Ikea malm dressing table hack

Can I rant here? I can't get over anything

2023.06.09 16:33 Expensive_Winner2942 Can I rant here? I can't get over anything

My coworkers are tightly knit
I'm a temp worker
It's my second and last day here
I hate!! Coworkers who talk shit about you then try to talk to you later
Working at different places, this happens all of the time!
I hate that people treat me like im "slow"
I'm 22 and they literally baby me. Reminding me how to walk home from work and to pay attention to the road.
I do have a baby voice from childhood trauma ofc and I totally understand that that might trigger a parent at work to try and parent me
It's very annoying. Making this post is what reminded me to set boundaries at work and remind these ppl that I can handle myself
Yesterday, at my current temp job, I arrived in everything except for my uniform shirt. I kept it in my bag because it's very hot and I walk. The shirt is a black, long sleeved, dress shirt.
The hotel is prestigious but I arrived very early before we even opened. The woman who escorted me on my first day took me directly to the bosses who ofc said something about my top(I asked her where I could put my bag, planning to change into my shirt after).
She gave me a tour of the place in my tank top, taking my thru the kitchen (I wasn't working there, mind u, and I got stares ofc)
I did tell her that I wasn't clocking in for about 30 minutes. After she takes me to put my bag down, my other coworker who was there, not knowing I wasn't clocked in (and I didn't know what she was showing me or that it would take more than a few minutes) begins training me and giving me another tour of our floor
I asked to be paid for that when I realized I only had a few minutes left to sit down. Everyone else who was clocked in was sitting so I took the opportunity
My supervisor raised his voice in front of my coworkers and customers telling me he'd be paying me for when I was supposed to come in. When my trainer confirmed that she was training me before my punch in time (she's his friend and was shocked that he told me that)
He said he'd talk to his higher up. When his higher up came, I tried to follow but he power walked, leading his higher up away with his hand on his arm.
After a while of hosting, I realized a lot of the guests preferred to pass the menus around the table from the left.
At the end of the night, the last table I sat, the elders werent expecting me to pass the menus but the young people were.
My supervisor (whod been following me and watching me all night) threw his teeth, raises his voice, and tells me to walk around the table and hand the menu to each person.
In a way that i believe he was trying to intimidate me
He then sent me home 2 hrs early, keeping me in the dark about the fact that no one else was going home, and I wasn't paid for the time I came in early
I'm just incredibly pissed that I had this experience
submitted by Expensive_Winner2942 to CPTSD [link] [comments]

2023.06.09 16:31 Express-Employment62 Finding Purchase Episode 1: A Sliver of Chaos - Recap

The story starts, as so many seem to, in an inn. But this is not just any inn, but the cleanest, friendliest inn in all of Emon - The Bright Vagabond - owned and operated by a halfling named Tarlan Hillspark. As he prepared to open for the day, a young baker's apprentice named Sliver entered nervously and was gestured to a seat at a large round table marked 'Reserved'. Soon, others gathered; a tall half-elf named Garrick with a symbol of the Raven Queen on his shield, a cheerful gnome named Ashrina dressed in bright colors, and a lanky humanoid called Kid, who wanted nothing more than a fresh cup of bean juice. All had received a mysterious summons from an organization known as The Clasp; though Sliver was concerned about this development, the others all seemed unsurprised to be there.
As they gathered, a woman entered who seemed far too frightened for the bright surroundings and was introduced as Dr. Dannell, who they had been instructed to meet. The group excused themselves upstairs to less spacious, but more private, surroundings - Ashrina's room at the Vagabond. There, the doctor admitted to being terrified of her benefactors, but with no other place to turn for help. A disgraced researcher in antiquities, she recently found a large stone on a dig - an egg, she claims, spawned by an eldrich horror. No one believed her, of course, and the egg was set to go on display at the Natural History Museum tomorrow. With one catch: tonight, it will hatch, and hundreds, if not thousands, would die. Conveniently, there was a gala opening for the exhibit that very evening, and the good doctor managed to procure tickets. She also offered to pay for new outfits so the group will fit in at the party. Not one to let a good deed go unrewarded, Ashrina also gave Dr. Dannell the opportunity to donate her bag of holding to the cause (of Ashrina having a sweet new interdimensional purse).
Spurred on mostly by curiosity and the Clasp's instructions, not to mention the promise of a swanky shopping spree, the group decided they will go ahead and save Emon after all, though they're not all convinced the egg is real. Sliver, for his part, isn't keen on the idea of killing a hatchling, even a freshly hatched eldrich horror. The professor's plan, as described, involved stealing the egg and then imprisoning it in a crystal that she just happens to have in her rooms. This will spare Sliver the moral quandary involved in killing something that has just hatched. He's also quite gratified that he's been summoned to steal something - he thought it was going to be something difficult.
After not deciding on a plan, the group headed for the Erudite Quarter to spend the good professor's hard earned money at Aura, a bespoke clothier. There they were greeted by the owner, the most fabulous kobold to walk the streets of Emon, and the group outfitted themselves with party attire after some haggling and paying a small fortune of someone else's gold for same-day service. All outfitted themselves well, but Sliver outdid himself in a purple jacket and green flared pants, intending to dress himself as a waiter for the gala and save the finery for another day.
On the way, the team decided that they were not going to steal the egg at the gala unless the perfect opportunity presented itself, and so Sliver's hopes of sneaking in as a waiter and walking out with the egg were dashed. After a quick walk around the block to find the museums' entrances and exits, they entered the museum and began admiring the exhibits on the ground floor. Garrick chatted up a bored museum employee in hopes of getting an in with the staff, learning of her side gig as a horror poet, while Kid found the staff entrances remarkably unsecure and Ashrina discovered a janitor exiting a secret room in one of the exhibit halls. Sliver purchased a museum badge from the gift shop, and promptly began bossing around the staff and escorting wealthy-looking patrons upstairs, not really listening to them except to glean information about the exhibit or any valuables on their persons. Tarlan, bemused, stayed behind to keep an eye on Sliver.
Finally, the group headed upstairs to where the exhibit would take place. Garrick headed directly for the privy-rooms to try and find a way to break the wall to get into the exhibit room with the egg. Tarlan examined the Allosaurus exhibit, found a panel, and asked Kid to take a look. Stealthily as can be, Kid opened the panel and found dials and levers, seemingly to control the dinosaur exhibit. Ashrina spotted a conveniently-placed and completely unsecured vent on the exhibit room wall. Not content with merely being extremely useful, she then snuck into the attic and unlocked the museum's skylight while Kid kept watch on...something else entirely.
The party began, with the curator opening the exhibit room and slipping the key into her clutch, which Kid noted she keeps to hand at all times. The group kept watch for signs of any party-goers under the influence of the egg's eldrich occupant, but saw nothing. Kid sidled up to the egg, finding the magical defenses on its pedestal. Garrick concerned himself with the doors, satisfied that the security mechanisms could be blocked with the furniture if need be. While Ashrina ate and drank merrily, Tarlan began speaking with a down-on-her luck noblewoman attending the party to find a suitable suitor. Noting Tarlan's suit from Aura, she seemed newly interested in his company, until Tarlan admitted that he doesn't regularly shop there and that parties makes him nervous. Sliver circulated, serving food and drinks to the patrons he'd scammed earlier and learning that the basement of the museum is full of valuable riches that no one does anything with. Ashrina, having seen the museum curator leave the room upon receiving a mysterious note, snuck after her, confirming both that the curator is a creepy doll enthusiast, and that she keeps the key to her office in her clutch.
At some point during all of this, Sliver left the party and wrote a vaguely threatening note to the curator on a bar napkin, reminding her that she's been warned of the consequences of putting the egg on display. He instructed a server to deliver the note, then removed his jacket and makeup and headed downstairs, away from the aftermath. As requested, the note was delivered, which the rest of the group saw the curator read and crumple up angrily. Tarlan then approached the curator, asking about the stone on display and insinuating that he'd seen something similar in a book. A book about eggs. Angrily refuting this assertion, the curator placed both hands on the stone, and a wave of energy rocked the room. Many party-goers became ill, including Ashrina, who broke out in a sheen and felt dizzy and weak momentarily. The chaos passed quickly, but it was enough for the curator to decide that in fact a gala opening for an eldrich horror was not a good idea and usher everyone out.
Back on the street, the group reassembled to ready themselves for the heist. But before anyone could say anything, Tarlan, staunch cleric of the Dawnfather and firm moral center of the group, held up the clutch he stole from the museum's curator during the commotion, and asked if anyone had forgotten their purse.
submitted by Express-Employment62 to diceydecisions [link] [comments]

2023.06.09 16:24 Ohwell_genz Bridezilla asking for an additional day (now 5 day wedding) and setting strict (incorrect) dress code… and FOUR funds in registry

My bf and my friends are getting married at the end of August woohoo. Or so we thought. They are getting married basically at a destination site (many are flying or its like a 8 hour road trip for others) at a resort. The resort is more than 100 acres so if you are in the wedding party, you kind of have to stay on site/ they asked that bridesmaid (4) and groomsmen (4) stay on site. For regular guests, the wedding is one night and for people who are in the party (my bf is a groomsman), its an additional night. They set a booking code but min stay is 2 nights so only people in the wedding party used it bc regular guests found that it was cheaper to pay for one night or to stay off site somewhere cheaper (rooms are 200$ a night and 160 with discount but why pay 320 for mandatory 2 nights when you only have to stay for one). We thought great this is awesome… then less than 4 months before the wedding, the bride and groom asked for one more night for everyone so they could come earlier… then 3 months before the wedding… they asked us to change the booking AGAIN and add another night so now it is 5 days and four nights. I asked what events are going on and they said oh nothing, just would like to hang out (wtf). Soon after, grooms mom offered to host an unofficial welcome dinner for just the wedding party and family. So we cancelled the room with booking code and found that it was cheaper to get a condo with kitchen (and get own groceries so we werent going out every meal) and even if we had used the block, would still need 2 additional nights anyway at 200$ a night. They also asked that we get our fishing licenses in that state so that we can FISH in a POND during the extra time…. In the south… in the middle of august… oh and they also asked for us to bring golf clubs so we can golf with them. Then the bride asked if friends and girlfriends of the bridal party could also pay extra to get their hair and make up done because she has such a small bridal squad that some of the make up artist that she wants had minimum number of clients and then she also asked me to come early to go to the spa with her. I think that my boyfriend feels pressured to do all of the above because he is a groomsman but we literally had to spend it $1200 on the condo for full price (also saves $ on food) which we were willing to invest but because it’s a luxury resort you need to pay for every extra activity…. Anyway, I said no thank you to spending all of that extra money for the extra events and I had to fight with my manager to ask for extra PTO during peak vacation season after having the other days approved earlier… i think its rude and poor planning?
Then she set the dress code as black tie optional OUTSIDE in the south by the water with no tent but just in a field of grass. So she said no stilettos and there’s no transportation on the resort because none of us are members so we need to drive around then walk the large property in our own vehicles to go from the condos or the hotel to the wedding venueAnd reception… and technically black tie, optional could mean a very nice cocktail dress that is midi length especially because it’s so hot and humid and fully outdoors with no covering and she started yelling at everyone saying that we all must wear floor length gowns only and “some slit would be ok bc it may be hot” and only men dont have to wear a full tux bc its hot So I literally sent her a picture of what I wanted to wear and asked if it’s OK and she said it’s fine and the only reason she said district dress code was because her in-laws extended family is from the Midwest and she’s worried that they’re poor and they would show up ratchet which is just OUT OF TOUCH and rude. Then she sent me photos of dresses and said that she expects guests to show up to the rehearsal dinner (all long and heavy fabric)and welcome according to those vibes. So now I need to have three dress code appropriate dresses that can withstand 100° weather outdoors with grass friendly shoes when I know that the bride will be angry if I show up any other way.
So I was planning on just giving a small wedding gift because it’s costing me an arm and a leg… but the registry only has an $8000 dining table with a $5000 set of dining chairs. Then they added a fund for a future home and then they changed it to future family and then they added a second one for honeymoon that they already booked and paid for and then they added a third one to afford a second dog and then they added a fourth, one for a future family and kept the future home separate. Out of spite, unless they want literally 20$ from me, im BROKE from this wedding. The behaviors around it also do not help. I have tried to show up nicely but boyyy is it getting hard
Also, regarding other wedding events, she invited 12 girls to her bachelorette, including myself and asked us about dates months ago and they never got back to us and then didn’t invite us and plan another trip with just her maid of honor which is fine but it was weird and she did the same thing with her wedding shower where she verbally invited like 20 people, but then she only actually sent out less than 10 invitations…. Its a trend here and FINE that I dont have to go on another trip $$$
submitted by Ohwell_genz to weddingshaming [link] [comments]

2023.06.09 15:17 PoopWaiter TIFU: I pretended to have a hemophobia as a cover for me pooping myself at my waitering job

TW: Poop and blood
I have a pretty good poop story I think you guys would appreciate. This happened almost a year ago. No one knows the truth (hopefully) so I'm posting this on an throwaway account.
I used to be a waitress at a steakhouse while I was studying at university. One night the restaurant was incredibly busy so I was running around a lot to make sure I don't neglect my tables. While cleaning one of my tables, I accidentally broke a wine glass. I cut my finger on one on the shards when I was picking them up. It bled quite a bit so I went to the manager to get a band-aid since I didn't want to get get blood anywhere while serving food. I was standing outside his office waiting for him to get the first aid kit. I was holding in quite a painful fart for a while as I didn't previously have time to take a break in between serving customers. So I decided to quietly let it out while I was waiting by myself. Big mistake. It wasn't a fart. It was full on diarrhea. All the running probably did a number on my bowels. I was horrified. I didn't have time to run to the bathroom, because the manager came out with the band-aid and asked me to hold up my finger. He was carefully placing the bandage around my finger and I was just praying he couldn't smell the poop. He asked if I was okay and that I looked pale. I was probably pale from the embarrassment and fear, but I just made something up and told him I'm not good with blood (which was stupid, since I study forensic science). I excused myself and went to the bathroom to clean myself up. I was panicking heavily as I had a few tables waiting for me and here I was trying to remove my sneakers and jeans so I can remove my underwear. I threw away my underwear in the bin but unfortunately the poop went through my underwear and on the inside of my jeans. I struggled getting my shoes on and it took me a while. A fellow waitress knocked on the door asking if I'm okay and I just called out that I threw up and I asked for some water. I finally was fully dressed and mostly clean of poop. I decided that I should go home for the night, as I did not want to serve food if the customers could possibly smell poop coming from my jeans. So I had to play up my act. I came out and pretended to be super dazed. My fellow waitress left me a glass of water by reception so I drank that and sat in the corner and told everyone I'm trying to recover. The manager teased me relentlessly for being a forensic scientist with a fear of blood. I tried to downplay it and said "It's just when it's MY blood". Queue me running to the bathroom every few minutes and making fake gagging noises. I was finally given permission to leave. The other waitress took over my tables and I left home for the night. I think a few of them might believe I was overreacting and just wanted to get out of work. I'd rather them believe that instead of knowing I pooped myself. I really hope that if anyone smelled anything, they thought it was vomit and not poop. I don't work there anymore as I moved but I still feel bad for the cleaner who had to deal with my poopy underwear in the trashcan.
Anyways, that's my story. It's hilarious thinking back on it. I just need another year or so for it to simmer down so I have the guts to tell it to the other waitress who I still keep contact with so we both can laugh about it.
submitted by PoopWaiter to TwoHotTakes [link] [comments]

2023.06.09 14:55 kiplet1 [City of Roses] no. 27.3: “Quite distressing” – well as She might – taking Any hand – Something falls

[City of Roses] no. 27.3: “Quite distressing” – well as She might – taking Any hand – Something falls
previous Table of Contents
tends to crumble
“Quite distressing,” says the older man, there in the wingback chair. “Though one does not wish to play the churl. A certain degree of disarray must certainly be allowed, given the shocks – the challenge, the duel – ”
“Allowed?” says Agravante, there by the yellow stone fireplace, an elbow up on the mantel, and the older man takes a sip of milky tea from a thin bone china cup. “How is the King’s champion, by the way?” he says.
“Death’s door,” says Agravante. There on the mantel by his elbow a fiendish little basket-box, carved from a chunk of dark red wood. “Shame,” says the older man, shaking his head, stiff grey curls swept back, and the collar of his shirt undone, a blue scarf knotted tidily about his throat. “Though it is distasteful, how they might linger, on that threshold? Neither here, nor there,” and another sip of tea.
“What is it that distresses you, Medardus,” says Agravante. White-gold locks tied neatly black, his grey suit shot with blue.
“It’s a delicate question I’d have answered, Pinabel,” says the older man, setting the cup in the saucer on his lap, clink. “Does the King yet mean to pursue his bold vision?”
Agravante’s brow pinches. “Of course,” he says. “Insofar as I know.”
Medardus smiles. “Delicately put,” he says. “It’s been two days.”
“These things take time.”
“Two days,” says Medardus, “since he took from me mine offer,” knobbled fingers closing in a fist, drawn up by his yet-mild smile. “And not a word said since.”
“There’s much to be considered,” says Agravante. “Four of you do vie for her hand.”
“Please, Pinabel,” says Medardus, dropping his hand, and a clatter of cup and saucer. “It’s an indulgence to pretend the choice isn’t manifestly clear – that mine is not the best offering.”
“The best, perhaps,” says Agravante. “But sufficient?” A slatey shoulder shrugs.
“The King would demand more?”
“How can I answer that,” says Agravante, “when I know nothing of what you’ve promised, or he might require.”
“Nothing,” says Medardus, still smiling. “Such a delicate word.” Setting cup and saucer on the low table between them. “I would hope,” he says, “it could always be said that the Hound has done well by Medardus,” and he knots those knobby fingers in his lap. “Much as it can be said, to a surety, that Medardus has done well by the Hound.”
Rather carefully, Agravante does not smile at that, or nod, his shoulders do not move, nor does his arm, there by the basket-box. “Of course,” he says.
“But it’s also said,” says Medardus, “that a fear grips your court: that the line is not unbroken. That the Queen, despite her, prodigious recovery, has no Bride of her own. That your King’s hand, howsomever reluctantly, is forced. That he means,” and here Medardus leans forward, elbows on knees, “to take the Princess for himself, and that is why our offers go unanswered.” Sitting back, a dismissive fillip of his fingers. “Or so it’s said.”
“By some,” says Agravante.
“Indeed,” says Medardus.
“But not to me,” says Agravante.
“Ah.” Medardus pushes himself to his feet. “Tell me,” he says, as Agravante leads him out of the little drawing room, “how fares the Count?”
“Grandfather?” says Agravante, pushing open the sliding wood-paneled door. “He sleeps.” Beyond, a narrow hall, in the shadow of a long straight staircase.

“Oh,” he says. “It’s you.” A glass of wine in his hand, something dark. “She isn’t here.”
“She will be, soon enough,” says Marfisa, muddy boot up on the side porch step. “Jason, can I just, wait inside?” The collar of her sheepskin coat turned up, loose white hair stirred by a gust. He steps back, the door held open, his lips a sour purse between his mustache and his dull red beard.
Up the steps into a mud room, painted blue, forgotten coats and a tangle of umbrellas, a scooter, a chalkboard palimpsested with to-dos and shopping lists, “Ah ah,” he’s saying, pointing, thick-lensed glasses blanked out by the ceiling light, and she scrubs her boots against a mat before stepping up into a kitchen to the left there, ruddy stove and a steaming pot of something, stainless steel refrigerator hung about with coupons and note cards, a calendar, a math test festooned with red checks and gold stars, past a breakfast bar sloppily piled with newspapers and a box of soda cans, into a narrow sitting room, a low brown couch, a girl tucked at one end of it, under a red and yellow blanket, and pink headphones startling against her dark hair, watching something on the tablet on her lap. “Grace,” says Jason, still in the kitchen, but she’s already snatching off the headphones, a burst of chirpy music, as Marfisa steps about the low coffee table. “Hey, Mar,” says the girl on the couch, and “Grace,” says Jason again, “upstairs,” as Marfisa sits herself at the other end. Something bulky’s tucked in her coat, she leans over the table, pulling it out, a flat paper sack that spills out a sheaf of handbills, goldenrod pages splashed with black lines, a dancer rendered in calligraphy, and each marked by the green dot of an eye. “Oh, hey,” says the girl, springing from under the blanket, all elbows and knees and clattering headphones, “is that,” says Jason says “Grace!” again, but she’s already scooped up a handbill, turning it over and back again, nothing else to it but little pull-tabs at the bottom, each printed with an elaborately arabesqued question mark. “You’re putting these up?”
Marfisa shrugs. “You’ve seen them?”
“Yesterday, at Mississippi Pizza?” says Grace. “Did you hang ’em there?” Marfisa shrugs again. “The Mercury just had a thing about these things, like how nobody knows what they are, or who’s, it’s, it’s you! You’re doing it! Is it like, are you putting the band back together?”
“Grace,” says Jason.
“What,” snaps Grace, rolling her eyes away.
“Upstairs,” he says, “now. Flashcards till dinner.”
“Jason,” she says, but she’s kicking off the couch, scooping up the tablet, stomping around the table when back that way there’s a clatter and a squeak of hinges from that side porch, “I’m home!” cries someone, and “Carol!” cries Grace, turning on a dime, scampering off past Jason, through the kitchen, “Guess who’s here!”
Marfisa leans forward, slipping the handbills back in the sack, not looking up at Jason looking down at her.
And there’s Carol, by the breakfast bar, setting a brown leather book bag on the carpet. Draped in a brown and yellow striped serape, her dark hair neatly short. “Mar,” she says. “How are you.”
“Well as I might,” says Marfisa, looking up, pushing back a wave of white-gold hair. “What would you say to a chance to sing again, together?”

A hallway narrow, dim, dark doors to either side, silvery numerals set in the walls by each, slender 1s, a wiry 7, great round-bellied 6es, an 8, a 9. Iona in her yellow track suit leads the way around a corner, stops before the door at the end of the hall. 620, the numerals beside it. She plucks a white card from a pocket, holds it up before slipping it into the slot above the knob. “I miss keys,” she says, as the lock chunks, a green light flicking on. “These may be better, but not in any way that matters.” She opens the door. “Go on,” she says.
Within brown walls and gold, bathed in daylight hazed by yellow curtains drawn over corner windows. A comfortable yellow chair, a reading table and a lamp, unlit. A wide bed draped in blue and brown and at the foot of it, sat tailor-fashion, Ysabel, in a white chemise, and soft white leg-warmers thickly rumpled. “Starling,” she says, with a smile.
“My Queen,” says the Starling, a shadow there by yellow Iona, black jeans, black sweatshirt, the hood of it up. “This is not our usual Thursday,” she says, in not much more than a whisper.
“This isn’t a Thursday,” says Ysabel, nodding to Iona, who steps out, closing the door behind her. “This is a whole weekend, if you’d like.”
“But I must dance, ma’am,” says the Starling. “Today and tonight, at the club, and Saturday – ”
“It has been cleared, with your, manager,” says Ysabel. “You’re free, till Monday.”
“Free to be here, with you,” says the Starling. And then, “If it’s just to be the two of us?” Her words worn thin.
“If you’d like,” says Ysabel. “Or, step back through that door. The Chariot will happily take you anywhere in the city you may wish to go.”
The Starling reaches for the strap of the black gym bag slung from her shoulder. “I don’t mind,” she says, “being with you. I’ll just go change,” but “No,” says Ysabel, quickly, “Starling, no. Put that down. Sit with me.”
“My Queen,” says the Starling. “I am not who I am, when I’m with you.”
“Please,” says Ysabel. “Sit.”
The gym bag slumps to the speckled brown carpet. Stepping over, the Starling stands a moment before the foot of that bed, and Ysabel sat there, smiling up, but then she turns, the Starling, and finds the yellow chair behind her, and sits, a darkness in that weak light.
“I’m glad you came,” says Ysabel.
“My Queen desired it,” says the Starling.
“I thought,” says Ysabel, looking away. “I’d thought today that I might dance for you. I have danced, you know. At a party. She said I was quite good.”
“Of course,” says the Starling.
“I settled on an outfit,” says Ysabel, looking down at herself, “nothing too elaborate,” and “Good,” says the Starling, “but,” says Ysabel, “I’ve been flummoxed by my lips. What should the color be?” A hand, lifted to her mouth, her hair, “White?” she says. “To go with the ensemble? Or would that be too much? Would a simple red be enough?”
“No one pays attention to the lipstick,” says the Starling.
“You do,” says Ysabel, quickly, even sharply, and then, “You take such care, with yours.”
That hood shifts, down, to one side, dim light passing over her chin, the tip of her nose. “White’s better for the stage,” she says. “Too bold for such close quarters.”
“A simple red it is.”
“Your majesty is sad,” says the Starling, then. “Why should that be?”
“I,” says Ysabel, shoulders lifting, and her chin, a retort swelling but then suddenly pricked, deflating, and she looks away. “Affairs of the city,” she says.
“Not the heart, then?” says the Starling. “Nor the hips?”
Ysabel untucks herself, a bare foot lowered to the carpet, and her hands on the edge of the bed. “Tell me,” she says. “Do you know the smell, of blood?”
That shadow sits up. “I do, ma’am,” says the Starling.
“She sleeps,” Ysabel’s saying. “Peacefully. Her wound is poulticed with a fief’s portion. The bleeding’s long since stopped, but,” and she takes in a deep breath, shivering at the top of it, a sigh, “wherever I go in those rooms I still can smell it, that – tang, like an armor hot from the sun, and I,” but the Starling’s standing, stepping over, she kneels at the foot of the bed, reaches for a hand that Ysabel lifts away, “here I am,” she says, “holed up in a hotel across town.”
The Starling sits back on her heels. “Would you rather go to her?” but Ysabel’s shaking her head, “The Mason,” she says, “watches over her. She wants for nothing. I am,” but then she stops, and the Starling catches her hand, draws it down, covers it with her own. Ysabel says, “My brother once told me,” but then she stops again, blinking rapidly, looking down at the Starling looking up from under her black hood. “He was once a little boy,” says Ysabel. “Did you know that?”
“The King,” says the Starling, “yes, ma’am, of course. I remember those days.”
“Not even a Prince, just an infant, he came to me, in the little garden, and took my hand, and asked me, sister, why are you crying?” Turning her hand in the Starling’s hand, taking hold of it, squeezing. “And I said, because I do not wish to wed. But I am the Bride, I said, and one day a King will come, and I must take his hand. Whether I will or no, I must, but he,” looking away, “he swore to me, then and there, most earnestly, that he would one day be the King, that I might never need take anyone’s hand.”
The Starling says, “And he did just that.”
“My brother,” says Ysabel, “the King, this,” and her eyes close, the lashes of them shining, “city,” she says, and her mouth closes about another, unsaid word, she swallows, and a lick at her lips. “Jo,” she says.
“My Queen,” says the Starling. “I will go, and change, and dance for you, to take your mind,” but “No,” says Ysabel, leaning forward, her hands on the Starling’s shoulders, “do not change, do not dress, do not perform,” lifting a hand, right to the very hem of that hood, but then pulled back, withdrawn. “I would see you just as you are,” she says, her hands once more in her lap.
“But, my lady,” says the Starling, and she reaches up to draw back that hood. “I am always as I am.” Black hair uncurled, slicked back, clipped down to stubble along her temples, about those ears. Her cheeks, the line of that jaw. The nose. Those eyes, only a hazeled hint of green. Thin lips unpainted, upturned, parting as Ysabel leans close to say, “And you are with me,” and then a feathery kiss, tugging at the Starling’s hands, lifting, the Starling who stands up before her, and her hands fall to the Starling’s hips, rough black denim, the belt loops, her thumb, the wide leather belt, looking up, those green eyes. She yanks at the bulky black sweatshirt, “Get this off,” she says, and the Starling lifts it up and off and tosses it aside. Bare now from the waist up, and the torso of her lean and long, and her long arms sinewy lowering, curling, Ysabel’s darkly hands caught up against the smooth pale chest of her by those wide white hands, and the backs of them snarled with thick blue veins.
“Now would you have me go and change?” murmurs the Starling.
“But you are beautiful,” says Ysabel, slipping her hands free, reaching for the tongue of the belt. The buckle jangles. “Majesty,” says the Starling, “I am many things, but,” and a gasp, at the kiss pressed there below her shadowed navel, as those black jeans loosen, lop, as Ysabel’s fingers dip within to uncurl a palely slender cock, and a stroke for the lengthening lift of it, “oh,” says the Starling, “my Queen, you needn’t,” as her hand cups Ysabel’s face.
“But do you want me to,” says Ysabel, and the Starling, shivering, nods. “The principles, I should think,” says Ysabel, “are essentially the same?” And a lick of a kiss for the tip of it, there on her palm.

Pinned to the pole a mulching bark of posters, flyers, handbills, postcards, lapped and shingled one over another, rain-dimpled, sun-faded, twisted, torn, defaced, Thrash or Die, April Showers Burlesque, Snap! at the Holocene, Anodyne Presents, Missing Dog, Laughing Horse, Drum Circle Saturday Rain or Shine, Cinco de Mayo on the Waterfront, big black letters on an enormous sheet, Grupo Samurjay, Grupo Maravilla, Los Supremos de Los Hermanos Flores, Woodburn Rocks. As the bus pulls away she’s pushing back her black hair looking up toward the top of that slithery bristling treeline, there where handfuls of old notices have been ripped away leaving crowded dozens of denuded staples, glinting, by a metal sign that says No Parking This Block, a relatively fresh sheet of goldenrod paper, mad black scribbles limning a dancer, a single eye of bright green ink. She reaches up, to the pull-tabs fluttering the bottom of it, each printed with only an elaborately arabesqued question mark. Her other hand holds fast a black leather knapsack slung from the shoulder of her slick black jacket. Her glasses with thick black frames. With a sudden yank she rips the handbill down.
A broad porch with four front doors set one right next to another, and she unlocks, slips through the third of them, and up an immediate steep staircase, narrow between dark walls, unlit, that yellow page bright in her hand. Around the wall at the top of the stairs through an open room a couch the floor before it piled with cardboard boxes into a long hall once painted white, some time ago, lit by daylight seeping in from somewhere else. At the end of it a dark room, curtains drawn, and she closes the door behind her, a shadow in the shadows. Flump of the knapsack, dropped to the floor, creaking footstep, the thick click of a switch. Light blares from naked bulbs in the fixture in the middle of the ceiling, pink springs from the walls all whorled curlicues and faded bouquets, the bed there, skewed bedclothes striped dull brown and beige, and on the floor at the foot of it a great conical pile knee-high or more of gleaming golden dust.
She steps around it, jacket half-unzipped. A ridge of the pile has settled, slumped, dust trailed over the floor away from it, and the goldenrod poster drops, crumpled, from the hand she’s lifting to her throat, to the bit of black lace tied there. Steps back, around the bed. She grabs a little hand broom from the nightstand. Kneels down by the pile. Begins to sweep up the goldstuff, careful with each thread and grain.

Eyelids a-twitch, lips parting just to say not even a whisper, maybe a number, counting, nine or ten, eleven, those lids blink open over mud-colored eyes that swivel, narrow, try to focus, a gleaming edge there, mirror-bright, shifting as she blinks the length of it flat and smooth and slender, somehow deep within it coiling whorls of light and dark chased up and down a shallow groove that cleanly stretches up and up to a glittering net there on the pillow, wiry strands that knot a cage about a simple hilt she jerks away, kicks back sitting up, “Shit,” she says, as the sword’s tangled in the sheets, teetering at the edge of the futon. She’s bent over, thin white T-shirt, wine-red hair, rubbing her shin, a thin dark line of blood beading down by her ankle, “Shit,” she says, again. Snatching the hilt she whips the blade free from the sheets, “this fucking,” but it turns in her hand, a wrench and away it flies across the room to crack and a wibble it’s stabbed the white wall there by the plain black scabbard, hung from a nail, and the painted skull-mask also, the mane of it stirred by that thrust. Jo blinks. “Okay,” she says, to herself.
Without, the hallway’s dark, the little lights strung along the ceiling unlit. The kitchen beyond is empty, only glancing daylight and shadows. Jo leans over to knock at the door across the hall, “Ysabel?” she says, turning the knob. The room within all yellow and white, gauzy curtains, big bed neatly made, the armoire shut, and nothing draped over the dressing screen in the corner. “Ysabel?” says Jo again, but something, she looks down. Something lightly, barely there, faintly wisps, like down, like ash, falling from, brushing her foot, past her knee, caught there in the hem of her T-shirt, falling from, she lifts it, peering down at her belly beneath, and the line that climbs it packed with an ashen crust and a last few spangles of gold and, she touches it crumbling, flaking away, the pink skin taut beneath.
Back against the jamb. Dropping the hem of the shirt her hand to her breast, and quick wincing shallow breaths. Lurching up across and over to the dresser, a bouquet of heavy-headed peonies pink and yellow, she grabs a small brass box and pries it open, frees a cigarette, and a ragged book of matches.
The hall, the back room, dark, the back door and out, outside, out in the grass, under the sky, sunlight and blue sky, and glowering clouds behind, white and blue and grey and blue and greenly black, swollen with the coming rain. Fitting the cigarette to her lips but even as she opens the matchbook she’s falling to her knees in the lushly green, soft grass out to the parapets to either side, and she coughs up a sob, another, doubled over on her shaking shuddering self, her hand a fist to her chest.
The cigarette falls white to the grass before her. Feathers of grey-white ash caught about it, and sparks of gold.
A call behind her, muffled by walls and doors. Sitting up she catches, holds her breath. Swallows. A slam back there, distant, bump of a footfall, she wipes her eyes with the back of her hand and leans forward getting her feet under herself but the back door bangs open boot-thump someone shouting and she springs up turns her arm flung out the sword
The sword in her hand –
Her hand, her arm extended shoulder dropped her torso sidelong and her front foot planted, off leg leaned back straight and true, off hand slung back to balance the thrust that’s ended sword-tip snagged in a corner of his unzipped shortwaisted jacket yanked up one side he’s twisted, turned away from it, both arms flung up and alarm gently folding his face.
“Oh God,” says Jo, dropping the blade, the ring of it soft on the grass.
“You’re awake,” says Luys, lowering his arms. Brushing the front of his soft brown jacket, his finger finding the hole punched there. “Your coat,” says Jo, “I’m so, sorry,” but “No sin espinas,” he’s saying, almost to himself, holding out a hand, “You are awake,” he says, but she rushes past that hand to crash into him tumbling her arms about him there on the rooftop under the clouds, she’s kissing his throat and then as he lowers his head she looks up to kiss his mouth, his mouth.
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2023.06.09 14:36 McGlone_Games Episode Recap - Louis and the Nazis

Episode Recap - Louis and the Nazis
Following on from my 'In Vision' commentary notes, I had a request from freddythefuckingfish to recap 'Louis and the Nazis'. Here it is, along with some additional notes from Louis' follow-up visit to Lamb and Lynx for his 'Call of the Weird' book.

\"I thought it was time to leave.\"

Opening Scene
  • The episode opens with tape being put on a kitchen floor by April, while she is being watched by her aspiring pop-duo daughters, Lamb and Lynx
  • They all laugh when April starts to use the tape to draw a swastika, because she's a Nazi
  • Note: the twins go by 'Prussian Blue', which is a reference to how the walls of gas chambers could be stained blue by the Nazi's usage of Zyklon B, which contained Prussic acid
  • Louis asks if April cares about "people's feelings", which quickly descends into April going on a rant about "The Jews" and how she just thinks the swastika is "neat"
  • Personal Note: there's something about April's agitated head and mouth movements that reminds me of a Muppet
  • April refers to Louis as a "brainwashed lemming"
  • Lamb and Lynx dance a merry jig to the sound of bagpipes, before we go to the opening credits

Meeting Tom Metzger
  • Louis is driving to meet "one of America's most notorious" racists, Tom Metzger (who died in 2020)
  • Tom has a garden ornament with a motion sensor that makes a noise when you approach his house, then has what looks like another motion sensor to the right of his front door, with a security camera on the left
  • Tom says he's "more serious than most of the Nazis [he's] met"
  • There appears to be a sign that says "No Snivelling" on one of the doors in Tom's office (I couldn't find any significance to that)
  • Tom shows Louis a racist cartoon from his newsletter, claims that he is better looking than Denzel Washington, and then (in my opinion) tries to get a reaction out of Louis by using The N-Word, but Louis remains stone-faced
  • Tom says that he would not use that word in public if Louis asked him to, but that he would not stop using it in private (even as a favour to Louis)
  • Louis: "It makes me think slightly less of you."
  • Tom: "Well, that's okay, I'm not here to adopt you."
  • Louis takes a look at Tom's music collection, and Tom's wife flatly says "It's part of history" when Louis asks her if it's shocking to have the image of a black man being lynched on an album cover
  • Tom, again, seems to be intentionally saying extreme things to get a reaction out of Louis, but, when Louis doesn't bite, he does then tone things down a bit
  • Tom's youngest daughter arrives, and doesn't consider herself to be a racist (mentioning how people judge her solely for her last name)
  • Abrupt cut to a different room, with a tired-sounding Louis now lounging in a chair with a drink in his hand, and what look like papers in his lap, telling Tom that "it bespeaks kind of a hatred"
  • Personal Note: Uh... what just happened? How much time has passed since the interview with Tom's daughter? Is that a copy of Tom's newsletter in Louis' lap? Is that the "it" he's referring to?
  • Tom, with a beer in his hand, sounds upset as he tries to justify his hatred for "blacks" with, "they kill my friends, they imprisoned them for life"
  • Louis, almost sounding drunk, uncharacteristically replies with, "That's such bull. That is such bull."
  • Tom yells at Louis about black people committing crimes in England, then starts to make a phone call to end this very awkward and out-of-place scene
  • Personal Note: What was going on there?! Both men acted completely differently towards each other, while Tom's wife and daughter appeared to be nervously stood in the doorway. Just a really weird scene that felt like something directed by David Lynch.
  • Over at the karaoke bar ("Lets Party Right Here!"), we see someone who looks like Danny Trejo serenading a table of middle-aged women
  • Louis says it has been a "long and, in some ways, depressing day [...] I was even more confused when the karaoke bar [Tom] took me to turned out to be largely non-white"
  • Louis: "I could only assume that, for Tom, karaoke sometimes took precedent over racism."
  • We hear a (mercifully short) clip of Tom "singing" 'Bad to the Bone' (he sounds like the love-child of Elmer Fudd and Les Claypool)
  • Note: None of what was said between Louis and the Metzger's while they were at the bar is in the episode, and we only hear Louis speak in voice-over.

Meeting John Malpezzi
  • Louis is being driven by Tom to meet his new "manager", a man named John Malpezzi, who was "supposedly a show business veteran"
  • When John gets in the car, Louis tries to get him to talk about the racist things Tom says and publishes, but John seems like he was expecting that line of questioning and is having none of it
  • John gives the, oddly specific, example of how he has known people in the past who would "throw you out of the air plane, over the jungle" for trying to catch him out like that
  • Louis had been keeping his powder dry during the car trip, as he knew that there were rumours of John having a "colourful career" and that he "had spent time in prison"
  • Louis is more direct once they arrive at their destination and John, after initially trying to shut down the conversation about his past, admits that he had legally represented the Colombian drug lord Pablo Escobar
  • John had also been looking at "85 years" in prison for cocaine trafficking, but only served "3-and-a-half" years (here's an archived LA Times article from 1987 that covers what happened)
  • Louis says that who John was, and whether what he was saying was actually true, was "vague to me, and possibly to him, too"

Meeting Skip
  • Louis visits Skip and his family, some of Tom's "skinhead supporters" who were hosting a rally that Tom would be speaking at
  • Skip had followed Tom since 1983 and thought he had "done a lot of good *awkward pause\* he's a good patriot"
  • Skip's brother says that telling someone "you're on the fence" is considered to be an insult by skinheads
  • The second Louis suggests that he might be Jewish, Skip immediately starts eyeing him up and becomes less friendly towards him
  • Louis spent the afternoon with the family before Skip really started to become agitated
  • Skip: "You're a Jew, that's why you got so much animosity. [...] You're a Jew. ...You're part Jewish."
  • Skip points at the sound guy and says, "He's not Jewish, I'll tell ya that, right now."
  • Personal Note: the camera pans over to the sound guy and he reminded me of Seth Rogen, who is Jewish
  • According to 'Call of the Weird', Louis' Director was Jewish
  • I think you can just barely hear a member of the crew start to interject when it's clear that Skip isn't going to let go of the issue, however I can't make out what they're saying
  • Louis, after Skip and his family have all left: "I thought it was time to leave."

The Gathering of the Gods
  • Tom: "Yo, yo, yo, are you ready to go, to the Hate-ananny? Huh?!"
  • Tom is wearing a t-shirt that says "Some People Are Alive Simply Because It's Illegal To Kill Them"
  • Louis heads to a major event ("by skinhead standards") with Tom, which is being held at "Skip's place" (or at least in a field near "Skip's place")
  • According to 'Call of the Weird', Louis had "security experts" who refused to accompany him into the festival (they would have been required to give up their weapons), so Louis was told to "stay alert at all times" and that the crew should run to the exits as quickly as possible, if things went bad (the armed "security experts" remained parked outside in their van)
  • Tom only attended "one or two" events per year, and Louis suspects that he felt embarrassed by Louis being part of his "entourage"
  • According to 'Call of the Weird', the scene where a group of skinheads ignore Louis was not an exaggeration, as not a single skinhead at the event would let Louis interview them
  • Louis: "I felt like the schoolkid nobody wanted to be friends with."
  • Lamb and Lynx take to the stage, and the appreciative crowd of shirtless male skinheads salute them at the end of their song (a few look like they are wiping tears from their eyes)
  • According to 'Call of the Weird', Louis did not know of Lamb and Lynx before the festival, and only spoke to April by chance, because her lack of tattoos made her look approachable
  • Personal Note: I don't mean to imply that Louis is lying here, but I can't imagine that they planned for the episode to be an hour of Tom and some random skinheads, so what were the 20 minutes dedicated to April's family originally going to be about?
  • Tom takes to the stage, where he yells a lot and is a racist
  • The sign for the event reads "The Gathering of the Gods, An Ian Stuart Memorial, The Flame That Never Dies, American Front"
  • [Ian Stuart was an English nationalist, white supremacist, and the lead singer of the punk band 'Skrewdriver'. Stuart died in 1993 and this episode is from 2003, so the "memorial" might be for the 10-year anniversary of his death.]
  • The day after The Gathering, Tom tells Louis how he likes skinheads because they're "not hypocritical" and are "strong racists"
  • Note: Tom is slightly out-of-focus during this short interview, with the camera more focused on the greenery behind his head

Meeting April, Lamb, and Lynx
  • According to 'Call of the Weird', the only hint that April's house contained Nazis was a "battered" car bumper sticker that read "My Boss is an Austrian Painter"
  • Louis arrives at April's house, where a bored-looking Lamb and Lynx sing about "Marxist black dictators" in Africa
  • According to 'Call of the Weird', April had been making the twins sing "white power" songs for other Nazis since they were at least 8
  • Louis: "They don't seem old enough to really know what that's about."
  • April: "Well, I've explained it."
  • The girls demonstrate that they are not, in fact, old enough to know what that's about
  • According to 'Call of the Weird', there exist white nationalist children's books that (and this is meant to be taken seriously) contain "E is for Eugenics" and have illustrations made by prisoners who were found guilty of hate crimes
  • April is looking ahead to when Lamb and Lynx are 16-year-old girls, because any "young... man" or "red-blooded American boy" would find them "very appealing" (well, that isn't creepy at all...)
  • April's fiancee refused to appear on camera, as he felt it could lose him his job (he was a public school teacher, though she cautiously only says "an educator")
  • April wouldn't let her 11-year-old children play "Nintendo" games, but a violent, first-person shooter named "Ethnic Cleansing" was perfectly fine
  • Personal Note: I did play 'Ethnic Cleansing', just for a laugh, many years ago, and it's not even "funny bad", it's just rubbish
  • April drives them all to a horse ranch, and Louis looks lost for words when the family start rocking out to skinhead music (one of the twins seems to find it funny how visibly uncomfortable he is)
  • April asks the crew to only tell people that they are making a documentary on the girls' music, as she doesn't want anyone "hurting my horses because of my politics"
  • April essentially says that she is so racist that she struggles to hide it
  • Louis: "I've noticed."
  • According to 'Call of the Weird', April would bring up race, or "The Jews", in almost every conversation Louis had with her, no matter what the original topic was
  • April talks about how she "wouldn't want to have anything to do with" her daughters if they went against her beliefs
  • [What ended up happening when Lamb and Lynx grew up and renounced their racist beliefs (albeit with just a little bit of holocaust denial left in there) is that April... wait for it... waaait for it... blamed "The Jews".]

A Trip to Bill's Ranch
  • They drive to meet April's father, Bill, who owns a cattle ranch where his cows are branded with a swastika
  • Bill, who lives on a ranch in the middle of nowhere, says that Louis can't "see what's going on" with the white race
  • There's a rare production snafu when the camera man is forced to rush over to everyone else when Bill starts talking
  • Personal Note: based on how this is the last scene shown at the ranch and they are all gathered by their cars, my best guess is that this was originally meant to be a long shot of everyone getting in their cars to leave, but Bill had other ideas
  • Bill, like Tom, is the kind of racist who pauses for effect and looks for a reaction after saying The N-Word
  • Louis takes so long to answer the straightforward, "Do you usually date white women?" that I suspect he's trying to get April and Bill more worked-up (not that they need encouraging)
  • After Louis asks if a Jewish woman would be considered "white", Bill imitates a "Jewish Princess" by squawking "Louis! Louis! I want a new ring, Louis!", like he's one of the Monty Python cast in drag
  • As April drives them home, she says that she considers her racist indoctrination by a Nazi to be a "gift"
  • Note: Bill's wife is not shown here, but she was featured in another documentary, Nazi Pop Twins (2007), and did not share his extreme views

Tom's "Ambassadorial" Trip
  • Louis is back with Tom and John, who were considering an "ambassadorial trip" to Mexico
  • John refers to Tom as an "international politician"
  • Louis refers to Tom as a "racist politician"
  • John acts like Tom being a "racist politician" is a good thing, because then he'll be popular "in a racist country" like Mexico
  • Tom and John act like they're making a sequel to 'Grumpy Old Men' as Louis drives them into Mexico
  • John meets a lady friend (or "whore", as Tom calls her) at a bar, before they put on sombreros, and start to get sloshed on booze
  • Louis: "The ambassadorial visit was degenerating into a pub crawl."
  • After making two American tourists uncomfortable with his shameless racism, a drunken Tom loudly asks the staff in a souvenir shop if they have any rings with swastikas on them (I think someone says "You're lucky there's no black people about, man" in the background)
  • Tom disappears, returns even more drunk, and accuses John of "neglecting his security duties"
  • Tom and John drunkenly argue about, of all things, how racist John actually is
  • Louis notes that this was Tom at his most "unguarded", and Louis was struck by Tom's "fantasies of his own importance"
  • During the drive home, Tom Metzger, "one of the most dangerous racists in America", drunkenly mumbles about Mexico being a "vurry inturressting playst too vizzit"
  • Two elderly, boozed-up racists babble on about nothing

Goodbye to Tom and John
  • Tom's day job was a 'TV Repairman', and a Peruvian client Tom is very friendly with says that they get on great, just don't talk about "politics"
  • Louis tries to get Tom to address the inconsistency of Tom being friends with someone who appears to be non-white
  • Tom never really answers the question, instead nit-picking the definition of a "friend" and just saying that Louis doesn't understand
  • After arguing with Tom in the car, Louis says that he found it "hard to take Tom totally seriously" and sums him up with "there was a touch of karaoke about this supposed international politician"
  • Louis visits John to try and challenge him on the racism that Tom publishes
  • John (again, probably expecting to have to deal with this) refuses to play along, and only gives vague, non-committal answers to everything Louis throws at him
  • The scene ends with a prolonged silence, after John lights up a cigarette and tries to look cool

Goodbye to April, Lamb, and Lynx
  • Louis plays guitar with Lamb and Lynx in a recording studio, where they are working on their debut album
  • According to 'Call of the Weird', April was careful to ensure that the album could be sold in Germany, so the song titles did not explicitly reference Nazism (apparently, "Aryan" was okay), and any images of the girls saluting would be removed for the European release
  • Louis asks the 11-year-old girls if they want to date skinheads *awkward pause\* when they get older
  • April would approve of the girls dating any skinhead that was a "hard worker" who didn't "booze it up" and "cause trouble"
  • When alone with the girls in the car, they tell Louis that they are being home-schooled because of "money problems", and "also that" April disagreed with what was being taught
  • Lamb and Lynx's friends did not know about the family's racism
  • One of the twins endearingly calls Louis "Shaggy" when she says goodbye to him
  • Louis has a final conversation with April, where he tries to confront her about the disadvantages Lamb and Lynx will face in life, because of how they have been indoctrinated by her
  • April basically blames everyone else for the problems her children will face, then goes on a disturbingly childish rant where she says things like "I find other races annoying. They bother me. [...] They're just not pretty."
  • Louis: "I feel like I'm pretty well-connected to reality."
  • One of the only times April does not have a comeback is when Louis says she is "out-voted" when it comes to "civilised thought"
  • Louis: "My journey through the world of Nazis had reached a frustrating conclusion, with an argument, in a kitchen, with a mother of two."

End Credits
  • A scene with Louis and John (seemingly recorded after John lit up his cigarette) plays by the credits, where Louis asks John about Tom saying that he was better looking than Denzel Washington
  • John confidently asserts that Tom is better looking (?)
  • John says that they want to trademark Tom's "beautiful" head to make mugs shaped like it (??)
  • Cut to Louis holding a large head-shot photo of Tom, wondering where you would drink from if Tom's head was a mug (???)
  • Some random old woman (John's mother?), who I don't think we ever see in the episode, turns up to say that "people like mugs, and his head would make a good mug" (????)
  • Louis looks like he legitimately has no idea if he should take anything that they're saying seriously (and neither do I)

\"People like mugs, and his head would make a good mug.\"

'Call of the Weird' Follow-up Visit
  • Note: There is more than this in the book, but it's mainly just "I asked April about ____, and she responded by being an obstinate bigot, then said something racist". Louis also spoke to people working at a white supremacist record label, which wasn't anything worth mentioning.
  • April was not happy with the documentary after she saw all the negative comments about her online, so rebuffed Louis' attempts to stay in contact
  • Louis eventually got her to agree to meet up again around a year later, by offering to take the girls to a theme park
  • Louis would also be meeting a new member of the family, baby Dresden (named after a German city that had been fire-bombed during World War 2)
  • Coincidentally (cough-cough), Louis had been allowed to meet the twins again just in time for them to be promoting their new CD
  • Certain images made to promote the CD were quite "provocative", prompting a member of a white nationalist message board to comment "Do you think Hitler would have allowed his little girl out, dressed like that?!"
  • They all went to a Halloween-themed amusement park and Louis tried to talk to the twins about whether their views on race had changed
  • The twins would still parrot the usual stuff from April, but they seemed disinterested, and preferred to focus on music
  • Lamb and Lynx had already started to write more "commercial" music, and were considering the possibility of having a separate group where they wouldn't perform any "white power" songs
  • The twins would finally be attending a regular school, because April claimed to be satisfied with one she had found that was "70% white"

And that's the end of the recap. Louis did have a Skype call with the twins for his 'Life on the Edge' series during the lockdowns of 2020, where it seemed like they had managed to grow up without any trace of April's hatred and prejudices, so I guess you could say this does have a happy ending (unless you're a Nazi).
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2023.06.09 14:09 777husky The Journey From Growth Leader to Solopreneur

The Journey From Growth Leader to Solopreneur

The five laws of growth for products and careers

Let’s talk about how product growth frameworks can also apply to people’s careers. Can you start by sharing your five laws of growth?
Absolutely. I think these five laws apply to growing any product or career:
  1. PMF, then data, then growth. You cannot grow if you don’t have product market fit or data to help you make decisions. This order is non-negotiable. Companies that hire a head of growth without PMF or data are setting that person up to fail.
  2. Scale with frameworks, not hacks. Frameworks are patterns that help you scale growth in a sustainable way across your team and organization. Hacks are one-off solutions that will burn your team and customers out.
  3. Build loops, not funnels. Funnels are leaky and need to be fed constantly at the top. Loops, in contrast, are flywheels that can compound over time. Loops also help product teams think more holistically instead of optimizing funnel metrics in silos.
  4. Evolution, not revolution. Growth needs to be predictable, sustainable, and defensible. Making drastic changes (revolution) brings a high likelihood of rejection (internal or by market). Consider investing in growth internally vs. bringing in an outside leader and expanding to adjacent users vs. picking a brand new persona - evolution is always a better path.
  5. Turn failures into learnings. You will fail a lot when trying to grow your product or career. You must have a thick skin and adopt a growth mindset. Learning how to fail will teach you how to win.

I learned about “Build loops, not funnels” from your growth class at Reforge. What growth loops have you built as a solopreneur and creator?
Great question! I built two loops for myself:
  1. Content loop: I post content on LinkedIn, people like it, and then re-share it on social or in their company. My content loop gives me new followers, content ideas, and qualified leads. People who follow me already know my frameworks well. So I don’t have to waste time discussing my qualifications if they ask me to be an advisor.
  2. Word of mouth loop: I host free growth workshops with companies and half the time, these workshops convert to advisory roles. Even if it’s not the right fit, many of these companies would refer me to other clients because the founder network is small. So my word of mouth loop drives additional high intent leads to me.
Within these loops, how do you balance between free content and paid engagements?
I share all my best frameworks for free and monetize by helping companies implement my frameworks (which is the hard part). I basically have a freemium model.
I also love the “Turn failures into learnings” rule. The most painful failures are usually the best teachers.
Yes, failure shows that we have a perception and reality gap. Understanding that gap is the most valuable information that you can have in your product and career.
Companies that don’t know how to fail become disconnected from what’s happening in the market and end up getting disrupted. Careers operate the same way.

Advice for people who want explore solopreneurship

Many people in tech have lost their jobs recently. You’ve managed to take back your power by becoming a solopreneur and creator. How might others explore this path?
If you want to pave your own path, here’s what I recommend:
  1. Your employment history matters. I would not be where I am today without my SurveyMonkey experience. Use your full time jobs as learning opportunities and be patient - don’t try to go solo without a plan.
  2. Be honest with your career goals. I thought that I wanted to be an executive or VP inside a company because it came with some sort of perceived value in society. But then I realized that I could make the biggest impact by going independent instead of relying on a company to succeed.
  3. Seek career optionality. Start adding value to the world, not just to your company. Accept that public speaking engagement, share your knowledge on LinkedIn, and start your own blog. It can be a win-win for your employer too if you can find a co-marketing opportunity where you can add value. Career optionality takes years to materialize so start early.
  4. Find the right positioning for yourself. Companies value generalists because they can throw anything your way to solve. But succeeding as a solopreneur requires unique positioning. Why should companies engage with you? Why are you worth an advising contract? I’ve held roles in marketing, data, and product. But I also have a very narrow speciality in B2B product led growth. So identify that superpower that you love and is better at than almost anyone else. To succeed as a solopreneur, you need to have unique positioning that tells customers why they should choose you.
I think many people feel imposter syndrome. They wonder: “Do I need to become a SVP first to have credibility to share my knowledge with others?”
I have huge imposter syndrome even to this day. But I think imposter syndrome is actually a superpower if it can motivate you to take action.
If you feel imposter syndrome, use it to make sure you really know your shit before you open your mouth. Use it to bring things to the table that you can back up. Use it to separate yourself from people who talk endlessly without any substance.
When you feel imposter syndrome, you're actually learning and doing something outside of your comfort zone. Lean into it, because it could take you to the next level.
The funny part of being a creator is instead of one boss, you have thousands of people who are your customers. You effectively become your own product.
Exactly. Your brain is the product and how you monetize that product is your company. And yeah, you don’t have to wait years for a promotion from your manager. Instead, you’re gaining and losing customers everyday from your work.
I only really started investing in creating content on LinkedIn in early 2022. And it’s incredible to see people actually reading and sharing my content. In some ways, it makes the stakes higher!

submitted by 777husky to buildindia [link] [comments]

2023.06.09 14:08 Mythos_Industries Papa Bones: Time III

I finish my breakfast to the protests of Shadow. “I don’t want to hear it. You don’t need to eat. You’re just being difficult.”
Shadow rubs his face on my leg. “That’s what I thought. You were just bullshitting. I’m surprised you and Pops don’t hang out more.”
I get up and clean the dishes. Then I finish dressing. Today is going to be a scorcher so I’ve opted for linen pants and a linen shirt. Shadow continues his protests at me leaving. I pick him up. “How dare I leave more than six feet from you? The gall I posses.” I say as I rub his head. “The day is young and people may need my help. Besides, don’t you have work to do? I saw a mouse scamper by just last night.”
Shadow meows.
“A tricky adversary? I can relate. I’ll be back around lunchtime.” I say as I lower the protesting Shadow.
I sigh to prepare myself for the heat that is about to hit me. I open the door and walk out.
It is going to be nasty today. As I walk through the town, I pass Cecil sitting on his porch.
“Morning Papa Bones.”
“Morning Cecil.” I say as I open the gate and walk into his yard.
“Your a better man than me braving this heat. My white ass would burn to a crisp.”
“Not going to lie. It’s not going to be fit for man or beast today.” I say as I sit down on a rocking chair. I see a pitcher sitting on the table in between us. “What’s that?” I ask.
“Mojito. What a glass?”
“It’s a little early but sure.”
Cecil pours a glass and hands it over.
I take a sip and cough. “Merde.”
“Yup. The only thing to do today is get shitfaced.” Cecil says.
“What’s in this? Rocket fuel?”
“Not that far off.” Cecil says.
“Not going to lie. It’s refreshing.”
“Mildred doesn’t have many talents but one of them is making an excellent mojito.”
I take another sip. I suppose one way to get past the heat is to get drunk.
“What’s going on? I head a man as entered the town. Vincent is his name, I believe.” Cecil says.
“Correct. I think he is passing through. Hope so anyway.”
“Our little town is growing. Two new families just moved in.”
“I’ve heard. Haven’t met them yet.” I say.
“I’ve met the white family. They seem nice. They seemed completely charmed by Ayzian.”
“Ayzian does have its charms.” I say before taking another sip of the refreshing, minty, lime green rocket fuel.
“Haven’t met the other family yet. Heard they were nice as well.” Cecil informs me.
“You’ve given me an idea, Cecil. I think I will go meet our new neighbors.”
“Quite neighborly of you Julian. They will like that.”
“Well, we aren’t northerners.”
“God and the Loa has blessed us in that regard.” Cecil says before taking a sip of his drink.
“I’ll drink to that.” I say before we clink glasses.
I finish my drink and put the glass down. “I should go.”
“No need to rush off. Stay awhile.” Cecil tells me.
“I can’t sit around and get shitfaced with you all day.”
“Well, if you change your mind. I’ll be here. Hey, if you see Pops. Tell him if he wants his ass kicked again in dominos. He knows where to find me.”
I chuckle as I get up. “I will absolutely tell him that.”
I walk down the path to the gate. As I continue my walk. I see one of the houses of the new families. From what I see. It’s just mom dad and daughter. I stop at the gate and wave at them. “Hello.”
The father stops his yard work and walks towards me. I hold out my hand. “I’m Julian. Welcome to Ayzian.”
He shakes my hand. “Hey, I’m Bill. That’s my wife Suzan and our daughter Mary.”
“Well, Bill. How are you finding Ayzian so far?” I ask.
Susan over hears this as she walks up. “It’s been wonderful so far. Everyone has been so nice. Sweetheart, come here. This is Julian.”
The little girl walks up and I kiss the back of her hand. “Enchante”
“What did you say?” Mary asks.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were a princess.” I say.
“No, she absolutely thinks she is one.” Bill teases.
“Daddy!” Mary cries.
“Well, I hope you find Ayzian to your liking.” I tell them.
“So far, so good.” Susan tells me.
“We’ve heard about this man named Papa Bones. We are kinds anxious to meet him.” Bill says.
“Well, you’re in luck. I’m Papa Bones.”
Mary giggles. “That’s a funny name.”
I smile as I lower myself so we could be eye to eye. “It is a title of my region. Voodoo.”
“Voodoo?” Asks Mary.
“Yes. Ayzian was founded on Voodoo. This place was created by free slaves and the white people that helped them. All are welcome here.” I tell her.
“Very cool. You can find out more at our library.”
“Can me go, mom?” Mary asks Susan.
Susan smiles at her. “We sure can.”
I stand. “I should go. If you ever need anything. Don’t hesitate to ask.”
“We won’t.” Bill says as he holds out his hand.
Before I shake it. I notice Bill has biker tattoos on his forearm. We shake and I leave.. I continue my walk. I’m buoyed by meeting the first family. I go directly to the house of the second family. I knock on the door and it is opened by the husband. He is a large black man. Covered in gang tattoos.
“Can I help you?” He asks.
“I’m Papa Bones. Community leader. I just wanted to welcome you to Ayzian.”
“Thanks brother. Not sure we will stay. I didn’t realize so many white people lived here. My family is looking for a place we can feel safe.”
I’ve encountered this attitude from people before. People from the big cites are the worst offenders.
I give the man a smile. “White people also helped found Ayzian. All are welcome here. The white people were also hunted by slave owners and would have been killed along side their black brothers. To paraphrase Dr. Martian Luther King. Only the quality of one’s character matters here.”
“Yeah. I’m sure you believe that.”
“I do. Everyone here does. If it helps, over half of the town is mixed now.”
The husband cuts me off. “Can I help you with something?”
“Just wanted to welcome you to Ayzian. What is your name by the way?” I ask.
“Jerome. Have a nice day.”
Jerome shuts the door in my face.
I walk down the path to the street.
He just needs time. Ayzian gives everyone a clean slate to start over. This is a place of healing. Time is the thing needed for some people. Ayzian works in mysterious ways but it always works. During my walk, I enter the town park. As I do, several kids run up to me. “Papa Bones!”
“How are you kids doing today?” I ask.
“Doing good. Hey, are the stories true?” A girl asks me.
“What stories?”
“About how you helped Vincent destroy the sky monster.”
“It didn’t happen like that. Vincent told you a tall tale.”
“He said you would say that.” A boy says.
“Did he now?”
“He said you would be mad at the truth.” Another boy explains.
“I will talk to him. Take any story from him with a grain of lies.”
“Vincent says people that don’t look good in stories, their version is full of lies.” Another girl says.
“Not true. If you will excuse me. I must talk to Vincent.”
I leave the children as they run back into the park to play. This conversation has irritated me. I will have to use sterner language the next time I talk to Vincent. In fact I will do that now. Id bet money he is staying at the bed and breakfast. So I go there and enter. Magdalene the owner greets me. “Julian. Nice to see you.”
“Nice to see you too. Tell me, is there a man named Vincent staying here?” I ask.
“Why yes he is. Paid for a whole month upfront. Such a nice man.”
“I see. Is he here now?”
“No. He left after breakfast.”
“Did he say when he will be back?” I ask.
“No. He didn’t. Want to leave a message for him?”
“No. I’ll find him. Thanks anyway.” I say.
I leave the bed and breakfast. I stand out front with my hands on my hips and think for a second. I have few ideas where he could be and with a lack of options, I head towards the swamp outside of town. It payed off the last time a stranger came to town. As I walk, sweat starts to cover my body. Thankfully I’m still a little buzzed from the mojito earlier. It does help with the heat but man, I could use a glass of cold water now. As I near the outskirts of town, I head in the direction of Amos’s house. When I get there, I see him on the dock. Repairing his airboat. “Hey Amos. How are you?” I call out.
Amos stands and looks at the airboat. “Be better if this piece of shit was fixed.”
“Something happen or is this routine maintenance.” I ask.
“That Goddamn Major Gator attacked my boat.”
“Holy shit. You’re lucky to be alive.”
Amos gives me a dismissive wave. “Oh, some overgrown lizard don’t scare me none. The son of a bitch did a number on my boat. This has become personal. Mercy can’t get down here soon enough.”
“Yeah. I could use her tracking skills myself.” I reply.
“Enough about me. What brings you by?”
“New man is in town. Goes by the name of Vincent. Have you seen him?”
“Nah. Heard of this feller however. Ain’t seen anything strange in the swamp for a couple weeks or so.” Amos explains.
“You heard of him out here?” I ask.
“Went into town a couple days ago. Seems everybody was abuzz about him.”
I wipe the sweat off my face. “Yeah. That’s part of the reason I want to talk to him.”
“Why? He been acting funny around the kids?”
“What? No. Nothing like that. He just been telling them some fibs. That’s all.”
“Oh ok. Sorry. No. I haven’t seen him around here.”
“Thanks, Amos. Oh, by the way. Pops wants to do a catfish fry. He may be hittin you up soon.” I say.
“Yeah. Talked to him yesterday. He’ll have his catfish by the weekend.”
“Ok. I’ll leave it to you then.” I say.
“See you later.” Amos goes back to work on his airboat. As I leave I hear him mumble. “You Motherfucker……”
I walk back into town. I head directly to Pops. I enter the air conditioning and damn near pass out. I sit down and sigh. Marcus walks out of the kitchen in the back. “Hey, Julian. What do you need?”
“Ice water and lots of it.”
Marcus hands over a glass filled to the brim. I take a sip and say. “Perfect.”
“Anything else?”
“Where’s Pops?” I ask.
“In the back. Want me to go get him?”
“Nah. I’ll go back there.”
I take the glass and drink as i enter the kitchen. “Old man. You in here?” I call out.
“Right here. What the hell do you want?” Pops says as he walks out of the walk in freezer.
“Need to talk. Need so,e words of wisdom. Don’t know anyone wise so you’ll have to do.”
“Well. Talk. Chop up those sausages as you do. You know how I want it done.”
I grab a knife and some sausages. I start cutting eighth inch pieces like I was taught.
“What’s bothering you?” Pops asks.
“This new guy, Vincent.”
Pops hurumphs. “Marcus has told me about him.”
“He is lying to the children and it’s bothering me.”
“I’m sure he casting you in a poor light is not helping.” Pops adds.
“It is not. I’m trying to leave my ego out of it.”
Pops stops cleaning the crawfish. “You need to be kind but firm with him when you talk to him about this.”
“I thought I was.” I say.
“Heard he told falsehoods about the Loa as well. They may deal with him themselves.”
I finish cutting the sausage. “I doubt I’ll be so lucky.”
submitted by Mythos_Industries to MythosIndustries [link] [comments]

2023.06.09 14:01 Vast-Manufacturer-96 [Prose-in-text] A Game of Cards and Gods

"You lose."
"Shut up."
"Please, gentlemen. Let's play like honorable fellows."
The bustle of the small but well-attended parlor was repeatedly interrupted by the rumbling voice of a man at the card table. He drank from his tankard in great gulps and then wiped foam from his huge red beard. The cards almost disappeared in his huge paws and his face looked as if it had been hewn from an erratic block. The other gentlemen at the table seemed more well-groomed; the man with finely cut features and in the well-fitting suit was sipping his glass and seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. The third man at the table was visibly nervous; he kept eyeing his opponents while restlessly moving the cards in his hands. His pale skin and ice-blue eyes made an unpleasantly cold impression.
A fourth man stepped up to the table. "Can you still get into the game?" The red-haired giant eyed the man. Tall and slender, the plainly dressed newcomer seemed to make an ambiguous impression. For although he smiled, his eyes remained cold and calculating.
"Please, sit down," the man in the suit replied. He mirrored the newcomer: even smiling, his eyes remained cold and hard. "My brother is quite suspicious. Probably because he wants to keep up the impression that he's good at cards, to people who don't know him." The giant snorted. "You'd better say that..."-he threw his cards face up on the table-"...before I defeat you." The suit leaned forward with interest. "Truly, you still manage to surprise me. Unfortunately..."-he now also laid his cards face up on the table-"...only with your stupidity." The giant stood up with a jerk.
"P-p-please, gentlemen," stammered the third. "N-n-no need to spoil this fine e-e-evening."
The giant sparkled at the men at the table one after the other. Finally, he sat down again and smiled. So mischievous, it could send a chill down your spine. "Of course. Because my dear brother is cheating again." The suit paused, glass to his lips. "My best, do you think that after all this time I don't know your tricks by now?" The gentleman addressed set down the glass. He smoothed his suit.
"Even if you're a god, at some point you run out of ideas. Then you get... sucked dry."
The two men eyed each other like wolves. After a while, the suit shook his head. "What my dear brother meant to express this way, without any eloquence, is that eventually you become predictable." He glanced at the newcomer. "Isn't that right, Hades?"
All at once, silence fell in the parlor. The guests set down their tankards and looked toward the gaming table. The waiters slowly backed away from the group of four. The god of the dead smiled undiminished. He placed his hands on the table and watched as the pub resumed business, albeit a bit more subdued now. "Well, I thought I could stay undetected a little longer. What gave me away?"
"You can't mask the stench of the dead," the suit hissed. "You should know all about it," Hades replied impassively. "You two have filled my kingdom well, haven't you?"
The brothers exchanged a glance. "I've heard a lot about you guys. The eel-smooth and the lout. The brothers of terror. The god of mischief and the god of thunder. Loki and Thor."
The parlor fell silent once more. Now everyone turned to the table. For although the tavern sometimes entertained unusual guests, such high attendance was rare. Moreover, the gods of the Northmen were especially feared. Hades turned to the man on his right, who had almost disappeared under the table. "And, what is your name, my best?"
The man sat back down in his chair and cleared his throat. "P-p-people call me A-a-aquilon."
Thor began to laugh uproariously. "Truly, a great troop," he roared. "Thunder, Mischief, Death, and Northwind sitting at the same table, thrashing cards!" Loki joined in the laughter. The other two just sat there; Hades quiet, Aquilo trembling. When the brothers stopped laughing, Hades intertwined his fingers and said, "Strictly speaking, I'm just the ruler of the dead. Thanatos is not as sociable as I am."
Loki picked up his glass again and pointed it in the direction of the God of the Dead. "I'd say he's quite affable, especially if you hide his little sickle for fun." Hades smiled coldly. "Oh, I can remember, god of 'mischief'. Human civilization almost broke apart."
"Oh, what do you care about people," Thor rumbled, finishing his tankard in one gulp. "More beer!"
"Yeah, what do we care about humans," Hades muttered half aloud. Loki gave him an amused look. Hades did not dignify him with one. He knew that behind the fine clothes and finely honed speech hid a monster, that it was as cruel as it was cowardly.
Hades pulled a deck of cards from one of his pockets. "I think with these cards we'd have a good chance of playing a fair game. Interested?"
Loki leaned forward. "Ah. This could be fun. Where did you dig these up?" Hades placed the stack in the center of the table. "All our power is scattered all over the world," he replied. "You just have to do some searching."
The hours dragged on. The gods took turns with the victories, without anyone being able to defend his previous victory. As time passed, the gods grew more and more discouraged; Thor's hand clenched into a fist. The smile of Loki turned sour. Only Hades seemed to be in good spirits and drank wine by the glassful. Finally, Thor thundered his fist on the table and boomed, "This is bullshit!"
"No, these are the playing cards of Nike," Hades replied impassively. He sorted his cards without haste. "As the goddess of victory, fairness was very important to her. Victoria, on the other hand..."-he turned to the pale Aquilon-"...never paid attention. Only victory against the enemies of Rome counted for her; how, she didn't care." Loki raised an eyebrow.
"It sounds like you disagree," he interjected into the lecture. Hades shrugged his shoulders. "I am not the god of war. I only judge its sacrifices."
"And dead gods," Thor growled. His hand clenched around the tankard and with a crash it shattered. The entire tavern flinched.
Only Hades smiled at the giant opposite him. "Yes, also fallen gods. You should know that Odin is not in Valhalla. Nor in Elysium. No, he is hauling a mountain in the fields of perdition. On a field from which the arrowheads sprout like the grass after the first spring rains."
Thor jumped up. His chair crashed to the floor and a scream went through the room. The Thunder God's tangled red hair seemed to stick out from his head like wires. "Don't you dare to mock Father!" he thundered. With his right hand, he reached behind his black cloak. Everyone held their breath. The moment seemed to stretch into infinity.
"Save the theatrics, brother," Loki sighed suddenly. Everyone stared at him, aghast. The god of mischief put his feet up on the table. "Everyone knows that your oh-so-precious hammer is now under a lot of stone. Now somebody pick up the north wind."
Hades got up and put Aquilon back on his chair. After a few pats, he opened his eyes again. "Oh, my goodness," Loki muttered, rolling his eyes. "Tell me, North Wind: why are you here?" Aquilon sat up straight and did not answer. With an uncertain look, he tippled at his beer and seemed to have his mind elsewhere.
Hades sat down again. Thor also took his seat again, while he growled some crude curses into his beard. Hades now also put his feet on the table and leaned back. "Forgive me for the grand entrance. But I thought you should experience it for yourselves one day: What would have happened in the old days?" Thor contorted his face into a fearsome grimace. "Then I would have reduced you to a charred stain."
The God of the Dead pointed at him with his glass. "That's right. But now Mjölnir lies under one of the greatest temples of the Abrahamites."
"The Christians?" asked Auqilon suddenly. He seemed to have emerged from his thoughts and looked at Hades with those strange ice-blue eyes. Hades waved it off.
"Christians, Jews, Muslims. All the same. But they are two billion people. Two. Billions. Their God has so much power that it would be enough to draw his attention to us to erase us from existence. Look at us. Hiding in little nooks and crannies so as not to be found. Beat eternity to death. But we were once the rulers of this world. And woe to those who did not revere and fear us!"
Loki turned one of the cards from Nike's deck between his fingers. "So, what, if one may inquire, are you up to now?" he asked, amused. Hades was now smiling as slyly as the God of Thunder and said, "We will remind the people what they once feared us for."
Loki laughed uproariously. "The God of the Dead has a surprising sense of humor." He tossed the card on the table and tapped it with his index finger. "The Avenger. Strange that I have drawn that very card from this deck. You're not an avenger. At the very highest, the one who picks up the leftovers after revenge is done."
Hades shook his head. "You'd better stick to joking around. You're no good as a soothsayer." Loki's smile froze. "The red-haired force of nature to your left is one."
Everyone turned to the thunder god, who, however, was very busy with his beer mug. He set it down and belched thunderously. "What is it?"
Hades rolled his eyes. "Oh, what the hell." He pulled a bag from behind his chair. With a flourish, he tossed it to Thor. "I know your hammer is your very favorite treasure, but the lightning bolts suit you." Thor opened the bag and as he peered inside, his grin grew wild. "I suggest you get your hammer back first. Leave a lasting impression. Then we'll get to work."
submitted by Vast-Manufacturer-96 to WPCritique [link] [comments]

2023.06.09 11:52 A-random-herald Sabaton Worst Setlist Day 4!

Sabaton Worst Setlist Day 4!
Congrats to u/James/Schiefer for winning their spot at song 4!
The most upvoted comment will win Day 5!
submitted by A-random-herald to sabaton [link] [comments]

2023.06.09 10:50 anytvnews Fashion Tips: Due to belly fat, you are not able to wear your favorite dress, follow these outfit hacks, you will look slim

submitted by anytvnews to u/anytvnews [link] [comments]

2023.06.09 10:27 peeping_johny Countertop advice for standing electric desk

Countertop advice for standing electric desk
Hi folks, I'm updating my homeoffice desk to an electric one. I've already ordered the electric frame, and I need help with selecting the countertop and figuring out how to put it all together, similar to the image I've attached for inspiration.
COUNTERTOP I'm interested in a countertop with dimensions of 65-80cm depth, 170-18*cm width, a medium budget (not the cheapest option but not something too extravagant either, as I might replace it in the future up to 200cm), and a reasonable thickness that won't break under the weight of a monitor arm, for example. I found the following options (prices in parentheses refer to my currency):
  1. Desk top, oak/laminate, 186 x 63.5 x 3.8 cm (Ikea, 299,-)(Particleboard, laminate, Plastic edge, chlorine-free paper)
  2. Table top, 180 x 80 x 2.5 cm, walnut (local SME, 547.35)(Made of laminated chipboard)
  3. Solid Steamed Beech, 180 x 65 x 4.0 cm, Class AB (local SME, 620,-)(Beech solid AB)
  4. Desk top, oak/veneer, 186 x 63.5 x 3.8 cm (Ikea, 799,-)(Top/Edge: Thick oak veneer, Acrylic oil Left side: Laminate Wear layer: Particleboard)
  5. Furniture board, 180 x 80 x 3.6 cm Walnut custom-made order (local SME, 701,-)(Decor type Wood-like, Seamless Matte Texture)
I've done some reading about different types of wood, but without personal experience, it's hard for me to determine what would be a good or good enough choice. I don't have any specific preferences regarding the material.
What matters to me is that it can withstand the weight of my equipment (similar to the image) or the occasional fist pounding (when code doesn't work or in a game), doesn't scratch easily, doesn't require a lot of maintenance (i.e., oiling, varnishing, sanding), just a wipe to remove dust or spills. Occasionally, I like to put my legs on the desk and recline in my chair.
Visually, I'm most drawn to the walnut option (second one), especially since it's the only one with 80cm depth, which is another advantage for me. I called to inquire about its weight, and it's 24kg, so the density seems not that bad. However, I'm not sure if a thickness of 2.5cm will be sufficient. It's the thinnest option among these. The others have a nice thickness, but they are shallower, with the two options from IKEA slightly exceeding 65cm.
SETUP Of course, it is not directly related to the subject of wood - but I put it here as additional information that I take into account when choosing a countertop The second aspect is the arrangement of equipment, the desk frame, and weight distribution.
  1. Electronic equipment: I always have a 19" laptop on a stand and two 27" monitors on a dual monitor arm (one of them is occasionally rotated vertically). I also place a 17" laptop in front of or next to the monitors. It would be good to have space for a keyboard/notebook in front of the laptop and monitors (which is currently a tight fit with my current desk's 65cm depth).
  2. Furniture: I'm considering having one or two cabinets with drawers under the desk, similar to the image. The arrangement of the legs of the desk frame depends on the placement of the dressers and vice versa. My priority is to have stable desk legs rather than having cabinets. I might end up getting two dressers, or I might not want to buy any. Alternatively, I could buy one dresser and fit all my stuff in it (examples in the variants mentioned, not binding to any).
  3. Additional elements: I'd like to have a shelf under the desk to store controllers or small items like a phone on charge, headphones, glasses. At the back of the desk, I plan to have cable management, possibly with LED strips along the side.
  4. Weight distribution: I'm wondering how to distribute the weight of the desktop and equipment on the desk frame. The simplest approach would be to center the desk frame on the desktop, leaving an equal amount of desk on each side. But would it make more sense to shift the desktop forward relative to the frame? (similar to a crane, with a longer, lighter front (i.e., me, keyboard, mouse, etc.) and a shorter, heavier back (monitors, laptop)) However, I'm not well-versed in physics to calculate how much padding to provide. Should it be 10cm, 15cm? Maybe doesn't matter?
Bonus question: I'm not particularly handy with tools. What would be the best way to join all these elements together so that I can easily disassemble/reassemble them (e.g., for moving or rearranging)? I suspect nails are not the answer, and screwing directly into the wood may not be ideal either, as it might weaken it.
submitted by peeping_johny to BeginnerWoodWorking [link] [comments]

2023.06.09 10:27 peeping_johny Countertop advice for standing electric desk

Countertop advice for standing electric desk
Hi folks, I'm updating my homeoffice desk to an electric one. I've already ordered the electric frame, and I need help with selecting the countertop and figuring out how to put it all together, similar to the image I've attached for inspiration.
COUNTERTOP I'm interested in a countertop with dimensions of 65-80cm depth, 170-18*cm width, a medium budget (not the cheapest option but not something too extravagant either, as I might replace it in the future up to 200cm), and a reasonable thickness that won't break under the weight of a monitor arm, for example. I found the following options (prices in parentheses refer to my currency):
  1. Desk top, oak/laminate, 186 x 63.5 x 3.8 cm (Ikea, 299,-)(Particleboard, laminate, Plastic edge, chlorine-free paper)
  2. Table top, 180 x 80 x 2.5 cm, walnut (local SME, 547.35)(Made of laminated chipboard)
  3. Solid Steamed Beech, 180 x 65 x 4.0 cm, Class AB (local SME, 620,-)(Beech solid AB)
  4. Desk top, oak/veneer, 186 x 63.5 x 3.8 cm (Ikea, 799,-)(Top/Edge: Thick oak veneer, Acrylic oil Left side: Laminate Wear layer: Particleboard)
  5. Furniture board, 180 x 80 x 3.6 cm Walnut custom-made order (local SME, 701,-)(Decor type Wood-like, Seamless Matte Texture)
I've done some reading about different types of wood, but without personal experience, it's hard for me to determine what would be a good or good enough choice. I don't have any specific preferences regarding the material.
What matters to me is that it can withstand the weight of my equipment (similar to the image) or the occasional fist pounding (when code doesn't work or in a game), doesn't scratch easily, doesn't require a lot of maintenance (i.e., oiling, varnishing, sanding), just a wipe to remove dust or spills. Occasionally, I like to put my legs on the desk and recline in my chair.
Visually, I'm most drawn to the walnut option (second one), especially since it's the only one with 80cm depth, which is another advantage for me. I called to inquire about its weight, and it's 24kg, so the density seems not that bad. However, I'm not sure if a thickness of 2.5cm will be sufficient. It's the thinnest option among these. The others have a nice thickness, but they are shallower, with the two options from IKEA slightly exceeding 65cm.
SETUP Of course, it is not directly related to the subject of wood - but I put it here as additional information that I take into account when choosing a countertop The second aspect is the arrangement of equipment, the desk frame, and weight distribution.
  1. Electronic equipment: I always have a 19" laptop on a stand and two 27" monitors on a dual monitor arm (one of them is occasionally rotated vertically). I also place a 17" laptop in front of or next to the monitors. It would be good to have space for a keyboard/notebook in front of the laptop and monitors (which is currently a tight fit with my current desk's 65cm depth).
  2. Furniture: I'm considering having one or two cabinets with drawers under the desk, similar to the image. The arrangement of the legs of the desk frame depends on the placement of the dressers and vice versa. My priority is to have stable desk legs rather than having cabinets. I might end up getting two dressers, or I might not want to buy any. Alternatively, I could buy one dresser and fit all my stuff in it (examples in the variants mentioned, not binding to any).
  3. Additional elements: I'd like to have a shelf under the desk to store controllers or small items like a phone on charge, headphones, glasses. At the back of the desk, I plan to have cable management, possibly with LED strips along the side.
  4. Weight distribution: I'm wondering how to distribute the weight of the desktop and equipment on the desk frame. The simplest approach would be to center the desk frame on the desktop, leaving an equal amount of desk on each side. But would it make more sense to shift the desktop forward relative to the frame? (similar to a crane, with a longer, lighter front (i.e., me, keyboard, mouse, etc.) and a shorter, heavier back (monitors, laptop)) However, I'm not well-versed in physics to calculate how much padding to provide. Should it be 10cm, 15cm? Maybe doesn't matter?
Bonus question: I'm not particularly handy with tools. What would be the best way to join all these elements together so that I can easily disassemble/reassemble them (e.g., for moving or rearranging)? I suspect nails are not the answer, and screwing directly into the wood may not be ideal either, as it might weaken it.
submitted by peeping_johny to wood [link] [comments]

2023.06.09 10:07 Zealousideal-Mine252 Trying to find out how long the IKEA Fusion table was in production?

Trying to find out how long the IKEA Fusion table was in production?
It looks like it came out in 2008, but does not show up in any later ikea catalogs from what I can tell. Where can I find information on when it came into and left production?
submitted by Zealousideal-Mine252 to IKEA [link] [comments]

2023.06.09 09:59 Competitive_Low_5970 Excalibur

"Come on, please, it has to be somewhere around here!"
Cogwyn was at her wit's end, and apparantly desperate enough to be begging the rotten wooden floor of the abandoned saloon she was in.
"Pst. Magical weapon?" One hand clutching the faded map, Cogwyn opened the faded parchment to check where she was again. Following the long-lost roads on the maps, her finger once again arrived in the town of Foghorn on the map, the town built on the lake-bed of the legendary Lake.
The Lake that held a legendary weapon called Excalibur.
Cogwyn needed that weapon, right about now. It would honestly be very good timing right about now. Cogwyn had lost and given up too much to be here in the ghost town of Foghorn, knee-deep in the barren territories of the long-fallen Human civilization.
Goddamn it, Cogwyn was sure the spot she was in was at the center of the long-dried lakebed. Digging her claws into the plank, Cogwyn pulled as hard she could, trying to at least dislodge it a bit. The Crownhunters will be here soon, and then she'll be screwed. There was nowhere else to run anymore.
Digging her claws deeper into the rotten wood at that thought, Cogwyn pulled harder. Her muscles strained as she grunted in effort before she lost her grip on the wood and was flung backwards from the force used to tug at the wood.
Cogwyn punched the wooden board, then immediately regretted it as she registered the pain from her punch. Nursing her fist, Cogwyn turned towards the doorframe of the building, heart dropping in her chest as she saw the blurry figures in the distance, riding towards the saloon.
Immediately standing up from her crawling position, Cogwyn reached towards the pair of daggers stashed in her pant legs and found... nothing. Right, she lost them by throwing them at the Crownhunters where they promptly flew off into the cliff the Crownhunters were standing by.
Whatever, she still had her claws.
Jumping on the table, Cogwyn screeched on the table as the Crownhunters entered the room.
"Goblin! Do not resist your death, the crimes of your kind will be paid in full!" The Crownhunters drew their swords at their leader's statement, the swish of the sword causing a pleasant metallic sound as they were unsheathed.
"Crimes of what, fucking existing?"
Stupid xenophobic Empire bullshit. Cogwyn bared her teeth and prepared to rake her claws all over the Crownhunters face. But before either side could make a move, a loud crack resonated in the room.
A pale, ghostly hand punched out of the floorboard Cogwyn was trying to ply open, their hand holding a bizarre L-shaped contraption.
Cogwyn stared at the pale hand. "What"
What are you waiting for? Take the gun and shoot! The voice echoed in Cogwyn's head, and sorry, a voice is speaking in her voice telling her to take—a gun? What the hell even is a gun?
I am the Lady of the Lake, the Keeper of Excalibur. The Mistress of Justice. Take the revolver and enact your justice, little Goblin.
Wait so, you're telling me Excalibur is that weirdly shaped piece of wood and metal you're holding?
Yes. The voice sounded impatient. The hand in the floor, on the other hand, rose further, revealing an arm now. For centuries I have waited for another worthy of Excalibur. Humanity has fallen, but its spirit remains in it.
Rudely, the Crownhunters attacked at that precise moment, apparently having gotten over the ghostly body slowly rising out of the ground. Flashing her attention back to the Crownhunters, Cogwyn barely managed to tip the table over and scramble out of the way before the sword cut her head clean off her shoulders.
"Asshole! I was having an in-my-head conversation there!" Cogwyn spit at the Crownhunters attacking her as she dodged out of the way of another strike, the sword burying itself into a dusty table.
By now, the Lady of the Lake's form had appeared fully. She was transparent, but her form revealed her to be a bipedal women with long hair, wearing a simple dress. Her eyes facing forwards, like a predator's. Cracking her knuckles, she rolled her arm before sending a devastating punch, knocking out one of the Crownhunters cold.
The Lady's voice crackled to life in her mind. Eat shit.
Wow, was that really what the Humans looked like? Turns out everyone needs to do some serious updating to their drawings of Humans. They had just assumed they were more prey-like, considering how peaceful their civilization was truly rumoured to be.
Cogwyn eyed the laughing Lady of the Lake with a curious side-eye. So the Humans did have a dark side. Grinning, Cogwyn caught the... gun-thing as it was thrown at her by the Lady. Holding the wooden handle, Cogwyn rushed up to one Crownhunter and bashed it on their head.
Expecting some serious magical stuff to occur, Cogwyn was disappointed when they merely fainted from the blunt force trauma. "Hey, I thought this weapon was magical!"
It is. You're just using it wrong. Grip the handle and pull the trigger—that spring near the handle—while aiming it.
Taking the Lady's advice, Cogwyn aimed as one Crownhunter rushed her and pulled the trigger. A bloom of smoke rose from the tip of the weapon as a loud boom filled the room. The gun, like a particularly violent horse, kicked back, almost forcing Cogwyn to drop the magical artefact on the ground.
The person in front of Cogwyn stopped and dropped, a hole in the middle of their chest.
"Holy shit."
Standing in the ruins of the room, the Lady and Cogwyn stood in the center of a whirlwind of bodies and broken furniture. Cogwyn laughed out loud in joy as she stared at the weapon in her hand.
"You know, most artifacts only allow their own species to wield them." Most ancient artifacts were too prissy to allow anyone but them to wield their precious weapons, which meant that the Elder races held all the cards when it came to power, leaving newer races to lick boots in order to get scrap.
It doesn't help that artifacts take time to materialize for any civilization.
Excalibur is not most artifacts. The voice of the Lady was calm, but an edge still held in her voice. Humanity was not most races. Back then, anyone could be a Human.
Anyone. Being Human was less being a member of a race at that point, but an idea. The weapon you hold is but a fragment of that idea, crystalized into the form we see now: justice.
"If Excalibur represents justice... What are you, then?"
The Lady paused, a devious smile on her face. Another ancient Human philosophy. One passed on from the earliest days, before even the seedling of Excalibur was even planted.
It was called... Fuck Around And Find Out. The Lady giggled before sighing. Justice doesn't serve itself, y'know.
The Lady of the Lake stretched, bones cracking as she readied up for a long journey ahead of her. Come on now, we have a government to overthrow.
Cogwyn huffed as she followed the Lady out into the desert.
submitted by Competitive_Low_5970 to HFY [link] [comments]

2023.06.09 09:42 SufficientWeather289 First time talking about this

For me, sometimes I look at family members (who I see everyday) or friends (who I see often) and I question if I recognize them. Like is that what they've always looked like. They tend to look different to me. It's also hard to recognize myself in the mirror. It's such a weird feeling but I dont dwell on it. I feel like I'm numb to it now. I never feel present. I've just recently began to even acknowledge it to myself. I've had some trauma as a kid. Death was a huge prescence in my childhood. I witnessed my beloved grandfather die of a heart attack at age 9. I believe I was home from school sick or I was just lounging in my grandparents apt. (They lived in the apt below me, my mom and my brother. I was always very close to my maternal grandparents as my mother was a single mother who worked and went to night college. Father was never in the picture. He is life long drug addict loser. We were never involved with his family either.) I was in the living room watching tv and I hear my grandmother screaming my grandfather's name. I run into the kitchen and he's having a heart attack. My grandmother instructed me to hold a spoon in his mouth so he doesn't swallow his tongue while she called 911. I only remember small pieces of what happened next. I remember the EMTs coming in. I remember my aunt and mom coming home from work while EMS was there. I don't know when my brother came downstairs. I remember being told to go upstairs to our apt and being talked to by my mom's best friend saying my grandfather loved us. My brother and I didn't attend his funeral. That was decided for us by my mother. I remember playing in the street when my family came walking back from it. There is a funeral home 2 blocks from our building. Several other family members died pretty close in years. We are Italian on my mothers side. My grandmother had 4 siblings. They would come over for holidays or stop by since they all lived in the same city. Only 2 ended up having 1 child each so my mom didnt have many cousins. They all died within years of each other and the holiday tables became empty. That was traumatic. My grandmother who I was immensely close with died in 2017. She became diabetic and developed some sores on her legs from always sitting. Thinking about it as an adult, she must have had deep depression. She had poor immigrant parents and worked in a doll/baby dress making factory as a kid. When she got into her 60s, she became sort of agoraphobic. She didnt wanna go anywhere. She just would sit in the kitchen watching tv. We bonded over tv and films. She refused to go to the doctor. Her legs got worst. The day before we basically carried her out the door to go to the hospital, I was sitting in the living room with her and she seemed out of it. When she was admitted to the hospital, they said she had sepsis. She started asking where my grandfather was and he's been dead since '93. She only recognized me. Not my mom, aunt or brother. She was on the mend after a few weeks and was sent to rehab. She had a back slide in rehab. The week that she passed away, I was hella sick with the flu. I was told I couldn't go visit. My aunt called and I could hear my grandmother screaming. This happened a few times the week of her dead. She wouldn't talk just wail. They'd give her the phone and tell her it's me but she wouldn't speak just cry or scream. This haunts me. I wonder if anyone can tell me why this was happening. It still freaks me out. I got a call on a Fri at 1am from my mom saying that don't get upset but she passed away. The rehab just called. I remember dropping to the floor and crawled under my bed and cried. my mom doesn't live too far. She came over but I locked myself in my bedroom and stood under the bed. I think this is where my Ddp started kicking into high gear. A few months later, a close friend/coworker died suddenly at the age of 26. We had spent a few days the week prior hanging out after work even though he hated social activities. We went to a movie screening, play and comedy show all in 1 week. His mom said she believes he may subconsciously have known his time was coming to an end and wanted to spend as much time with me as he could. I think the constant prescence of death has caused my dp/dr. I definitely disassociate a lot. I feel like my life has gone in a fast forward. How am I later in my 30s? I feel like I blinked and all those years were skipped. I dont remember my 20s much or most of my 30s. This seems like it's all over the place but it's the first time I've been able to put pieces together and describe what I've been experiencing. Basically, I feel like I float through life and every day my brain is a white board that gets wiped clean. I'm not present and I become unfamiliar with my surroundings and people.
submitted by SufficientWeather289 to dpdr [link] [comments]

2023.06.09 08:27 Alfiehurt Inexpensive shared office space in Wilton Manors or a place where you can rent a table and a chair for a few dats?

I'm seeking "shared office space" for 6/7 days starting Jul 3 where I can work from until we get our furniture with pods on Jul 12 approx..
Basically, I'll be working off a laptop and just need access to good Wi-Fi! I use TEAMS for meetings and phone calls. Having access to a monitor would be nice but not a deal breaker!
In NYC, I could get away with it by working from a Starbucks, BUT i have never done this for SEVERAL days and 8 hours a day. Is there a place in WM i can do that? I'd have bkfast, lunch and coffee on site!
Wilton Plaza, ZEN rent space for a moth which I don't need
As an alternative, is there a place where I can rent a perhaps foldable table and an office chair for a few days? maybe I can just buy an inexpensive foldable table and chair from a local IKEA?
Anyone has been in need of office space before and can share suggestions?
Much appreciated
submitted by Alfiehurt to wiltonmanors [link] [comments]

2023.06.09 07:26 As_7he_K1ngd0m_Burns The Bat Sanctuary

This was almost 20 years ago. Not far from a hotel that is well known to be haunted. It was even featured in Ghost Hunters. The hotel, not the Bat Sanctuary. So, this building is an old, dilapidated farmhouse. Boarded up and very plain looking. Two story, with two bedrooms upstairs. But aside from a few kids trying to get in over the years, it had been unoccupied aside from the bats.
So, a few friends and I decided to go for a little B&E ghost hunt one night. My friend and I had been ghost hunting for some time together and these kids knew that. So, we basically had a few tag along tourists with us that night. Amazing how many people wanna join once they realize you do it every weekend.
We go and move a board that is already loose. Not actually breaking it but just pulling it loose from the nails. We weren't trying to get any charges if caught so we tried to be as respectful as you can when forcing your way into an abandoned property that had been repurposed.
It was fairly uneventful. Some furniture was still in the building, but it was relatively clean aside from droppings everywhere. The bats mostly stayed in the attic, so we weren't disturbing them. That's also where they got in and out so were had made the decision prior to entry that we wouldn't mess the attic.
So, nothing much happens, and two people make their way out to go back to the road. That left me and one other at the top of the stairs and one girl that had never joined us for any hunt down at the floor level, just around the corner from the staircase in the living room.
My buddy and I were both facing the same direction, down the stairs, ready to make our way down. We started to hear something from outside which we later found out was the sheriff rolling our friends that had gone back to the cars. We also found out that the officers refused flat out to go get us off the property or even walk up to the house. Deciding instead to just wait for us to come out. I said something along the line of, "You ready?" My buddy said, "Yep." We were almost shoulder to shoulder at the top of the steps and something took a deep breath in. Loudly. It was dark, but we both looked at each other with wide eyes and just stared at each other in the dark, silently. For a few seconds the air felt as think as paste and we were both holding our breath. From downstairs the girl said, "What did you say?"
"We're going outside," I responded.
I could hear confusion in her voice, "Are you upstairs?"
We were already moving pretty quickly down the stairs and didn't really respond. All three of us were out the hole pretty quickly one after another. Got to the cars without really talking and were greeted by our other friends and a few cops. The cops admitted to thinking the building was haunted and asked us not to go back in there ever because they wouldn't want to have to go in to look for us.
The next day the girl hit up my buddy and he texted me saying she wanted to meet for coffee and talk to us.
Pretty standard so I thought nothing of it. We met, she was wearing a really nice sun dress that day. So she tells us that at the same time we heard someone take a deep breath, she heard one of us, (she thought) say, "What's that?" As if someone was just around the corner. But that wasn't why she wanted to meet us. Not exactly. She had gone home that night and had a nightmare.
She was asleep in bed and woke up to her bedroom door opening. She couldn't move. At her door, in the dark house, was a shadow that made no sense. Then she said it melted down to the floor and she lost sight of it. Still unable to even move her head, she wanted to scream for her parents but couldn't physically do it. Then a hand, with three long fingers reached up past her bed, and then grabbed her right leg hard and pulled her out of bed. She hit the floor hard and "woke up."
Sipping my coffee, I chuckled at her. I jokingly said, "I don't think we've caused any nightmares taking people out before." Looking at my buddy I said, "Looks like someone needs a little more time out before she gets used to it."
She slammed her hand on the table, alarming the few others around the coffee shop sitting near us. I was like, "Easy, I'm only fucking with you." She was pissed and I realized she was really shook. I went from smart ass to immediately feeling bad. "Look it was a nightmare, we had some weird experiences, and you took it to sleep with you. Then she stood up and pulled up the bottom of her dress revealing the bruise on her leg that looked very similar to three long fingers. Tears in her eyes she said, "Why me?"
Thinking back, I remember how that moment broke my heart. More so that I didn't have an answer and we didn't do a very good job trying to comfort and reassure her.
She never came back out with us again.
submitted by As_7he_K1ngd0m_Burns to Paranormal [link] [comments]

2023.06.09 07:13 PakShinobi OC BATTLE WEEK 4:I hope you get the reference

OC BATTLE WEEK 4:I hope you get the reference submitted by PakShinobi to MurderDrones [link] [comments]

2023.06.09 07:09 ThrowAway7s2 "A well organized Girl Scout weekend at Cuesta" from the May 29, 1973 Door County Advocate

A well organized Girl Scout weekend at Cuesta

Pop and Popcorn. Julaine Jeanquart, Patty Baudhuin, Mrs. David Marsh, Jackie LaVine, Teresa Stroh, Kelly McDougall, Barb Kelsey and Kim Pagenkopf.
It's secluded in a wooded area near Kangaroo Lake. The large cabin, of surprisingly modern construction, has no indoor plumbing. Lack of plumbing does not upset, or even surprise, the 12 eager girls tumbling out of station wagons with sleeping bags in tow. They are Junior Girl Scouts, Troop 350. And this is their first weekend camping experience at Cuesta.
Their leader, Mrs. David Marsh, supervises the stowing of bedrolls in open box-shaped cupboards. Next she shows everyone the "washing-up room"; basins are arranged on a shelf beneath the counter-top; towel racks are fastened to the shelf. A "water-boy" sits on one end of the counter-top. Perhaps because this is a girls' cabin, several mirrors adorn the walls.
Then everyone sits on benches at picnic tables in the middle of the main room to eat their nose­bag suppers. When appetites are satisfied, the leader instructs the girls to throw their paper bags into the fireplace. "We'll build a fire later and make popcorn."
"We want to go to the bathroom," announces Barbara.
"We know where it is," Paula adds, "right down the gravel path." Half a dozen of the girls put on their coats and go out into the gathering darkness, carrying flashlights.
Five minutes later they come running back, squealing and shoving one another to get into the cabin door.
"There's something out there!"
"Loud noises down by the outhouse!"
"Something is going bang­-bang-thud, bang-bang-thud!" Motioning for quiet their leader explains that there is nothing to be frightened of in the woods.
"I'll go back out with you, girls," Chaperone says with false bravado. "Maybe there are some rascally raccoons out there."
Shining her flashlight on the gravel path, Chaperone leads the way toward the source of the noise. Some of the less-intimidated scouts chant, "There's lions, and tigers, and bears, of my! Lions, and tigers, and bears, oh my!" Up ahead something is going bang-bang­-thud! Reaching the outhouse, Chaperone takes a firmer grip on her flashlight and pushes open the first door.
"Nothing in there!" She pushes open the second door. "Nothing in there!" From the other end of the outhouse comes bang-bang-­thud!
"No raccoons, girls; not even lions or bears. But watch the doors." The wind caught the doors. opening them slightly and banging them gently shut.
"Oh, it's only the wind banging the doors."
"Shucks" said Chaperone, wiping her brow.
Back in the cabin they gathered around Mrs. Marsh who ex­plained that they would now go on a night hike. Chaperone sighed softly and put her coat back on.
Down the gravel path, past the no-longer-scary outhouse, and out into a field under the stars, they walked.
"Look, there's the big dipper."
"And the little one too."
"I can see the North Star!"
Mrs. Marsh showed them several fire scars where they would do outdoor cooking tomorrow. Then they started back to the Scout Cabin singing, "The other day I saw a Bear"
After washing up, spreading bedrolls, and getting into their pajamas, they divided into "details": the fire-building detail, the find the pan and melt the butter detail, and the pop the corn detail. Chaperone took pictures of the gay group and joined them in eating buttered popcorn and drinking soda pop. Then, to bed.
At four o'clock in the morning, somebody shook Chaperone's shoulder and whispered in her ear, "Will you go to the bathroom with me?" Groggily Chaperone pushed back her covers and got to her feet. The scout who'd roused her was searching for something, using her flashlight as a guide. Whispers: "What are you looking for?" "My other red tennis shoe." "Did you look under your blanket?" "It's okay; I'll put on my boots instead." Just then another scout awakened and felt the need to join them. Once outside, and jogging down the now-familiar path, Chaperone became aware of how sweet and fresh the air smells at four in the morning.
Three hours later Mrs. Marsh sounded reveille. Quickly everyone washed up, dressed, and began the work of the preassigned Patrols. The Water Patrol filled three "water-boys" from the outdoor pump (started by electric switch). The Cooking Patrol began making French toast. Mary, flipping a piece of toast, asked, "Does this count toward our Cooking Badge?" Mrs. Marsh assured her that it certainly did. The Hospitality Patrol gathered leaves, shells, and pretty bits of wood and fashioned centerpieces for the tables. Breakfast ready, they sat down.
"Please pass the syrup," Kelly requested politely. The leader passed the pitcher. "Mrs. Marsh, that doesn't look like syrup on your French toast."
"Why, this is the syrup pitch­- oh no, this is the coffee pit­cher!" Amid the merry laughter, the leader tasted her French toast and pronounced it "Exotic! Sort of like the Galloping Gourmet might cook."
After cleanup and a brisk hike in the woods, the Cooking Patrol began making Jungle Brew over an outdoor fire. Ordinary cooks of the world would call it spaghetti 'n hamburger, or glorified goulash. Only Girl Scouts un­derstand its very special essence.
Early in the afternoon, co-leader, Mrs. Bob Schultz joined the campers. They spent the next two hours studying nature. Saturday's supper offered another surprising specialty, Hawaiian Eyes. Teresa and Patty placed shortcakes filled with crushed pineapple sweetened with brown sugar in aluminum foil wrappers. After heating in the campfire they made a scrumptious dessert. Mustard, meant for the hot dogs, was spilled five times during supper, once into someone's milk.
After supper, Brother Andrew arrived driving a cattle truck. Seeing the questioning look on Chaperone's face, Mrs. Schultz calmly explained that they would all ride in the back of the truck to attend mass in Baileys Harbor. It was just a windy enough ride to blow away all adult inhibitions. Before entering the church, everybody picked straw off their coats.
Before bedtime the scouts put on a hairstyling contest, shrugging off the fact that sleep would muss their elegant coif­fures.
Sometime around midnight, a voice came out of the darkness. Sleepy heads started up to hear Mrs. Schultz intone, "I want one print here, and one print there!" When nothing followed this startling pronouncement, the sleepy heads giggled and sank back into their pillows.
On Sunday afternoon they set off hiking down Logerquist road to visit the Brothers of St. Joseph Novitiate. Halfway there Brother Andrew met them in the cattle truck.
At the farm, operated by the Brothers, the scouts were treated to horseback rides. Then, Brother John asked, "Now, who would like to ride the bull?"
"The bull!! He'll throw us off!"
"No, he won't. He's a gentle old fellow, really." "Okay, I'll ride him." "So will I!" And ride him they did. The adults watched from a sensible distance.
After the rides, the Brothers invited them into the big recreation room of the farm­house. They gathered around the piano. Brother Andrew played and the girls sang. He surprised them by knowing every request.
Next, refreshments. The scouts brought out cupcakes and cookies from their totebags. Brother John served glasses of Kool-aid. Then it was time to pile into the back of the cattle truck. The girls said good-bye to Brother John and the spotted dogs, Alice and
Poncho. Brother Andrew drove them back to camp.
The cabin was tidied and locked. Then everyone par­ticipated in a flag ceremony to close the day. "Would you like camping here every weekend?" asked Mrs. Marsh. "Ye-e-sss!" came the enthusiastic reply.
Courtesy of the Door County Library Newspaper Archive
submitted by ThrowAway7s2 to DoorCountyALT [link] [comments]

2023.06.09 07:03 Imbendo 2017 iMac shuts off if I tilt, bump, or lightly nudge side of computer?

Occasionally if I barely touch my computer it makes a barely audible lightning tick sound and shuts off instantly. When I press the power button it boots back up like normal and I haven't yet been able to recreate the issue moving it around roughly. Then a day later I go to tilt the screen or plug in a usb and it shuts off.
Power cord looks good, no exterior flaws or signs of damage. Any recommendations? I'm fairly handy I garden frequently and once put together a coffee table from Ikea by myself.
Computer specs are:
iMac (Retina 4K, 21.5-inch, 2017) 3 GHz Quad-Core Intel Core i5 16gb 2400 MHz DDR4 Radeon Pro 555 2 GB
Any advice would be greatly appreciated.
submitted by Imbendo to techsupport [link] [comments]

2023.06.09 06:55 Adam-best Useful Portable Handheld Steam Iron

UPGRATED VERSION – Dual steamer and Iron. Produces a powerful and consistent steam. 2 in 1 for Flat hot and Hanging hot. Safer structure design to minimize leaking water. More sufficiently, and bursts strong hot steam swiftly, without water sputtering.

QUICK & POWERFUL – Ceramic soleplate, heating up just 50s, prevents clothes from damaged. Powerful and stable steam to remove heavy wrinkle, odors and degerming.The steam is continuous and powerful, which can penetrate the clothes deeply and quickly.
SUITABLE FOR MOST FABRICS – One handheld fabric steamer to make shirts, suits, down clothes, night dress, wedding dress, pants crease free.

MULTIFUNCTION – Strong steam can be used in many ways-Cleaning dust. Pillow high temperature clean, sofa clean etc.
BEST EXPERIENCE – We also provide 100 ML Measuring Cup. Perfect for travel and home use.


Directly hanging your clothes on the hanger, putting them flat on ironing board or even on the table. (you need to add the water in the tank(100ML) not more than the max line or it will leak or spoil when you ironing).
Secondly, adjust the temperature dial to the max, then the working light turned red. After the working light turned off, you can adjust the temperature to what you want, there has three settings, so them you can press the steamer button, and begin working.
Finally, just add water and turn on, waiting for 50 sec, you can start ironing your clothes.



submitted by Adam-best to McrOne [link] [comments]