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house treats a dog trainer who says she has a 100% success rate for helping angry dogs and make them quiet and nice. house argues about how it cant be exactly 100% and wont stop being annoying about it. He brings in a literally feral rabid dog and she like makes it calm and lie down . House is disturbed by this because he wanted to be right that she sucks at stuff. (B-plot: house and the team sees if house can be trained with a dog clicker.) they break into her house and they find loads of dog pheromones and learn she has been wearing it like a perfume to calm down dogs. she thinks this is fine and theres no link but they think she is having a freaky reaction to it. but they take the pheromones away and she starts dying harder. house is really mad and has dinner with wilson, where he is complaining about how this lady is a charlatan but he doesnt understand what’s going on while eating out of a bowl of kibble like nothings wrong with it. wilson is watching him intently, as is the rests of the team who is watching from afar. house says his food is really yummy and insists wilson tries some and wilson is like “NO I CANT.” and house is like no you have to. you have to eat it. and wilson is like HOUSE STOP WE’VE BEEN CLICKERING YOU TO MAKE YOU EAT DOG FOOD. and house MAKES him eat a spoonful and hes like “… cocoa puffs..?” and house smirtks smartly as he demonstrates that he knew about their silly trick. “i know you guys are watching…. come out.”(the team is slowly emerging) “don’t worry . i dont bite anymore —“ he pauses and does a house stare and walks away to the sick lady’s room. cameron pours wilson a little milk for his cereal.“20%.” he walks into the room smartly. the patient is miffed and is about to say she doesn’t want to argue about percentages literally on her death bed. but house is like “no. 20% actually refers to the number of dog bites that get infected. You got bit by a dog and never got treated for it and ingredients in the dog pheromone solution were slowing it down. (?? im not a scientist) “ and he says something stupid like “sometimes a dog’s bark really is worse than its bite” and walks out. music starts playing. chase expresses he is mad about what cameron pouring milk for wilson means for them because cameron used to pour milk for her dead husband and he thinks she isnt over him. house walks out and reaches into his pocket and sneakily eats a hand ful of kibble

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The Pink Phink | Director: Friz Freleng | Studio: DePatie–Freleng Enterprises | United States, 1964

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Scars on your body show that you have lived; scars on your heart show that you have loved.

Nina Dul

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While we wait for a second printing of my book, here's a new comic l've been working on in between other projects that I finally finished. This is actually my longest comic ever, at just under 40 pages. 😵‍💫 I'll be sharing more parts of it this week but of course you can read the whole thing early for just a buck! Here!

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Random worldbuilding: A culture where everyone's social status is expressed through how their hair is braided.

Children all have the same kind of a simple, unisex "child's braid" which is meant for their parents to be easy to do - traditionally boys were only taught how to do a "wife's braid" while women braid both their husbands and their children, but a modern man is naturally an attentive father and contributes to both cleaning and feeding, and clothing and braiding his children.

While this kind of knowledge is more accessible in the modern age, the art of braiding is still seen as an intimate family thing, and it's not unusual for a youth to come out to their parents by the way of braids - for example a daughter asking her father to teach her how to do the "wife's braid", or a son asking her mother how to weave the "husband braid" for their future spouse. Or a trans kid asking their parents to give them the other gender's braid when it's time to transition from the child braid into the "unmarried youth" one.

It is nonetheless still somewhat common to see an older gay man with a "wife's braid" or two older women both wearing "husband braids", because that was the only way they were taught to braid a future partner's hair when they were young. They could learn the "appropriate" braid now, but it has become a part of the culture, an old-fashioned gay thing to do. It's pride - if you wear this braid to show that you're an adult with a spouse, why try to hide who braids your hair every morning?

The only braid that one is expected to do on themselves is the widow's braid - the only one that is also unisex, braided in reverse from the simple children's braid. Sometimes, young unmarried adults who have no interest in starting a family switch directly into wearing a widow's braid to signify that they are not looking for a partner and are independent adults on their own.

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why small kittens are always either the most pathetic or the most evil creature you've ever seen

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If a worker who isn't the owner says ANYTHING similar to "I'm not really supposed to do this but-" and then does something that helps you, under no circumstances inform the business, including through reviews. You tell them that the worker was polite, professional, the very model of customer service and why you like to go there. You do not breathe a word of the rulebreaking.

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love it when a nondog baby animal is called a pup anyway

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Will somebody please draw me with the Ghoul? Pretty please?

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#Guess who's the only one allowed to stay

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the older I get, the more the technological changes I've lived through as a millennial feel bizarre to me. we had computers in my primary school classroom; I first learned to type on a typewriter. I had a cellphone as a teenager, but still needed a physical train timetable. my parents listened to LP records when I was growing up; meanwhile, my childhood cassette tape collection became a CD collection, until I started downloading mp3s on kazaa over our 56k modem internet connection to play in winamp on my desktop computer, and now my laptop doesn't even have a disc tray. I used to save my word documents on floppy discs. I grew up using the rotary phone at my grandparents' house and our wall-connected landline; my mother's first cellphone was so big, we called it The Brick. I once took my desktop computer - monitor, tower and all - on the train to attend a LAN party at a friend's house where we had to connect to the internet with physical cables to play together, and where one friend's massive CRT monitor wouldn't fit on any available table. as kids, we used to make concertina caterpillars in class with the punctured and perforated paper strips that were left over whenever anything was printed on the room's dot matrix printer, which was outdated by the time I was in high school. VHS tapes became DVDs, and you could still rent both at the local video store when I was first married, but those shops all died out within the next six years. my facebook account predates the iphone camera - I used to carry around a separate digital camera and manually upload photos to the computer in order to post them; there are rolls of undeveloped film from my childhood still in envelopes from the chemist's in my childhood photo albums. I have a photo album from my wedding, but no physical albums of my child; by then, we were all posting online, and now that's a decade's worth of pictures I'd have to sort through manually in order to create one. there are video games I tell my son about but can't ever show him because the consoles they used to run on are all obsolete and the games were never remastered for the new ones that don't have the requisite backwards compatibility. I used to have a walkman for car trips as a kid; then I had a discman and a plastic hardshell case of CDs to carry around as a teenager; later, a friend gave my husband and I engraved matching ipods as a wedding present, and we used them both until they stopped working; now they're obsolete. today I texted my mother, who was born in 1950, a tiktok upload of an instructional video for girls from 1956 on how to look after their hair and nails and fold their clothes. my father was born four years after the invention of colour televison; he worked in radio and print journalism, and in the years before his health declined, even though he logically understood that newspapers existed online, he would clip out articles from the physical paper, put them in an envelope and mail them to me overseas if he wanted me to read them. and now I hold the world in a glass-faced rectangle, and I have access to everything and ownership of nothing, and everything I write online can potentially be wiped out at the drop of a hat by the ego of an idiot manchild billionaire. as a child, I wore a watch, but like most of my generation, I stopped when cellphones started telling us the time and they became redundant. now, my son wears a smartwatch so we can call him home from playing in the neighbourhood park, and there's a tanline on his wrist ike the one I haven't had since the age of fifteen. and I wonder: what will 2030 look like?

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Mods? Take him to the stump of his favorite childhood tree.

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You people talk about ADHD / Narcissism / Depression / etc the same way that medieval peasants talked about their humoric temperament.

TikTok voice: "Ten Tips To Make Sure Your Daughter Isn't Dating A Suitor With An Abundance Of Yellow Bile"

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You’re meeting the friend of a friend for the first time, who’s apparently an empath. When they shake your hand, they immediately rip their hand away from you.