is a standard Czech letter and for a moment I didn't recognise it.

When I landed back at the Prague airport, I heard an announcement in Czech and again, for a few seconds, I heard it as if I didn't understand. It was really interesting to experience how my language might sound to a foreign ear.

I went back for the following summer but didn't have any of these states of mind anymore. It only happened the first time because I was so focused on learning English.

(In case you're wondering: The sign said "11 blbců z 10 sleduje TeleTele" - "11 morons out of 10 watch TeleTele", which was a stupid tv entertainment show.)

An old man in front of me is buying a small box of beetroot salad. When he pays, he tells the cashier that he actually came there to buy toilet paper, but he can't afford it. So he goes home with his salad.

The time it takes to think "how the hell did an earthworm get up all these steps?" is the amount of time I took me to realize that the earthworm I was staring at was actually a broken rubber band. I even have the photo.

I came back from running errands the Saturday before Halloween this year to find a decently sized box on the porch.

I couldn't remember ordering anything, so I checked the shipping label and saw that it was a ten-pound shipment from a company that sells doll clothes.

It was sent to an older woman who had lived in my house until about 8 years ago, when her husband passed away and she sold it.

The label said the box cost $75 to ship, so I figured if she still lived nearby I could drive it to her and save her some money on reshipping it.

I looked up the company and it did have an old-school website, which at the very top read "dedicated to the memory of Betty Lou" (not using her real name here). I checked the label again, and sure enough this was the name on the return label. I searched her name and found an obituary showing that she had passed away in January of last year.

I did get in touch with the company that sent it and then with the woman it was intended for, who were extremely kind and appreciative. But as I was driving the doll clothes sent from beyond the grave out to her house in the country the day before Halloween, I did think to myself "Man if I was in a horror movie, I would get murdered so fast."

So, I've been too broke for a pedicure for quite a long time now, and it's not a big deal, but I've got some major calluses going on. Every time I'm in the shower, I remember that I need to use the little cheese grater thing when I get out, and even when I put the thing right next to the sink, I still forgot.

Today I was determined to remember, so I made up a little song about my calluses in the shower, and I kept singing it until I grabbed the cheese grater thing and got to work.

Making up little songs can be helpful for remembering things, but I guess I never anticipated a song about my feet.

It was my birthday the next day and my boss was like, "So you gonna bring cake tomorrow?"

I answered, "Nah unlikely, I don't really celebrate my birthdays."

"Well, maybe you'll reconsider!", she replied, and I thought that was the end of it.

Come next morning I arrived at work and a co-worker was like, "Hey where's the cake? Boss said you'd bring some to work."

I explained that I don't celebrate my birthday. Everyone instantly got miffed, complaining how inconsiderate I was. They reported that - boss immediately reprimanded me for being a terrible employee.

Spent the next 3 months getting bullied at work because I dared not bringing free cake for everyone on my birthday, fortunately I quit and got another job.

Screw that place.

It's really snowy and rainy here today and I have to work from 1pm to 9pm today. All week I wore shoes that are honestly talking right now so I definitely need to replace them and it's been rainy all week. I asked my sister if I could borrow her shoes today she said yah but took them😓 at 6am this morning. So I walked to the Target down the street in slides and a jacket at 7:30 am and bought boots for work.

When I was around 16 y.o., I went to visit my brother for the weekend. He's a good bit older than me and we were in that fun sibling phase where I was finally old enough to actually hang out, not just tag along as the annoying kid sister. And of course it helped that I'd started dabbling in the Devil's Lettuce by that point.

After I got to his place, we took a few bong rips and headed out for some dinner. Now, for my brother, a seasoned stoner, a few bong rips = no big deal. I, on the other hand, was used to small-town brick weed out of whatever cheap lil pipe me or my friends could get our hands on. In other words, we were in very disparate states between kinda feelin a little stoned (my brother) and absolutely blazed to oblivion (me). As we were sitting waiting for the server to swing by, I started feeling more and more nauseous. So I went to the bathroom.

This restaurant's bathroom had a design I will never understand: there was only one stall, but the outer door to the restroom doesn't lock. So if the stall is occupied, anyone waiting is just hanging out in the hand-washing area. I was thanking my lucky stars that no one was in there because by this point my stomach was churning in that way that would not have accommodated waiting for that one stall to free up. I won't go into too much detail about what I did in there, other than to say it was happening out of both ends - and also that it was *blood. red.* I was trying to stay calm but between being violently ill and incredibly high, I was low-key freaking out.

I imagine I had to have been in there a good 5-10 minutes before I finally got all the demons out, finished my business, and exited the stall to wash up. To my horror, a line of at least 2-3 people had built up while I was in there. They had all been standing in that awkward waiting area, bearing witness to the sound and scent of me being sick. The judgment was palpable through the heavy silence as I hurried to wash my hands and face, just a few feet away from the ladies still waiting in line. All the while I'm simultaneously mortified at there having been witnesses to my bathroom crime, relieved that I'm no longer feeling nauseous, but still slightly worried there might be something seriously wrong with me (given the blood-red hue).

When I got back to the table, my brother was of course wondering where tf I'd been. I fessed up about the unspeakable acts I'd committed against that poor bathroom, including how embarrassed I was that all those women heard (and smelled) what I'd done, oh and also the fact that I may have vomited blood and should I be worried??

My brother was laughing his ass off at this point. He said as long as I felt fine now (which I did), everything was most likely fine - and kindly reminded me of the red velvet cupcakes his friend had brought by before we went out. Relieved, we had a nice dinner and then went to a metal show later that evening.

When I turned 18, I ended up moving to the same city where I'd visited my brother. I'm forever grateful that I do not remember the faces of the women in that bathroom line - and sure as shit hope none of them remember me.

So one morning I shuffle out of bed to the kitchen for breakfast. I had decided on coffee and a hard boiled egg. (I'll eat more for second breakfast😅)

I turn on the coffee maker. Get a mug from the cabinet and set it on the counter. I go to the fridge and grab a hard boiled egg. Then I walk over to the coffee maker.

And I am SO confused.

I stand there in this state of confusion for a good 30+ seconds. What's my next step? Where do I put the egg? What am I even doing?

Finally I realized where I went wrong. I put the egg on the counter and grabbed the mug. I made coffee. I had breakfast. And I thought about how weird it is to be embarrassed about something no one knew about but me.

Mornings are hard.

I have two copies of the same shirt (a Punisher shirt). One is Xl, and the one i bought recently is XXL. Obviously the 2 X fits me better. I was wearing it earlier when I dropped ice cream on it! I took it off and thought "hey wait a minute I have a spare!". And I put on the smaller one and am wearing it now lol. I will wear it until I change my shirt tomorrow morning for work lol.

I got rejected the second time the other day because the doctor said I had fatty foods before donating. I was a bit disappointed but the doctor invited me to come back after a few days, so I went home.

This happened maybe 9-10 years ago, I was in 4th or 5th grade and was running my first ever 5k for my school cross country team. We were running through a typical suburban neighborhood near the park. I was a little worried because I didn’t remember where they said to turn at a fork in the road, and now I was alone. I run by a house with a lady, a man, and a kid standing together in the driveway. The lady yells to me, offering to let me ride with her to the finish line so I can beat all the other kids.

I’d been taught about stranger danger many times in my life by that point, so I said nothing and kept going. I finished the race, evidently I chose the right way to go. I told my friends later but never told my mom because I was worried she’d be mad for not telling anybody or something like that.

I was thinking back on the experience today and I realized that although the experience was creepy, I don’t know of any kidnappings occurring in that area ever, and nobody else had even seen the people. So I don’t know and I probably never will.

I had a wonderful interaction today. For context, I’m a cumulative year into tattooing (long story), and have been at my shop for 5 months. My mentor asked me to open up the shop, and I was just turning on the lights when I hear very faint, slower footsteps coming up the stairs. It’s an older woman, probably in her late 50’s or 60’s. I assume it’s one of those times they’re just passing through our stairwell to get to the boutique next door. We greet each other, she says she has a question. Turns out she’s looking for what the ballpark price would be for a small semicolon. It’s for her daughter in Wisconsin. At this point she starts tearing up a bit, and apologizes for getting emotional. She goes on to explain that tomorrow is her birthday, but not only that, it was her grandson’s birthday. He died when he was only a few months old, and she’s sending her daughter money for a memorial tattoo. I’m touched, tell her our shop minimum is $125, but explain that it varies from shop to shop and that I have no clue whatsoever what someone in Wisconsin might charge. After hearing her story, I said that personally I would probably only charge 75, if even that (pretty much unheard of in this field at present with the economy— basically the price of supplies), she joked that she’ll just fly her out. I am sincerely touched by her story, the fact that she wants to do this for her daughter is so special and I tell her as much. We went on to talk about connecting with people in customer service, and that it’s more than just providing the service— many times the client has a reason that goes beyond what you do for them. Like even when she was in carpet cleaning, it might be someone needing their deposit back, but it also could be a cancer patient anticipating visitors who’s ashamed of their dirty floor. I also told her that I think it’s so cool that someone in her generation has a positive attitude towards tattoos, and she said that she admires the artwork, but if she sees someone with tattoos out the street she’d ask them what it meant, and recognizes them as a way of self-expression for the wearer. She’d never do it herself, but the small stud in the upper cartilage of her ear has emotional significance even, and that’s enough for her. After a bit she says she won’t take up any more of my time, I tell her I’m just opening shop but it was very nice to meet her and hear her story. I remember to actually introduce myself and get her name. As she’s leaving, she says wouldn’t it be nice if I got the same tattoo? I give her my card, tell her I’d give her a hella discount if she decides to (she got a kick out of that), and she’s on her way. Only after do I think I should have wished her happy early birthday again. This, right here. I didn’t even tattoo her but this is why I’m here. Why I do what I do, why connecting with people is so important. I really hope that I helped, even if it was just quoting a number that probably means nothing to a tattooist in freaking Wisconsin. But a few hours later, she calls back and tells me she’s decided to get the tattoo to match her daughter’s, saying that she and I connected and that we only have so long to live. I told her that I’m honored to give her such a special first tattoo on her birthday, and now we have an appointment for 2 pm tomorrow. I’m truly touched.

My nephew and I have a inside joke where I tell him if we see a spider in the house that it's the spirit of his mom, and I tell him better smash it before she catches him naked in the shower or watching porn. We had a wolf spider under my pillow and I let him know about it when I left this morning, and just when I got back he's got a bit smile on his face and he opens his palm and i saw splattered in guts and pieces was that wolf spider.

I went in and headed for the bourbon aisle. I spent a lot of time hemming and hawing about which bottles to buy- my dad's coming for Thanksgiving and I want to get some really good stuff.

Suddenly I realize that the store is eerily quiet. No one is at the register. No one seems to be at the back room. No other customers are to be seen.

I was curious so I checked the front door. Locked! There was a paper bag taped to the glass. I turned it around and it said "Be Right Back". I was locked in!

I stood around and ended up grabbing a bottle of eggnog and putting it with my stuff. Then the guy came back, with the most comical "what the fuck" expression on his face. He could see me through the glass and he was horrified.

He had gone across the plaza to pick up his tacos for dinner. He's the only one on shift at this time.

He was so apologetic but I wasn't upset at all. It was pretty fun.

When I moved to Maryland, I got a room in a house. The landlord had a spare air mattress that he let me use. He also let me use a spare table and chair.

Eventually, he had to sell the house, and so I had to move. I found a new place, and I would need to bring my own furnishings. So I asked landlord of the house I was moving out of if I could buy the air mattress, table, and chair, he said I could, I asked him how much, he said $100.

The mattress would lose air slowly, so I every week or so, I turned on the electric pump so it would go from being limp to stiff. However, I noticed that soon after I moved, I would have to fill the mattress every day. Eventually, I had to fill the mattress in the middle of the night. I often woke up with a stiff back, and I wondered if it was because of the limp mattress.

Eventually, I got tired of waking up in the middle of the night, so I tried to see if it was because there was a hole in the mattress. I checked the sides and the bottom of the mattress, but had no luck in finding a hole. Then just as I almost gave up, I noticed air coming out of a very small hole near the place I was sitting as I was putting the mattress cover back on.

The next day, I got various tapes from my work. When I got home, I started with the duct tape. The next day, the mattress still felt full, so I thought it was a success. However, when I got home from work, the mattress was limp again. Thus, for the next few days, I tried the various tapes, even layering multiple slivers, but no matter what I tried, nothing worked permanently.

To try and have a more permanent solution, I went to walmart to try and find a vinyl repair kit. I first found gorrilla glue and gorrilla tape, then I came across a worker and asked him if there were any mattress/kayak repair kits, to which he directed me to the Garden/Outdoor section.

I went to the Garden/Outdoor section looking for a pool repair kit, but not being able to find it, I asked the worker that staffed that section, who told me to check out the clearance aisle. I looked in the clearance aisle, but couldn't find anything, so I went back to the Garden/Outdoor section, and I was finally able to find a pool repair kit.

When I got home, I applied the pool repair kit (which had patches and glue) and let it set for about half and hour. That night, I had no issues with the limpness of the mattress. For several days, I had no issues. However, eventually, I felt the mattress would get very slightly limp, so I reapplied another layer of glue. This worked for a good amount of time. However, eventually the glue cracked, so I reapplied again to seal the crack. Then, the glue cracked, and the hole in the mattress matured to a very small rift. I would dribble glue into the rift. This didn't work long term.

Eventually, I got tired of having to repair the mattress without knowing it would even hold through the night. So I gave up and decided to buy a new mattress alltogether. However, this was when it was late at night and I already showered, so I didn't want to leave the house. I placed a curbside pickup for an air mattress through Sam's Club (sorta like the Walmart version of Costco) just to ensure I could secure a mattress. Thus, I plugged the rift with a healthy amount of Vaseline, which was sufficient for me to get through the night.

After work, I went to Sam's club to pick up my air mattress. Not having done enough research on how curbside pick ups work, I went inside and went to where the curbside pickup items were stowed and showed a staff member my order. He gave me the mattress and offered to walk me out so that they would know I was good, but said he had to use the restroom first. I was confused in the moment and just walked outside, and the receipt checker said I was good to go. I placed the air mattress in my car and then did a little additional shopping.

When I got home, I plugged in the mattress and filled it. The built in electric pump was nicer to use because it could directly plug into the outlet, while my previous air mattress would need to be charged first, making it need 2 to 3 charge cycles to get a full mattress. I stuffed the old air mattress into a garbage bag and left it next to the trash bin. The new mattress had a strong "new synthetic product smell", so I opened my window. After two days, the smell went away.

I like this mattress more for a few reasons. The surface was like tilled soil, while the previous mattress had the surface like button tufting, which would make awkward indentations that were slightly uncomfortable. This mattress also has a backrest, which is really nice because in the past I struggled to form comfortable backrests with blanket and pillow. Also, I noticed that my back was much better, which probably could be greatly attributed to the fact it didn't get limp during the night.

Yesterday, I woke up earlier than I do usually, and I was craving breakfast. I wanted to get Denny's but the closest two were both equally distant at 12 minutes.

I looked up local breakfast spots, but they would charge like $16 for 2 eggs, sausage or bacon, french toast or pancake, which I thought was ridiculous because I get a loaf of fresh bread and butter, half pound burger, and fries for $10 at Longhorn steakhouse for their lunch special (Chili's and Applebees have similar deals, but I still need to check them out someday)

Because of this, I made my own breakfast. I cubed a russet potato, and while it was boiling, I fried up a diced sausage and two eggs. Once the potatoes were soft, I drained and added a knob of butter and sprinkled on garlic herb salt. I added the sausage and eggs, then seasoned the eggs with salt and pepper.

Upon tasting, I felt it needed some heat and acidity, so I added some Lola's. I'm not the biggest fan of the hot sauce taste you get from Tabascos and Crystals, but I like Lola's because it doesn't have that.

After I finished eating, I went to work.

About a month ago now, I found an abandoned kitten and took him in, and when I did, for the first couple of days, he was very well behaved, it was so strange, I had never seen such a calm cat in my life, he let everyone and anyone carry him, and didn’t even struggle when I trimmed his nails, and I thought it was a good thing at first!

Until I took him to the vet for his shots that is, and noticed that his fear response isn’t to hiss or scratch or meow, all he does when he’s scared is sit calmly, almost frozen, and suddenly it dawned on me, he wasn’t well behaved, he was still uncomfortable in his new home, and while he did play and ate just fine, he was still scared.

Well here I am a month later, he’s just like every cat I’ve ever met! He misbehaves, knocks things over, wakes me up every morning by sitting on my face or biting my ears, he hates when anyone that isn’t me carries him and he’s not afraid to make it known! He’s great at making it clear when he IS or isn’t okay with something, and I’m more than happy to respect that! I guess most importantly, he seems happy, way different than the kitty that followed me home a month ago, and it makes me happy to see him happy!

There was a post on an entire 6th grade class caught cheating. Reminds me of what we did in 9th grade. The greatest cheating scheme ever. Five sections of an entire year did it for four final exams through Out the year.

Grade 9 geometry. Only 6 people knew what was happening. The rest of us were scraping by. Afterr 30 yrs, how do I remember there were 6? Their chairs (all classes did this; they had different quantity smart kids), were placed in the corridor outside the classroom. Inside the room, our chairs were spread apart so that there were chairs even at the corners. Anyway, the smart math kids had small white paper in their shirt pockets and wrote answers down. We placed white clay on the white door jamb. Smart kid by the door sticks paper on the clay after the corridor teacher passed. Kid inside the room got the paper . Our proctors went around the room to discourage cheating which was good. We simply passed the paper after she passed by. Each student was to decide which answers would have errors so we didn't have all the same mistakes.

How did we know to prepare the clay? The exams were conducted like this for every subject since grade 7. Kids w the highest grades for that subject sit in the corridor. The clay was secret knowledge passed down through generations... 🤣🤣. 7th and 8th grade tests were not hard, so if we knew we had a correct answer, we simply wrote it down and passed it around the room anyway. The Geometry teacher has been there for ages, and no one really learnt from him. It's known among all of us that we'd be using the clay on exam days.

except they weren't referencing marijuana. One had joint in the headline, one had blunt, one had pot, and one had weed.

None of it was about marijuana but my mind instantly went there.

I don't know if a story could get more pointless than this.

Everyone came home after work, I was angry with my siblings and dad. So i made them think I was cooking family dinner. When it was all done there were only enough for me and my mom.

So, last week I was in a rush to leave the house and decided to quickly throw on my shoes. I grabbed what I thought were my sneakers and shoved them on without really looking. I then ran around the house getting ready to leave for work, grabbing my lunch, keys, wallet, etc.

I was so distracted that I ended up putting my lunch in the fridge, even though I was about to walk out the door. I didn’t think much of it and went on my way. Fast forward to the evening: I come home, open the fridge to grab something to eat, and there they were—my shoes, sitting neatly next to the leftovers.

I still don't know how they got there. To this day, I wonder if my future self is somehow living in a parallel universe where shoes belong in fridges. Maybe they’re just waiting for a sandwich

I was on a plane this week when the pilot wished a happy birthday to someone on board. I look like quite a masculine figure but inside I was so excited and happy for them and felt really giddy especially when everyone cheered. Then I realised I too could be famous and have people cheer for me by passing a note to the pilot everytime I fly afew times a year which is never on my birthday but who cares, it's so exciting. I could mention a promotion, anniversary, absolutely anything.

And it would be a great and funny story at work afterwards too