#and i refuse to spend any more fucking money on bullshit products that don’t fucking work and cost a fortune

[mossflower]

how in the name of all things holy do people do curly hair routines

[despairandregretentertainment]

Offer Me Your Soul || Capernica || Trial 3-7 || RE: Jun, Monoka, Sorano

".... Fine." Capernica hissed, flashing a look of betrayal at Jun. "I see your want to defend the culprit won out for someone who spouts slurs like an accessory but not for a friend." She slid her glove back on. He loved her, huh? He loved her? The expression of vitriol faded for a moment, thrown off-kilter from her anger that had built up thus far this trial. She covered her eyes, refusing to cry. "... I love you too, Jun-sama. But not enough to go along with your suggestion of morality." She kept her hand to her face as she continued.

"It's from wrestling the knife out of Peach's hand. The stab was... instinctual, really. I'm well-trained in self-defense after having had to deal with a stalker for a year, and getting attacked by him eventually. I think it was a crime of opportunity more than anything, with me being alone." She sighed, pausing as she pieced her argument.

"The knife sharpener was brought in from me in post, by the way. I had no idea it was a knife sharpener, it was just heavy and I could use it to break out the other glass panels." She'd never fucking seen one before. It might as well have been a baseball bat to her.

"That doesn't change the fact that I'm less of a threat to you than Forget, who has continuously threatened and gone through with violence at this point. There's a few people she won't touch, but I'm fairly certain she'd harm anyone else in this facility. If you vote for her, I'm also leaving, which increases your chances of survival. As Sorano-sama mentioned, there's no real right answer here. I wouldn't have been attacked had Peach-sama not felt cornered by the motive."

"Think about it this way, though. This game ends when there's only around 6 people left. If you vote for Forget and I leave, that leaves you with seven people remaining. It's a near-guarantee that the rest of you will survive, no? Letting her stay guarantees that she's out and likely to attack someone else. If you want to minimize the amount of deaths done within this publicity stunt, this is also the correct answer. Less people will die. Having more people present doesn't make people any more likely to beat TE. Not as long as we're stuck in here, at least. 9 people, 7 people, 6 if we count that Forget excuses billionaires, that's not enough. To take down TE requires the cooperation of the people outside, as well." A revolution may start with a singular person, but required an army to complete.

She finally lowered her hand to glance to the cameras. "If you truly care about the people dying here, your favorite contestant, you should remember that we're real people with real lives. We don't have the power to make a change in here, but you do." She paused. "Stop spending money on this. Stop buying TE products. Support local businesses, if you aren't fond of a more violent revolution. Cut this damn company out of your life."

She glanced to Monoka. "And it was a popularity contest before, as well. Both here and in your season. Besides, isn't my argument also about morals? Do you vote for the woman who killed in self-defense? Or do you vote in the way the leads to the least amount of death? Think about it." There was only so much morality you could have in this situation.

She slid back down into her seat, sinking into the cushions. "I don't think anyone would have even connected the dots had you not opened my footlocker, as it stands. So fuck you, TE." She glared at the camera. "They probably want me in particular dead for all of the fucking protests I've given about them. Kill off the opposition bullshit."

[zechleton]

Ranting and Raving About Magic in 2022

I haven’t written about Magic in ages, so what better way could there be to get back into the habit that a stream of consciousness spiel about the 2022 announcement?

Strap in, folks, because this is going to be long and poorly edited.

Actually, it’s not that long, about 1500 words. It might feel longer, though.

Neo-Tokyo or something idk

As one of the five people on r/magictcg that didn’t want to return to Kamigawa in standard set, I have to admit this one looks surprisingly awesome. The couple of pieces of art Wizard shared looked fantastic, as usual, and I’m a sucker for that blue/pink colour scheme. I’m not a huge fan of time travel as a story telling device but since the Magic story has always served the card game, using tropes I don’t enjoy is far from a deal-breaker. Yeah – I’m cautiously optimistic about this one.

Someone Made Elspeth an Offer she Couldn’t Refuse

Obviously, we know much less about this set. Still, it sounds right up my alley. I’m curious how Wizards is going to make Magic meets The Godfather work, but the good kind of curious. On top of that, I’d really like to have some more shard-based commanders on Arena for Brawl, and I assume we’re the “three-colour demon crime families” isn’t referring to clans (triome?) again after leaving Ikoria behind. Also, come on, how can you not love the sound of demon crime families?

Glory, Glory, Dom United!

There is a part of me that gets nervous about nebulous concepts like design space whenever we go back to an old plane again. All these crossovers (more on those later) take on a different appearance when viewed through an “are they running out of ideas” lens. Still, Dominaria was fantastic, by far the best “return to” set – though I’m hoping Innistrad claims that throne in a few weeks. With that in mind, I’m expecting Wizards to knock it out of the park with DU, just like they did with Dominaria.

The Nostalgia Wars

I might scoff somewhat at Magic’s storyline sometimes, but I’ve read the stuff that people think is good. I own both collections of the Artifacts Cycle. They all pale in comparison to good fantasy, but they’re not bad, and they hold a special place in my heart from when I was more invested in stuff like lore and story. The point of that ramble? 2022, more than ever, is Wizards’ mining the seemingly neverending mineral that is nerd nostalgia. It further adds to my “are they running out of ideas” worry, but I can’t say the nostalgia hit/psychological manipulation isn’t working on me. Hell, Return to Return to Innistrad has me more excited than any set for a couple of years now so I guess I’m part of the problem.

Uncaring

The phrase “not for you” is thrown around distrubingly often in Magic circles nowadays. Unfinity, however, is decidedly not for me. And that’s fine.

Dungeons And Dragons Battle for Baldur’s Gate Commander Legends I Think That’s The Whole Title But Maybe I Missed a bit I’m not Sure

Yikes, what a mouthful. I hate the title, both its length and unwieldiness. I don’t really have much interest in the set either. Commander Legends was a neat idea with a lot of flaws. Adding crossover flavour from another IP I have little-to-no interest in isn’t helping matters, though I appreciate that Adventures in the Forgotten Realms was super popular. For me, AFR was pretty much just a core set without any of the usual references to sets I do know and care about. Another “not for me” release.

Double Trouble

Hmm. I’m torn here. As a primarily limited-focused player, Masters sets have been some of my favourites ever. Original Modern Masters is still one of my in my top five sets of all time, and I have fond memories of almost all of the others, too.

Original Double Masters, though, was a victim of apathy brought on by the never-ending deluge of Magic product being released nowadays. I have never even seen a booster of this product, much less opened one. Without looking it up, I can’t even tell you if it was hurt by the pandemic or not, because there’s just way too much fucking stuff nowadays. I don’t know what else to say.

Oh, hang on. Was this the set with a $100 VIP Booster? Hahaha, fuck off.

Jump Around

The original Jumpstart was surprisingly enjoyable on Arena. I never wanted to play it more than a few times, and sometimes you got packs that relied entirely on your opponent getting mana screwed, but those few times I played it were pretty fun. I think putting stuff like obvious eternal format staples like Alosaurus Shepherd in a set like this is some extremely anti-consumer bullshit, but as a play experience it was an interesting mesh of draft and sealed. Not as much fun as either of those, but close enough that the novelty carried it into the “pretty fun, actually” camp. I expect more of the same – I’ll probably do a few runs if I have gems or gold spare.

Universes Beyond: Warhammer 40K Commander et al

Really, this is the bit about all the crossover stuff.

Another vomit inducing title and one that has left me with some introspection to do. Like many people, I find a lot of this crossover stuff distasteful, but I can’t really say why. The fact that the Street Fighter one – an IP I have some amount of investment in – seems less egregious than Warhammer of D&D makes me think that I don’t necessarily object to crossovers on principal. Does my dislike come from the fact that, so far, all of the other crossovers don’t involve properties I care about? Maybe. Even the mechanically unique line of text that pissed off so many people when the Walking Dead set came out doesn’t bother me that much, because Commander is a format I can take or leave.

The Fortnite one rubs me a different wrong way, though. Partly, it’s the sheer fucking inevitability of it all. Of course a popular part of the nerd sphere will have a crossover with Fortnite because that’s just the world in which we live. Partly it makes me feel old, uncool, and excluded, like all the other crossovers I don’t care about, sure. But there’s something more visceral about Fortnite. It’s fucking everywhere and I resent feeling like I have to have an opinion about it. Still, I don’t really have strong opinions about most of the other crossovers, so why this one? I really don’t know. Maybe this is one “this isn’t for you” too many from a game that has been part of my life for over 20 years.

I haven’t bought a single Secret Lair, but I’m generally willing to accept that they’re a bonus product that isn’t needed by anyone but is wanted by some. Hell, if they put out Secret Lair: Snapcaster Mage with good art (at last), I could probably te tempted into picking one up. It would be against my better judgement, though. Something about all these “not necessary but also don’t miss out, aren’t they cool, spend more money please” products rubs me the wrong way. Playing Magic and hating capitalism are difficult interests to reconcile. That’s it. That’s the tagline for this article.

Oh, right, it’s just a blog. Never mind.

Oh, God. The Fornite Secret Lair is going to be the Snapcaster Mage one, isn’t it?

Then there’s Lord of The Rings. My pal Kristen will be thrilled about this, was my first thought. I’m less enthusiastic (shocker, right?), but at least LOTR makes sense as a thing to crossover with. I mean, apart from the obvious business sense. It doesn’t have any guns and it isn’t an obnoxiously ubiquitous battle royale FPS, so that already puts it ahead of two of the other three crossovers. Indeed, without LOTR, you can make a reasonable case that MTG would never exist in the first place. Personally, I view LOTR in the same way I view The Beatles – they were important, and worthy of respect, but have been surpassed in every way since.

And the movies are better than the books. There I said it.

Regardless, this one is fine, actually. I still don’t particularly care for crossovers in general, especially as the setting for a standard set, but at least it makes sense this time.

Shut up Already

Alright, I hear you. I know a lot of that was negative towards the end, but I want to reiterate that a lot of the stuff happening in standard sets next year is really exciting, if a little unoriginal. The crossover/sellout stuff and the interminable deluge of FOMO-driven products is worrying and disappointing, but I guess we just have to try and ignore the ever-increasing number of “not for you” products and focus on the stuff we do like. Seriously, Neon Destiny looks amazing, and I don’t even like anime.

[kainumbernine009]

I literally cannot do anything else until I get this out.

I’m... really not okay.

And when I say that, I’m not mentally unstable. I say that because I’m tired of waiting on empty promises, I’m tired of never having money in our account, I’m tired of living in a fucking city where half of the white people fucking worship the ground Trump walks on, and where most of the gay community has so much messy drama that it’s worse than middle school. And I went to a rough middle school.

I never talk about my past, because I don’t like to. It sucked. HARD. Being and only child in my family was nothing less than torture, especially as a closeted queer person. We grew up in the white Christian part of Nashville that dominated Music Row in the 90′s and early 2000′s. I played basketball with Alan Jackson’s daughter, and being around famous people was just no big deal. But, my parents decided to leave Nashville after my dad lost his job at TPAC, and we moved down south an hour to the town where the KKK got started (Pulaski, TN).

I had maybe two non-white people in my private Christian school growing up. I was never afraid of Black people, but my parents showed their racist asses quick when we moved there. The KKK has never left America, guys, no matter how many articles you read or studies you do. From 2005 to 2009 I saw a white town show its very worst to the Black community. I’ll never forget the first time I saw a march for “White Christians for Purity” the summer before Obama got elected. The disgust I felt inside was palpable. I had all kinds of friends in school, and I didn’t give TWO SHITS who they were or what they looked like... but I saw children my age, being brainwashed by their parents, that “white” is “right.”

Ever since then, I have been learning and growing about the issues of race. I remember my white classmates using the N word and getting away with it. I remember hearing about the principal at the high school punishing all the Black kids but not the white kids. I remember being invited to a church south of town that was a historically Black church, and how nice the ladies were to me for coming.

But I’ll never forget the racism that the religious groups promoted there, especially First Baptist Church and the 12 Tribes. I’ll never forget how FBC told me that my friend was going to Hell because she killed herself. I’ll never forget my mom telling me not to marry a Black man because of “impure genes.” I WILL NEVER FORGET THE INJUSTICES I SAW WHITE PEOPLE DOING TO BLACK PEOPLE THERE. NEVER.

And thank God, I have shaken the burden of religious guilt, but I still fight against this mentality. I live in a place that’s usually not even 10 minutes away from Trump-humping, sister-fucking, meth-addicted Confederate cunts in any direction. And we’re even closer to the rich white people who silently supported him, upset that their taxes would go up because of Biden.

And in the past four years since Trump got elected, I’ve gotten married, graduated college with honors, started my own photography business, and was making more than my husband there for a minute. I did my own taxes, marketing, editing, and everything. And then I came out as trans.

I lost everything.

I lost my studio. I lost friends. I had rumors started about me. I had people post hate messages on my wall. I had people at my drag shows tell others not to tip me, for whatever fucking reasons. I’ve had bosses give cis people jobs over me, and I’ve had government workers give me second looks when I hand them my license.

It. Fucking. Sucks. To. Live. Here. Like. This.

Oh yeah, did I mention I’m also a witch/medium? I’ve talked to dead people before and have told their relatives things I shouldn’t have known otherwise about their grandparents. Like, this information doesn’t even exist on Google. And I’m attuned to reiki. I’m always aware of what’s happening on at least SOME metaphysical level. This is a gift that I’ve had to go through life developing and learning about myself, with no one’s help but me.

I didn’t even know until I was an adult that I have autism and ADHD.

I’ve taken bullets from people who were about to kill themselves. I’ve yelled at 5th grade music classrooms for doing racist dance moves and appropriating Native Americans (I have a degree in Music Education K-12). I’ve consoled kids in classrooms who suddenly have panic attacks. AND I’ve told horny teenagers to stay in their fucking lane and respect the girls around them. I’ve apparently been an inspiration to those around me, but inspiration NOR exposure pays the bills. I’ve already had COVID, and so has my husband, but I knew that after graduating college that I would never have a fulfilling life being a music teacher in Tennessee’s public schools.

And now that we have COVID, and an orange, small-dicked, pedophilic, rape apologizing, dirty, crusty white president who STILL REFUSES TO CONCEDE, who is DIRECTLY RESPONSIBLE FOR HAVING HIS FOLLOWERS SEND DEATH THREATS TO MY FAMILY, I really don’t know what the fuck else to do other than go burn down all the houses I know of in North Georgia that belong to these Christian sex cult pedophiles and call it a day. My girlfriend unfortunately was born into one of those families, and I know just how bad it can get. In fact, her dad’s lawyer threatened me with blackmail earlier in November, so that was fun!

And now, on December 11, 2020, I’m still sitting here in the same fucking house, doing the same fucking things I’ve been doing all year - trying to get a job and failing horribly. I’M SICK AND TIRED OF THIS COVID BULLSHIT AND OUR INCOMPOTENT CUNT OF A PRESIDENT! And there’s only ever one other person I’ve ever called a cunt... my own mother.

I’ve lived in many places. I’ve met many different people. I’ve made mistakes, and have grown, but there’s one thing for damn sure that I always make sure to do, every single fucking day.

I ALWAYS try to do better.

In addition to this, I treat everyone with the same amount of respect, unless they have done something directly to me to negate that. If I know that someone believes in something that directly harms me or my family, I don’t even associate with them. I don’t spend my energy on things that don’t need it. And everyone else should, too.

The problem with some of y’all is that you care about the wrong things. Like will Becky text me back or did I get front row seats to that concert, or did I slave my life away to capitalism just so that I can own a Mercedes and have my friends jealous. I’ve had way too many dear death experiences to know that EVERY single fucking day is a gift. EVERY day.

I don’t want to be remembered first for the art I create. I want to be remembered for my character. I want to be remembered as the courageous person who never backed down in the face of adversity. But when you live in a place that already hates you and that is against you, that’s really fucking hard. Trust me. My marriage went from a cis straight passing couple to a white gay passing couple. I’ve seen how people’s attitudes changed around me as I transitioned. I know what it feels like to slowly lose a piece of your privilege you were born with.

So yeah, I kinda get a little fucking upset when I see people saying All Lives Matter, or when I see doctors refusing to treat trans patients in pandemics, or when I see cops YET AGAIN harassing Black people only a few blocks away from my house for no other reason than racism. And at this point, anyone who thinks they know me but only knows what people think they know about me can suck my entire ass and eat ten dicks. I don’t give a FUCK about who you are or what you’ve done. If you treat me or other people with no respect for no reason other than to be an asshole, you’re just plain shit. If you SERIOUSLY believe every little rumor and lie that someone tells about me before meeting me, fuck you AND the horse you rode in on.

What I can’t stand is people doing or saying things just to get a rise out of me or others. I thought we left petty shit in high school. Some of the people that “know” me really need to fucking grow up and grow a pair and either say what they want to my face, or stay mad. I’m tired of playing fucking petty games with y’all. We have a whole ass pandemic to solve.

So here’s the ultimatum... if you agree that Black Lives Matter and that queer people deserve basic human rights, EVEN THE ONES YOU HATE, then that’s the bare minimum to even be a decent person. If you can’t even do those things, then I don’t fucking know what else to say to you.

So NBC, maybe not have John Mulaney joke about my license debacle with my gold van on SNL, and Seth Meyers... maybe HIRE ME INSTEAD of Mulaney because clearly y’all don’t know about the south as much as I do? Oh, and that gazeebo joke with Lee University... I caught that. I may have autism, but I’m not a fucking idiot. I mean. I’m funny when I’m given the chance. And yeah, I’m on a watchlist, but who the fuck isn’t these days? At least all my secrets are out for the world to see, and I have a bangin’ tattoo.

I’m tired of everyone being like “omg, I’ve seen what he can do, it’s fantastic!” or “omg you’re so funny haha” and bragging on me and then NOT FUCKING HIRING ME. I’m TIRED of waiting on something that’s clearly at this point never coming.

I don’t even have testicles, and my balls are bigger than most of the cis men I have EVER met.

So, if you want to help me, or hire me, or get me out to an audition... I’ll be there. But until then, I’m so fucking MAD at some of these producers. Yeah, my mom is a cunt, but she worked in various forms of digital production from the 1980′s until she retired this year. She taught me SO MUCH about directing, writing, shooting, and more. I know how these things are supposed to run behind the scenes. I know what the fuck I’m doing, and I don’t take constructive criticism like a bitch. I actually WANT to be criticized, so I can do even better.

So PLEASE, for the love of Christ... y’all need to get your priorities together AND PLEASE STOP LEAVING ME OUT OF THE LOOP WITH THIS BULLSHIT. Grow a fucking pair and either call me, email me, or leave me alone. It’s really not that fucking hard. Looking at you, Lorne Michaels.

Oh and someone tell my husband what the fuck’s been going on because I’m tired of him gaslighting me about it.

[fuck-customers]

Big Bird Deli, Part 3

Continued from https://fuck-customers.tumblr.com/post/185625162330/continuation-of-the-big-bird-deli-story-found

Now, I know you all want me to say I got a new job and rubbed it in my store manager’s face. Sadly, reality is often disappointing. My top choices so far sent back general rejection emails and I’m looking into different industries to branch into. Now, it's not all bad news, but in order to get into the good news, I need to tell you all a story about one co-worker; our constant call off, whom I’ll refer to as CCO. Buckle up for a long story.

CCO was transferred to our store from the one about five minutes down the road a little under three years ago now. I was still in my first year when she transferred in. As I worked with her, she seemed like a good co-worker. Knowledgeable, dependable, she even taught a bunch of tricks to make the job easier. Then, some things started to bubble to the surface.

At first, the only bad thing about her is that she took a long time in the bathroom, 10-15 minutes, pretty much a break without clocking out for one. CCO’s explanation for this was biological, but she couldn’t identify her condition. Skeptical, but ok. Then, she’d also take a long time to get a drink (Non-alcoholic). Managers caught sipping a drink in the break room, and even the training room (Small room with computers for basic training/OSHA/Food Safety) and told her multiple times, she could only do that on breaks. She’d also do stuff that led to numerous signs in our back hall. She’d try store dry food there, take drinks back there, and she’d be on her cell phone on her shift way too much (Mostly showing her cats, making notes, not talking or playing games).

Then, she began to talk constantly. She’d talk with customers even after their orders were done. I constantly saw customers get that “I need to get going but I don’t see my chance to leave yet” expression, and she’d keep blabbering on for a few more minutes as the customer slowly tried to inch away. But it wasn’t just customers, CCO would do the same to co-workers. She’d blabber on while doing nothing or only very small tasks. Sometimes her conversations sucked you in, even though the topics were things from youth, church, or constant updates about her cats (she and husband got up to FIVE cats, and yes, introductions to them included pictures.) I had the highest tolerance for these stories, not sure why.

Now, I can handle those things above. But it got worse. So. Much. Worse. After our store got remodeled just before CCO came in, tasks were updated to include not only sweeping the department floor every night but also washing and squeegeeing the floor. CCO made excuses so she wouldn’t be the one doing it. She’d do anything she could to pass it off on that night’s co-worker. She made excuses that it hurt her back, but refused time and time again to get a doctor’s note to excuse her from the task. She also made excuses that it was tiring, but she stopped those excuses after only a couple weeks. This, coupled with many closers forgetting some tasks, provoked our Deli Manager to make daily task sheets starting this past summer, mostly focused on the closing staff. I, personally, am ok with the sheets, as I view it as a tool to acclimate new employees to the department tasks.

But here’s the big one. She ‘began’ to get migraines within six months of her transfer. She’d slow and become less useful during work, taking long treks to get water and basic medicine that seemed to do the trick at first. The kicker is that she began to call off once every two weeks. Now, you may think that’s not so bad and it’ll count against her. Wrong. She applied for FMLA (Family and Medical Leave Act) for her migraines. She could spend a TON of hours towards it, and she could reapply when she ran out. I started out sympathetic, as I have family members with migraines, but they have methods to curb it so they can work. CCO started calling off once a week. Twice a week. This year, it went up to three times a week. And it was almost always on the same co-worker, Nice Coworker (NC). NC became stressed, she didn’t even want to be scheduled with CCO because of it, but sometimes had no choice. I saw NC break down in tears multiple times. She threatened management to not call her if CCO called off on Sundays, cuz she wouldn’t come in at all. Our deli manager retaliated by trying to schedule CCO less. CCO retaliated by complaining about her hours and claiming hours of other co-workers due to seniority!!! She’d just take their shifts and call-off anyway! So not only was she causing hours to drop, she was basically stealing money from people who actually show up for work.

This all caused morale and productivity to plummet. We were stressed, aggravated even. All the while management still wanted everything perfect while not addressing the problem. And since we’re union, management has to give CCO chance after chance before she’s finally fired or CCO will just run and cry to the union about ‘unfair termination’. We also got wind from people in the store down the street (Sometimes people over here have to cover over there and vice versa) that this behavior happened down there, but not to the extent it got down here, and was the reason CCO transferred. We also learned that she’s had this behavior at all the past jobs she told anyone about. This woman is ten years older than me and hasn’t learned any lessons about her behavior.

Oh, but the cherry on top of this comes in the form of gaslighting and manipulation. CCO dared to call NC her friend while she was claiming NC’s hours and calling off on her! CCO would apologize and say that she “was a shitty person,” and that we “must hate her”. Insincere apologies, self-bashing designed to make you say “No, you’re not a piece of garbage!”(even though she was). CCO also spread rumors about a friend who’s like a brother to me (from another department) when he briefly got in deep trouble. She did this because she thought she could get his full-time position once he was fired (A position that took him being there 12 years and his manager begging multiple times on his behalf to get). Needless to say, I heard through the grapevine and began to truly hate her.

Oh, and remember those call-offs? CCO’d often do those on the weekend, y’know, the busy times. Especially Sundays. Since she was a “Good Christian™”, she’d want to go to church on Sundays. Ok. Reasonable. Then, she called off on Sunday evenings, a shift that’s hell to close alone. Again, on NC mostly. She’d do this repeatedly until our Deli Manager decided to not schedule her on Sunday, two weeks in a row. CCO smirked and told NC that “Her plan had worked!” and that she won’t work Sundays (She didn’t put them off on her availability because it was discouraged, and sometimes even rejected, to not work weekends). To say that, and say that to the person she called off on constantly, is just despicable. Many of us told our deli manager as soon as possible. If she didn’t schedule CCO on Sundays, she’d work on Sundays in any department she had experience in (she’s cross-trained in the Hot foods and meat departments).

At the start of this year. Everyone in the department hated her. Some would be catty or strictly business with her. I opted to pretend to not want to rip her face off, otherwise, I risked forwarding that bile to customers, and I have cried on CCO’s shoulder in the past due to previous work-related bullshit (not the story above). But, we finally had some news from the grapevine; CCO’s doctor AND corporate had picked up on her FMLA abuse. It was flagged as abuse because during times her FMLA expired and needed to be redone her migraines had ‘mysteriously’ disappeared. No call-offs until after FMLA was reinstated. Her doctor told her that he wouldn’t approve more and even if he did, it wouldn’t be approved by the company. By our calculations, she’d run out at the end of May. She ran out mid-May. All we had to do was wait.

And this past week, the good news! Turns out CCO didn’t help NC much the Saturday of my paid vacation. NC went to Store Manager on Wednesday, on her day off, to report CCO. Store Manager told NC that CCO, and potentially all of the deli, was going to get pulled into the office soon one by one. Details couldn’t be said due to confidentiality but NC said that shit was about to go down, we all just didn’t know what. On Friday, now mid-June, our Union Steward (A worker to represents the union while not working for the union directly) came and got CCO and pulled her into the office with Store Manager. Ten minutes later, CCO was escorted out of the store by Loss Prevention. The scales finally tipped when the customer complaints stacked up, and that she got into a verbal argument with a co-worker (Not me or NC) with a manager as a witness. Said co-worker was at the store on her day off, shopping and chatting with us briefly. While CCO passed by, CCO called her a bitch, in earshot of Loss Prevention. But that was the last we’ve seen of CCO.

Slight dancing was had, and upper management reminded us that this is an opportunity to turn the deli around. We got a new person who started during my vacation. She’s absolutely amazing and gets along with everyone. It’s only been a few days, but already other departments are commenting that the deli seems happier and that a great weight has been lifted. I always joked about giving CCO this big speech in a dark, even tone and saying she needs to go on disability or welfare if her work ethic or migraines are that bad. But, I decided against doing a big Facebook drama thing. Instead, I blocked her on social media and her phone number. I’m glad to finally cut her out of my life permanently.

As for me? I’m still at Big Bird. Now that the main problem is gone, I can take my time finding a good job and not go for the first one that gives me an interview. I still want to leave because of upper management, and I haven’t received confirmation that my write up was overturned. Things are looking up, and I’m glad we now have a solid, competent team as we get ready for the 4th of July sales.

Last word: I was going to post this as is, but today, I heard something amazing. A co-worker had to work a split shift, beginning down the road then coming up to our store. Turns out, CCO didn’t tell her husband that she got fired! She told him she was on vacation! And he works down the street! I busted up laughing, imagining scenarios when he finds out she lied. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall for that confrontation. :3

TL;DR

Not much has happened other than a co-worker getting fired and absolutely deserving it after putting the deli under so much stress.

[real-sotenbori-hours]

Receive You: The Madtype - Majima Goro x Fem Reader, Part 1

Summary: The year is 2006 in Kamurocho, Tokyo, Japan and our favorite antihero angel, Majima Goro is outta the yakuza and enjoying life, running the Majima Corporation. Though he deals mainly in construction, his [Zero] days always left him nostalgic for nightlife as a member of the service industry and now a proprietor. He owns a nice little karaoke bar, Takara - something low key, offering secluded tables and party rooms, bottle service, two full bars and a Takoyaki stand right out front.  He spends most of his daytime at the Kamurocho Hills construction site and averages a few nights a week at Takara overseeing operations, schmoozing guests (often vendors, permit holders and officials in the construction business) and occasionally slinging drinks when he’s in the midst of a big pitch or, knowing Majima, an itch for theatrics. 👹 

As his top performer at Takara, the money and rush of nightlife aren’t the only perks to your job... if ya know what I mean. 

 Warnings: NSFW, smut, public masturbation, public trysts, profanity/blasphemy, a touch of B&D and a light dash of fluff...

***

 You love tending bar. Especially in a chill place with a solid staff for an incredible owner. Nothing gives you more pride than servin’ up fine drinks to fine customers under the watchful eye of your fine-ass boss. You take great pride in what you do, but that pride blazes like a wildfire when you think of the business patriarch that benefits most from your impeccable work ethic.

 He’s brash, yet charismatic... he’d do anything for the people he cares about. You love that. He’s wild-eyed yet up close, in the thick of peak hours, he’s attentive and spry, always within earshot to lend a hand.

   It’s unnerving. 

 You’ve learned so much from him. You respect him.   

And you please yourself while thinking of him.   

Almost every night you’d get home, plagued by the faint scent of his cologne and the flush you’d feel every time you so much as brushed past him. Every smirk and nod he’d give you, every conversation... some lighthearted and fun and some even more serious, real, emotionally raw... after putting product away and wiping everything down, you’d be sitting there, counting money, bullshitting and at times, venting. You bonded.

   You figured that over time the more you got to know him, the easier it’d be to shake your insatiable thirst for him. You figured wrong.

   You’ve never been shy about your sexual appetites, but you like to let it build with a slow burn, like easing into a hot bath. A couple of pointed innuendos here, a couple of genuine yet direct compliments there... just to gauge his reaction.

   The first time you let slip anything flirtatious, he grinned widely and later pressed two fingertips into your lower back just above your ass, whispering against your neck, letting you know he was right behind you, passing you on your right. A warm mist shot through you and you wanted more than anything to grab his hand, to place those very fingertips against you, to let your body tell him what you couldn’t yet find the words to say. You wanted your body to show him what he does to you.

   But ya couldn’t. The nerve wasn’t there, just the desire, festering like an infection. But you could keep waiting... after all, he’s worth it. 

 More than anything in this entire world, you wanted him to dick you down. You wanted him to take you hard, fast, with the hunger of a desert animal. Against a wall, bent over any permitting surface, pressed up to the floor-to-ceiling window of the nearest love motel, or all of the above and then some. You wanted him to fuck you into the mattress and then pull you into his arms, burning your skin with his own. You wanted to fuck him senseless. You wanted to make him feel good. You wanted your name to roll off his tongue as he’d topple over the edge, meeting you there. 

 The more you thought about it, you had to admit that it wasn’t just sex that you were after. If you’re being blunt with yourself, you’re pretty sure that you’re in love with Majima Goro. Sure, you love to fuck and you’re used to feeling intensely for every partner you’ve enjoyed... but this one’s different. Maybe it’s because you know that the Mad Dog of Shimano will never let anyone get close to him, that he guards his vulnerabilities not unlike a junkyard dog, feral and frothing, barely restrained. Maybe you like a challenge.

 Or maybe you just want every bit of him that you can possibly get, and if your heart breaks in the process, so be it. Maybe you just want to let your womanhood decide on this one. 

 You want to show him how deserving he is of unconditional love, support, adoration... you want him to see that his past needn’t define him, lest he prefers it. You want him to have the choice. You want to be the woman that shows him he can love and be loved... and you don’t fucking care what kind of danger that could bring you. You’ve never met anyone like him before and you’ll be damned if you let him slip away without making your affections abundantly clear. If he turns away, at least you’ll know, and you could move on. But it doesn’t seem like he would refuse you...

   At work you’d charm everyone in your path, separating them from inordinate amounts of their yen. You fucking loved it. And you loved how closely Majima took notice... if he only knew how wholesome and loving you are inside, how you yearn to lavish him and only him with every ounce of your true tenderness...

  You were sure he could read your intentions, he had to know how you felt by now. Your pining for him was only growing by the day, by the hour... you weren’t quite sure just how long you could keep yourself from blurting out, “Majima-san, I wanna swallow ya whole!” the next time you were alone with him... but as fortune would have it, you would get your chance sooner than you thought.

 ***

   Arriving at Takara, you’re eager to set up. Glassware clean enough that it sparkles, garnishes so fresh you’d almost think them fake, all chairs perfectly aligned, inviting, boasting of the good times and grand nights to follow. You love making this place shine.

   You turn the booth lights down, set the music and take another look around for anything missing. Realizing that the menus haven’t yet been put out, you head to the back office to retrieve them.

   They sat in a neat stack at the edge of Majima’s desk and as you near them, your heart skips and plunges straight between your thighs. His black leather gloves lie right beside them.

   Fuuuuck... you’ve ached at the idea of feeling them on your skin, in any and every way. You want to be spanked with them, gripped by the hands that fill them, choked, smacked...you want to inhale the scent of them so fucking badly, the scent of leather paired with his skin, his pheromones... Jesus fucking Christ this is too much.

   You sneak your head out of the office door, scanning the room for any sign of life. Satisfied that as you thought, you’re the first to arrive and that no one else is here yet, you allow yourself to get brazen. Besides, the only cameras in the house that work are in the lounge and back of house, it’s how Majima keeps an eye on things throughout shifts so he knows when certain guests arrive or if he’s needed right away. You never questioned it, as any closed door meetings that took place in the back office would surely be of an extremely classified nature and you fully understood that a dummy cam was advantageous for whatever they do back here.

   Double-taking once again, the milliseconds are pounding in your temples, your pulse picks up as you wonder, did he leave his gloves here last night? You couldn’t recall, but suppose it doesn’t matter. He usually comes in after service has begun, so it’s possible he’ll arrive at his usual in-time... so if you do the math once again, this means you are all alone and his gloves are still sitting on the desk, teasing you to indulge yourself.

   Fuck it.

 You glide towards the desk, grabbing the glove closest you. Bringing it to your lips, you inhale, closing your eyes, shuddering... fucking salivating. You wipe the corner of your mouth with your other hand and sigh, taking the glove to your cheek, picturing him stroking you with the side of his leather-clad hand. It really is too much. 

 You lean onto the desk, perching on its corner, widening your seat, slipping your hand down your pants, past your waistband... you’re gonna take this moment to let go... and satiate one of your many fantasies about Majima fucking Goro. You’re too hot to care right now, and this is so much easier than trying to make a move on his fine ass anyway.

   You slip your hand into the right handed glove and get to workin’, rubbing your clit with one hand while fully prepared to slide at least two fingers into yourself when the time—when you— come.

   You start panting, trying hard to keep it quiet in case anyone else is in the building... but the moan escaping your lips is beyond your control. You grab the remaining glove, bringing it to the tip of your nose as you’re nearing the edge already, pressing your leather clad thumb on your clit, you begin to convulse, two seconds away from complete release when you hear the click of familiar steel toed boots striding along... closer and closer.

   You jump off the desk just as you hear the footsteps nearing the back office. Planting the gloves back in their respective place, you immediately grab the stack of menus as the door swings open.

   Trying to catch your breath, trying harder than ever in your life to posture yourself like it’s business as usual, you flip the top menu open and pretend to scour it, making sure it’s updated to reflect this weekend’s features as Majima saunters into the room, casually grabbing the stack of envelopes sitting in the tray hanging on the wall.

    “What’s up, Y/N-chan? Yer here early... place looks great!”

  “I’m glad, Majima-san. Thank ya.”   

He steps towards you, setting the envelopes down on the desk, his glance bee-lining straight to his gloves. Your pulse now shoots right up into your throat. Does he know? No fucking way.

   He chuckles and turns to look at you, appraisingly. As much as you’d relish this moment, you’re on the verge of a heart attack so you try to coolly break the silence, running your finger across the open menu in your hands. “Ah, the menus look good, Majima-san... I was thinkin’ we could start using a gloss card stock instead of regular paper, that way we could wipe them off at the end of the night instead of having to reprint them every other day...”

   He grins widely and tilts his head to the side. “Good thinkin’, Y/N-chan. I love where yer head’s at.”

   You pause... yikes. Can he tell that you’re shaking ever so slightly? Because you definitely feel like you’re sitting atop a washing machine right now.   

“Need a hand? I had all of ‘em reprinted so I can help ya set ‘em out...”  

Jeeeeeesus.  

You gulp. “Nah, I’ve got it covered, Majima-san. I appreciate it.” Right now, you desperately need to put as much distance between the two of you as possible or you’ll never regain your wits. Especially not in time to open to the public. His phone beeps and he pulls it from his jacket pocket, examining it with mild annoyance. You take this as your moment to escape, relieved at the distraction. Stepping back, you restack the menus, preparing to wrap your arms around them in order to fit them all in one hold, in one trip.

   Just before grabbing the tower of menus, he steps closer to you, placing a hand on your shoulder, slowly trailing it down to your lower back. “Mind grabbin’ my gloves fer me? I gotta take care of somethin’.”

  Your breath hitches as your hand shakily reaches for the black leather demons a foot away from you, taunting you to keep your cool. You grab them, wincing as he leans into you to meet your grasp, giggling. His cologne wafts before you, leaving you tingling, intoxicated. If you moved forward an inch, your lips would be at the nape of his neck.

   You feel like you’re gonna pass out. In the name of all that is holy, you just want him to take you against the wall and consume you in every way he sees fit. You want him to hurt you, as nothing hurts more than a desire that burns so fervently with no action. You feel like it’s killing you.

   He pulls away, still standing within a foot of you, his gaze still locked into yours. He slips each hand into each glove slowly, deliberately, all the while keeping unblinking eye contact. He reaches forward and quickly pinches the apple of your cheek with catlike speed, chuckling.

   “Alright, I’m outta here. Back in a bit, Y/N-chan!”

   He turns on his heel and as quickly as he appeared, vanishes.

   You’re panting like you just won the world championship for Hide-and-Seek. Fuck, that was close. You take one more deep breath, collecting the menus into your fully outstretched arms as you make for the door when this time, your heart actually stops.

   A sharp, tiny red light stares back at you, right where you’re standing, just above the door. Since FUCKING WHEN does the back office camera work?!  

Fuck, fuck, fuck...

 ***

 I set out to write this and I am not sorry for where my mind went. So unapologetic in fact that Part 2 is almost complete and I’ll be uploading it very shortly, alongside Part 1 of another Majima fic & Part 3 of my Loki fic, MATM... lemme know if you wanna be tagged in any of my Yakuza fics, for they are APLENTY! xxxxo <3

[lynnafred]

A Quest - A Short Story

Last year, I wrote a short story on my old blog that I’d called “A Favor” based on a prompt from @merigreenleaf. Then December hit, Tumblr decided my blog was no longer worthy, and forced me to abandon nine years of shitty memes and audio posts and here I am. But there were shorts on there that I liked, dammit, so I’m posting them again. So, for no particular reason than because I like the way it came out, I (re)present: A Quest. Instead of breaking it into parts, I’ve decided to post the whole story here for ease.

A Quest (Light Swearing, no other warnings, First Person POV, 4970 words total)

“I need a favor.”

I rolled over in my bed to face where the voice had come from. However, I refused to open my eyes to see who the requester was. “Are you shitting me?” It was well past three in the morning, and I had a massive hangover. I was in no condition to be doing anyone any favors.

“I understand that it’s late, but this errand is of the utmost importance.”

With a sigh, I cracked one eye open. It was the town blacksmith. Of course it was. I’m sure that I know her name, but my mind was too foggy and my desires too minimal to be bothered to remember it. “And what is this favor of the ‘utmost importance’ on this fine day at three am?” I tried not to be sarcastic, but it was hard not to be.

“There is an item that my wife desires, called ‘That.’ She speaks of it often, always wishing that it was in my possession,” the blacksmith explained. “If you were to find me ‘That,’ I would compensate you for your time.”

“Seriously? It’s called ‘That?’ Are you running out of names?”

HEY, NO METAGAMING. THIS IS MY FIRST CAMPAIGN AND YOU SAID YOU’D BE NICE. SO FUCK OFF, IT’S CALLED THAT.

“Ugh, this sucks,” I muttered. I considered my options. I could indulge the blacksmith, or I could tell her to stuff herself, roll back over, and go back to sleep until the innkeeper threw me out. I groaned, audibly, before swinging my feet over the edge of the bed. I hated being a Paladin. “Fine, fine. I’ll find you ‘That,’ but this compensation had better be worth my time.” I put on my armor as I spoke. “Do you have an idea of there I’ll be able to find ‘That?’ Or am I left on my own to figure it out?”

The blacksmith’s eyes lit up at my words. “Oh, kind paladin, thank you for your help. I’ve heard that there is an item collector in the next town. Rumors have been circulating that he has ‘That’ in his possession.”

Great. A three am excursion to the next town. Luckily for me, the next town wasn’t more than a few hours’ walk. If I worked quickly, I’d be able to get there and back within the same day and still be able to rest before I continued my journey. I still had an adventuring party to assemble and a dragon to slay.

The early morning air was brisk. I could feel the cold through my armor, and that only made me wish that I could go back to the inn and sleep until a more reasonable hour. Regardless, I promised I’d find her the item. So, I made the trek as fast as my feet could carry me, trying my best to avoid any confrontations with marauders and goblins as I went.

The sun was rising over the treetops by the time I made it to the neighboring town of Selkirk. Even though it was still relatively early, there were plenty of people out and about in the market. I looked over the market as I walked, gawking at the items that some of the vendors were selling. Figures, all the best products show up first thing in the morning when I don’t have the money to purchase them.

It didn’t matter, I wasn’t here for sightseeing or shopping, I was here to find the item collector. At the end of the main road, I found the place I was looking for. Walking inside, it looked more like a pawn shop than the house of a man who hoarded collectables.

“I’m looking for an item,” I announced as I walked inside.

The shopkeeper, an older man, totally ignored me.

WHAT’S YOUR DAMAGE? CAN’T YOU MANAGE A ‘GOOD MORNING,’ AT LEAST?

“I just want to get this over with so my character can go back to bed. I can’t heal unless I rest for a full eight hours.”

YOU WOULDN’T HEAL ANYWAY. YOUR CHARACTER WASN’T RESTING, YOU PASSED OUT FROM DRINKING TOO MUCH ALE. THEY’RE NOT THE SAME.

I shrugged. Touche. “Uh, good morning,” I said. “I’m looking for an item.”

The shopkeeper turned around to look at me this time. “Ah, welcome. Good morning.” The man smiled. He was missing a tooth that caused him to whistle as he breathed. “As you can see, I have many items here.”

I straightened my posture and tried to ignore the sharp sound that accompanied every sound that started with an ‘S.’ “This may be harder to find than most, but I’ve been told that it’s in your possession. I’m looking for a legendary item called ‘That.’”

“Ah, yes, I do have the item you seek,” the shopkeeper said. His eyes sparkled as he spoke. “However, ‘That’ is an item worth far more than any amount of coin could buy. I’d be willing to trade for it, though, if you were to provide me with ‘This’ in return.”

I crossed my arms. “Are you kidding me?” I asked. This couldn’t be happening to me.

“I assure you, I do not jest. If you want ‘That,’ I will require ‘This’ in trade.”

I rolled my eyes as I asked, “And do you know where ‘This’ would be located?”

“For twenty silver, I can tell you where ‘This’ might be.”

“This is bullshit!” I yelled.

YOU’RE MORE THAN WELCOME TO LOOK FOR IT YOURSELF IF YOU DON’T WANT TO SPEND THE TWENTY SILVER.

The booming voice of the Dungeon Master (that only I could hear, apparently,) had a point. Paying twenty silver could take days - weeks! - off of my quest for ‘This.’ I begrudgingly slid a satchel with the requested amount of coins across the table. “Fine, here’s your twenty silver. Now where can I find ‘This?’”

“The last time ‘This’ was seen was a day’s journey from here, alongside the flooded streambed.”

I gritted my teeth. This was the absolute worst. “Very well, I’ll seek out ‘This.’ But I require ‘That’ in return.”

The shopkeeper smiled. “Of course. I won’t trade ‘That’ for anything other than ‘This.’ Save travels, Paladin.” With that, he turned his back to me. I was no longer worth his time if I didn’t have ‘This’ or coin to spend. With a huff, I exited the shop and went back into the busy town.

 The day had turned out to be fairly warm, for autumn. The town market still bustled with activity, but the only thing that I could focus on was getting out of here and getting to the flooded streambed before anyone else could find the item I needed. Without ‘This’ I’d never get my hands on ‘That’ unless I resulted to drastic measures. Like killing the shopkeeper. Even then, I had no idea what I was looking for. I wouldn’t know what ‘That’ looked like if it bit me in the ass.

So instead, I found myself trudging through the woods, looking for the streambed. Townspeople that I’d spoken to were of little help, but I was able to glean that the stream bed was pretty distinctive. A day’s journey, though, was pretty intense. I could only hope that there was little danger in the woods ahead of me. If I wasn’t able to rest, then my exhaustion would get the better of me.

At sunset, I built myself a small fire near a rock outcropping and decided to wait until morning to continue my journey. These woods got eerily quiet at night, and darker than most I’d traveled through. They made me nervous, and as a result, I didn’t sleep well.

Exhausted, I made sure the embers of my fire were extinguished before making my way to where the townsfolk had insisted the flooded streambed was. Ahead of me, down a small hill, I saw what I could only assume is what the townsfolk had talked about. There was no stream, but instead a small vernal pool where a good deal of the spring rains had collected. Dancing near the shores of the pool was a goblin. I drew my claymore and approached it with caution.

“Halt, goblin!” I called as I approached it. The last thing I needed was a goblin horde to attack.

The goblin stopped its dance and looked at me, caution plaguing its features. “I am no normal goblin, human,” it spat. “Stay back.”

In its hand, I noticed a small spherical object. “The item you keep. Is that -”

The goblin hid the item behind its back. “Not ‘That!’ This is ‘This.’”

My stomach sank. The goblin had gotten to it before me. “Give me ‘This!’”

“‘This’ is mine!” the goblin growled. “Finders keepers!”

“I need ‘This’ to trade for ‘That!’” I yelled. “Give it to me!”

The goblin hissed at me and clutched ‘This’ close to its chest. “No! If you want ‘This’ then I need a lock of hair from the silver-haired maiden.”

I cocked an eyebrow. A maiden? This was way more my speed. “Silver-haired maiden?”

The goblin eagerly nodded. “Yes, the silver-haired maiden. She lives in the woods over there.” The goblin gestured to where it meant. “Her beauty is captivating, but you mustn’t succumb to her charms, human.”

I crossed my arms. “Fine. A lock of hair from the silver-haired maiden for ‘This.’ You have a deal.”

The goblin nodded. “Good. I will be in hiding but will emerge when I hear your footfalls. Come back with the lock of hair, human,” it instructed before running away down the streambed.

The woods the goblin spoke of weren’t too far. In only an hour’s walk, I came to a large clearing in the forest, decorated in all of autumn’s colors. In the middle was a large boulder, and on top of it, the maiden that I sought.

Her hair glittered in the afternoon sunlight with an ethereal glow. Resisting her charms was going to be far harder than I thought. I took a tentative step into her space as I called, “Excuse me, maiden, may I have a moment of your time?”

WHY ARE YOU SUCH A DICK TO EVERYONE ELSE BUT KIND TO THE MAIDEN?

“Have you seen her? She’s beautiful, look at her. Maybe I can relieve her of her status as a maiden for a lock of her hair.”

YOU’RE DISGUSTING AND THINKING WITH YOUR DICK. I DON’T GET WHAT CHERYL SEES IN YOU.

The maiden turned her attention towards me, beckoning me over with a wave. “For you? I may be able to spare a moment.”

I stepped further into the meadow, cautious of any traps. “I’ve come looking for something, my lady.”

The maiden’s voice was even toned, but tinted with curiosity. She smiled as she spoke, “And what might that be? I may not be of much assistance.”

“A simple lock of the maiden’s hair.”

Her face fell and she looked at me, blank-faced. “A lock of my hair?”

I nodded, the metal on my helmet clinking as I did so. “Yes, my lady, I’m in need of a lock of your hair. Would it please you to do so?”

The maiden, perched atop a boulder, furrowed her brow in concentration. “I accept, but will require something in return.”

Of course she does. “Anything, my lady.” Probably not the best thing to reply. But she was beautiful. In spite of the goblin’s words, I was definitely captivated by her beauty.

“I require an apple.”

I paused mid eyeroll. “Wait. An apple? Is that all you require?”

The maiden nodded. “Yes, an apple.” Her smile was warm, but something deadly glinted in her blue eyes. “The sweetest apples are found in a valley high in the mountains to the east, guarded from the deadly frosts around them by a spirit who resides in a deep blue lake. I require an apple from those mountain hills, for that is the only way I will be able to taste one. I cannot leave these woods.”

I nodded. “As you wish, my lady. An apple from the mountains in the east.”

She smiled. “Thank you, kind traveler.”

I was able to hitch a ride with a traveling merchant to take me most of the way to the mountains in the east. The journey was long, a few days, but the merchant kept me company and allowed me to sleep while he minded his shop during the day as long as I guided the cart at night and protected him from beasts and attackers. For the first time in my journey, someone hadn’t asked something impossible of me.

He regaled me with stories of the spirit in the mountains that I was headed to, a young child who guarded over the apple trees I sought. He urged me to be cautious in my ascent, and as thanks for protecting him from danger, gave me a fleece-lined doublet before sending me on my way. He said that he hoped that the doublet would help me shrug off the cold that I was going to experience in my journey up the mountain cliffs.

And he wasn’t kidding. Scaling the mountain was hard work. There were hardly any paths once I reached about a third of the way up the mountain, and skeletons and wolves were everywhere. As much as I’d wished the merchant had gifted me with potions, the doublet kept me from getting cold, even as the temperatures around me continued to fall.

It wasn’t only the temperatures that fell, either. The higher up the mountain I went, the more intense the snowfall became, until I was climbing up sheer mountainsides in a blizzard. I hoped that I found the valley before my hands slipped and sent me to my death.

A cave provided me with the shelter I needed to make a warm fire and sleep for a few hours before starting on my way again. As exhausted and injured as I was from all the fighting, I was eager to meet the spirit in the mountain valley, to see if it was anything like the merchant’s stories.

Finally, after what seemed like days, I found the valley. Snow blew through the valley and obscured the apple trees a bit, but there was no mistaking the blue lake in its center. I steeled myself and took my first step towards the lake. It almost felt sacrilegious to set foot in such a pristine area of the world.

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one to think that. I wasn’t even halfway to the lake yet when I felt the earth move beneath my feet. The snow subsided and the wind died down as I saw it. The spirit rose from the lake, water of the purest blue pouring off of its form as it rose. “Human, why do you disturb this valley?”

I rested my hand on the hilt of my claymore, preparing for a fight if these negotiations failed. This looked like no child I’d ever seen before. “I have journeyed from far in the west, seeking the sweetest apple that grows under your protection.”

The spirit’s voice boomed, sending shockwaves from its place, as it spoke to me. “For whom is this apple meant?”

“A silver-haired maiden, bound to the deep forests of Aboyne.”

“These apples are not for mere mortals,” the spirit thundered.

My eyes shone. “This is no mere mortal,” I replied. “This maiden is fair and beautiful. An apple from this valley is the only thing she has ever asked of me.” Not a lie, it was the only thing that she’s asked of me.

“Very well,” the spirit said finally. “There is a scholar at the base of this mountain, in the town of Kinross. Tell him I desire a vanilla pod from his orchids.”

“Vanilla? Vanilla only grows in tropical areas, it’s not going to be found in a temperate town on the base of a snowy mountain.”

I DON’T REMEMBER ASKING YOU YOUR OPINION ON QUEST ITEMS, MIKE.

“I’m a fucking botanist! You can’t tell me to get a plant based item and not have me scrutinize it!”

I DIDN’T HEAR YOU BITCHING ABOUT MOUNTAIN APPLES.

“Because that’s almost plausible! Depending on the depth of the valley and the lake, the thermal heat of the body of water -”

SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GET THE VANILLA.

“Jesus, so touchy, alright.” I turned my attention from the sky back to the spirit. “Very well, I’ll get you your vanilla. May I ask you why you need it?”

The spirit gazed at me, its face unable to hide its disdain. “No,” it said before vanishing in a flash of water. From the empty air, its voice was barely an echo. “Do not return here unless you have what I seek.”

I looked around me and sighed. Getting out of here was going to suck. Getting off the mountain was going to suck harder.

 It took me another two days to get down from the snowy mountain valley, but I was relieved to feel the comparative warmth of the autumn air in the quiet town. I passed the traveling merchant on my way into town, who gave me a knowing smile on his way past. He knew that his doublet had save my life. There was no need for me to say it again.

I trudged through the town, greeting the remaining townsfolk as I went. Merchants tried to get me to purchase what was left of their daily wares, but I was too tired and too broke to think about getting anything for now. A group of particularly chatty kids pointed me in the direction of the scholar’s library. I hoped that the scholar was still there, because it was nearing sunset. Many people were heading back to their homes for the night.

I wrenched open the door to the scholar’s library. “Good evening!” I called.

The place was completely dark. I looked around me for a lamp, and upon finding it, used a small burst of fire magic to ignite it. Long shadows were cast from its glow across the room.

“Turn that off this instant!” a voice screamed from the corner. “This experiment is light sensitive!”

I quickly put the lamp out. “You could have replied to me when I called for someone!” I spat. “Are you the scholar?”

“The only scholar in the village!” the man, a high elf, replied. “Now what do you need, now that you’ve ruined my experiment?”

“I’m looking for a pod of your vanilla for the spirit in the mountains.”

The scholar clicked his tongue. “Again? I’m starting to think making a deal with her was a mistake. Very well, I’ll give you a pod of vanilla for her if you will buy me some coffee from the grocer up the road.”

“Coffee?”

“Yes, coffee. I’ve been up for days without rest, and I need some coffee in order to keep up this pace.”

“Perhaps you should just rest, then?”

“I’ll rest when my experiments are complete!” the elf yelled. He tossed me a small satchel. “This should be enough to buy the coffee, as well as some extra for your trouble.”

I caught the satchel and slipped it into my pocket. It felt light, but I took his word for it anyway. “You have my gratitude.”

“And you have my coin. Now go get me that coffee.”

I ran out of the scholar’s library as fast as my feet could carry me without tripping myself and headed to the grocer’s stall. The grocer, a portly woman of middle age, smiled upon my approach. “Coffee for the scholar?”

I nodded. “Please tell me you have some?”

The woman’s smile grew even larger. “For him? I always have some!” She flashed me a gesture to tell me to wait as she dug through the saddlebags on her horse. “There you go, my dear,” she said. “The strongest coffee I have, ground yesterday in my mill on the farm.”

I pulled out the satchel the scholar gave me. “How much?”

“He usually gives me a gemstone,” she replied. “His gemstones are worth more than my whole farm, but I’m the only one who’s figured out how to grow coffee.” She winked at me.

I looked in the satchel the scholar had given me. Inside were three rubies, a diamond, and an emerald. I gave the woman the diamond without any hesitation. “For you,” I said as I handed it to her.

Her face fell as she took it. “There must be some mistake,” she said. “This is too nice a gemstone.”

I couldn’t hide my grin. “No, no,” I replied. “You’ve done me a great service. I can at least give you this.”

ARE YOU SURE YOU SHOULD HAVE GIVEN HER THE DIAMOND? THERE WAS ONLY ONE DIAMOND.

“Fuck off, Rebecca,” I replied as I ran back to the scholar’s library. “The woman is a saint and deserves a life of luxury and comfort, I’ll find another diamond.”

YEAH, OKAY, WHATEVER. I DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT WHEN YOU FIND YOURSELF IN NEED OF A DIAMOND.

The scholar greeted me at the door, taking the coffee from me and eating the grounds by the handful. I rolled my eyes. Why were elves always like this? “For you, the best pod of vanilla that my orchids have produced,” he said as he handed me the pod. “Now go, before the spirit gets angry.”

I trudged my way back up the mountain and announced myself when I got to the banks of the spirit’s lake.

Its voice was a rippling whisper over the valley. “Toss the offering into my spring, human.”

I did as I was told and tossed the vanilla pod into the deep blue lake. “As you wish.”

With a flash of light, the spirit appeared before me again, this time in the form of a small child. The temperature seemed to have gone up, as well, because I found myself uncomfortable in the relative heat of the valley. “Thank you for your offering, human,” it said, its voice light like that of the Fey. “For you, the sweetest, largest apple off of my trees for a silver-haired maiden.”

The spirit produced a large apple, cold to the touch, into my hands. I slid it into an empty bag at my hips, not willing to risk it getting ruined on my long journey back to the woods where the maiden resided.

As one last favor to me, the spirit used its magic to deposit me immediately back outside the woods where the silver-haired maiden resided. She still sat at the top of her boulder, her hair still illuminated by the sun, and smiled at me when she saw my approach. For the first time since I’d met her, she slid off the rock and met me at its base.

“For you, my lady,” I said with a bow as I held the apple out to her.

She smiled as she took it into her own hands. “It’s everything that I’d hoped it would be,” she smiled. “As promised, you may take a lock of my hair.”

I took my dagger out of my satchel and gingerly took a small lock of hair from her. Her hair felt like silk to the touch. Along with being the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in my life, she also had the most beautiful hair. “Thank you, my lady,” I replied finally as I slid the lock of hair into the pouch where the apple had been not moments before.

“May the gods bring you glory, Paladin,” she responded. I shuddered when she ran her hand down my cheek, but not from attraction or arousal. My blood ran cold when she touched me, fear settling in the pit of my stomach. I needed to get out of these woods, and fast. She smiled down at the apple.

I turned away from her to make my journey back to the goblin when I heard her bite into the apple and laugh. Against my better judgement, I looked behind me, hoping to catch a glimpse of her enjoying the gift I’d brought her. Left in her place, though, was a ring of gently glowing flowers and the apple, as perfect and unblemished as it had been when I’d brought it.

I ran out of the woods without another look back.

I was tired and out of breath by the time I’d gotten back to the vernal pool where I’d met the goblin. Not seeing it, I decided to start heading back to the village. It had promised to find me, and I was going to take it at its word.

It peeked out from the rocky outcropping where I’d made my camp, what seemed like forever ago. “Human!” It greeted me. “Welcome. You have the hair?”

I nodded, still struggling to catch my breath.

“Sit, sit,” it offered as it lit a fire. “The sun sets soon and these woods are not safe at night.

So that’s where my initial feeling of dread came from. I took the offered seat and fished in my satchel for the hair. Upon brandishing it to the goblin, it grinned. “You managed it!”

I laughed and handed it the hair. “It wasn’t easy, I assure you.”

The goblin devoured the hair before I could stop it. In a flash of smoke, a dwarf sat where the goblin had just been.

CONGRATS, MIKE. YOU JUST FREED YOUR GIRLFRIEND FROM HER CURSE AND SHE CAN JOIN THE CAMPAIGN AGAIN.

“What the fuck.”

CHERYL, COME JOIN THE CAMPAIGN! MIKE JUST FREED YOU! AND GRAB ME ANOTHER SLICE OF PIZZA!

“Thank you, friend!” the dwarf roared with laughter. She gave me a firm slap on the back that knocked the wind out of my lungs, like I hadn’t just caught my breath. “You are a true friend to dwarvenkind.”

The dwarf sat by the fire with me as she braided her beard. “The silver haired maiden lured me into her trap with her charm. Turned me into a goblin and left me for dead in these woods.” She caught sight of my blank stare and laughed, deep and rumbling. “It seems that only your ignorance of this place protected you, human. Tonight, we stay here, but from tomorrow I will accompany you on your journey to repay my debt.”

The next morning, Cheryl Ryngwyn and I headed back to town to meet with the pawnbroker. His shop was as cluttered as the last time we’d met, but he smiled when he saw us enter the shop. “Greetings, Paladin! I see you’ve made a friend in your quest.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. I’d been through too much the past week. Between the Fey masquerading as a maiden and the knowledge that my girlfriend has been playing D&D with her friends as a bearded dwarven woman, I was suspicious of everything I came into contact with. “Indeed. I have ‘This,’ so now it’s time to hand over ‘That,’ as promised.”

The pawnbroker smiled. “Of course. ‘That’ for ‘This’ as promised.” He reached behind the counter and produced a small disc. I took it from him as Ryngwyn handed him ‘This.’ The man behind the counter smiled. “Thank you, travelers. ‘This’ is going to look good among my personal collection. ‘That’ might be more valuable, but ‘This’ is truly a treasure.”

I looked down at the item that he had given us. “This is a copy of Shrek 2.”

DAMMIT, MIKE, I DON’T HAVE ENOUGH MINIFIGURES AND PROPS FOR EVERYTHING YET. WHY ARE YOU BEING SO CRITICAL?

“I’m not trying to be critical, I was just hoping that it would be more impressive than Shrek 2.”

Beside me, Ryngwyn laughed.

WELL IT’S NOT, SO THE LEGENDARY ITEM ‘THAT’ IS A DVD COPY OF SHREK 2, OKAY? YOU CAN BRING THE PROPS NEXT TIME.

Ryngwyn and I shared a look before we left, hurrying back down the beaten dirt road to the town I’d started in. We paused halfway there to eat a portion of our rations before continuing on our way. We nearly collapsed from exhaustion when we arrived at the blacksmith’s house.

I knocked on the door and waited for the blacksmith to answer. It was late, but if she could bother me at three am to go on a goose hunt, she could surface at midnight to answer her door. Eventually, she cracked the door open and looked at us with suspicion. “Paladin? Have you returned with what I seek?”

I held Shrek 2 in front of me. “Yes, I have… ‘That’ …in my posession. Do you have the payment you promised?”

The blacksmith nodded. “Yes, I do.” She invite us in and motioned to a table. “I’m prepared to offer you the best claymore that I have ever forged in exchange for ‘That.’ It’s been enchanted with holy magic, making it particularly effective against evil creatures.” The blacksmith looked at it fondly. “I’m sure it will help you on your journey, Paladin.”

I smiled and handed the blacksmith ‘That.’ Her calloused hands brushed against mine. “Thank you, this is an extraordinary weapon.” I picked the weapon up and gave it a preliminary swing to get a feel for the weapon. For something so big, it was well balanced. “This is an offer I’ll gladly accept.”

The blacksmith smiled and clutched ‘That’ close to her. “I’m glad you’re fond of the trade. Thank you, Paladin.”

As we turned to leave, I cast a look over to Ryngwyn and smiled. “Tavern?”

The dwarf laughed and slapped me on the back. “Let’s just pick up some adventurers so we can slay that dragon, alright? We can celebrate at the tavern once we’re done.”

[siriuslycollins-blog]

Want You Back - Ulysses Klaue

“Ugh, I can’t keep doing this with you, it’s the same old thing every single time and I am fucking tired of it!” Selena Hawkins screeched at her fiancée Ulysses Klaue. Once again the 22-year-old caught her fiancée cheating on her, finding the evidence when a message popped up on his phone while he was in the shower. Selena didn’t mean to go through his stuff but she was curious; Ulysses was coming home later than usual, refusing dinner when she worked her ass off in the kitchen to fix his favorite meal, his hushed conversations over the phone late at night, and the kicker, a pregnancy test that definitely was NOT hers. “Baby, angel, princess, I promise I have no idea who that woman is,” Ulysses pleaded, lying right to her face, even with the pregnancy test in her hand. “Then why the hell was there a fucking pregnancy test in our trash can?! Don't fucking lie to me!”

But Ulysses ignored her and asked, “are you sure it’s not yours? We’ve going at it for weeks.” Selena wanted to smack the piss out of him but instead threw the stick at him and headed toward their shared bedroom and pulled out a suitcase from the closet. “What are doing? You’re not leaving are you? We’re engaged, did you forget?” Selena ignored Ulysses, stuffing clothes into her suitcase and zipped it up. She found an old school backpack and stuffed more clothes in it, her toothbrush, skincare products and put it in the doorway with the suitcase and finally took off the Tiffany Soleste engagement ring and sat it on the bedside table.

“Not anymore we’re not. Consider yourself single.” Selena was surprised herself as the words left her mouth; whenever she caught him cheating, she never thought she could go through with leaving Ulysses, she loved him too much for that. No woman in her family ever left their cheating partner, not her aunts, cousins, grandmother, even her mom, and she knew her mother would disapprove. Mrs. Hawkins would encourage Selena to work it out, give him time to grow. Selena did all of that, twice now, and still has yet to see any kind of growth or maturity with Ulysses and she didn’t know how much more she could take.

Selena considered Ulysses the love of her life, she wanted to marry him, have his kids, and he promised her all of that. She thought he was the one, that much she thought when Selena was barely nineteen; Ulysses said he would give her anything she could ever want or need if she held him down, and she accepted.  “Baby, you can’t mean that.” Selena booked a flight back to her hometown, New Orleans and reserved a room at a hotel in the French Quarter. “I’m serious Ulysses, I’m tired of doing this with you. You keep saying you’re gonna change and then go right back to cheating again.”

At this point Ulysses was on his knees in front of her as she tried to leave the room and he wrapped his arm around her legs. “Get off me! The fact that you have the fucking nerve to cheat and you wanna cry? Bullshit!” Selena kicked him off her and dragged her bags to the living room of the Paris penthouse they once shared; she didn’t care if it was late, she couldn’t spend one more second with him so she rolled her stuff to the elevator. “We’re done, Ulysses.”

The elevator door shut and Selena was out of his life forever

6 months later

“YAASSS BITCH, FUCK IT UP,” yelled one of Selena’s best friends Andrea. They were in a night club in Sicily Italy and Selena was getting her life to the YG song Big Bank with her other two friends Kennedy and Sasha; they were cutting up on the dancefloor as Drea filmed them for Snapchat and Instagram, hyping them up as they twirled their hips to the beat of the song. Six months ago, Selena broke up with Ulysses, and like she suspected her mother and every other female in her family went off on her, calling her heartless for not giving him a chance to prove himself. Her aunts and cousins considered her lucky to even have a man like Ulysses, he had money, lots of it and he wanted to spend it on all her. What more could she possibly want? 

But the thing is, Selena was a rich bitch before Ulysses and she’ll be one after him, she didn’t need him for money, she could buy as many Chanel bags and Louboutin heels she wanted and it still wouldn’t break the bank. The song ended and the DJ played a Post Malone song so she sat down where a waiter brought drinks to their booth. Kennedy and Sasha slid in on the other side. Selena sipped her lemonade sangria as she noticed a cute Italian guy wink at her and whisper to his friend. “So girl, six months free of Ulysses. How’s it feel?” Drea asked.

“It’s actually... nice. I didn’t think I would like it as much,” Selena admitted. When she told her friends that she left him, they were super supportive and ready to throw hands with Ulysses and the bitch he cheated with but she stopped them; Selena didn’t want anything more to do with him and she was pretty sure Ulysses’ men would shut that down quick. In the weeks after the breakup, she moved back into her dad’s Garden District home, holed up in her room and cried until she got sick, and that’s when Andrea, Kennedy and Sasha stepped in and  told her to pack because they were going on vacation and it worked wonders. They partied it all over the world, and after a two week break back home they went to Italy and Selena was back to her old self. They even documented their excursions to show to their family when they got back. 

This was their last trip before they went home for good, so Sasha suggested Italy after learning that Italian men loved black women, and the bitch was right. For the past two weeks, they were waited on hand and foot by gorgeous Sicilian men, given free bottes of wine, jet skiing at Cefalu beach. Selena was in heaven and on the second night in Sicily when she was still a little upset about Ulysses, a guy named Nikolai fucked the little sadness she had out of her and that was it. No more thoughts about Ulysses late night wondering what he could be up to. It was getting late, nearly three in the morning and the club closed at four.

“You deserve to be happy boo. Just be glad you didn’t marry him. That would’ve been a messy ass divorce,” Kennedy said. “Yeah, I know. I would’ve been divorced in my early 20s with a baby,” Selena laughed as she finished off her drink. She still wants to have kids one day, but that could wait; right now she was living her best life with her friends and she was enjoying it. They weren’t very drunk so they walked back down the street back to their hotel, laughing about high school memories. What Selena didn’t know is that she had a surprise waiting on her.

Ulysses Klaue was in a van along with three of his men waiting on Selena to come home from the club. He arrived in Sicily this morning and spent most of the afternoon trying to find her but failed, checking every hotel and villa in the area to see if she was guest, but no one under the name Hawkins came up. He was about to give up and go back home when he heard her laughter, and there she was, going down a side street. The building the four girls went into was on Cefalu beach, and waited a minute before he followed suit. There was a man at a computer behind the counter in the lobby and went up to him.

“How may I help you this evening sir?” the concierge man asked with a thick Italian accent. “Those girls that came in a minute ago. What room are they in?”  “Le belle donne? Sono molto belle,” the man said pointing to the bank of elevators a few feet away. “Yes, yes, they’re very pretty, but what room are they in?” Ulysses was getting impatient and he wanted an answer now.

“Unfortunately sir, I cannot give you that information as it is confidential, unless you are with law enforcement.” Ulysses knew what to do and he pulled out a few hundred Euros, the equivalent of almost four hundred dollars in American money. “Would this be enough?” The man behind the desk looked in both directions before answering and sliding the money towards him. “Room 15C,” he said and went back to typing.

Ulysses took off, eager to see his girl after all these months. When the elevator opened up to the fifteenth floor he took off until he found room c; it turns out that the room wasn’t under Selena’s name, it was under her friend Andrea’s. He pushed his ear against the door and Ulysses could hear the popping of a champagne or wine botte and giggling. It was now or never; the love of his life was on the other side of this door. He took a deep a breath before knocking.

“Who is it?” someone yelled from the other side. “It’s maintenance! Here to check the air conditioning!” There was some shuffling before they unlocked the door and a girl that wasn’t Selena opened the door. “Maintenance? At almost four in the morning?” He wasn't going to comment that they were drinking alcohol at almost four in the morning, he just wanted to look for Selena. 

He pretended to check the air conditioning unit for problems, wondering how long could keep up this charade. “Hey, you look pretty familiar. Have we met before?” Andrea, the girl who answered the door asked. They did meet before but only once, way back when Selena had bought him home for the holidays in the early days of their relationship. “I don’t think that’s possible. I live in South Africa.”

“What’s going out here?” Selena asked as she exited the bathroom. She was wearing a satin pink lingerie night gown that stopped at her thigh and her hair was pulled into a bun on her head. She was in the bathroom doing her skincare routine so her face was still damps with products. “Oh, just the maintenance checking on the air condition.” “Well, we didn’t ask for maintenance at almost four in the morning, so sir, you can come back later today.” 

His time was up and he closed back the unit and turned to face her. The man with the tattoos on the side of his head and she could feel the shock on her face. “Ulysses, what the hell are you doing here? How did you find me?” This had to be some kind of dream, Selena was sure. Maybe she was a little too drunk and this was a hallucination of repressed fantasies and memories; there was no way he could be here, right? 

“Angel, I miss you and you know I love you.” Did his dumbass really think he could just waltz on in after six months of hard work to get back to herself? She pretended to ignore him and turned to Andrea. “Anyways, I was thinking that before we leave, we should try going to Ida’s, some of their stuff is cute,” Selena said, typing on her phone.” Andrea was just looking at her friend like bitch you know damn well you see this nigga in our room. “Selena, you do know your ex fiancée is here right?” Andrea was sure that Selena lost her mind.

“Yeah, I know. I ain’t tell him to come here though.” Selena still hasn’t looked at Ulysses and in truth, she was scared, scared because if she looked him in the eye, that she would break down, ruining months and months of hard work to get back to herself. “Selena, please, I’m sorry. Believe me.” Andrea was beginning to feel uncomfortable so she excused herself, talking about going for a run on the beach. When she left, Selena let Ulysses have it, not giving a damn if she deserved her neighbors. 

“Are you out of your fucking mind?! What made you come all the way to Italy? Just leave me the fuck alone! I don’t give a damn if you miss me, I said what the fuck I said when I said I was done. Get the fuck out of here.” Ulysses was heartbroken, he was sure that she would break after the first month and come back to Paris, that after it was all over they would get married and have kids, just like he promised her. Then one month turned into two, and two turned into three and so on, and Selena still wasn’t back. She had changed her number, moved back to America and everything was quiet. Not even her mom’s side knew where she was, as she wasn’t particularly close to her mother.

“Baby, I know I hurt you, and I’m sorry for that, but I don’t want to be without you. I can’t be without you. I want you to come back.” Ulysses really loved this woman, more than anything else, more than he wanted revenge against the Black Panther. “I can’t do that. How do I know you’re lying? And what about the kid?” He knew that this question would pop up and he was excited to reveal that it wasn’t his. “Kid’s not mine and I promise I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you.”

Selena loved Ulysses, even after six months, but how could she trust him? She didn’t want to do this, not now, not when she was just starting to get used to not having him in her life. “Ulysses...” “Look, I still have your ring,” Ulysses said fishing his pockets for the Tiffany engagement ring. He held it out to her and got down on bended knee. 

A second proposal. “Ulysses, it’s not just the cheating, it’s the missions. You’re gone for months at a time and when you leave I don’t know if it’s going to be the last time I see you, and you’re already a wanted man by S.H.I.E.L.D.” This was another reason why Selena left, she was always worried about Ulysses whenever his missions took him out of whatever country they were living in, not coming back for months on end with short phone calls at night. His line of work was too dangerous and she couldn’t stand the thought of getting a phone call from one of his men saying that he was captured by the government or worse, dead. She wouldn’t go through it, and it gave her heart palpitations every time he walked out the door.

“With the money from Ultron, you shouldn’t have to do this at all. I need you home.” He promised he’d do whatever it takes to get her back, and he would not break that promise. “For you? Anything, please just come home.” He sounded so sincere, and she couldn’t find any hint of a lie when she looked in his eyes; she didn’t want to throw away three years of dedication and she didn’t want to start over with someone else. He was still down on his knee with the ring still in his hand, looking up at her. 

“If you ever do this shit again, I will leave you.” Ulysses slipped the ring on her finger before picking her up and spinning her around. “I promise, you have me.”  

[tired-aliensoul]

Hey I read your post about your financial situation and I just wanted to ask how you got so far without giving up. I'm going through something really bad atm so I constantly feel pessimistic about the future. I want things to be okay I just don't know how to make it okay.

Well, I’m not sure if my answer will help you at all, honestly. A lot of it has to do with just who I am at the core. I hate spending money. I hate relying on others. I refuse to do something that gives me no enjoyment. It took me seven years and three degrees to get where I am at today and I don’t mean I have a master’s. I have two associates and a useless Bachelor’s. I also have thousands in student loan debt. I also hoard money. Any cash that I make doing one of my side-gigs, I put in a jar and leave it there. Save all your coins. Don’t use them to just make an even payment, just put them in a jar or piggy bank and when that bitch gets full, spill it out and, (you don’t have to be as weird as me who sorts it by coin and then counts it and then either scrounges for random change or puts back coins that aren’t going to give an even deposit number) deposit that shit in the bank. Right into savings, unless it’s going to help you pay for something needed. I’ve always had a personal desire to just make life better for myself and work my ass off to get it. I have fought for where I am now and I have had to ask for help from my parents, not financial but I had to ask to move back home because I was going to go through a rough financial time and needed to be somewhere that I wouldn’t have to pay rent, but still had to pay for my own things. I understand that asking for help from family or friends is not feasible for everyone, but if it is, swallow that pride and ask. It will help in the long run.

Honestly, if you want to start working toward a better future, get some sort of degree. I highly recommend getting a technical degree in something. If you want to be in the medical field but you don’t want to be a nurse, there are quite a few options for you there. Dental Assistant, Veterinary Tech, Surgical Tech, and Massage Therapy are a few technical degrees you can get and technical degrees can either be a certificate or an associates. Many, many options exist with a technical degree and man those programs really prepare you for exactly what you are going to be doing. It’s not like university where you have to take a shitload of bullshit courses that have nothing to do with your degree. Technical schools nix that shit and give you what you need to know. Anyway, you’ll spend about 1-2 years in school and technical schools are loads cheaper than universities and some community colleges. I understand that school is not for everyone, but I’m against the whole movement that goes against it. Get a degree in something, it will help you out. In fact, financial aid that is awarded is more than enough to help you pay for it. Do not be afraid of student loans, just be smart about them. I’ve paid off one loan already. You don’t need a bachelor’s in order to get an Entry level job that will give you full-time hours, benefits, and a big enough paycheck to live within your means.

Just, I dunno, just don’t give up. Even when things are looking dim, start looking for things that can help you better your situation. Never doubt yourself. I doubt myself a lot, so when I was 19, I got a tattoo that always reminds me that I can do what I’m putting my mind to. I know that seems silly, but it means a lot to me and it really has helped me when my mind has tried to get the better of me. Find your inner will to do what is necessary to get what needs done. Hell, get on medication if that will help. I did. Some part-time job companies are now offering health benefits to part-time employees so that you have access to that stuff. Starbucks is big on that, and they also have a tuition reimbursement program with Phoenix and their online degrees. Plus, you get to go home smelling like coffee and you get a free pound of coffee a week or some other coffee/tea based product like a box of tea or K-cups. Their food is relatively healthy and you get a markout when you work so your lunch is paid for. I worked for them and they helped out a lot of people, including me.

God, this got long and I feel like it’s sort of rambly and maybe I preached a little bit about degrees and whatnot, but had I known about technical colleges when I was graduating high school, I wouldn’t have fucked around with universities and would have been living a life like this five years earlier.

Things will get better as long as you know that it will. And I do mean ‘know’ and not ‘believe’. People don’t give up on things they ‘know’ is true, but people give up on things they ‘believe’. Know that it is fact you will have financial security some day. I knew it, and I got it and now I want better of it. Nothing wrong with taking a journey, just make sure you come away with a better you. Refine your plan as you go to accommodate. I have now declared 10 different majors of study in all types of my schooling. So like, adapt as needed.

I’m sorry if this doesn’t help you feel any better. I know it will get better for you because you want it to. The journey might be long to get there, but I know you will get there. I have total faith in you, anon.

[yakumtsaki]

Well, well, well, look who’s back with the most morally repugnant update in Union history. Me. It’s been a very productive summer of Netflix, chill and giving wrong directions to tourists but all good things must come to an end. Also coming to an end is my ill-fated attempt to kill Max, who, after refusing to eat the cake FOR 2 FUCKING DAYS is finally released from the cage of death. Honestly, I’m impressed, Max, you’re definitely not as stupid as you look.

-Yea, I get that a lot.

I doubt that but whatever, now gtfo and I better not see your Komei-clone ass around Jojo ever again or it’s back in prison for you!

-So, Jojo, not that we’re not all extremely invested in the excruciating selection process of your husband, but are you any closer to picking one?? I mean I love this whole commune thing we have going but the constant food delivery for 8 is killing us.

-We’re afraid not, dear brother, it’s starting to look like no one in this world is worthy of our majesty.

Ugh are we really doing royal ‘we’ now? Is this what this has come to?

-Yes, college has really helped develop our sense of self-worth.

How can it be self-worth if you’re ‘we’?

-This is exactly the kind of idiotic questioning that would get you eliminated from the suitor process. 

Oh, perish the thought! And miss out on this classical-music-dick-measuring-contest you have them doing?

-Ew seriously, Francis, Vivaldi? Why don’t you turn up to Justin Bieber while you’re at it.

Man, what a zinger! Good times. JOJO PICK A FUCKING DUDE ALREADY SO I CAN MOVE THE OTHERS OUT THE LOT IS LAGGY AS SHIT

-I lost the dick measuring contest and my punishment is sleeping on the couch.

KILL HIM IN HIS SLEEP MELODY

-Maybe later, Real Housewives of Pleasantview is on, Cassandra is getting dragged for the pigtails!!

-Ha, look at this Vivaldi-listening losér! Point at him and laugh, everyone!

-Who’s laughing now, bitch? Not you with that hoof right in your French-whore mouth!

-Ugh, aren’t you late for the beans-on-toast feast, you limey piece of merde?

Not since the 100 Years War have French-British tensions ran this high. Of course that one was for a throne, while this one..

-Is for something far more important.. Our heart.

LMAO Jojo please be serious, you don’t have a heart.

-We absolutely do and it’s made out of pure gold.

Yea I guess, I mean gold is a metal after all! 

-Do you really think you should be eating decaying Chinese food, mon cheri? You’re going to need a soda to digest it and you know it’s too cold for your teeth!

-Wyatt, I don’t pay you to think, I pay you to sit across from me and look pretty, and occasionally to scooch down next to me so I look taller.

-You actually don’t pay me at all.

-Yes and obviously I’m getting my money’s worth.

Wow Jojo tone it down, your gold heart is shinning so brightly I’m gonna go blind!

Precious Gunther has added three new addictions to his existing sex one! A) working out in this atrocious outfit.

B) blowing bubbles from dawn to dusk.

and c) and the most disturbing one, constantly being alone in enclosed spaces with his brother’s intended, Brit Brit. At first I wasn’t too worried about it, thinking Brit is a popularity sim so it’s only natural..but then..

I SEE THIS. GODDAMMIT GUNTHER WHY MUST YOU HAVE CHEMISTRY WITH EVERYONE

-Man idk, it’s almost supernatural. Blame it on God ;)

UGH I don’t even know who I hate more, your whore ass-

-or this fucking llama that hasn’t gone home in 3 days and is eating all our pizza. 

-I just feel so accepted here, like I’m part of the family, you know? 

GET OUT

Speaking of furries, not even the cow will approach the fucking cowplant, jfc. I mean you’d expect some kind of kinship there but nop. Great job Jojo, you killed a dozen secret society members for a defective cowplant.

-Mooo :(

I don’t know which one of you did that but stfu, I can’t anymore with this flop ass household!!!1

ANYWAY back to Brit and Daniel, it seems like my Gunther concerns were baseless, since these two remain eternally into each other, always autonomously doing cute crap.

-Oh Daniel, let me serenade you with the song of your people!  

The kings made us drunk with fumes, peace among us, war to the tyrants! Let the armies go on strike, stocks in the air, and break ranks. If they insist, these cannibals on making heroes of us, they will know soon that our bullets are for our own generals  ♪

ROMANCE ISN’T DEAD

In other news, allow me to present you all with Melody’s personality panel. I was under the false impression that being the child of Wanda and Stephen she was.. nice?? But nop, total Union freak material! We hit the jackpot once again. Now her best friendship with bitch Brit makes total sense.

-Honestly girl, this janky ass house is such a step down from the sorority, I spend half the day thinking of ways to peace out.

-Ugh I know, I was on the fence at first but can you really put a price on good d?

-Aw, what are my beautiful hens cackling about? May I join?

-No.

-I was about to make a math joke but I doubt you gals would get it, amirite? As Barbie said, math is hard!

- I’m a literal math major.

-Oh I know, Mel, good for you! Affirmative action works wonders!

KILL HIM AND HIS HAREM WE DON’T NEED THE LAG

It’s another day in paradise. Daniel has finally cracked and gone full Komei, autonomously cleaning shit even though we have a maid..

Melody ate a ton of burnt grilled cheese and is non-stop throwing up..

AND THIS BULLSHIT IS STILL GOING ON. STOP IN THE NAME OF LOVE

-What?? We’re just talking, GAWD

No you’re not “””just talking””” you’re gossiping and doing sexy whispers, I KNOW YOUR TRICKS GUNTHER-

-I don’t mean to interrupt but I think you’re focusing on the wrong issue here?

OH AM I?? DO TELL

-LOOK OUTSIDE BITCH

Nice try whores, nothing is happening outside-

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMMM WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK. WHAT. 

-That’s right, Ti-Ning and I are in love now!

............................FRAN THIS BETTER BE SOME DRY ASS BRITISH HUMOR 

-Nop! We got tired of waiting for Jojo and we decided the best way to handle it was to suddenly make out in front of him even tho we have never even flirted before!

THIS LITERALLY CANNOT BE HAPPENING

-Well it is, so best accept it and we can all move on :)

Oh yea certainly, I mean if anything Jojo is known for his ability to forgive and forget!

See the ghost of Ti-Ning indeed! Finally a wish Jojo and I share. 

TI-NING OMFG THIS LACK OF SHAME

-Haha!!! Finally I’m free to be as gross as I want >:) 

Well.. enjoy it while it lasts.

-The hell does that mean??

Nothing, just you know, none of us know when our time will come.. only that it will. The curse of human existence, one might say. Only we among the animal world know that we will die. Memento mori, Ti-Ning. And we will memento you. 

-..Yea, maybe it’s time I move out?

I mean, you can try..

..but like the curse from It Follows, it follows. It being Jojo. How you holding up boo?

-Oh, I’m great, can’t you tell?

You know what might help? Some of your beloved homework! Do something useful, get your mind off this stuff..

“Sending The First Human to Mercury and Leaving Him There: A Very Specific Space Exploration Proposal” 

-Jojό!! I’m writing about how I finally won your heart but please don’t look, I’m gonna read this at our wedding!

-Yea I literally couldn’t care less about you and your thoughts/feelings/etc, what was left of my heart is dead and gone and now there’s only a black hole there.. Oh we could also send Ti-Ning to a black hole if Mercury doesn’t work. Nice.

-UGH how are you even still alive and breathing the same air as me and not dead from shame like you should be, you vile adulteress???

-OH PLEASE you’re just mad cause Fran and I realized we can do better than your mega-jaw ass. If not for the endless supply of bubbles around here blurring our vision this would have happened weeks ago!

-I’m going to strangle you in your sleep and my jaw will be the last thing you see.

-Your jaw would be the last thing I saw even if I died on the moon.

-MAYBE YOU WILL

.....................well I guess it’s official then. And if the above didn’t seal it..

..this definitely did. God have mercy on me, what a shitshow.

While Tin and Fran are woohooing, Jojo attempts to end his troubles once and for all by running out of the house and into a thunder fire. Thankfully the rain puts it out quickly and all we’re left with is critically low hygiene. 

Man, serving Penguin teas! You have the entire look down, Jo. I’d tell you to audition for Gotham but that’s extremely bad career advice

-Oh god, I almost died!!!! 

Aw I know, but don’t worry you’re safe now <3

-No I mean I came so close but didn’t make it.. :(

Jojo please, if anything, live to kill Ti-Ning and Francis. You owe it to yourself.

As soon as Fran and Tin are done, guess who rushes in to gossip next to the bed. ISTG YOU ASSHOLES, BREAK IT THE FUCK UP BEFORE I THROW YOU OUT THAT WINDOW

-Whatever, we’d just land on Jojo trying to set himself on fire.

-LOL oh Brit you’re so funny!

I HATE THIS HOUSE

-HAD FUN, DID WE YOU SLUT

-Get him, Jojό!

Honestly Wyatt, I get being supportive but I’m really starting to worry about you, even demeaning yourself has its limits..

..especially since Jojo continues to be a massive freakshow. Good lord.

-Oh Francis, don’t tell Wyatt cause you know how he gets, but your total disregard for my existence is making me see you in a whole new, hot, light..

Man, good thing Wyatt isn’t standing 3 steps away from you!

Oh yes, loving this dinner. An ocean between us..

-I wouldn’t eat that third slice if I was you, Ti-Ning. Your funeral day is fast approaching, don’t you want to look nice for it? 

-Well you’ll be there so it doesn’t matter, everyone will be looking at your jaw.

Yes, what a wonderful night. Now let’s all go to bed and hopefully everyone will have calmed down a little by tomorrow!

LMAO yea idk what I was thinking.

-Strangle me in my sleep? How about I strangle you in broad daylight???

I can’t believe I’m saying this, but.. poor Jojo. Not only did he get his ass beat, but to literally add insult to the injury-

-everyone is lusting after Gunther during his defeat. Jfc, I’d want to set myself on fire too.

Oh here we go, Gunther to the rescue! 

-How dare you beat up my brother even though he attacked you first? Prepare to die!

-Whatever, I’ve been preparing for that for the last couple days!

Aw, Gunther is such a good brother/giant loser depending on the outcome of this fight.

VINDICATION. Bravo, Gunther, defending our non-existent family honor!

Daniel, in true Daniel fashion, slept through this entire shitshow, which might be the smartest thing he’s ever done.

Oop, spoke too soon. Say what you want about Gunther and Daniel but man do they both love Jojo! Truly god knows why.

-So Brit, you’re studying poli-sci, can you think of a peaceful resolution to this? Haha!

-YOU STFU TI-NING MY FINALS ARE TODAY MY GPA IS ALREADY IN THE TOILET AND NOW IM GONNA FLOP CAUSE YOU ASSHOLES SPENT THE WHOLE NIGHT FUCKING AND THE WHOLE DAY FIGHTING AND I HAVEN’T SLEPT AT ALL DAMN YOU ALL TO HELL I’M GONNA BURN THIS PLACE TO THE FUCKING GROUND IF YOU TRY ME

Well, you might not need to Brit! WHAT IS UP WITH THIS HYPER-FLAMMABLE CACTUS

Brit returns from her finals with a free pizza! How’d you do, Brit?

-Saved by the nightie again!

NOICE. Got a freebie pizza from it too?

-No, I found it in the garbage. My gift to Francis and Ti-Ning for their 3 day anniversary! 

Jojo’s official greek house portrait coming along nicely! Wow he looks very majestic..

..Instagram vs Real Life.

-Bowling is so satisfying if you pretend the pins are your former lovers’ genitals!

Whatever coping method works for you boo!

Gunther and Ti-Ning are officially enemies which is hilarious because not even Jojo is enemies with him?? Follow your bliss, Guns!

In an impressive display of brotherly synchronicity we have double slapping across the room. Double the slapping for half the time, Jojo is as always a true capitalist.

JOJO!! I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU WON! So proud of my baby <3 I’m ofc kidding, this shit has gotten old really fast and I extremely feel Brit watching uninterested. ENOUGH  

HARD MOOD. Brit is honestly on another level than the rest of us basics. What an icon.

For some reason I bothered to fulfill Ti-Ning’s want to learn that relationship maintenance or w/e lifetime skill (talk about money down the drain) and the irony of this pop up text almost sent me to an early grave. And we know who’s going to an early grave today..

IT’S CAKE TIME. REACH OUT, TI-NING. YOU KNOW YOU WANT IT

FINALLY. GOODBYE FIGHTING AND INSANE LAG

JESUS JOJO. STONE. COLD.

Ice Cube would like to say, that I'm a crazy muthafucka from around the way, since I was a youth, I smoked weed out, now I'm the muthafucka that ya read about, takin' a life or two, that's what the hell I do, you don't like how I'm livin well fuck you ♪

Wyatt and Brit were on their way to react to Ti-Ning’s little accident but somehow got sidetracked and are now randomly arguing on the porch. Honestly I don’t even know what’s going on anymore, I’ve lost all control of this household.

Jojo rushes over to celebrate Ti-Ning’s demise by immediately slapping the shit out of his grieving lover! Whenever you think we can’t possibly sink any lower, think again. Like right now, after the slapping, are you thinking we can’t sink any lower?????????????????????????????

THINK. AGAIN.

ARE YOU SCREAMING? CAUSE I DID

YUP THIS IS HAPPENING

IT’S REAL

IT’S. REAL. THERE ARE NOT ENOUGH CURSE WORDS IN ANY LANGUAGE TO EXPRESS MY FEELINGS

FUCK YOU FRANCIS. FUCK. YOU. YOU’RE GETTING MURDERED SO FUCKING HARD YOU UNBELIEVABLE ASSHOLE. I’M FUCKING DONE. JOJO YOU’RE GONNA DIE ALONE TIME FOR ALL OF US TO ACCEPT THAT REALITY. WE STARTED OUT WITH 3 CANDIDATES AND ENDED UP HERE. HOW THE EVERLOVING FUCK DID THIS HAPPEN FRANCIS AND WYATT HAVE. 1 BOLT. ONE. WYATT IS A FAMILY SIM I’M SO PISSED OFF I NEED TO TAKE A MOMENT

OK. In my 10 years of playing I have never wanted to quit without saving more than with this bullshit. Look at fucking Fran’s smug ass face and moron Wyatt putting on an Oscar worthy performance of shock and regret. YOU SHOULD HAVE SAID NO, YOU SHOULD HAVE GONE HOME WYATT. What the FUCK are we gonna do now???? I guess good thing Max Flexor survived the cage of death. GOD.DAMMIT

[stellatex]

Nine Questions I Need Teresa Giudice to Answer: Updated

Originally published February 15, 2016 I actually gave up Bravo for Lent, but I've already floundered on day one by continuing to watch, think about, and write about this bullshit. Sunk costs and all that.

So, here is my updated scorecard on the nine questions I needed Teresa to answer if she expected the viewing public to continue watching and supporting her.

1. You said in your statement to the judge during sentencing that you “fully take responsibility” for your actions. You said, “It’s time for me to wake up… I will make this right no matter what it takes.” Why, immediately afterward, in your interview on Watch What Happens Live, did you backtrack and try to deflect blame to your husband while insisting things were just put before you to sign?

In my opinion, she's doing this because she's being coached, either by her lawyer or a new PR team, or both, probably because they mistakenly believe that painting Teresa as some kind of innocent bedazzled Madonna will allow her to keep the Bravo Sunday gravy train chugging along. It's also possible that Teresa's advisors, friends, and various hangers-on, whoever they may be, are telling her how faaaaabulous she is--that's it's obvious she's the wronged party, and that she's so very strong and inspiring, etc., etc.--because they know who butters their bread, and, if history is any guide, Teresa has a habit of cutting out anyone who questions her lies and self deception (as we've seen both on the show and in the news reports about how she fired her publicist, her lawyers, and her co-writer). It's obvious that there are still a few small-time Jersey famewhores buzzing around Teresa in the mistaken belief that she is a queen bee. Typical celebrity yes-men and con-men. We've seen this over and over with celebrities, and it never turns out well, though a lot of people may make a lot of money in the short-term, and get some of that reflected spotlight that they so obviously crave. Regardless, like I said in my original post, if Teresa thinks she can just skate out of federal prison as a sinewy, chilled-out felon and continue to stonewall and deny and refuse to acknowledge any criminal culpability whatsoever, she has severely misjudged the nature of her dubious fame. But more on that in a moment.

Regardless, all of the interviewers asked her a fairly direct version of the question above; shockingly, Andy Cohen pushed it the hardest, asking point-blank, "What did you do? Can you tell us what you did?" And still she played dumb, owning up to merely "signing some papers." Girlfriend, we can all read the indictment. If you're so innocent, why didn't you take your case to trial? You admitted in the process of accepting a plea deal that you were guilty. Accepting a plea deal necessitates that you not only agree to pleading guilty, but that you are fully cognizant of what you are pleading to and that you understand the consequences. We all know what you did, Teresa.

2. You claim to be “business savvy,” telling your husband on an episode of RHONJ, “Like, you know, that’s what I do now. I’m a businesswoman, so I’m thinking business.” You’ve touted your online businesses, your Fabellini drink line, your Milania hair care line, your success as a “New York Time [sic] best-selling author.” So how is it that you are also simultaneously claiming to be a clueless housewife who knows nothing of her own finances, including the assets from said businesses that you tried to hide during both your fraudulent bankruptcy and your sentencing?

See above. This is bullshit.

3. If you are blaming your husband Joe for your ten-plus-years of financial fraud and the year you spent unjustly incarcerated in a federal prison, why are you still with him?

"Because I know he would never do anything to hurt me. He didn't mean to."

Uh, okay. That is also bullshit. Just transparently, obviously, self evidently, undeniably, total bullshit.

4. What would you say to the creditors, banks, and, most importantly, small business owners of New Jersey whom you and your husband fleeced to the tune of millions of dollars? Do you feel any obligation to repay these debts?

Still waiting on someone, anyone, to ask her this obvious follow-up question.

Furthermore, Teresa: I don't want to hear anything else about how this is all Joe's fault, or your brother Joe Gorga's fault, or your sister-in-law Melissa's fault, or your cousin Kathy's fault, or your accountants' fault, or your bankers' fault, or your attorneys' fault. It's not. It's 100% your fault. You're the one who committed the crimes. You're the one who went on national television flaunting thousands of dollars of cash purchases despite the fact that neither you nor your uneducated, clueless husband could possibly ever earn that much money legitimately. And, most importantly, you're the one who cravenly filed for bankruptcy to the tune of $13+ million dollars when you could no longer prop up your charade of nouveau riche consumerism for America's most satanic cable network. You're the one who stole from banks and fleeced businesses. You're a thief, a liar, and, now, a felon.

5. Explain this.

Everybody asked her about this, but instead of answering, she just blamed Joe, who leased it for her (another obvious lie; how did the bankrupt, apparently unemployed felon, who currently has a lien on his house to the tune of half a million dollars, get a lease?). She even blamed Lexus for putting a big red bow on top--which she claims they did because they knew it would be good publicity for Lexus! Uh, okay. I'm sure Lexus wants their brand to be associated with tacky low-life Jersey felons. Sure. Yep. Nobody asked her, "Why not a cheaper car, though?"

6. Why are you and your husband suing your bankruptcy attorney? Furthermore, do you not realize that, in doing so, you will be giving up your attorney-client privilege and opening yourselves up to a new investigation of your finances during the discovery process?

Nobody has asked her this. I am sure she's just say she can't talk about it. But I wonder if these questions have even occurred to her tiny, pisello brain.

7. What are you going to do when Joe is deported?

She demurs on this one, too, probably because--as Vicki Hyman points out--she doesn't want to jeopardize the incredibly small chance Joe has of not being deported per federal guidelines by admitting that she would move to Italy with him.

8. You talk constantly about your love, love, love for your four beautiful dorters. Why did you put them in this position?

I don't think anyone has really asked her this recently, but she is still selling the story that none of the dorters but Gia know what's going on. Which is obviously ridiculous.

And remember how she previously whined on-camera about how haaaaard all of this financial mess (i.e. her multiple felonies) has been on her four beautiful dorters, who don't even have a college fund!

So, you were busy stealing $13+ million dollars, and earning tens of thousands per episode appearing on Bravo, and earning more selling tabloid stories and writing multiple "New York Time bestseller [sic]" books, and buying all those designer clothes and bags and luxury cars, and creating that hideous redone home, and yet you didn't put any of the money aside for your kids? Honey, that's not on anyone but you. And you've made it abundantly clear from your actions that you do not give a single shit about the well-being of your girls. So shut the fuck up with the martyred mother pity party. America ain't buying it.

9. Why should viewers overlook your felonious criminal past and continue to support you by watching RHONJ or buying your books or products?

??????

This is the question.

I, for one, am not.It was clear from five minutes into Teresa's comeback tour that she hasn't changed one whit.

As a fan of the show from the first notes of the opening credits of the first episode, I was shocked when Teresa was sentenced. I had followed the news all day, waiting... waiting... waiting... for the verdicts to come down. And, much like her famewhore family members who allowed their reaction to be filmed (or recreated...) for RHONJ, I was utterly gobsmacked. This zany, silly, thoroughly unserious woman, whom we had all watched for years, was in fact "going away" to prison--and for a not-insignificant amount of time. In that moment, everything changed. This was really real. And I couldn't help thinking about the shock Teresa herself must've felt. She was clearly still in shock when she and Joe sat down for a WWHL special with Andy less than 24 hours after their sentencing.

But it was also kind of cathartic. It was obvious to everyone that the Giudices were Up To Something--from the first episode with the wads of cash and carefree spending. Having followed the case closely and read the indictments, I was not surprised--not really. Even as someone who had a love/hate relationship with the Bravo character called "Tre," it was an awful thing to witness--but it seemed just. And there was a sliver of hope there... that maybe Teresa would, finally, be forced to her own personal reckoning. Maybe, just maybe, all that time away from her children and the onyx manse and the cameras might give Teresa's limited mind the space it needed to feel a small glimmer of shame. That maybe the dawning light of that shame would lead to some actual introspection. She even used the vanity vehicle of "Teresa Checks In" (which I maintain should've been called "Teresa Goes Away") to brag about how much praying she was doing in there. I think many of us more savvy viewers were really hoping she was experiencing genuine remorse.

But nope.

The truly staggering thing to me about all of this is that even eleven months in federal prison wasn't enough to lead to any moral progress at all for this self-obsessed, brain-dead, glitter-bombed Portrait of Dorian Gray.

She will never change.

She is irredeemable.

Her story is over.

There is nothing new to see here. Watching the continuing cautionary tale that is Teresa Giudice is not only a waste of time and potentially personally morally corrosive, but--even worse--it's boring.

And the cherry top? Her blithe, casual endorsement of the candidacy of Donald Trump. I wasn't expecting that--though I probably should've--and it is so much more perfect than either of them could ever realize.

Both of them think they're famous; but, in reality, they're only infamous.

[bookloversreviewer]

We're celebrating the release of Light My Fire by Jessica Ruben! One-click yours now!

Light My Fire (Sex. Rock. Mafia. #1) by Jessica Ruben

Cover by: Okay Creations

NA Contemporary Romance

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/46641148-light-my-fire

Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2noGWkE

Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/2nppUD7

Amazon AU: https://amzn.to/2oYFC8L

Amazon CA: https://amzn.to/2nfSJlz

Paperback: https://amzn.to/2mrEKIU

From Amazon bestselling author Jessica Ruben comes a hot new Romance…

He saved me from war.

Fed me when I was in too much pain to eat.

Smuggled me and my family into America when it became too dangerous to stay.

But, Nico didn’t flee with us.

While I began elementary school in the United States, he was building the greatest and toughest Mafia of the century.

The Mafia Shqiptare.

Nico is now King of all underground trades.

Sexy. Aggressive. Brilliant.

After years of nothing but silence, he’s back in my life,

Ready to do whatever it takes to bring me into his universe.

He isn’t leaving until he takes me with him.

EXCERPT:

“It’s your brother,” he says matter-of-factly. “But you probably knew that already.”

My stomach drops. Agron.

“It seems he’s been stealing from some of my associates.” His voice is completely devoid of any feeling. “He was dealing for them and keeping a little bit of product for himself. Sometimes, he used it; other times, he sold it. But after a while, people began to notice. He ran to the Shqipe for help.”

I want to blink, but I cannot move.

“I gave him the money to pay those debts. And now, I’m the one he owes. I figured I could use him to do some small-time work, get my money back that way.” He takes a sip of his wine, completely unfazed. “And then I hear, Agron wants a firm spot in my world. Gave one of my men a whole story that the Mafia Shqiptare is where he’s meant to be.

“As we both know, your brother has always been a loose cannon. Arguably, untrustworthy. I knew him when he was a kid, but I’m a firm believer that people don’t change.” He stops speaking, continuing to dig into his food.

Meanwhile, I’m worried mine is going to come back up. Hearing this about my brother isn’t a surprise, but it’s painful nonetheless.

I take another sip of my wine, hoping it will calm me or at least give the illusion I’m relaxed. Unfortunately, my hand trembles, and the glass shakes, giving me away. Nico notices, of course.

He clears his throat, putting his fork down. “There is something I need from you. And if you give me what I want, I’ll protect your brother from the other gangs by giving him a spot in the Shqipe. You do not have to agree to the arrangement. But if you do, there is no end to it until I decide it’s over.” He settles into a forward-lean position, big arms resting on the glass table and shirtsleeves pulled up to the center of his strong, corded forearms. Everything about him, from his body language to his words, spells dominance.

I open and then shut my mouth.

Nico looks me up and down, his gaze stormy and hot.

Is Nico going to ask me for sex? It wouldn’t be unheard of in these crazy circles. But I have a limit, and whoring myself out for the sake of my brother is a no-go. No. Impossible. Never.

“What I need is simple,” he continues casually, the look in his eyes extinguished. “There is a new family I’m aiming to do business with. They’re the type who like to work with men who are … settled down. I know how loyal you are to your word. We share a language and customs. You will act as my wife when I request it.”

“I have school.” I lick my lips. I can’t let go of my future. Not for Agron and not for anyone. I won’t!

“You can go back for your studies”—he nods—“finish your degree. But when I call, you must come.”

“This arrangement,” I start, pointing between himself and me, “it’s just for public purposes, r-right? Nothing private you’re expecting or illegal?” I can’t help my stutter. I want to stay strong in the face of all of this, but it’s getting difficult.

Nico looks over my shoulder, and I turn my head, finding no one behind me. When I refocus on him, he’s fuming. He knows what I’m insinuating.

He grits his teeth. “You aren’t my whore, Elira. And I’m not going to ask you to do my dirty work either.” His eyes are hard.

Is he offended?

“Take my proposal at face value.” He finishes his drink. His huge hand places the delicate crystal glass on the table. “There is no hidden agenda. You pretend to be my wife, come when I call you, and act as I expect, and in return, I will bring your brother into my fold, making sure that no outsider kills him. If you walk away, he’s on his own.”

“He wants to work for you. He will do a good job for you.” I swallow hard.

He cocks his head to the side, like he’s calling bullshit. “Agron’s best asset is that he is related to you.”

I shift, but the weight of my body feels like it’s doubled. “And if he’s within the Shqipe, the other groups won’t be able to touch him?”

“That’s right.”

Quiet descends upon our discussion, but my mind shrieks. The skeptical part of me is on questioning overdrive. “What kind of events would be required of me?”

He takes another bite of food. “We’d travel. Dinners. Things like that.”

I wait to hear more, things along the lines of dungeons and sex slave, but thankfully, it doesn’t come. “So, all I have to do is pretend we’re married?”

He nods. “Yes. Exactly.”

“But what about when this business thing you need me for is complete? What will happen to Agron then?”

His lips quirk up. “You’re very loyal, Elira.”

“He’s my brother.” What else can I say? I want and need Agron to stay safe and alive. This is clearly his best shot.

“We’ll cross that bridge when it comes. I would take this offer then if you are so keen on making sure he stays out of trouble.”

“You’ll swear to that?”

“My oath is my bond.”

I know he’s telling the truth. For people like us, honor is everything.

I wait for him to elaborate some more, but he doesn’t. Surprisingly, I feel my nose twitch. I was expecting him to mention something, anything, about before. About what we had. But he doesn’t. And I’m not about to either. I just want to get the hell out of here. I want to go back in time and tell myself not to have that damn cigarette. I wish I’d flagged Jack down when he was circled by those girls and claimed him for myself. Instead, I made one fucking choice, and now, here I am, in front of Nico, my life on crazy ground.

“It’s late.” Nico shifts in his chair. “You’ll stay tonight and think. Tomorrow morning, give me your answer. Regardless of what you choose, I’ll have my car bring you back to school.” He stands up, twisting the fancy gold watch around his wrist. “When you’re finished eating, Maria will bring you back to your room.”

“I want to leave tonight.” Some of my bravado from before is gone. Beneath the strong girl is plain me—a college kid from Tobeho. Here is the last place I want to stay.

“Until I have your answer, you aren’t allowed to take one step out of my sight.” He stands up to his full menacing height, and in this moment, he truly scares me. He doesn’t give a shit about what we had—that much is clear.

I force myself upright, refusing to cower.

Seemingly satisfied, he walks away.

“What an asshole,” I curse under my breath.

He snaps, “What did you call me?” His stubborn jaw gives him a stony expression.

My stomach drops to my knees.

“Something to remember.” He saunters back to where I sit. “I will not be seen with a woman who doesn’t look polished or well-raised. I know who you are and where you come from. Act like the woman you ought to be or forget the deal.” And with those final cutting words, he’s gone.

About the Author:

Jessica Ruben lives and works in New York City, where she spends her days dominating in the court room as an attorney. Come nightfall, she writes romances centering on gorgeous alpha males and the intelligent women who love them.

Jessica is an insatiable reader, and will devour a few books a week without batting an eyelash. Books have always been her drug of choice, and she has no plans on detox anytime soon. She has three wildly delicious children and a husband who, for reasons unimaginable to her, loves her brand of crazy.

http://jessicarubenauthor.com

[therealbuttertost]

Bad Decisions

Just for tonight, I have nobody left to air my sadness out to. So I’m going to do it here. I’ve stopped caring who sees this, I don’t care if it sounds melodramatic, I’m just tired of making throwaways for this shit. Recently I have hit rock bottom, and I’m struggling to find my way out of it. 

It started earlier this year when I got properly introduced to drugs, and that’s about the time I became a real piece of shit. I stopped talking to my friends, didn’t talk to my girlfriend as much and even stopped putting in the effort to be a good boyfriend. I made several bad decisions along the way and am continuing to do so, because I don’t know how to make decisions that aren’t completely toxic anymore. It started when I was still in film school, and I got introduced to this group of people who at the time seemed like a great bunch - we’ll call them the stoners. But eventually they turned out to be a completely horrible bunch of people and the attitudes they have rubbed off on me. They smoked a hell of a lot of weed, and while even now I smoke from time to time, this was some day in, day out, kind of smoking. It was non-stop. At the time it was great. But eventually a sort of…dependence rose from it. I became a total prick when I wasn’t smoking, I had a go at people because I thought they were accusing me of being a stoner or a druggie (weed isn’t a hard drug obviously but a lot of my friends could see what it was doing to me), and that offended me. I wasted a lot of money I didn’t have on weed. I stopped going to film school, just sitting in that stoner’s den smoking all the time. This led to me not doing my coursework when I should have been, and generally just letting life pass me by because I just stopped caring. Lastly it stopped me talking to all my closest friends; Josh, Billie, Kato, and a good group of friends that I’ve recently managed to integrate myself back with.

I was living in the area with these stoners, and I was arranging to move in with a couple of my classmates ready for the third year of film school. At the time I didn’t see myself as a complete loser, the world was still in my hands despite me not taking any opportunities. The move wasn’t to happen for a good few months but we had found a house and we were all good and ready.

However during this time I get invited to be a crew member on a film shoot; ‘Great!’ I thought, ‘I get to kickstart my career off!’ 

Unfortunately the manager of my part time job (the only thing allowing me to move into the new house - which I was very excited to do), wouldn’t let me take the holiday in order to chase my career. In my clouded mind the only option I had was to quit my job. ‘I’ll easily be able to find another job that allows me to also go to film school’ I tell myself. 

So that’s exactly what I do, I quit my job, and a few weeks later found myself on the set of my first proper film. However because it was a budget film and not exactly a Hollywood production; the schedules were tight, and eventually me and a few others found ourselves being taken advantage of. Before we joined the set, I was asked to wrangle together a small team of runners and assistants. So of course my first port of call are the people I go to film school with, and by association, two of the stoners I hung around with. Those stoners talked me into giving up on the shoot and going home. I don’t blame them for my actions, but I regret letting myself be such a pushover that I just agreed with them. I wasn’t happy working there, but if it wasn’t for that I probably would have just put up with it. At the time it seemed like a good idea, especially since myself and the stoners that were there came up with the idea to make our own production company together. Things were working out after all, until it didn’t.

A couple of weeks later, while I’m searching for a job, I get invited to a party at a pub. I knew all of three people there, and I wont lie I had a great time. I don’t regret how I felt there. However I do regret certain events of that night. It gets to about 11pm now and one of the people at the party (close friend of the birthday boy) invites most of us back to his place. We get there and after about half an hour that same guy comes up to me and asks me if I want him to get any pills. At the time in my naive mind, I thought he meant ‘pils’, as in the lager ‘holsten pils’, so I say yes. It doesn’t take long for him to bring back three pills of MDMA. I was still in this mindset of being king of the world, so I didn’t have any problem with taking one of the pills. And for the record I had a great time and it is the only drug I fully recommend people to take at least once in their lives. But, I regret the person it turned me into. You can’t get addicted to MD, it isn’t that sort of drug. But I let my enjoyment of it get too much that even one of the stoners called me drug hungry, and got concerned about my well being. 

The above two paragraphs put me in a state of financial crisis. I still had a few months of my current tenancy, and another 11 months of the new house I was supposed to move into. I needed a job and I still didn’t have one. I got so desperate that I started looking for full time work instead of part time. I found a job pretty quickly after that, but as a result I had to drop out of film school, and the chain reaction to that was that I couldn’t move into the house with my classmates. It was a student only house, and I had to let the estate agents know otherwise I would illegally not be paying council tax. But the landlady didn’t want a non-student there. So I was sent on my way with no career, and a job which I fucking hated.

This was about the time my life went off the rails. Because I was no longer in film school, the stoners basically dropped contact with me. I had made a production company with a couple of them, and they all but kicked me out of it. The ringleader of the production company - probably the one I was closest to out of all the stoners - didn’t even have the balls to tell me this. He used one of his friends to tell me. They didn’t even let me fight my ballpark and explain that I could juggle the company and my job. Moments after this, one of my actual friends (who was already concerned about me at the time), was asking me for money that I didn’t have so I could help pay for a present for our teacher. I refused because of the above reason and she brought up the argument that I shouldn’t spend so much money on drugs. While at the time I was spending less, she was still right. But I was too insulted to let that comment slide and built it into this massive argument that exploded and we fell out for several weeks. My best friend Josh also had enough of me around this time, and it took a very long time before I actually realised this enough to mention that he was being dismissive when talking to me. He called me out on my bullshit and that was the first step in my wake up call. But even now I find it uncomfortable. I’m ashamed of the way I treated him during that time considering for several years he’s only been there for me and supported me. But I throw it in his face by ignoring him, and I don’t know how to make that friendship feel the same as it used to be.

By the time I've spent enough time away from drugs to start returning to normal and not being such a prick, an old friend from college gets in contact and we arrange to meet. I forgot I was seeing my girlfriend (Chloe) the evening before because a work party is happening, but I say that I'm still willing to meet despite knowing I'll probably be hungover. Sure as anything the following morning we wake up hungover as fuck, and it's about 5pm in the evening. We slept through the whole day. To begin with I was too ashamed to get in contact and apologise, and then when I finally got the courage to do so, that friend challenged me on it, saying 'You did kinda fuck up' and that was enough to make me basically consider that friendship fucked. There's a long story involving that friend where I made several other bad decisions, and we didn't speak for a long time (my fault entirely). So for this to be added on top of that, I'm too weak to gain the courage to face the music. And I, again, burned that bridge when it wasn't necessary. Because I don't know how to own up to my faults until it's too late. This isn't a drug related story, but it's another bad decision on a whole goddamn list of them that I need to make amends for.

I’m not even 100% sure if I’ve got all that information in chronological order. My memory is just a blur of drugs and bad experiences that it all just fits in together by this point. That’s how fucked up I was that entire time. I’m not even including the parts where I started taking cocaine, they aren’t relevant to what I want to get off my chest.

All this brings me to where I was this past weekend. Since the time of the above stories, I don’t do as many drugs any more. I smoke weed occasionally if it’s a good time to do so. I thought I managed to get over it and was just in the process of fixing all the mistakes I made over the past year. 

However I’ve made another bad decision that while it quickly blew over, I’m still dealing with the guilt of it. Remember that group of friends I mentioned at the start? My girlfriend (Chloe) and I are part of that group and this lot are awesome. They’ve considered me a friend for longer than I knew about and they’re generally a kickass bunch. It was Chloe’s birthday on Saturday and I took her out for a meal, and then we were invited out for drinks afterwards, which we accepted. However, Niall’s old friend James was there by the time we arrived, and these two have a weird history which I wont get into. The group was happy to stay at the pub and drink, but James invited everyone back to his place, and got fairly pushy about it. He asked Niall if he wanted to do MD and Niall refused. Then James asked me and without giving it a second thought I said yes. Despite it being Chloe’s birthday. Chloe didn’t mind me taking drugs, mostly I think because she hasn’t seen what an asshole I am on them. It’s the actions I took while rolling, is what I regret.

We got back to James’ house and I took both bombs in one, and in about half an hour got to the point where I couldn’t stand up. I locked myself away in James’ room with him and proceeded to come up to the high that I loved, my mind collapsing in on me while I was sat on his bedroom sofa. It turns out I was in there long enough for the rest of the group, and Chloe, to get tired of being there - they didn’t want to be there in the first place - and they decided to go to the pub. While they were there, James and I decide to go for a walk and during this walk I come to the realisation that maybe I shouldn’t be taking fucking drugs while it’s my girlfriend’s birthday. James offers his place to stay at and I call Chloe and tell her that we’re staying at his. I didn’t give it a second thought. I was being absolutely selfish because I wasn’t thinking straight. The MD had completely consumed any care I could give about what she thought of the idea. I shortly afterwards get a call from one of the group who explains that Chloe is crying, and everyone (7 people) is incredibly angry with me. 

That was the exact moment I properly woke up and admitted I have a problem. Chloe and I haven’t even argued yet, let alone been upset by the other’s actions. I had made Chloe cry, I showed her what an asshole I can be when under the influence, and the moment I realised this I was filled with remorse. The events of that weekend have blown over and I’ve made my apologies and everyone has forgiven me. But ever since I woke up from my drug haze, all I can see is the damage I’ve caused to myself this year. All I’ve done is make bad decision after bad decision, and I’m afraid that I’m going to keep making more of them. It’s not enough to say I’m sorry anymore. I had plenty of opportunities to realise my mistakes and make up for them but I just didn’t. I alienated most of my friends, showed them that I’m untrustworthy, or unreliable. I’ve hit rock bottom, and I don’t know how to fix this. I’ve run out of people I can talk to about this, because I’m ashamed to tell anyone specific. I don’t want to lose anyone else because of my actions, even if it’s just me explaining them. I’ve turned into a completely toxic person and I don’t know how to fix myself anymore. 

I don’t expect anyone to read this all the way through but if you did, just know that if you let drugs get the better of you, it’s only going to end badly. You’ll hang out with the wrong people, or gain a dependence that you are better off without. You’ll lose the trust of literally everyone around you, and you wont be able to fix it. Not properly anyway.

I know most of this is rambling, but a lot of this is stuff I haven’t told anyone. So if you’re reading this and you’re someone I know, please don’t think less of me. I’m trying to sort myself out.

[topicprinter]

So I run an online business in my spare time, more a hobby than anything really. But it's a good bit of pocket money to get me by.This one is from a few years back, jogged my memory from a post on Facebook asking business owners who their worst customer has been. Here's mine.One of my suppliers has a bespoke driving light capacity, they'll swap in more powerful LED chips, reflectors, lenses, etc. The bespoke items are handmade and huge care is taken that they perform as required.Essentially you can say "I want my lights to shine 3 miles down the road and cover an arc of 70°" and they'll get it done.As such, the only people that buy these lights are relatively wealthy, as a single pair of spotlights can cost up to $3,400So this customer comes online, orders a standard lightbar ($1,400) and then a few hours later makes an order for a bespoke set of driving lights. Cool beans.As procedure, the system automatically fires off an email reiterating what is said on the product page that the bespoke lighting range are handmade and can take up to 90 business days, and it tells you when your estimated shipping date is (normally around 120-130 days from ordering, as weekends and public holidays aren't business days)So he replies to this email saying "That's fine, I want the best, happy to wait"So I thought nothing of it, until 91 calendar days after his order:Customer: Hello, regarding my lights from order [number], I have received the lightbar, but my spotlights have not arrived.Me: G'day [Customer], as you ordered your lightbar on [different order number] and we had the item in stock, we dispatched it as soon as we could. Regarding your lights from order [number], please refer to the email below indicating that the lights you have ordered are hand made and the estimated shipping time is still [number of] days away. Thankyou.Customer: [NUMBER OF] DAYS! WHAT THE FUCK? I WAS NEVER TOLD ABOUT THIS! I WANT MY MONEY BACK!Me: G'day [customer], please see attached to this message a copy of the email you were sent when you placed the order, and your acknowledgement of the timeframe. Further, as per our terms and conditions, we do not accept change of mind returns or refunds on custom products. Have a nice day.(Quick note, this is perfectly legal to refuse change of mind on goods in Australia)Customer: THIS IS BULLSHIT! I DON'T REMEMBER REPLYING TO THAT! I WANT MY MONEY BACK NOW! I NEVER AGREED TO THOSE TERMS!Me: G'day [Customer], as per our terms and conditions at [link] you can see that we do not accept refunds on change of mind orders, please see attached a copy of the checkout log from your purchase where you have checked the box agreeing to these terms. As this is a change of mind request, we will not be honouring it.Customer: Raises a PayPal complaint of items not delivered, items not as described/items faulty on both orders I HAVE NOW ISSUED A CHARGEBACK THROUGH PAYPAL! I'LL BE GETTING MY MONEY BACK!(all communication from herein was done on PayPal so they could see the communication)Me: G'day [Customer], with regards to your chargeback regarding [spotlight order], please see attached all correspondence showing that the estimated delivery date has not yet elapsed. Also, please refer to [link] from PayPal buyer protection excluding custom, bespoke, or handmade items are ineligible for refunds until such time as the date for delivery has passed.With regards to your [lightbar order], can you please clarify what is not as described about the item and/or what is faulty with the item? We are more than happy to replace the item if it is faulty or not performing as described.Customer: I PURCHASED THE LIGHTBAR TO GO WITH THE SPOTLIGHTS I ORDERED! ITS FUCKING USELESS WITHOUT THE SPOTLIGHTS! I WANTED A LIGHTING SYSTEM, NOT HALF A LIGHTING SYSTEM! I ORDERED THEM BOTH AT THE SANE TIME, THEY SHOULD BE DELIVERED AT THE SAME TIME!Me: G'day [Customer], with regards to your lightbar order placed at [Date and Time], we had this item in stock and dispatched it immediately. With regards to your spotlight order, placed at [date and time, which was 53 minutes later], we regard this as a seperate order and it will be provided to you in the timeframes quoted and agreed upon in previous correspondence.This continued to happen for nearly 2 weeks, 2-3 angry emails a day, wash, rinse, repeatIn the end I got an email from a PayPal customer service agent to advise me that he had escalated the claim to be reviewed by a person. They wanted to touch base and find out what was happening.So we went through all the notes, and even the customer service representative was amazed at the language he had used. Within 5 minutes she had closed the lightbar claim in my favour due to the items being delivered, and me asking something like 12 times what the fault with the item was. They agreed that it was an independent order and that if the customer had wanted them delivered together, they should have been ordered together on the same transaction.With regards to the spotlight order, after about 45 minutes of reading the correspondence, checking our website, policies, me taking PayPal offline on the store and into sandbox mode so the rep could do a dummy order, they found no fault with the system and agreed that this order definitely was not covered under their protections, but that even if it was, the amount of notice on the website clearly indicated a long lead time on the product.As such, this was closed as well.Another week goes by, boom! Tracking number from the factory, mark order as shipped, off it goes. Customer is informed and starts getting tracking notifications at each scan.Customer: WHY THE FUCK IS MY TRACKING SHOWING THAT MY PACKAGE WAS JUST SCANNED IN HONG KONG?Me: G'day [Customer], as detailed in our website, for bespoke orders, we have them shipped directly from the manufacturing facility in Hong Kong direct to the customer. This is to ensure that you receive your products in a timely fashion with no double handling.Customer: BUT YOURE SAYING YOUR BUSINESS AND WAREHOUSE IS IN AUSTRALIA NOT HONG KONG! THATS FALSE ADVERTISING! I'M REPORTING YOU TO THE ADVERTISING STANDARDS BOARD! I'LL ALDO BE TALKING TO MY LAWER!Me: G'day Customer, please see below the details of my lawyer for your lawyer to contact. Thankyou.Customer: I DINT WANT TO TALK TO YOUR LAWYER! YOU'RE IN DEEP SHOT NOW MATE! YOU'VE FUCKED ME AROUND FOR MONTHS!Me: G'day [Customer], as you have now indicated intent to take this matter along a path of legal recourse, I have been advised to discontinue conversations via email with yourself and all correspondence will now be handled through [law firm]. Please see details below for [law firm].Over the next 3 days I continued to get angry threatening emails, which I just forwarded to my solicitorLights did get delivered, 3 days short of the estimated timeframe, so our estimate was pretty bang on. Have not heard from him since.However, as another note to this, as the Manufacturer and supplier were kept well informed of all this (bespoke high end companies like to know when there's potential brand damage), they also included a letter in the package saying that if the customer was to not deal with any of their dealers, he was to speak with head office only, and that he was banned from purchasing from any of their dealers in the future.Nearly 2 years on now and neither me nor the Director of the company have heard from him, so that's good I suppose.He did post a lot on Facebook about his "harrowing" experience, however both myself and the director of the lighting company, both being heavily into the 4WD scene covered a fairly substantial percentage of groups that he posted on. So anytime he dropped a post on how terrible we were, we did have a very clear and concise reply we'd just copy and paste on his posts.Funnily enough, sales of the product spiked every time he put up a post trying to slander us. In fact, we sold more bespoke lights than we did normal lights for a period there, people were blown away by how adaptable they were and how much light they could get. We got some real funky requests in for custom lights, people that wanted to, as I said, see beyond 2 miles, mostly outback farmers and stuff.Plus, guess what? Not a single complaint on manufacting and shipping times from any other customers. Seems that this bloke just couldn't read.However, my wife has another theory on this guy, after spending nearly $5,000 on lights, his wife may have cracked the shits at him and demanded he cancel the order and get his money back. Now that may have been the case, and this may have financially impacted this bloke negatively. I'll be honest though, if he'd come into it saying "I can't afford these" or "I've just lost my job" or something along those lines, I would have refunded him and just kept the lights for myself instead. But nope, just angry angry tirades.TL;DR: Customer doesn't know how to count, proceeds to abuse me and submit a fraudulent chargeback to PayPal to get his money back. In the end his posts on social media end up driving us more traffic.

[barrettablog]

Revelling In Rideshare (Spiraling Story)

I love working in Ridesharing. Usually when I drove alone or with friends, we would bump today's new age rap and rock. Music littered with profanity and drug use. I realized from the jump I couldn't listen to that or being toying around on Spotify with a passenger in my car. I turned to simple radio music as the answer to fill the silence. I use to listen to the stations that played today's hits, but I stopped when it was clear other passengers weren't feeling it. Eventually I found a radio station where there's classic rock and old songs from the 80's my mom use to play. I'll be on the highway or cruising through the city listening to Journey at a respectful volume and gaze at the outlying mountains surrounding Phoenix. MJ classics while I drive past cacti in the ghetto. Tears For Fears' "Shout" would carry me through college campuses. Entire car ride would feel like the end credits of the movie that was my life.

Zen as fuck.

I'm from Michigan but moved to Arizona with my lady. I started ridesharing about a week and a half after we got settled into our apartment. I'm a stranger to Arizona but I'm slowly getting a feeling of it from driving around so much. I'm finally confident at driving now, considering I drove 25 hours straight from Saint Louis MO to Phoenix AZ. A lot of people ask me why I didn't stop or why I drove so long. I was on 5 hours of sleep and 20mg of IR adderall (total). It was the last of my script and I wouldn't be looking at a refill for another week. In hindsight I definitely should have stopped and slept some part of the way. Instead I did none of that and let myself drive till my arms went numb. A wild mix of music carried me the whole way. Works of Halsey had me reminiscing on past events while J.Cole kept me whipping down route 66. Sometimes the turns were weird and I had trouble seeing. There were one or two close calls, but nothing bad enough to make me pull over in that moment. I pushed through, just to prove I could.

I'll tell you why I dedicated myself to this.

January 2018 I suffered my 2nd car crash. I was hit 45mph driver's side by a pickup truck. At the time I was driving a small dodge sebring. The truck hit me in my back left passenger door, about 1-2 feet from my driver's door. It was incredibly scary. It was clear that had that truck hit me 2 feet left from where it did, I would be dead. It was such a mind fuck. As you go about your daily life, toiling over bills and bullshit, you never think for a minute it could all be over. I was working 3 jobs at the time, trying to save up for a mortgage down payment so I could get into real estate. I had woken up 7 AM sharp, still hungover and craving weed. But no time for blunts, it was time go to my shitty retail job as a CVS cashier. I was truly in a complete different mindstate. I clocked in on average 60 hours a week. I kept my job at CVS as my main gig, but held a multitude of jobs to get extra cash. I did everything from working at a bank, Texas Roadhouse, Papa John's delivery and DJ for weddings. I would usually pick up the side jobs and lose them because I would slack off. Partying all night after working 12 hours doesn't really go well with me being punctual. In between these jobs I was a small time plug as well. I hated that last gig most of all. Usually everyone had a weed guy, so I didn't want to waste my time with that. My last experience selling pot ended with having a constant flow of annoying idiots asking me to drive 20 minutes for a dime bag. All the people buying bigger either had med cards or serious plugs who could cop pounds. No, I was making a name for myself and was viewed in a very different way. When people wanted off the wall shit, or shit they couldn't find anywhere else, they came to me. It became a skill to get what others couldn't and provide top quality. Living in the suburbs let me set my own price for a variety of products and my phone would blow up when people knew I was back selling. My mind would race in paranoia and bliss from the profits. It was unhealthy, but it was from my dissatisfaction of this that I was able to leave dealing behind. This was one of those times where I had plugs willing to cut great deals, people looking to buy, but I refused to act on it. I could work at CVS, bust my ass working Papa John's, bus tables at Texas Roadhouse and do this shit the RIGHT way. Sure I could make 200 in a good night's flip, but what's the point of that if you risk your freedom or future?

Is there any pride pushing poison? Would I want my kids to follow my same behavior and action? No, I can save money the right way, I can make my parents proud and do ri-

BAM.

I've had my conscience mind snatched away from me plenty times before in multiple occasions. But nothing was every as abrupt like that. I haven't ever remember something so vividly as that crash. I was able to recall the immense pain that still stings in retrospect. I turned left out of my neighborhood in the freezing Michigan snow. A large truck let me pass, but I wasn't able to see as many as cars coming from the other lane. I looked as much as I could and decided to go turn left. Surely no one would speed in this shit weather, right? Flash forward 5 seconds and was hit 45mph in the fast lane. Car was completely fucking totaled. I called my mom hysterical. I hadn't had that car for longer than a year. I could tell immediately after the crash something was wrong. My brain just fucking hurt. Apparently I was screaming and going off. My cursing and shouting became so irate that the lady who hit me was afraid to get out of the car. This part of my story I have very little recollection.

For you see, I had a severe concussion.

It was my third one so far. Not many people have had severe concussions because most people act like it's not a big fucking deal. When you hear about a football player killing his whole family or MMA fighters losing their fucking minds and going apeshit, a majority of that was because of concussions. A serious trauma to the head left me feeling empty almost. I didn't feel right, my train of thought was off, and I lost any previous control I had over my anger. Following the accident, I refused to take any left turns out of my neighborhood. I didn't care if the roads were clear. I would rather go right and drive another five minutes than take the risk of a left. After I got my new car I would have to pull over at times and heave deeply. I had never had panic attacks that debilitating before. I would spend months after the accident taking fish oil and reading books. I felt my cognitive abilities improved after I read. I put so much focus on reclaiming my lost brain matter I let it affect my work. My manager would often yell and belittle me in front of customers because I focused more on reading and trying to retain focus than helping people check out.

Shit was just swimming in my head before. My longing to go back to the lax life of hustling, fear of my real estate career falling to shambles, my utter feeling of loneliness. It stewed in my mind like storm clouds. But none of that shit matters when a truck hits you at a speed most people would deem "fatal".

None of that matters at all.

Life is meant to be lived now. The minds and bodies we have been given are blessings bestowed upon us as part of a great design. We are the universe experiencing itself. This life has valleys and mountains, but you don't decide when it ends.

The good times and bad times are what they are.

Time is a privilege, not a gift.

So get behind the wheel, buckle your seatbelt and take your lefts till it feels right.

If you Rideshare, consider giving your driver a tip.

It might be more work for them than you realize.

[domytriesthis]

Samples, samples, samples! I’ve run around and hunted down A LOT of free samples over the last month, most of which still haven’t arrived (I actually “ordered” on Nov. 28 that still isn’t here, lol). These are the first I’e had some time to try (as well as one that’s not pictured) and that are ready for review. I also have a couple review updates to add, so let’s get to it!

First photo has Ziladerm Anti-aging Cream and a MAC shadow in Beauty Marked. The second photo includes Monat luxury hair care samples—Revive Shampoo, Revitalize Conditioner, Replenish Masque, and Rejuveniqe Oil—and hello fluoride free activated charcoal whitening toothpaste. Not shown the photos will be the Loreal Hydra Genius Moisturizer (which was also a foil pack, though a larger foil pack than the usual foil pack samples—I got 3 uses out of it, I think).

I’m going to get the Ziladerm out of the way because, beyond the review, there are some shady practices that people need to be warned about. This claims to smooth wrinkles, fines lines, sagging skin, crows feet, and creases; brighten skin tone and complexion; plump up skin; and to hydrate and nourish.

First, on the positive side, you don’t need to use a lot of this, so even the small jar will last a long time (I used it about a month before I stopped and still had at least half the jar left), and it leaves the skin soft and smooth, although it feel a little heavy at first (similar to the philosophy Hope in a Jar). That all said, I never noticed a difference in my skin that could be attributed to this cream  specifically and not to products I had been using before it came along. My skin didn’t get worse, but I didn’t see any real positive changes either. I stopped using it and tried a dyi coffee face mask and honestly think it did more in 2 total uses, than this did in weeks of twice a day. I also noticed that I much prefer how my other products work on my skin without this stuff: they smoothed on better and much more quickly.

Which brings me to the shady practices. This was advertised as a free sample everywhere until you get to the second page of the sign up, whereupon it became a free “trial.” There is no indication on the first page at all, and only an indication on the second page waaaaaaay down at the bottom in tiny print that after 2 weeks you will be charged $70 (you pay for initial postage; that’s how they get your card number). There’s no reminder email: you just find the charge in your account. Furthermore, the whole thing auto-enrolls you into a monthly subscription to the stuff. If all of this had been clearly indicated at the top of the second page, I wouldn’t have ordered the sample/trial/whatever the fuck they want to call it. I did call and fight and got most (not all, and since I used some of it, I was okay with that) my money back. But between it being nothing more than  a moisturizer (as far as I could tell), horribly expensive, and these shady practices, I highly recommend avoiding this product.

Unfortunately, the same company has other products that are advertised and set up the same way. I only recognized the second one based on the page for this one, so be careful. I have had reputable companies ask for shipping not do shady shit like this, so just make sure to read everything, especially at the bottom of ALL pages.

Moving on to the other products in this post....

MAC Shadow in Beauty Marked :: I haven’t used this much yet (and just received an empty palette to put it in), but the one thing I did notice is that the color on my lid doesn’t match the color in the pan—it’s more of a gray than that beautiful reddish color. Now, that may have been because of the other colors it was paired with or something else, so I need to update on it. It did apply well and was pigmented, just not quite what I expected color wise.

Monat Revive Shampoo, Revitalize Conditioner, Replenish Masque, and Rejuveniqe Oil :: Well, as I noted above, this is a luxury brand...and I mean Oh. My. Gawd. You’re charging how much for shampoo? luxury brand. No way I’d spend $50 on a single bottle of hair product. Period. And no, I had no idea when I ordered the sample. (And I appear to now have one of their pyramid scheme consultants nudging me to consider buying it anyway, but that’s not as much an issue.)

That said, if I were to buy anything, it would likely be the conditioner. The scent of the products is very light and really nice, and not a lot of any of the products were needed (these larger foil packs so far have given me at least 3 uses). The shampoo performed pretty much like my Suave--suds up more the second time around, left my hair pretty squeaky clean. The conditioner is a quick apply and rinse immediately kind, and it left my hair feeling really silky smooth. The masque took most of the silkiness away and left my hair feeling pretty much like it does after the Suave products I use. The fact that two of the products don’t appear to do much more than Suave makes a $50 price tag a bit excessive. There did seem to be some lightness or extra bounce after I slept on it the first time, but the second time I used it without sleeping on it and my hair ended up fuzzier than usual. So, yea, I don’t see the reason for the $50 price tag.

hello fluoride free activated charcoal whitening toothpaste :: While this didn’t suds as much as my Aquafresh, and it was odd spitting out gray water, this actually didn’t taste bad, and it left my teeth feeling more...polished. My mouth didn’t necessarily feel fresh the way I’m used to, but it didn’t feel dirty. I think my only concern is the lack of fluoride (I’m not paranoid about fluoride the way some people are). I tried mixing it with a little of the Aquafresh and liked it much better: I get the fluoride and still get the polished feeling to my teeth. It’ll take time to see if it actually whitens (my teeth are a real mess). If it does, and we actually had the money for $5 toothpaste, I’d probably purchase it.

Loreal Hydra Genius Moisturizer :: The consistency of this is similar to tarte’s H2O and nice and light. A little went a long way, but it took a little bit of time to absorb (though this may have been because of the Ziladerm) and initially left my skin feeling a little tacky. That said, it did eventually absorb and make my skin feel smooth and soft. This seems to me to be a more affordable dupe to tarte’s H2O, but I could be wrong. I like it and might pick some up at some point.

I have two review updates, and here they are....

Marc Jacobs Velvet Noir Volume Mascara :: This honestly performed and is very similar to the Great Lash I use as a base for mascaras that need help. The color is good, it lengthens some, doesn’t really thicken, and takes two layers to really show up the way I like. That said, it did differ from Great Lash in one way: removal was a pain, literally. It doesn’t claim to be waterproof, but it was hard to remove and flaked into my eyes (it honestly hadn’t before then) and refused to come out. It hurt and nothing I did got rid of it. The problem persisted into the next day along with mild itchiness. I wasn’t going to play with it again after that, so I trashed it.

Show Beauty Couture Curl Enhancing Lotion :: This doesn’t do much of anything when I don’t sleep on it, leaves my hair drier and frizzier when I do sleep on it, so not particularly impressed. This went into my ProjectBeautyShare.org box.

domy tried these and eh. The biggest problem, other than the Ziladerm bullshit, was cost for a lot of them, and many just didn’t perform in a way that would make me want full sized products. If anything, these reviews just proved $50 hair care isn’t better, and is often worse, than $2 Suave hair care. Two out of ten products are good. The rest? Just glad they were samples.