#standup maths

[13thpythagoras]

freakonomics 391 - advanced theory

(USA relevant -the rest of the English-speaking world has decent universal healthcare and may read along purely for entertainment value)

so my yank and dixie compatriots, class is now in session

So we established last class that health insurance is a scam for most people, rife with monopoly, abuse, and oppression. If you have a chronic condition then it can make sense, but if you're healthy, why pay $300 a month for the right to have a $5,000 deductible that covers 80% of a $80,000 procedure that leaves you owing $16,000 up front? That's a year you just paid $24,600 for something that could have been handled for under $1,000 abroad, cash down. What are flights worth? Another $1,200? You're out less than your premiums in one year.

So you're like me, you don't have health insurance- what are the risks, like really?

Three words- appendey feckn sitis.

Appendicitis that is. One word actually. Appendicitis is the risk.

Appendicitis. *ahem*

So wisdom has it that an ounce of prevention is a worth a pound of cure, the ratio might be even more extreme. What to do?

Medical tourism works great for stuff like dental reconstruction surgery, getting wisdom teeth pulled, or what-have you. But when appendicitis strikes, you have hours, not days, to get care, or you literally die. Dying is super expensive, not worth it at all.

So what's that freaky solution? What's that freakonomics TM solution my guy?

What do we do about this potentially live hand grenade implanted in our guts by the randomness of evolutionary wanderings?

Preventative medical tourism. Bam.

You wake up from anasthesia in a bathtub full of ice in a developing country, missing a bodily organ. You thank the folks and leave a generous tip on your way out.

That organ was your appendix. You are now in Thailand on a beach recovering with a beverage of your choice. Or Mexico. Or Canada, but it's cold, wherever, literally anywhere in the developed world, and much of the developing world, has better healthcare than the monopolized USA's health system.

You can never get appendicitis ever in your life, and now you're on vacation.

Godspeed!

[tonymacyposts]

The ultimate snooze fest.

A sense of humor has always been very attractive to me. It’s like the icing on top of the cake of personality traits. Reflecting on it now, we seriously undervalue the importance of humor, not to mention the comedic geniuses who keep us in stitches. These folks are pure gold and often, Chris Rock comes to mind when I think of that . His stand-ups such as “Never Scared” and “Tambourine” had me…

[cevans-is-classic]

18+ only! Sexual content, blood, death, questionable morals when Max is involved. Did I mention blood?

My masterlist

Pedro Pascal

Two years, six days and 8 hours ago, you walked into your boss’s office expecting to be fired. It’d only been a few months since you started, but the changeover was hectic, and standards of working slipped through the cracks. 

The fact this was your first corporate job didn’t help. They had hired you under the referral of your old roommate. The idea was a long shot, but you got the job. The hours were long, and the pay was shit, but you didn’t have to sweat your ass off or wear a name tag. 

Overall, being employed at Acla’s Pharmaceuticals wasn’t bad. 

Didn’t mean you wouldn’t get fired for forgetting a coma in paperwork, though. 

Which led to you being called to Max Phillips’ office. Your flats were rubbing against your heel as you walked. The smell of desperation and stale coffee clogged your nose, and, for the life of you, finding his office was impossible. 

The mental math of your budget and bills ran through your head at top speeds. Thoughts of ramen packets and macaroni and cheese blended with your cat’s brand of food. You could afford to feed yourself or your cat for the next three months and, let’s be real, your cat wins. 

Knocking on the door felt wrong. It echoed. 

Your stomach twisted when Mr. Phillips shouted for you to come in. 

It twisted again when you saw blood all over his desk, covering his tie and dripping from the pen in his hand. You wouldn’t say it looked like a massacre. That’d be extreme, but a solid murder was possible. 

Was the blood his? 

Did he mean to call janitorial and got you instead? 

Was that possible? You were in claims which, yes, sucked, but wasn’t near the cleaning crew was it? 

(Not that anything’s wrong with the cleaning crew. You simply hated vacuuming and there seems to be carpet in a lot of places here.) 

Max smiled when he noticed you. 

“Ah, there you are.” The blood dripped off the pen, splattering over paperwork. 

“Um, you needed me Mr. Phillips?”

His smile tilted as he shook his head. “Please, call me Max.” 

“Sorry Mr-.” You paused, “Uh, Max.” 

He rose to his feet, the tie swinging across his white shirt. When you glanced down at it, he followed your gaze and huffed out a laugh. 

“Yes,” He dabbed the tie with his fingers, “You must be wondering why I asked for you.” 

That’s an understatement. 

Did he need an alibi? 

Could you be an alibi? How long were you at work? 

“I was talking to Janet, your office manager. She says quite a few things about you.” His smile widened. “All good things, of course. One thing she mentioned really stuck out. You were a medic, right?” 

You’re not sure if a medic could handle this. How many bandaids did he need?

“Uh,” You tried to look away from the bloody handprint he left when he stepped around the desk, “Not really. I trained in phlebotomy, but had to quit when my sister got sick.” 

Another smile, all teeth, “You worked with blood though, right?” 

“That’s the whole point of phlebotomy.” The words left your mouth before you could stop them. 

Max’s smile faded, dripping with blood. He rounded the desk to lean against it, his arms crossed, the red under his fingernails left marks on his suit. 

You were getting fired and, possibly, blamed for murdering someone. 

When Max burst into laughter, it startled you. “Ah, excellent, a sense of humor. That’s what we like around here, Sugar. People who can dish out as good as they get. Did you know Patrick Chambers in HR once did a standup routine for the Christmas party? Guy has the laughs.” 

“I bet.” Jesus, shut up. 

Max clapped his hands together. “Anyway, I was hoping you’d help me with something.” 

When he pushed away from the desk, his foot kicked out, dragging your gaze down and- “That’s a head.” 

“Yes, it is, and you, Sugar, are going to help me keep that from happening.” Once more he smiled, canines extended.

“I’m not being fired?” 

Max winked. “Promoted more like it.” 

Two years, 6 days and 9 hours ago they handed you an NDA with a contract to help Max attain blood donations without killing (sometimes) people. 

(He still killed people, you learned, but only when they didn’t meet their quarterly goals) 

Since that day, you’ve spent hours on end in the man’s office with bags of blood being loaded into a built in cooler. Max wanted to throw them in all at once, but the blood was fragile. You had to make sure they stayed hanging and didn’t congeal before you could store them. Max had a penchant for B+ which meant you had to organize the other types as backups. 

Now and then you got stuck sitting in the office's corner as he held a stranger against the desk and bit down. 

“Nothing beats the fresh stuff, Sugar.” He’d aim a finger gun at you.

“You’re going to run out of suits if you keep it up on the clock.” You’d slip his dry cleaning receipt towards him. 

He’d given you three days off a week. Those three days you lived by a schedule of importance. 

Grocery shopping (vegetarian meals don’t last long) 

Bills (Max pays you a pretty penny) 

Therapy

Therapy is important. 

You’d been worried about the mental trauma you experienced every day working for Max. What gets brought up the most is your inability to form proper boundaries. 

“Your boss expects a lot of you.” Kathryn hums, her eyes focused on yours. 

“The vacation days are wonderful.” They really are. You could take your sister and three friends to San Diego last year for a week and afford to splurge your heart’s content. 

Sometimes, when you’re sitting across from your therapist you think about walking into Max’s office and finding another dead body. You think about the blood covering his suit, coating his hair, the way the air had a copper taste to it. It’d cross your mind faster than a hamster wheel and you always had the same reaction.

Indifference. 

Which, honestly, isn’t a surprise to you. 

You say it’s amazing compartmentalization skills. Kathryn says it’s deeply rooted repression. 

Tomato, tomahto. 

All that being said, nothing would have prepared you to walk into Max’s office on this day. Your bag is heavy over your shoulder with newly bagged blood. The door opened with a squeak, reminding you to ask Hamish for some WD-40. Looking up at the hinges distracts you from the noise. 

The squelch behind your head sounding like Max draining his last baggie. 

Your mind focused intently on what needed to be refilled that it took a solid thirty seconds for you to realize what was happening. 

The flex of Max’s ass, the sharp smack of hips against hips and the muffled moans of the woman he had bent over the desk. The same tie he’d wore the day you thought he’d fire you shoved into her mouth. 

Max had his hand circling her wrist, his other hand pinning her down. 

It wasn’t the blatant and unprofessional display of sex that had your mind reeling. 

It was how good Max looked, his mouth covered in blood, trails of it following the line of his chest. He tossed his jacket and left his shirt open. His slacks pooled around his ankles and you could see the tense hold of his thighs. 

There was blood running from the woman’s neck, her chest, her legs. Max had it on his fingers, caked beneath his nails. 

The first thought that bubbled to the surface and made its way out of your mouth stunned you. “Did you finish the Carpelix file first? 

You rarely remembered the name of the new blood pressure drug. 

Unless it involved your boss’s ass, you guess. 

The woman turned her head before Max did. Her eyes half lidded, spit drowning the tie. She had a pale hue to her skin, the pallor striking next to the dark wooden desk. 

She muffled something around the tie which had Max looking over his shoulder at you. 

“You’re back early.” He fucked into her, hard, jarring the desk that held them up. 

“Traffic was light.” With that, you walked towards the cooler. 

There was only one baggie left like you expected. An O negative, his least favorite. You tried not to stock up too much on O blood types. Sometimes you didn’t get lucky enough to wrangle A or B types and Max could suck it up. Literally. 

“Did you stop for bagels?” He sounded closer. You glanced back and shook your head as he buttoned up his pants. 

The woman was squirming, her hands slipping in the blood as she lifted herself up. You raised a brow at Max who looked down at the woman and frowned. 

“Regina,” He pulled her up, “You’ve met before, right?” He waved a hand towards you, the other circling her waist as he rested his chin on her shoulder. 

The woman, Regina, squinted at you. “I don’t know.” 

You squinted yourself, looking closer as Max slid his hand up her side. He cupped her breast his thumb brushing her nipple, and she shivered.

Max tilted her chin to the side, aiming her full gaze at you. 

“Regina Mallord.” You rolled your eyes. “She rear-ended my car a few months ago.” 

He smiled, “Did she?” 

Regina was whining as Max played with her, his fingers moving across her chest, over her nipples and back. She squirmed in his hold as blood dripped down her neck. Some of it dried around her collar bone, fingerprints marking through the path. 

“If I remember correctly,” Max murmured, “Your car was in the shop for a week, right? If I also remember, you had to Uber to work.”

You rolled your eyes again, “Yes, Max. You complained about me being late for a week straight — I wasn’t late. You’re just impatient in the mornings.” 

He nips at Regina’s ear. “I really am.” There’s a moment, a single moment, where your eyes meet. 

Max winks again, slowly, his mouth stretching as his face contorts, brow scrunching. The veins along his temples darkened before he opens his mouth wide and rips Regina’s throat out. 

Both of you watch her body hit the floor with a wet crash. 

You sigh, “What was the point of that?”

Max nudges her arm with his foot, stepping over her to move closer to you. “She was in the break room when I went to clean my cup.” 

“So, you decided to fuck her then kill her?” 

He reached out, his finger tracing the line of your jaw, “I planned on only killing her, but I got a bit rowdy.” 

You swiped his hand away. “A bit?” 

Max stepped closer, leaning against the cooler, his hand coming back up to touch your necklace. “I saw her car yesterday. I recognized it from you showing me the cameras. You had to pay almost 3000 to get your car fixed.” 

“Yeah,” You didn’t swipe him away this time, let him drag a path from your neck to your jaw, “That’s what I get for forgetting to re-up my insurance.” 

Max quirked a brow. “You’re a treasure, Sugar.” 

“You say that because I don’t question,” You directed your gaze at Regina’s body, “that.” 

“Hmm, yeah.” He leaned closer, “but also because you make my day a little better.”

A spike of pleasure shot down your spine, heat curling in your belly. Max’s eyes were deep pools that crinkled when he smiled. There was an innocence to them, a puppy dog look that made it hard to tell him no. 

It’s worse when he tilts his lips into a smile and aims his attention at you. 

You’d blame it on his hypnosis abilities, but you knew the truth — Max Phillips is a gorgeous son of a bitch. People rotate between wanting to stake him in the heart or suck his dick. 

Right now, you want to do both. 

Mostly the dick part. 

The other would spill more blood and Jeffery will have a hell of a time as is. 

“Sugar,” He drew your attention back to him, “How about I take you for dinner tonight?” 

You sigh, “Max,” His eyes flicker down to your lips, then back up, “It’s Tuesday.”

“Yeah?” Another look at your lips. His tongue darts out to lick away the blood at the corner of his mouth. 

“Tomorrow is the corporate meeting.” Max frowns. 

“That’s not until July.” 

“Max,” His mouth flattens, “It is July.” 

The kiss was tangy, his lips sliding along yours. His tongue taste of blood, coffee, and something else. Something deeper. It tastes of Max. 

“Sugar,” He whispers when he pulls back, “Let me take you to dinner. It’s the least I could do for all that you do.” 

“Max.” 

“I love hearing you say my name.” He kissed you again. This kiss was deeper, harder his arm circling your waist to press you to his chest. 

What does it say about you that this was the best kiss you’ve ever had? Having Max Phillips groaning into your mouth, his fingers digging into your hip. You can feel the shift of his legs as he turned you around to press against the wall. 

The way his body fits against yours makes your knees weak. 

Your mind reeled, making you dizzy headed as he nipped at your jaw, down your neck. It was heady, heavy, the air thick around you. 

Your eyes fell on Regina’s dead body, and the kissing stopped. 

“Max.” He buries his face in your neck, “Max.” You push at his shoulder. 

He sighs, “Yes?” 

You aim your gaze at the corpse. “She’s staining the carpet.” 

Max barks out a laugh loud enough that it startles you. 

“We’ll finish this tonight, yeah? For now, you mind calling the cleaning staff and make sure Jeffery brings more than one bag.” 

Two years, 6 days and 10 hours since you thought you were going to be fired, and you had a date with your boss and call for a body clean up. 

Yay.

I have a whole thing with Max killing people for reader 🤨

[mysterysimblr]

After getting rejected by Harley, Scot had another thing on his agenda: drop his daughter Holly off at her dorm.

Three teenagers from Widespot moved into Dormitory 1 (at different times occupied by Dixie, Woody, and Goldie):

Babel Gutenberg (Family/Popularity) was the son of rock star JoAnn Gutenberg and her husband, the humble media magnate Andy Gutenberg. Despite his star-studded pedigree, he'd grown up to be quite well-adjusted, if not particularly eager to carry on his family's legacies. He majored in Political Science, but his main interest was the athletics program.

Ferris Wheels (Pleasure/Romance) was the son of Candy Hart and Helen Wheels. He was the triad's middle child, so he was accustomed to some level of chaos in his surroundings—unquestionably a highly transferable skill. In his teenage years, he'd coped through art and part-time work as a standup comedian. He majored in Art (duh).

Holly Land (Knowledge/Pleasure) was the daughter of Scot Land and Cliff Notes. As serious and dutiful as you would expect from that combination, she took pride in her well-toned body (thanks to that obstacle course at home). She majored in math.

[canyouhearthelight]

Nihilus Rex, Ch. 14: Date Night

You didn't really think that yours truly could write this much of a story without some flat out tooth-decaying fluff at some point, did you?

I mean, who do you think I am??

But don't worry, @baelpenrose definitely did his part. Don't let his angsty ways fool you.

Hang my coat up in the first bar

There is no peace that I've found so far

The laughter penetrates my silence

As drunken men find flaws in science

Their words mostly noises

Ghosts with just voices

Your words in my memory

Are like music to me

Snow Patrol, “Set Fire to the Third Bar”

Lash

              At six forty-five on the dot, I spotted Nils from across the parking lot behind the comedy club. His expensively worn-out leather pants made me feel a little better about having braved the kohl eyeliner and mascara, along with wearing clothes that actually fit instead of the baggy cargos I wore day to day.  It looked like I overshot, though, because he started to walk right past me. 

              “It can’t be that bad,” I joked, grabbing his arm and startling him into turning around. I forced down the self-conscious feeling that tried to bubble into my throat.

              He started and then turned and stared, pale face flushing. “I uh…I’ve never seen you dressed up like this before.” His eyes flicked up and down my outfit, then fixed on my face. “You look amazing.”

              I kicked one foot playfully, looking down at my jeans and boots. “Usually I’m trying to avoid being noticed.  Pretty sure these boots were made to grab attention - they’re vintage. Borrowed them from Mama, and don’t ask why she owns them, because I don’t want to think about it.”  Thank god she did, though - cavalier boots were expensive, and these were actually real leather.

              “They look good on you. So does the sweater.” Nils took my arm. “I believe I promised you a drink?” 

              “Yes, sir. One cherry bomb, let’s go!” I tugged on his hand, leading us to the door. Without batting an eye, I handed my ID and cover to the door guy, knowing he wasn’t going to look hard enough to do the math.  Sure enough, he took the cash, handed back the card, and slapped a wristband on to show I was old enough to buy alcohol.  Nils just arched an eyebrow at me as he did the same.

              Once we were in, Nils let me lead him to the bar and delivered the orders - a cherry bomb and a Malibu sunrise. “You a fan of standup, or just the headliner?” 

              “Mmmm, bit of both,” I answered carefully. “Not a fan of the kind of standup that goes for the cheap jokes, but the headliner tonight is really clever. You don’t really expect the punchlines, it’s smart.”

              “Gotcha. So, uh. What the fuck is a cherry bomb? I’m not like. A mixed drinks expert but I know my way around a bar and I’ve never heard of that one…”

              “Ooo, you’ll have to try a sip,” I teased. “It’s cherry vodka and Redbull, kind of a big girl cosmo.  Tastes like those sour cherry candies, the bright red chewy ones.” I paused for a second before remembering. “If they’re mixed right. Some places add grenadine, and then it tastes like cough syrup.  They should be clear if they’re made right.”  Our drinks were set down right then, and I grabbed mine, taking a sip before holding it in front of his face. “See? No color.”

              Nils raised his eyebrows. “Swap sips? Thing I ordered is peach, rum, and coconut. Tastes like a melted smoothie, mostly - strong though, but it doesn’t taste like it.” 

              I reached for his, game for a little challenge. It was smooth, as promised, kind of like a fuzzy navel if it weren’t for the coconut.  Not my jam, but not bad at all.

              He took a sip of the cherry bomb and smiled. “This is excellent. Not quite my taste for a mixed drink, but amazing. Doesn’t taste like alcohol at all.”

              “I know, right? Yummy.” I turned to scope out the room before settling on a table roughly mid way back on the left hand side.  Without a word, I grabbed the first thing my hand landed on above Nils’ waist - either a pocket or a belt, I wasn’t sure - and started dragging him behind me. “Gotta snag the heckle-free table before it gets taken,” I explained when he yelped. Something wet sloshed on my arm, and I mentally promised to replace the drink I was probably now wearing.

              “Sorry!” he grabbed a napkin and started dabbing at my sleeve as we sat down. “I did not mean to splash that on you.” 

              “No worries, it’s my fault. And it’s wool, don’t worry about stains or anything.”

              “Ah.” He sat down. “How did you find out about this place originally?” 

              “Really bad day, and I wanted cheering up?” The look he gave me made it clear he wasn’t buying it, so I relented. “They actually found me.  Needed some advertising done and some security cameras set up, paid me half cash and free tickets to a show.  We’ve been loyal business partners ever since.”

              “That makes sense. So you did some art for them and did the systems for the security cams? That’s pretty awesome.” He gave me a strange look, very obviously forcing himself to keep his eyes on mine. “So you take all your shady hacker friends here, or just me?” 

              I stretched, waving at one of my favorite servers with a grin. “Nah, this is my sanctuary, kind of. Somewhere I can just be young and normal, do completely legal work for legal-in-two-weeks pay.  Please tell me you guys have poppers tonight? You were out last time, and it made me sad.” I pouted at the server with the biggest doe-eyes I could manage without laughing.

              She scowled at me for all of three seconds before cracking a smile. “Double order, extra ranch?”

              Nils pulled out a card. “Whatever she says. She’s just showing me around.” 

              I bit my lip to stifle the laugh when the server rolled her eyes and flipped her hair in mock arrogance. “Lashy-love does not pay for food.  Anything but the drinks are comped.” She looked at me and rolled her eyes again. “New guys. What are you gonna do?”

His face! “I told you it was cute when you thought you won.”

              He recovered with reasonable game. “You, Lash, are a genie and not the nice kind. Side note, you get better ‘free stuff’ contracts than I do - best I have is a nerd hobby shop that gives discounts.” He paused as he took another sip. “Though it is nice to finally get actual confirmation on your age. You’re 21 in two weeks, huh?” The lazy grin was back. 

              “For the record, I’m still trying to find volume seven of Battle Angel Alita,” I pointed out. “But yes. Lash Dalita is twenty-one as of a month ago. Elakshi is twenty-one in two weeks.”

              “That’s your name? It suits you. Thank you for telling me. Still can’t use it, right?” 

              “I would prefer you didn’t, yeah.  It’s… kind of the line in my mind that keeps my parents and sister safe.  For them, I’m Elakshi. For everyone else, I’m Lash.  Lash Dalita can get arrested without hurting my family.”

              He nodded, somberly. “I won’t use your real name. Not unless you tell me I can.” he let that sit between us. “Question though - why Dalita? I’m not an expert on Indian or Pakistani culture, but isn’t ‘dalit’ the term for…low-caste, often discriminated against?”

              Ooo, not so dumb after all. “It means ‘outcast, untouchable, undesirable’, yeah.  It’s kind of a private joke - who chooses to work with the ‘poor, discriminated against girl’, and who steers clear.”

              Nils visibly thought about saying something. “No One, apparently.” The tone made it clear that the word was capitalized. “I like your alias. Good signal for solidarity with people who need it.” 

              I winked as the plate of deep fried goodness hit the table. “You aren’t the only one with clever jokes.”

              “Clearly not.” He gestured at the guy who’d taken the stage. “Warm up acts here normally good?” 

              “He’ll either make us laugh, or make us laugh at how bad he is.  Worth finding out, right?”

              “Oh totally.” Nils leaned back. “If I can ask, and you can tell me to fuck right off, how are your family doing since…” He left unspoken the obvious. Since the liens released. Since debt stopped hanging over their heads. Since we rewrote millions of people’s financial situations. 

              I lowered my voice as the opener started what looked to be a truly poor patter. “He’s being Baba - I promise that will make sense eventually. But he doesn’t fully trust good things, so he is putting what he would pay on the car and my student loans into a separate account, just in case he has to end up paying. He says worst case scenario, he has the money to pay, best case scenario, he has extra savings. Truly a win-win, insert self satisfied expression here.  For him, that means he is happier than a pig in shit, honestly.”

              “And, if i can ask, how are you feeling about no more student loans?” There was something urgent there. His gaze snapped back to the stage and he chuckled. “Wow, you weren’t kidding about win-win with comedy. Latter option, here, but hey, it’s a warm up act.”

“Poor guy, yeah,” I chuckled, snagging a jalapeno popper and drenching it in thick ranch. “Student loans weren’t a huge problem, for me, thankfully - I got lucky. Only had a loan for my first semester, so it was something just north of seven grand.  I gave Baba the principal, he insisted on paying the interest because ‘usury is theft’, but it was something around seventy-five a month. I still give him the money, he sets it aside in savings, and I draw a couple more yaoi to make up the difference, just like before.” I took a bite of food and pointed at Nils with the other half. “By the way, South Park yaoi, real big right now.” 

“I’d say ew but my most profitable artistic side hustle was Avengers Mpreg A/B/O garbage paid by the page, so…actually, fuck it. ‘Ew, but I’ve done worse’.” He shrugged. “Amazing what internet perverts will pay for.” 

“Aww, A/B/O Mpreg not your jam? More of a tentacle guy?” I teased before giving an exaggerated shudder. “Don’t get me wrong, I have drawn entirely too many ovipositors and feet. But those so-called perverts pay really good money, so I refuse to judge them.” I did a mock toast before draining what was left of my drink. “Hmm. Water or another? The dilemma is very real.”

“I’m more of a ‘dangerous women who could kill me’ and ‘cute femboys and/or barra’ guy, which you almost certainly could have guessed from my everything, but that’s hardly the point. Also, I generally space drinks with water because it makes it take longer to get wasted and we’re gonna be here a while. Figure water first, then another?” 

“I think we do both, since the water will get refilled automatically, whereas we have to get up to get drinks. Sound good?” I pointed at the plate between us. “Besides. While I am fully capable of eating these by myself, I have no intention of doing so.”

He laughed. “I appreciate you. And yeah, sounds good.” He picked one up and took a slow bite. “Oh, holy shit this is amazing. I love this.” 

“The only place I know that makes their own,” I shook my head slowly in disbelief. “Fresh peppers, cream cheese, bacon wrapped, breaded, and fried.” I pointed to the ranch. “Don’t miss out on that shit, either. Extra garlic, extra salt, extra dill. Amazing.”

He dipped the popper in it and took a small bite, his eyes popping. “Oh my god. Lash. How did you..?” 

“I will eat jalapeno poppers from any gas station or drive through… this is all the cook in the back. Who I joyfully would one day marry, sight unseen, if he weren’t already married.” I took another bite and chewed thoughtfully. “Wife’s pretty cute, though. You saw her.”

Nils raised his eyebrows. “Damn. Just a husband-wife team run this place, huh? Love it.” 

I waffled a hand back and forth. “Sort of. Bartender isn’t family, and I don’t think they’re related to the owner. But if there is a good show, those two are always working.  You can imagine she cleans up on tips, between the food and - I mean, you saw her.” I gave him a sardonic look, knowing good and well the man wasn’t blind, no matter how much he was trying to make a good impression. Michelle plus pulse equaled crush, it was just physics.

“I can imagine.” He seemed to decide to take a chance, after weighing his thoughts for a second. “If I may be so bold, though, my attention was rather occupied by another young woman.” 

Thank fuck the lights were dimmed, I thought as my face heated up. “Glad to know the effort hadn’t gone to waste,” I blurted out before I could stop myself.  A hand immediately flew to my mouth and my eyes widened. “I - I didn’t mean…. Oh, god, I said that out loud…” I groaned and covered my face with both hands.

Nils was smiling, but it wasn’t his usual, something-far-away, private-joke smile, with something else he was thinking about. It was a sincere expression, with an amusement entirely in the moment. “Apparently I’m not the only one who trips over my own words sometimes either? But no, Lash.” He blushed. “I’ve noticed for a while. Hard not to when we did all that together and I got to see firsthand how brilliant you are, how hard you go for…everything.”

Applause erupted around us, and I was relieved to see the poor opener had finished his set. I felt so bad for him, but right now I was too embarrassed to do more than clap enthusiastically that neither of us had died of humiliation. “Hold that thought, I am going to get our next round of drinks. You flag down Michelle and order waters. No lemon, they don’t wash them.  And if she asks, tell her tap water. It’s the only kind they have, but she asks sometimes to figure out if people are going to tip or not.”

Nils nodded, face flushing, hopefully harder than mine. I took off to the bar, holding up a twenty to get attention. “One shot of vodka, neat.  Then a cherry bomb and a… shit. Malibu sunrise! That’s it.”  The shot was delivered first, and I downed it immediately to calm my nerves. When the other drinks appeared, I stuffed the twenty in the tip jar and paid with my card before heading back to our table.             

              “One Malibu sunrise, as promised for spilling the first one,” I proclaimed, setting the drink down with a flourish before taking my seat.  Two glasses of water and an empty shot glass were already there, and I barely set my drink down before tipping my head back with laughter, tears coming to my eyes. “Same brain, I see.  I had one at the bar.”

              “What’s your shot of choice?” The grin was back, even if the flush was still sort of there, as he, seeming to act almost by instinct, had stood up as I’d come back and sat down. 

              “Stoli,” I gasped, carefully dabbing tears from my eyes to avoid smudging my makeup. “Just the right price point that I don’t feel bad throwing back, but doesn’t burn or taste foul like the cheaper stuff. You?”

              “Jack Daniels. Cheap whiskey, you know. My grandfather was the first one in the family to make any money, said he really liked the kind of cheap stuff he grew up with. Kind of a soothing thing, and he and I were close.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but shrugged.

              “My family doesn’t drink except for holidays that require it,” I confessed. “We aren’t Muslim, by the way. A lot of people seem to think that, like I’m some black sheep or something. Baba just doesn’t get the point of drinking, and Mama is too much of a control freak. But Holi…. Hooo, you should see them.”

              “Hindu holidays then? Tell me about some of those. Google only gets me so far and I want to know more about you. What’re they like?” 

              “We’re… culturally Hindu, I guess you could say.  On Baba’s side. Mama is culturally Jewish, actually.  It’s a weird mix when it gets to holidays - Holi, then Passover, that kind of thing.  Funerals are very emotional. Beef and pork are pretty much just out of the question at home, in general.  Mama isn’t observant, so fermented foods are okay, and Baba would die without yeasted bread, I swear.  But both sides are very family oriented, so any excuse to get together is always an unbelievable amount of people.  I gave up keeping track, honestly.”

              “Big family get togethers. That sounds awesome. Complicated, but beautiful. Energetic, amazing.” 

              I wanted to ask Nils about growing up Catholic - a kind of sterility I couldn’t even fathom, honestly, in my messy, emotional family - but the headlining act came on and wasted no time in doing her audience work.  “Hands up if you’re married!  Keep them up if you came without your spouse!  And whose spouse has already messaged or called…”

              I took a long chug of water before I started laughing, knowing that I had about thirty seconds before I would start choking otherwise.  Sure enough, the first person in the crowd was called upon and Nils’ drink went spraying on the floor as some poor woman called out that her husband had texted asking where the ketchup was.

              “Okay, yeah, see why you love her.”

              “They asked if we had any clean towels!”

              I nodded, my face hurting too much from laughing to give a good response.  The second an older man shouted out that his male partner texted to ask if the partner had already had a hysterectomy, I knew any conversation was done for the rest of the set.

[sqbr]

@kentsarrow replied to your text post: @sqbr pls do rec the vids!! even if i don't get it, i'd love to try to understand anyway

I suspect that if I don't reply to this now I'll overthink it and never actually make the post, so! Off the top of my head, some maths youtubers I have enjoyed, one vid per account, aiming for a variety of topics:

Veritasium is more a general Cool Science channel and can be a bit more style than substance, but this is a nice video about Goedel's Incompleteness Theorem, something which BLEW MY MIND when I first learned about it and which fundamentally changed the way mathematicians conceptualise the very nature of mathematical truth. Because it turns out we PROVABLY cannot prove everything! Includes some enjoyably unintuitive facts about infinity and paradoxes too.

Vi Hart sadly stopped posting nearly a decade ago but has a bunch of charmingly whimsical yet thoughtful videos about maths and/or music:

Standup Maths is aiming for a sort of Make Maths Fun and Funny For Highschoolers audience but manages to go into a fair bit of conceptual depth while staying entertaining:

And for MAXIMUM ALGEBRA there's 3Blue1Brown, who I enjoy for not glossing over the details and instead encouraging the viewer to solve the problem along with him:

I know there's other good accounts I've seen, but this is somewhere to start! If these particular videos don't appeal I rec looking at each account's other videos, they all cover a variety of topics.

[pearlwestbrook]

Welcome to Aurora Bay, PEARL WESTBROOK! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like GRACE VAN PATTEN. You must be the TWENTY-SEVEN year old EMPLOYEE AT THE MOVIE HOUSE THEATER. Word is you’re SAVVY but can also be a bit MALICIOUS and your favorite song is SAME by DEB NEVER. I also heard you’ll be staying in OCEAN CREST APARTMENTS. I’m sure you’ll love it!

STATS.

Full Name: Pearl Odette Westbrook Nickname(s): Rabbit (by anyone who knew her when she was younger) Gender: Cis woman, she/her Sexual Orientation: Bisexual Birthday: October 30, 1995 (27) Religion: None Nationality: American Ethnicity: White Hometown: Palmdale, California Current Residence: Ocean Crest Apartments Length of time in Aurora Bay: 7 years Occupation: Employee at the Movie House Theater Education: Three semesters of community college

Height: 5′6 Tattoos: "Thank you and sweet dreams" in Jeff Buckley's handwriting on her upper left ribcage Piercings: Two in her left lobe, three in her right lobe, right nipple Scars: (tba)

Mother: Helena Westbrook Baker (48) Father: Kristoff Mack (55) Step-Father: George Baker (56) Siblings: Stevie Mack (half-sibling) Pet(s): A mean ass Calico cat called Mrs. Washburn, named after her mean ass seventh grade math teacher

PERSONALITY.

Pos. Traits: Savvy, quick-witted, perceptive, self-sufficient, intelligent Neg. Traits: Reckless, mercurial, sarcastic, pretentious, indecisive, self-indulgent, malicious Likes: Experimental cinema, lacy underwear, fashion, Indian food, weed, cigarettes, making people she doesn't like feel bad about themselves, telling lies for no reason, putting ketchup in her macaroni, Jeff Buckley, sex, dark beers, black metal, calzones, her cat, anything that gets her blood going, talking to strangers Dislikes: Sports, most poetry, modern interior design, minimalism, Star Wars, YouTubers, school, working a regular job, her family, philosophy, organized religion, feeling dependent on other people, standup comedy Fears: Having no direction in life, disappointing people, being abandoned

TL;DR.

Pearl's mother — one of nine kids and whose father had two wives — ran away from home at 17, got knocked up by a man who was part of a cult-like religious organization in Provo, Utah, that she met at the strip club where she worked, and then got ghosted by him. She left Utah, went west, and had Pearl in Palmdale, California. Her mother went back to stripping when she was very young and often left her alone and to fend for herself, and then, when Pearl was in her early teens, married the owner of the strip joint, who also happened to be a drug trafficker. When she was 17 he started trying to get Pearl to strip at his club and that was the last straw. She left home at 18 after graduating high school and ended up in Aurora Bay with a roommate a few years later. She tried community college but hated it and works at the movie house theater now.

CURRENT CONNECTIONS.

unknown half-sibling of @mackstevie

enemies to besties with @helenasoarcs

toxic undefined relo with @ulyflynn

frenemies with benefits of @rominacortez

casual hookup of @jake-hudson

unwilling victim of attempted parenting with @cristian-valdes

fan of and friends with @amayapowers

casual enemies and 2am deep convos with @carterjohnsons

golden retriever/black cat energy with @greengideon

mutually destructive friendship with @xaviermattthews

bad influence on @liamburkes

HEADCANONS.

Finds it hilarious that her initials are POW and calls herself a prisoner of war

She got the nickname rabbit partly bc of her full cheeks but also bc she'll chow down on carrot sticks like a rodent, only people who knew her when she was younger wld know the nickname

Doesn't actually like the taste of cigarettes but is fully addicted

Despises weed culture and will stop listening when someone tries telling her about strains

tba

BIOGRAPHY.

**trigger warnings for parental abuse and neglect, allusion to homelessness, mention of religious extremism, drug trafficking, alcoholism

Helena Foughner's mother was one of Josiah Foughner's two wives, and she herself was just one of his nine children. It was a deeply toxic family and he was a deeply toxic and abusive man, and she ran away from all of it when she was seventeen years old, about four months before she would have failed to graduate high school with the rest of her peers. She didn't get far at first — she stayed in and around the Provo and Salt Lake areas for the next few years, often couch-surfing with friends and staying with boyfriends and frequenting motel rooms.

In her early twenties Helena discovered stripping, and it was through this that she finally started making enough money to get an apartment of her own; it was also how she met Kristoff Mack. He was charming in a way that disturbed and fascinated her, and not long after the second or third time they slept together did Helena find herself knocked up with his child and unable to contact him. Devastated and pregnant and terrified and with more hatred in her heart for Utah than ever before, Helena decided to leave for good. With what little money she'd saved, she traveled west just her and her unborn baby, before finally settling down in Palmdale, California, almost nine months later where Pearl was born.

Helena started stripping again just a couple years later. Pearl was often left with neighbors or cheap babysitters or completely alone, because daycare was too expensive and Helena couldn't keep a steady relationship to save her life.

Until she could, of course. George Baker owned the strip joint, and he took a liking to Helena. George Baker was also a drug trafficker, and not a very nice man. As Pearl got older her mother stopped stripping, married George, and allowed him to take care of them, which meant Pearl suddenly had some man pretending to be her father figure when it came to all the shitty stuff but none of the good stuff. He thought Pearl was an instigative little brat and he was right, and she thought he was an evil son of bitch and she was right. Helena was drinking too much by the time Pearl was a teenager to do anything about the abusive way her husband spoke to her daughter. She was also too drunk to be any help when, just before turning eighteen, George approached Pearl about stripping in his club. So she didn't bother ratting him out to her mom at all — Pearl simply left home the minute she turned eighteen and graduated high school.

Unlike her mother before her, Pearl had saved up just enough money through retail jobs she worked in high school to afford an apartment with a friend, and they ended up in Aurora Bay. There, Pearl tried a few different jobs before settling at the Movie House Theater, which she enjoyed because she'd always loved movies and, if she'd been able to last longer than three semester at a nearby community college, would likely have gone on to study film.

That being said, her rough start to life never instilled in her much confidence and that on top of hating the school setting meant she gave up on that idea quickly. She's not content with what she does but doesn't have the ambition to try for anything better, so a lot of her externalized rage is a product of that deep unhappiness and dissatisfaction with her life and her perceived ability to change it.

She dates on and off, sleeps around a lot more. Despite it never helping, she tries to fill the gaping void in her life with meaningless relationships that only end up making her feel worse in the end, and often leave her with additional trauma to pile on top of the rest.

Recently, she's started looking into her biological father out of some misplaced notion that understanding where she comes from might somehow give her a sense of purpose. Her mother never spoke of her father save for a first name, but through some deep digging she finally managed to get a last name as well and connect it to a man in Provo, Utah, who was part of a cult-like religious organization with a freaky recruiting website. It's not really a surprise to her given who her mother is, but it was still, deep down, just another confirmation that her life is garbage and she comes from shitty stock with bad luck.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

A current roommate

The roommate she moved to Aurora Bay with seven years ago (could be the same as the current roommate or something could have happened and they or she moved out)

Co-workers at the movie theater or any other little retail job she did before that

A few besties

Weed smoking buddies

Harder drug buddies + a dealer

Someone who tries to parent her (mostly unsuccessfully)

Someone who’s super chaotic with her and encourages all her poor choices

Some exes (would pretty much all have been toxic relos in some way)

Someone she lowkey idolizes

Enemies baybeeeeee

Would love someone she used to be rly close with and they hate each other now

Also would love the opposite, someone that started off on a bad foot with her but now they’re close

Frenemies!!! Friends only when they’re drunk vibe

Fake friends where they pretend to be friends for some reason but both loathe each other actually

Apartment building neighbors that she’s probably annoyed

Maybe one neighbor who kinda sees through her bullshit tho and lowkey is rly helpful like helped her go down to the basement when she blew a fuse or smth

Someone she knows bc she rear ended them when she borrowed her friend's car or smth ygfuhjds could have turned into a friendship or could be enemies now

Someone she Witnessed Something Weird With and now theyre trauma bonded over it

Hookups/fwb/etc

[oatmealmika]

Connie Springer Headcanons!!

did a part 1 to this months back, but i have more to say about this loser <3

one piece avid. he grew up watching it and is STILL obsessed. he does not understand why people complain about how long it is.

"one piece isn't that long. i watched it when i was a kid-" BECAUSE IT CAME OUT WEEKLY, YOU-

middle school boy sense of humor

not in the tiktok and making fun of people’s interests for no reason type of way, just being immature and saying the most out of hand things

does not understand math above third grade level. pls do not even try helping, he will not retain the information-

BUT he has surprisingly good grades in chemistry

during science class once, mr. ackerman (the janitor) walked into class to yell at prof. zoe for something and connie misguidedly whistled, "marriage issuesssss”

bro got wrongfully sent to the principal’s office for that one ☝️

knows all the tiktok dances since he is in historia's main tiktok dance team (with ymir, sasha, and him ofc ofc)

the kid in school with godly attendance

watches all the new netflix shows and thinks they're actually good

if you're his s/o, beware. he LOVES horror movies and will drag you to the couch, you kicking and screaming, just to watch one.

brought you, sasha, and jean to watch megan with him and laughed so hard you guys cried

his most used apps/websites are omegle, tiktok, and then random ass mobile games

OMFG he was that kid who asked "got games on your phone?"

joined the school choir w/ sasha for shits and giggles but ended up getting to travel to italy to perform

learned mime because he thought it'd be cool

he had his first girlfriend when he was twelve and he was on omegle fucking around

they still keep in touch, actually

read chainsaw man in one day and felt numb asf afterwards for a month straight

still can cry on whim about it

denji is just like him fr major denji kinnie (hey im an asa mitaka kinnie pls connie one chance ily-)

he had a phase where he thought he was bruno mars 💀

is the one who brings jean back to earth whenever he brags about getting all the girls in his grade and how every girl is obsessed w him and how-

doesn’t use spotify, uses apple music

has dyed his hair (or whatever tf that hairstyle is lmao) red and blue. he had red hair first, but then he decided to switch to blue. unfortunately, he dyed it without having the red removed and he got a yucky purple color…

listens to funny love songs whenever he’s down

bo burnham enthusiast. watches all the specials and the youtube analyses on how ‘inside’ is a masterpiece and how it is revolutionary for comedy standups and- (it is)

one of those people who could talk endlessly if you allowed him to. he could get REALY deep and start talking about some really sad and painful things that happened to him.

BUT he also is a good listener since he works well in teams. he listens and adds to others’ ideas.

he listens to female rap (doja cat, lauryn hill, megan thee stallion) but you didn’t hear that from me-

can’t cook and, when his mom isn’t home, survives on instant noodles, cereal, and protein shakes

fast runner. he isn’t even trying hard, he just has lots of stamina and speed.

VERY accident prone, but he always brushes it off with a laugh

my loser boy <3

[smokeflix]

"I don't mind not being attractive. I don't care. I do get annoyed when attractive people are shoved down our throats in every walk of life. We're constantly being given the message that attractive people are the best at everything."

Does it not matter to Romesh that I find him attractive? Romesh Ranganathan is the funniest small-town English egomaniac standup comedian since Ricky Gervais. I thought Romesh was a classically trained actor, not an ex-maths teacher who hails from possibly the saddest little village in the South of England.

Here is one of those extremely rare Smokeflix comedy specials you won't switch off with a grimace at minute 6. This Ranganathan chap can really keep it going! The other guy who can do that put Reading on the world map. Crawley, you've never been so lucky. —Shawnahbahd

[laikahh]

math class is so fun my teacher makes it so that it feels like standup comedy but also every 10 or so minutes an audience member gets brutally murdered

[syrenki]

my problem is my imagination is too vivid and so if i have to watch/listen to something idc about (maths class while i had those or someone really really wants to show me a movie or standup or whatever) i can really just follow the lips of the other person and mimic their expressions and laugh or nod and react accordingly at the correct times (late by a fraction of a second) so that people think i'm fully present listening comprehending and whatnot but really i have muted this tab of reality in my head and am like elbows deep in some whole another different thing that really fully feels more real in my head at that moment

[canthandlethishit]

ugh *experiencing the horrors* *random spike of anxiety* *what the hell im literally in bed* *oh wait i got a literature test tmr* *and an ict one..* *and the ielts in a fortnight* *chances of a bio quiz tmr* *also i am lowkey failing maths* *what if i wake up late tmr and miss the tests* okay understandable but for a good night sleep i must have trevor noah’s standups playing by my ears or i will explode

[yourcomedyminute]

A PREVIEW OF YOUR COMEDY MINUTE WITH LINDA MARCUS SMITH #LasVegas #Oregon #StandUp #Comedian #Sweet #Innocent #Wanted #Man #PostOffice #Eyes #Following #Feeling #Boomer #No #Jewish #Germany #One #Woman #Math #Funny #Live #Stream #Humor #Comedy 

This is just a clip from the interview with Linda. The full interview premieres May 28th at 7:00 PM (EST). 

If you would like to be a guest on Your Comedy Minute please contact me

[gregg-reuben]

What are the stakes?

What are the stakes? https://seths.blog/2024/02/what-are-the-stakes/ How big a swing do we need to make it feel like it matters? At the casino, some folks play with $5 chips, some with $100 chips. Do the high rollers have more fun? Are they more engaged? It’s natural to imagine that bigger swings matter more. That a bigger audience means our standup needs to be better, or a bigger investment is a signal that our business matters more. More and better aren’t the same. There are very few projects that have an impact on every human. Most are more local than that. Winning the regional Math Olympiad can feel just as important as winning the Super Bowl, and entire countries will be unaware of both events. If you need it to feel like life or death for the work to matter, the problem might not be that you don’t get enough near-death opportunities. It might be that you’ve signed up to work in crisis mode.

[nasriibrahim]

What I hear in a week

"You ready for the dcd exam"

"When is the project due"

"I love cats"

"This is why I keep my phone on do not disturb"

"I love hockey, they just trash talk each other at the loudest volume"

"You should do standup, jk"

"I remember doing it last semester but I forgot"

"Explain the barbie movie to me"

"Halloween is the best"

"Girls are too much drama, that's why all my friends are guys"

"Can you get me a cookie from richies"

"Why do we need to do so much math"

"Why is my laptop being stupid"

"I'll see if I can work on it tonight, but I'm behind in some of my classes"

"Lets go get lunch and work on this report"

"Please stop eating out of that glass jar, it's obnoxious"

"I hate programming"

[aiindailyjourney]

Dream jobs that don't pay, are still dreams worth chasing.

List three jobs you’d consider pursuing if money didn’t matter. If money were no object, I would pursue a career in standup comedy, teaching math in elementary school, or singing. I would have loved to be a Stand-up comedian. Stand-up comedy is a performing art in which a comedian performs in front of a live audience, delivering jokes and stories that are intended to elicit laughter. Being a…