It's midday in mid April. Mike sits alone in his living room, The sounds of Mike Tyson's Punch-Out blaring from the brightly lit screen illuminating his face. He is feeling quite proud of himself. "That'll teach those nerds, I really am that big! I wasn't fucking around! That'll shut them up once and for all!" He thinks to himself, smiling widely before his smile is immediately replaced by an expression of frantic rage followed by a loud pounding of his fist on the couch. He is attempting to beat Mike Tyson, the final boss of Punch-Out. Clicking and creaking noises emit loudly from the old NES controller.
He keeps glancing at the bright yellow Legend of Zelda clock on the wall adjacent to his TV. It is very dimly lit in his apartment. The bright screen reveals a man of average stature in his late 30's, very intensely playing his game. He plays passionately with very childlike mannerisms, biting his nails between rounds while sometimes exclaiming loudly and in a very high-pitched voice: "COME ON!", and "I PRESSED IT!" or "WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO THERE?" His voice hangs on the last word and sounds whiny. He sticks his hand out at the screen while shouting.
It appears Mike is waiting for someone to arrive. He is rocking back and forth while playing his game. Aside from his strikingly apparent love of video games (his living room appears to be completely filled with gaming paraphernalia) Mike does not look like a typical nerd. He is a somewhat handsome man, although the long hours spent in this room are starting to take it's toll. He is developing some very pronounced and deeply dark circles underneath his eyes, revealing what appears to be his eye sockets and coupled under the dim light with his pale skin, he strongly resembles a vampire.
A stern knock is suddenly heard from his apartment door. "JUST A SECOND" Mike Yells frustrated, barely giving the knock his attention. Another knock in the same manner. "I'M ON THE BOSS....HANG ON! I CAN'T PAUSE!!" The door opens, the person on the other side is obviously not waiting. A figure steps in. Mike whips his head around, surprised that his door was left unlocked. "OH H-HEY!" he goes back to playing his game but the the sounds coming from the buttons start to get louder and grow faster. A voice cuts through the room: "What happened?" It is a baritone voice familiar to many people all over the world. It is normally very soothing to hear but today the voice is pressing and cold. The figure standing in the darkness
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I walked to the pet store to purchase ghost shrimp. They come in a clear bag, which I wrapped in a fleece jacket to keep them from getting stressed on the short walk home.
A lady stopped me on the street and said, “Aww, new mom, you look tired. Is Baby sleeping?
Then she stood on her tippy toes to try to see Baby. I shamefully unwrapped the bag and said, “I have no excuse for looking tired; these are just ghost shrimp.”
She looked horrified, turned around, and said, “Oh. Sorry your shrimps died,” as she briskly walked away.
If she is unfamiliar with the species, "ghost shrimp," it's possible that she thinks that I'm carrying around a bag of water disguised as a baby in order to transport the disembodied souls of deceased crustaceans.
This is my legacy.
I'm a long-haul trucker, and I subscribe to a lot of NFL-related podcasts. And of course, being a Saints fan, I subscribed to a bunch of Saints podcasts. I'd listen to 'em to pass the time while driving.
Since I was subscribed, I would get little notifications whenever one of 'em uploaded a new podcast. New episodes from Locked on Saints, Saints Talk, Who Dat Confessional, and so on. Every day I'd get at least one notification that one of my podcasts had updated.
And then the Robbery happened.
And like a lot of you folks, I just said "Fuck it" with respect to ANYTHING football related. Didn't care about the Super Bowl, DEFINITELY didn't care about all the hype leading up to it. I kept an ear to the ground for a few days afterwards to bathe in the outrage, but after a while even that didn't interest me. And I stopped reading or listening to ANY NFL-related content about a week after the NFCCG. This is, in fact, the first time I've been back to this sub since then. I was just disgusted. There's really no other way to put it.
The funny thing, though, is that I immediately stopped receiving notifications about all my podcasts.
I didn't unsubscribe to any of them, right? Didn't log in and change any notification settings. Those podcasts are still being made, new episodes are still being uploaded, and I'm still subscribed to all of them with the same notification settings I had before.
But apparently Google realized I wasn't in the mood for the NFL's bullshit, and just...stopped telling me about the new episodes. It's been, what, two months now? Not a single notification since the NFCCG.
Wonder if I'll start getting new notifications now that I've posted here and shown a renewed interest in the NFL...
So I’m on methylphenidate IR. Today I went to pick up my prescription and lo and behold, my psychiatrist made a mistake on it! Same dosage, only ER.
I picked it up anyway.
So, I need advice. What can I expect from it? Anyone has ever been on both? What’s the difference?
Emotions are funny things. They change like the clouds in the sky. Some days are sunny and clear, but then whole weeks will go by, the blue obscured in that shifting landscape. Is it snow? Rain? Is that sudden shaft of light needling its way to my face an omen of warmer days?
My experience with Polyamory has mostly been a winter season for my soul. I sat down to write a personal ad for Reddit's r4r. Instead I wrote a poem for my poly wife. I leave it here as a scavenger hunt for her to find or not. Maybe it's a valentine? I know spring is coming, the frost has already melted.
Our love was like the roots of two trees
Tangled
Our trunks twisting out of the earth of our youth
We bloomed and flourished
Branches twined and braided round each other
We grew ancient as one
Lightning struck in the high midsummer heat
Shattering
That plaited tranquility with its force
Where once my trunk leaned against yours for support
Now a splintered crevasse open
To the whims of the passing winds
I reach for the sky with blackened branches unentangled
Trembling
The soil of my foundation cratered and loose
A cold season followed the storm
The strewn remains of our fragmented centers
Covered gently by our falling leaves
Our questing roots
Pushing new paths towards each other
Through the unexpectedly malleable landscape
We grow
Two trees on a hill
Pulled tall by the sunlight of a burgeoning spring
Your leaves brush mine lightly now
Delicately
Coaxed into flirting caresses from the wiles of a dancing breeze
Our love is like the play of the air
Whirling
The soft rustle a joyful song
I AM GOING TO INSTALL “C C T. V”” TO CATCH THE CULPRIT,,,,
All grown up now. Want to watch it in its entirety
Prophets in the old days called down fire from the sky and lead nations through wilderness. They didn’t make branding changed and cut overhead costs.
Rather than call it quits. I believe there is someone smart enough over there at Valve to make it work, if not let me know, I will help.
