Sorry for how long this is, I've got that ADHD trait where everything feels important for context. I'm also still trying to process everything.
So I (30F) just had my first baby six months ago. My dad passed away 12 years ago and I lost ties to his side of the family, partially because most my uncles (he has 4 brothers) live in different states and partially because my dad was the person to plan everything. So, most of my family I'm in contact with is my mom's family.
Typically, if my family invites me to family events or holidays they do so through my mom or my uncle (mom's brother) texts me or calls me. My mom, though, has been struggling with her mental health since my dad passed and the only people she really talks to are me, my brother (who lives with her), my grandma, and my great aunt. She occasionally interacts with her brother and sister. My grandma is your typical bitter, white, racist old lady and is kind of toxic toward my mom (she belittles my mom's feelings, usually places blame on my mom, plays clear favorites with her kids, etc.). So my mom has dealt with anxiety any time she's going to visit my grandma for holidays or to stay with her if she is having health issues or to watch my aunts house (she lives next door). My grandma lives about an hour from us. My mom lives 5 minutes away from me.
So the last few big holidays my mom didn't want to go to her house because of the anxiety, and as I had a newborn and was recovering from a c section (had the baby 11/19 so a week before Thanksgiving) we decided to do small holidays. For Thanksgiving I invited my mom to come over and she offered to cook Enchiladas (rather than a whole feast - which I was fine with). She brought the food over, her and my brother ate, but I wasn't hungry, yet, so I just hung out. She held the baby for a few minutes, then they both just left after the baby started getting a bit fussy. Didn't offer to help clean up, left the food on the stove (which was on) and left. I was still recovering from surgery and my partner had taken the opportunity to get some sleep since he didn't think I'd need help as my mom was there. So, I couldn't put the food away and just leave my crying newborn baby alone. Not to mention I wasn't stable enough on my feet because of where I was in my recovery. I don't remember what we did for Christmas, she did come by on her own (without my brother) and gave us gifts and hung out with the baby. She also came over one other time for a few hours to watch the baby so me and my partner could get some rest. She was at the hospital when I was in labor and after having the baby but didn't really do much to help except get me food and maybe help change a diaper. When we were discharged I told her not to worry about coming to the hospital but she was welcome to come to our house, but she said she didn't want to intrude and let us adjust to having the baby at home.
I text with my mom every few weeks and it's been clear for years that her depression has gotten pretty bad. If she talks about herself it is incredibly negative, or she is angry with everyone around her. I'm really the only one who sure hasn't been angry with. I've spent the past few years essentially being her only support system (next to my grandma and my brother - who is also battling his own mental health). I've also spent the last few years trying to get her to see a mental health professional.
She finally admitted she needed to address the anger she was having with my grandma and her incredibly low sense of self-worth. Over the last year or so I have been working with her to get her into a therapists office. I've found therapists that I think would be a good fit for her and contacted them on her behalf (I started by just sending her their contact info, but she kept coming up with excuses of why she hasn't, like she forgot to stop into the office of one she wanted to go to that was next to her masseuse or she was too anxious to call because she'll sound like an idiot). She didn't hear anergy back from them (but she also probably just didn't see any emails since her email inbox is so full with spam.) She finally asked her primary to see a psychologist and made an appointment. I texted her a week before mothers day just to check in with her to see how it went. Found out she got scammed (not from the psychologist) and it made her feel like she was dumb and couldn't do anything right. I did what I could do balance the line between comfort and trying to challenge her negative thoughts of herself. We didn't discuss mother's day.
Fast forward to the day before mother's day, my MIL's boyfriend invited me, my partner, our baby, my SIL and their grandma to breakfast on Saturday. (I also want to add, my MIL and her boyfriend watch the baby every weekend, they cleaned our house when I was in the hospital, then they helped us when we came home so I could shower and get check ups set up.) I still didn't hear back from my mom, so I texted her at 10am on Saturday asking if she wanted to go to breakfast on mother's day. During breakfast my MIL asked what I was doing and I told her I was planning to go have breakfast with my mom, but my partner had to work in the afternoon and didn't have anything else planned. I didn't hear anything back from my mom still, so when my MIL texted me that night (around 11pm) saying she wanted to see me to get pictures of me and my son on my first mother's day, I gave her my schedule and she told me to let her know a time in the morning. That night my son was up every two hours, so I didn't get any sleep until my partner took over around 4am. I woke up around 9:30ish and just ended up ordering breakfast. While we were eating we made a plan that while he was at work I would go see his mom and when he gets off we'd go thrifting then go roller skating (because mom's skate free on mother's day). I texted his mom times and everything was set. Then my mom finally texted me back saying happy mothers day and assuming I'd received an email inviting me to go to my grandma's house for mother's day. I had not, and told her. She said apparently I was left off the email my uncles fiance had sent (which she also was the first time - so I was left off multiple emails) and she said that it was an accident and that I was welcome, then asked if I had plans. I didn't think my uncle's fiance left me off intentionally, but I already had plans and told her this. Didn't hear anything for a few hours then realized I forgot to say happy mothers day and sent her another text doing so and that I love her.
I still haven't received back any response. I haven't heard anything from the rest of my family (except my brother on my dad's side who lives in another state and is completely unrelated to this). I did not go to the mother's day thing, I wasn't going to cancel the plans I already made and I wouldn't have had enough time to squeeze in a visit since it was an hour away and an hour back and would've been an all day thing. I'm incredibly disappointed and crushed, and really, really miss my dad. It was my first mother's day and the only one who put any kind of thought into it was my mother in law and my own family - my mom included - seems to consider me an after thought. They're supposed to be the ones to provide support and love through all of this. The janitor from my work sent me a happy mothers day, redditors I chat with who don't even know my fucking name wished me a happy mother's day, someone I just started talking to like 2 days ago wished me a happy mothers day, but my own family couldn't even send a text??? Ouch.
Sorry again for how long this is, I'm just kinda fucked up from the whole thing.

My (29f) now ex-bf (26m) was in the picture for nearly a year and lived with us for about 5 months and we just broke up last week while my son(8) was at his dads. Ex-BF moved out and as soon as I got my son back I told him that “ex-bf” moved out and now it’s just us. He seemed unfazed and even said “I feel like my normal self” when I asked how he felt about it. He even went on to play with his toys. He’s been more affectionate, able to crawl in bed with me now in the mornings (he used to then stopped when bf moved in) and has less attitude (adhd, usually gets attitude when I ask him to do stuff).
Should I be concerned about his reaction? Maybe he doesn’t know how to express sadness idk? He is usually pretty good with expressing his emotions if needed. I didn’t think I needed to be worried until my therapist told me my son might grow to see men as “dispensable” to families. If anything I was relieved.

alright so i have been thinking about this alot and i have come to my conclusion on what xxx means, so xxx is split into 3 parts first part is talking about kendricks cousin "johny" where he is pictured to be strong , he is stated to want to be a rapper like his cousin(kendrick) kendrick is also talking in the 3rd person meaning when he says "johny caught a body yesterday out hustlin" kendrick himself doesn't know about it, then the 2nd part, where kendrick gets a phone call from one of his freinds that his son was killed in a dispute, in wichekendrick tells him to get revenge and if he was in this situation he would kill who ever tried that, but the timeline and stories match up meaning johny killed kendricks freinds son, kendricks freind then goes to kill johny, which leads to him being jailed, and kendrick realising what he has done, finaly the 3rd part is kendrick realising what this country has turned him into and how terrible all this murder and violence is, finaly 3 people died because of kendrick if kendrick hadnt become a rapper and left his family, Johny would have had a better influence meaning he wouldnt have killed kendricks freinds son and kendricks freind wouldnt have gone to jail, 3 deaths = xxx, feel free to ask any questions

The first time, he was on tinder only put pictures with his body showing (he is in great shape) he was on tinder for a year and a half and only met up with one person on the side of the road, at night, going on a run. It took a year for me to ever be intimate with him again. Just recently, these past three months I have finally felt content and I was hopeful for our marriage. I told him I forgive him fully and never loved him more. We have been through a lot of traumatic things together and asked to never hurt me again.
An old friend of mine messaged me a few days ago, with a tinder profile of my husband. This time 7 photos of him fighting and shirtless and in his underwear showing his face. She matched him and she asked about me, he unmatched her. I confronted him he said. That we do not have enough sex and he wanted more and he was only 30% sure he was going to follow through with it and was only on it 4 days before getting caught. He did not try to cheat on me when we had no sex for a year. Suddenly I start having sex with him again and he said it made him want more. I just had a major surgery 4 months ago for a rare compression. I also have more health issues and another medical procedure coming up.
We have a young child together who is very clingy. My husband works 46-50 hour weeks. But we have gotten a lot of financial help from my father’s money who died 3 weeks before my son was born. So he isn’t the only one that contributes to our household. He even had to take my car because he didn’t want to pay to fix his. But still I am grateful and praise him for his hard work. When he gets home, I have eveything taken care of, dinner made so he can just relax for an hour and then we have to get ready for bed. Our child is about to start kindergarten, I told him it will be easier to have some time together then. I also have taught our son to read, write, add, subtract, and he knows his multiplications already before even going to school. I put a lot of my energy into our child. I quit drinking and smoking when I found out I was pregnant and never touched it again. I understand what it’s like to have an itch. I just never acted on mine.
Unfortunately, our sex life is not the greatest. Mostly it consists of oral and hand jobs at most 5 times a week. They are short lived as my son will ask for me. I’m still scared of penetration since he gave me an sti last time that spread to my reproductive organs. But I have had it. I feel like he would cheat regardless, but I still feel at fault. We had a long talk where I got him to stop saying if we had more he would not of looked to cheat, that it was about variety that’s what it was about last time. He also thought if he scratched the itch and actually had a good experience sleeping with other people that he would be able to stop thinking about it. I told him it would do the opposite as when he cheated the last time he had issues getting hard with me.
I feel like an idiot typing this out. He’s a good father. I don’t think I can ever trust him again. Divorce is not an option for me. He now agrees with me and says he is happy he got caught now because he would have made things worse. I can’t help feeling that some of it is my fault though. That I am not giving enough. I asked how much he would need then to not cheat and he said “every day, I don’t know.” And he said it has to be vaginal sex. He can’t even give me straight answers. I don’t think he could have sex everyday with his work schedule and a girl on tinder, but who knows. I don’t know what I’m asking after. Just if anyone can decipher this mess and give me some sort of advice on how to come to terms with this situation.

Omg, this might be long but I just want to paint a picture of how evil and diabolical my husband’s toxic SIL is. Because I JUST made a connection about some odd comments she made a few years ago.
Back in 2022, I was 3mo pregnant. Important detail: Hubby and I wanted to wait 5 years after marriage to try for kids and we did! So, anyway, I initiated a convo between BIL and his toxic wife to try and make amends (like I’d already stupidly done 5x+ 🙄). At the restaurant, our waitress was telling us that she’d been trying for a baby for a couple years with no luck. My BIL turned to the waitress and said, “It’ll happen for you — my SIL here and my brother tried for YEARS with no luck and now they’re expecting..” and I was SHOCKED bc that’s a total lie. I said “Uhh no that’s not true. It happened right away.” I guess they couldn’t possibly fathom that my husband and I actually planned and prepared for our kid (because they don’t and just call it “God’s Will when they get pregnant 🙄 they don’t even properly care for or love the 4 kids they already have) and so they genuinely had to lie to themselves and believe that hubby and I were infertile???
Here’s the crazy part: around 2021, I was talking with a couple of ladies about kids and, husband’s toxic SIL, out of the blue, said to my face, “Yeah, thankfully I’m suuuper duper fertile…. Are YOU pregnant?” And I was confused cause it was so random and said “Nope! We’re not trying anytime soon.”
I now realize that she made that comment while believing I was infertile. WHO TF SAYS THAT?? Omg. Just one of the MANY reasons I’m NC with her. It takes a special kind of evil person to say something that horrible. 🤮 Like, what if I WERE infertile? This is the same monster who: - told me that “One kid is A JOKE” when I was like 35wks along with my first (and only) son. She has 4 daughters so she feels superior, I guess? 🙄 - who posted on FB when she was “9wks” that they were “expecting” while FULLY knowing that the baby didn’t develop beyond 5wks. She literally pretended everything was okay with the baby and then waited til she was “16wks” to announce their loss (coincidentally) on my SON’s FIRST BDAY (I know my son doesn’t own the day he was born on but the fact that she waited literally 10+ weeks to announce it on that particular day is… crazy.)
She’s truly fkn evil and has the lowest self esteem I’ve ever seen. She has to (try to) put others down to make herself feel better.
Also, she’s never told me Happy Mother’s Day but, now that she’s blocked, she tried to relay a “Happy Mother’s Day” to me though my husband. 🙄 like, girl, BYE. 🖕🏽 It’s exhausting. He didn’t reply 🤣 he’s sooo sick of her sh*t, too. Ugh. I’m done.

I’m so mad!!!! I’m not sure if I’m more mad with my ex-husband or with myself for falling for his BS yet again!
My ex-husband and I have been divorced for 2 years. He’s 40, I’m 38. We were together since I was 20. We have 5 kids together, and our oldest are teenagers. Our relationship was pretty rocky and very on/off for several years prior to actually following through with the divorce. I feel like we both still loved each other, but we’re incompatible on a day to day basis. I believe he cheated on me. He also never wanted me to work outside of the home. We just had very different ideas of what marriage meant. I don’t feel like we were so different when we were younger, but we grew to be very different. We had actually started the process of separation and divorce once before, but then I got pregnant and during that pregnancy he became the perfect husband. But things eventually fell apart again and we finally realized that we had to get a divorce.
On my birthday in March of this year he came to my house announced with a gift for me. It seemed genuine. We slept together that night. We’ve slept together several times since then. I know it was stupid to do, when I’m already struggling with so many mixed emotions about him and like I’ll never truly get over him. But I didn’t think we were really doing any harm. There was no talk about us getting back together. Neither of us was pretending that it was something other than what it was - sex. That was until he invited me on a vacation, just the two of us. At that point I knew we needed to have a real conversation about what all of this meant. He made it seem like he wanted us to go away and explore the idea of getting back together. That’s what he said. He wanted to talk about “what it would take” for us to try a relationship again. He was talking about therapy and counseling and being a better husband and father.
We never went on the vacation. I hadn’t vetoed it completely, but I told him I needed to think about it some more. This was toward the end of April. So, a matter of just a few weeks ago.
He got me a nice gift for Mother’s Day (not including the gifts our kids got me, which I knew he also paid for) and wrote a very thoughtful message in a card, which he normally doesn’t do. It was sweet. It felt good.
Then last night at around 11:00 pm I was scared half to death when I heard somebody loudly enter my home. When I went downstairs to check what was going on, it was one of our sons. He was supposed to be at his dad’s tonight, and that’s where he came from. He was so upset. It took a good 5-10 minutes to calm him down. He was pacing just looked so angry in a way that he normally never is. He told me that his dad, my ex-husband, is actually engaged to a secret girlfriend he’s had for who knows how long. They’ve been engaged since January! My son saw pictures of my ex-husband and this woman on my ex’s phone. They weren’t nude photos or anything like that, as far as I’m aware. My son asked him who this woman was in all of these photos and my husband told him “Don’t tell your mother, but this is my fiance.” My son said he was so mad he just stormed out of the house.
So, this entire time he’s been sleeping with me, claiming to be single, and inviting me on vacation to discuss getting back together…he’s been secretly engaged? To a woman who he’s never mentioned before and has never introduced to our kids?
I’m blown away! This feels worse than all of the stupid things he did while we were actually married. It almost feels calculated that he’d have all of these pictures of her and the two of them together on his phone and allow our son to use his phone knowing he’d probably see the pictures. I feel like he couldn’t bring himself to sit our kids down like a normal person would to give them this news, so he allowed my son to find these pictures. The fact that he never mentioned a word about this woman and then he was so easily able to say “Don’t tell your mother, but this is my fiance” is so weird.
And guess what? She’s in her 20s. How cliche. How sad.
It’s time like these where it’s very hard to be a good mom, pretending to be the bigger person and take the high road while also not totally burying my husband’s character in front of them. My children are very hurt by this. They feel very betrayed by their dad for not even mentioning that he was dating someone, let alone getting engaged to somebody who he’s never even introduced them to. Throw in the fact that she’s not even 10 years old than some of our kids. They don’t want to talk to him. He’s been blowing up my phone all day and one of my daughter has told me the same. They don’t even know about what was going on between the two of us. I’m not saying they were clueless because we’re dealing with teenagers here, but they don’t know that he invited me on this vacation or anything. Being there for my children, protecting them, and helping them navigate their emotions is my main priority, but I really just want to go crazy and tear him a new one. Trying to remain composed is very difficult.

This holiday marks 3 years since you walked out of our apartment and out of my life after the better part of a decade of us being all but married. When we first got together, you told me you were the kind of guy that couldn't sleep with a woman unless you had a strong emotional connection with her. It was true back then and it was one of the things I loved and respected most about you, as never once in those years did I have to worry about you being disloyal. You were a good man, a good boyfriend, a good brother, and a good son and, for as much as we argued, I was so proud to call you mine.
Over the years, you leaned away and into the manosphere, began parroting soundbites from "alpha" talking heads, grew a disdain for women and began to believe that women's place is beneath that of men's. I spent a long time wondering if it was because you and I argued so much and if I could've done more to prevent you from becoming what you are now.
It's only been a little over 3 months since we tried to date again. In that month of dating, you told me of how high a standard I set for the women that followed - all 11 of them, you made sure to tell me - and stressed how none of them could come close to me, and how you felt you were almost entirely responsible for things falling apart between us - all words that were a shock coming from you.
After hearing such a number of women in so short a timespan, I asked what happened to being connected before sex, and you said that's how you used to be, that now, you understand what it is to be a man and that men have no issue separating sex from emotion. I didn't believe you, and as the truth bled out over time, it became obvious that you'd gotten your feelings jumbled and left pieces of your heart with at least a few of these women.
For a brief time before that, I thought you'd missed me as much as I'd missed you since you said things that the man who walked out on me would've sooner died than ever admit. Because I could see that bit of growth in you, despite your haughty attitude, I wanted to believe you. You were begging me for marriage and a child, lamenting how you were tired of dating women who consistently disappointed and how you just wanted to settle down with a good woman and start a family. It was a pitiful plea, but I still loved you. So, I told you if you were serious, we could work towards rebuilding trust and see what happened from there.
That was my first mistake. My second was not listening when you initially told me that you'd become a worse person.
Since you were so dead-set on marriage and children as fast as possible, rushing to plan every detail of your timeline with a vigor you'd never once shown in the years we spent together, I wanted to make it work, wanted to believe that there was still good in you reaching out to the good in me. So, I indulged the fantasy, hoping this was your way of making up for lost time.
But a fantasy is all it was.
You initially told me you were single only to later admit, after I had to ask upon seeing her things in your bathroom, that you were juggling me with other women. You told me how you manipulated "pick-me"s to get what you want from them, got mad when I told you I had no intention of competing with them for you, and when called out on these awful actions and opinions, you just said, "I told you I don't think I'm a good person anymore," as if it were some sort of get-out-of-jail-free-card.
To your credit, you ended things with her when I threatened to remove myself from your fantasy future and you never tried for anything more than a goodbye hug with me during the entirety of this attempt at dating so your conscience, or maybe guilt, was present in some capacity, at least.
I asked you why you've chosen to knowingly become a worse person and all you could say was that you didn't feel respected back then, that you didn't know how to be a man, and that you do now and how being a good person as a man just gets you walked all over. I told you I knew this tough-guy alpha business was just a facade. You admitted it was a mask but said that you wear it so often that it's basically glued to your face, now.
What you couldn't answer was why you deserve a good woman like me if you, yourself, aren't a good man. Regardless, you're convinced that you're some magnanimous prize to be won, yet don't see the reality of how you've only reduced yourself to a fuckboy that dangles the carrot of family, marriage, and stability in front of unsuspecting women to your own selfish ends, hoping they'll fight and compete for a love you have no intention of giving, seeing as that's "pick-me" behavior to you.
I should've thrown you away a dozen times over but I didn't because, just like in the past, I could see the confused and hurt boy in you crying out when you lamented how your family no longer enjoys having you around and how thrilled you thought they'd be if we got back together - how you want to be close-knit with them again, like things were when I was still in the picture.
The funny thing is, when they found out we were seeing each other again, they weren't thrilled, instead they stressed for me to be cautious and take things slow because they know what you've become and how you treat women now.
Your family is full of good people that tell me how they love me far more than they like you. They find your opinions deplorable and dislike how quick you are to ruin special occasions to fight them over said opinions. In all honesty, my heart broke for you a little when I heard that you weren't included in the Mother's Day plans while I was.
You said you wanted to regain the gravitas that being established with me and being the dutiful son and brother gave you back then, but you forget how you only showed the worsening side of yourself to me at the time. I kept it from them, but it was you who showed the full truth of your beliefs to them after you left. It was you who lost your family's respect and threw away the close bonds you had with them.
Despite all this, I stubbornly stuck this attempt at reconciliation out after our second-to-last date where the mask slipped and you unintentionally showed me, without a doubt, that there was still a deep well of love and affection for me in you. I think it scared you to realize, too, that your gruff exterior was cracking and that you were softening to me.
For our next date, you came to my place for the first time and saw everything from the life you left behind. I know it rushed you with emotions you weren't prepared to handle, so I figured you'd need time to sort out your feelings, but didn't expect you to end things then and there.
In that final discussion, you repeated that I'm your ideal woman in every way, but that you can't continue with us because you were afraid of stepping back into our old life and becoming the person you were when we were together. That you didn't like that version of yourself - the version of you that at one point-in-time was a far better person, better son, better brother, better boyfriend, and better man.
So here, 3 years later, and 3 months later, I've come to accept that I will never not love you, no matter how awful you become. No matter how many times I move on, in every timeline, every universe, every reincarnation, I will always miss you, love you, and genuinely want the best for you.
These things will never change, but one thing has: the beaming pride I once felt for you has turned to solemn pity.

Okay so full disclosure, I have very little PC knowledge, I can use one pretty well but don’t know the first thing about motherboards, video cards, and processors. My son is 6 and has been into Minecraft and Farming Simulator on the Xbox and now wants a “gaming PC.” So I dug around and found this dinosaur HP my father in law had (It’s gotta be 15 yrs old or so pictures above) but obviously this antique can’t run these games. So my question is, is it even possible to upgrade some parts and be able to play? Or do I buy a new computer with the right components? And again he’s 6 so I’m talking super basic, as cheap as possible here. I see some video cards can run into the thousands, he’s gonna need a job for that.

During the course of my career as an alpha Sasquatch hunting, Dogman destroying, pussy crushing, luxury watch loving dude, I have run into this particular woman a few times. She is one part uber sensuality, and the other part deadly. Yes, I am speaking about the lovely, Anna Conda. I bring her up because I had another run-in with her last year.

Anna and I first joined forces, so to speak, when she acted as a go-between in my business deal with the Chinese to sell them bigfoot parts. See, I would hunt and kill the critters, cut them up, deliver the parts to Anna, who in turn gave me a suitcase containing unmarked American hundred-dollar bills, then she would transport the bigfoot parts to the Chinese. I was never really sure of what the sneaky-ass Chinese were doing with the body parts. All I knew for sure is that they are extracting certain materials from them, then synthesizing them with some other shit, creating some sort of drug. Whether it then becomes a bio-weapon or a dick stimulant, I do not know. Neither do I care. As long as they kept the hundies coming, I was good.

Now, while Anna is of Russian descent, she is a freelancer. She will work for any sick, skeevy motherfucker out there. She does not care. She has no conscience, at least not in the traditional sense as we understand it in western civilization. Today she is working for the Chinese, and tomorrow she may be working for Hamas. She is a slippery motherfucker.

So here is how it went down. At 11:32 p.m. on a Friday in September of last year I get a call on my cell phone. When the call came in I was balls deep into this hot little lass I picked up at the bus station a little earlier in the evening from an old swarthy chap named “Colorado Joe”. He wanted to sell me the girl. I was assured she was over 20 years old. I told him I needed to take her out for a test ride, which he agreed to.

So, there I was, balls deep in “Bing Bang Yun”, and my phone rings. Of course, I silence all incoming calls not in my contacts list. Thus, I knew that I must know the caller. In mid stroke I reached over to the nightstand to retrieve my cell and looked at it. It was a call from “Sergio”. I thought, “Oh shit…. I am going to have to cut the Oriental bang circus short.” When Sergio calls, I have to respond…immediately. He has the best blow on the east coast!!

“Hey, Serge! What’s up?”, I asked. All he said was, “Hooters. 2:00 a.m.”, then hung up. This was obviously the rendezvous for the transaction. Now, understand that Serge was not talking about the chicken wing restaurant. Hooters was code, in case the feds were listening in on the line. “Hooters” meant the titty bar out on Highway 69 called “The Plump Rump”. We had a communications code we used.

It was a long haul to the titty bar, so I needed to get moving. I had no time to return the girl to Colorado Joe, so I took her with me. I had her blow me on the way to the meeting with Sergio, telling her that her performance would make the difference on whether I save her from Joe or not. Of course, after she was done I tossed her out of my speeding truck and down, over the bridge, and into the Wendigo River below. I did not need any complications in my life right now.

I arrived at The Plump Rump at 2:00 a.m. on the dot. I saw the manager, Lou Skunt, sitting at the bar when I walked inside. I nodded. He walked over and said to me, “Use my office for the meeting The parties are already in there waiting for you.” I nodded and then headed to Lou’s office. Then it hit me: Lou said the “PARTIES” are already here. That is, parties, meaning more than one person. It was not just Sergio. It was 2 or more people! Lou was probably in for a cut of whatever was about to go down.

Something was bad fucked up!! I know for a fact that Sergio never brings anyone with him on a deal, at least not with me. He is too distrustful of people to do that, and too fucking mean to need protection. Something was wrong. I was just as likely to get whacked when I enter Lou’s office as anything else. I needed a moment to think things through.

I took a spot in front of one of the performance poles to watch a young, swarthy Mexican lass perform. My mind quickly strayed from the problem at hand to this brown chick’s ass and tits. She was not a great looking chick, but her body was smoking!! I quickly became aroused. I thought to myself, “Goddamn Asian bitches!! They are just like Chinese food – after 2 hours you are ready for some more!!”

When the little Mexican chick went on break I motioned her over to my table. “Hola Senior!!”, she said. I pulled out a clear plastic baggie of blow and dropped it on the table. Her eyes grew wide and slobber starting falling from her mouth. Blow is like catnip for strippers. Thus, she fell under my spell immediately.

The next thing I know, this brown girl was on my lap, dry humping me like a feral bitch dog in heat. I had to bang her. I NEEDED to see my wang penetrating her. Just then, someone taps my shoulder hard. I look up to see Lou standing over me. He bent down and said, “Did you forget about my office, asshole?!?!?!” I replied, “Damn, Lou!! You read my mind!!!” I arose, with the little Mexican bolted onto my mid-section, and hastily retreated to Lou’s office. I figured Lou would prefer me to stain this chick in private rather than out in the open.

The door to the office opened easily. The lights were on inside. In a lustful haze, I set the little Mexican chick on her back across Lou’s desk and started pumping the shit out of her, completely unaware of the others in the room with us. In a moment I heard someone call my name. I twist my neck around to see Sergio sitting on Lou’s jizz crusted couch. I think to myself, “Oh shit! I forgot about that shit!”

I figured I would just move forward with the deal as it was proposed to me. “Hey Serge! What ya got for me, dude?”, I asked. He replied, “I have a very special deal for you. I need, uh … yeah, ……Hey, Rod, you want to stop for a moment so we can talk?” I picked up the little tamale and laid her down onto Sergio’s lap as I continued to plow her. She stayed on my cock the whole time. I told Sergio, “No, man. I’m good! Lay it on me!” Slowly, Sergio lowered his face into his palm.

Then it happened. The voice cam from behind me, in the dark corner of Lou’s office. It was velvety yet hard as steel. “Rod. Went need to talk”, it said. Even though I did not stop pumping the little brown chick, a chill went down my spine when I heard those words. It was the thick timbre of the voice, I think, that alerted me.

I turned to look across the room. There, sitting in a red leather captains chair against the wall was the source of the sultry voice: Anna Conda.

I picked up the little taco yet again and turned her around so I could face Anna as I continued pumping her. At this point the Mexican girl was merely a masturbation toy I was using. I increased my pump so I could dump my load and get this over with. Then BAMM!!!, it was over. I removed the lass from my huge rod, after which her body crumpled to the floor. I did not know if she was dead or injured, or what had happened to her. But I did not care either, so I did not dwell on it.

I tried to compose myself the best I could, then walked over to stand before Anna so I could get to the bottom of all this business. “Well, well, well. Anna Conda. We meet again. Tell me, what brings you here, to my little neck of the woods?”

Anna replied, “Rod, put your dick away.” I looked down and, indeed, I had forgotten to stow my cock. Out of pure curtesy, I packed it away. Then I returned my attention to Anna. “Alright, Anna, what’s going on here?”

Anna launched into a startling tale about what brought her to me. As she spoke I became lost in her wanton beauty. She got up from her chair and walked about the room as she relayed her story, presumably to make it more dramatic and demonstrative. I got a full-on view of her body, and it was fantastic!!

She stands 5’10’’ and weighs 105 lbs. She is lithe. She was showing it off too, wearing a black, silk dress that landed just about her ankles. The top was low-cut, betraying just a bit of cleavage from her C-cup wineglass titties. She was not wearing a bra. Anna never wears a bra. Her nips were perfectly outlined through the silk. In fact, I think her nips were hard. It was probably something she did on purpose in an attempt to influence me. It was working.

Anna’s ass was perfect. It was not at all fat, but round enough not to be skinny. It was a fit figure skater’s ass. As she walked, I could see a tiny bit of jiggle emanating from her ass flesh, and then reverberated in the silky black dress she wore. My cock began growing hard again.

Her face was beautiful. Think Scarlett Johanson and Phoebe Cates rolled into one. But any sweetness this may evoke is quickly dispelled by Anna’s throaty voice with its thick Russian accent. I have known Anna for 20 years. Yet, she still does not look a day over 25. Jesus Christ!!! If ever there was a chick to die for ….. If I was one to delve into the belief of the paranormal, then I may conclude that Anna made a deal with the devil. But, I am not such a person.
And literally, Anna Conda is a chick to die for. She is deadly as fuck. She will kill you in a split second without a thought just because she does not like the shirt you are wearing. She can do it too. She is always armed and she knows how to use her weapons. Moreover, she is a total psychopath. This makes her doubly dangerous.

Anna and I have always gotten along for the most part. Like Anna, the dollar is my primary motivating factor. Such a mindset allows for understanding and predictability among people, which are elements that are sorely missing in many business dealings today that go on in the color of darkness.

Suddenly, Anna snapped me out of my thoughts. “Here’s your gun, Rod. Now let’s get started”, said Anna. She and Sergio were halfway through the door exiting Lou’s office when I said, “Hey, wait a damned minute!!! What are you talking about?!?”

They both stopped, and Anna walked back in and looked me in the eyes, saying “The plan, Rod. Let’s get on with the plan.” A little embarrassed, I sheepishly asked, “What plan?” Anna folded her arms and looked cross at me. After a moment to allow me to simmer in my shame, she asked, “You were not paying attention, were you, Rod?” I shook my head and looked down.

I heard a hammer cock. I jerked my head back up to find myself staring down the barrel of a pistol pointed at my head that Anna was holding. I protested, “Look, it is not my fucking fault!! Put that fucking gun down!!!” I continued, “You were distracting me with …. Well.. you know, how you are dressed, and that hot, sultry voice…. You know?”

“So, instead of paying attention to the plan, you chose to eye-rape me. Is that what I am to understand your position is, Rod?”, she asked. Knowing that my life was on the line, I said, “Anna, look, you know I am horny to a fault. Then you come in here, swinging them tits around, wearing that silk dress showing off the crack of your ass…. WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU EXPECT TO HAPPENED?”

Anna lowered her gun. She knew that my explanation of being a total cocksman was truth. “Let’s go”, Anna curtly said. I obeyed.

Anna explained the plan to me again on the drive from The Plump Rump. She made me wear a blindfold so that I would not get horny during her explanation. Here is how it went:

Anna Conda was now working for the Russians. It seems that Putin caught wind of the Sasquatch project that the Chinese were working on. He also knew that the American government have been fucking with sasquatch for decades. Thus, he was very concerned about the existence of a bigfoot gap. He ordered the acquisition of a Sasquatch specimen immediately.

Moreover, said specimen must be prime. It needed to be the biggest, baddest sasquatch of them all – a true alpha – so as to speed things along. Putin did not want some weird shit-creature, is-it-a-sasquatch-or-is-it-a-dogman, kind of monstrosity. He wanted purebred, badass sasquatchery, and preferably from the American Pacific northwest.

Anna got in on it because she sold the intel to Putin about China’s Sasquatch operation. She then told Putin she could produce sasquatch corpses for him. She told him she had a contact (i.e., me). Thus, with Putin’s blessing and promises of riches to come, Anna set out to America to find me.

Now, here is where things got a bit squirrely. See, I agreed to procure some more dead sasquatch. I have no problem with killing sasquatch because, in my opinion, they are an abomination on this Earth. I kind of feel like I am doing God’s work by wiping out as many of them as I can. And given all the not-so-Godly stuff I have done, I feel like killing Sasquatch kind of offsets that to some degree.

But Anna, she was stuck on Putin’s instruction that she must supply him with apex Sasquatch. So she did not want to take my advice of heading to the Pacific Northwest or Alaska. Instead, Anna claimed to have pinpointed the whereabouts of a particularly gruesome sasquatch beast that she KNEW would win her a fortune from Putin if she brought it to him.

“So, where is this beast?”, I asked. Anna replied “Martha’s Vineyard”. I paused. Then I asked her to repeat herself. It turns out that I was not mistaken about what Anna had said. I continued, “Uh, Anna, there are no sasquatch on Martha’s Vineyard, just a lot of wealth New Englander schmucks.”

Anna looked at me and told me I was wrong. Then she decided to attempt to taunt me. “Oh, Rod, mighty slayer of Bigfoot! Yet, you fail to take notice of where the biggest, most foul and rotten beast of them all makes its home. Jesus, Rod!! What kind of bigfoot hunter are you, anyway?” Anna then spit at my feet and wondered aloud whether she even needs me for this job.

I decided that I needed to straighten out the hierarchy here in order for this here deal to move forward. I said, “Well, Anna, feel free to truck on over to Old Whitey Beach and battle that beast. But, if there is a big old mangy sasquatch lurking around over there, then it is probably a fucking Nazi-Squatch. You know, those fuckers out there hate the Jews.”

The work “Nazi” visibly shook Anna. Her great grandfather died defending Leningrad. Her entire family there died of either starvation or cannibalism during Hitler’s siege during Operation Barbarossa. Anna despised Nazis. But she feared them too. After landing that punch, I decided to push my luck.

“Now, I am still willing to help you catch this here Nazi-Squatch, but you have to do something for me”, I said. Now Anna’s eyes were on me, and they were narrowing. I continued, “I want you to get bare assed naked and pleasure yourself while I stand over you and jack it.” Anna stared at me silently for a long moment. Then she replied.

“After the job is done, and you can get none of your … fluids… on me”, she said. I shook my head and countered, “Now, and I will ‘try’ to not get my spunk on you.”

However, Anna then turned the tables on me. In fact, she picked up the table and bashed my head in with it. She looked me in my eyes, then matter-of-factly said, “You get the beast, and your prize shall be a night with me, anything goes, darling.” Well, since this caused all of the blood to immediately drain from my brain, I had a lapse in judgment. “DEAL!!”, I said. Then we shook on it.

“OK, tell me more about this supposed monster sasquatch on Martha’s Vineyard”, I said. I still was not ready to believe there was a monster out there. “I show you photo”, said Anna. She took out her phone, scrolled to find the photo, then handed the phone to me. “There. Sasquatch”, she said.

I stared at the photo and remained silent. After a long moment, I turned the phone so that Anna could see the photo and asked, “Uh, Anna, is THIS what you intended to show me?” She replied. “Yes! There…Sasquatch! The biggest, grossest monster around.”

Now, I could not argue with Anna that the image on her phone is a big, gross monster. Hell, it could actually be a sasquatch, and THE UBER sasquatch. It is most certainly the grossest thing on Martha’s Vinyard. But I somehow do not think this is what Putin is expecting.

I turned to Anna and said, “Anna, this is a photo of Michelle Obama. I know it looks vile, and has a huge, hulking body with large appendages where a woman should not have them. But, sweatheart, that ain’t no sasquatch. That’s a big, hairy Chicago street negro.”

Anna did not believe me at first. She was hard in her conviction that Obama was a sasquatch. “I have seen the Sasquatch beast you deliver to me for China. This … Michelle Obama …. It is big, and hairy, and ugly like the sasquatch beast, but worse.”

When the truth finally set it, I could see that it had kind of broken down poor Anna, if only just a bit. I put my arm around Anna and told her, “Look, Michelle O fooled you. Hell, she and her Hamas Hubby fooled millions of Americans, twice! At least you saw Michelle for what she is, to wit: a big, gross sasquatch, and NOT some kind a retarded leftist messiah.”

After that, things took a rather dark turn. “What if we still take her to Putin? We can make deal; sell her to Putin!!” At this point I held up my hands and said, “I’m out”, then turned and walked away. Anna followed, trying to get me to stay. At this point, I could tell that Anna was coming undone a little.

See, she had to produce for Putin. There is no telling what kind of secret deal she actually had with him. She had to deliver a big old mangy Obama …. Er, uh, I mean … Sasquatch, to Putin.

“Ok, Rod, we do your plan. We go out west to kill bigfoot. Huge, monster bigfoot. she said. I turned and looked Anna in her eyes and said the following: First, we bang for 48 hours straight, right now, so I can get my fill of you. Second, you pay me $10,000.00 cash upfront. Third, upon delivery of the dead bigfoot, you pay me $1 million immediately.”

Anna agreed to everything, but noted that at the present time it was her “time of the month”. I grimaced, as I will absolutely not go there (and she knows that). “Fine, next week we bang”, I said. She pointed out that I would be in the woods next week hunting sasquatch. “Fine, once I come out of the woods, then we bang – 48 hours straight”, I said. “Of course, darling!”, she agreed.

Well, it took several days to set up the hunt, but it finally happened. I was in Washington state at high elevation based on intel I has acquired that indicated that there was a monstrous 15’ tall sasquatch on the mountain range that had been murdering and eating hunters and hikers. After 3 months in these mountains without a trace of the creature I began to lose hope, thinking that I probably got some bad intel, or bad coordinates.

I got my satellite phone out to call for an extraction. Winter was setting in fast, and if I did not get off this mountain soon, then I would freeze and/or starve to death. Unfortunately, my contact did not answer. I tried for 2 days. No answer. I had been fucked. I wondered what had happened back in civilization that caused me to be abandoned like this. I resolved that I would get off that mountain and get to the bottom of this shit. There would be hell to pay for this betrayal!!’

I was able to get in touch with contacts from back home. I got old Billy Ray from Ellijay and Rattler on the phone and got them to come out here to Washington State to extract me. Rattler use to fly helicopters in the Army. He has an old Huey sitting in his front yard, to the chagrin of his HOA. He fired that sucker up, and him and old Billy Ray flew out here to my coordinates and extracted me.

After landing at a convenience store to buy some beer for the flight home, we headed east. Through the skies a way, Billy Ray said, “Well, Rod, I guess you is bout ready to git back home to Georgia, eh?” In fact, I was ready to go home. But I had to take care of some business first. I told them both to take me to New York City. They were both perplexed. All I said to them was “I have an old friend there I have to see before I can go home.”

I have intel on where Anna Conda stays when she is in the United States. She stays at certain hotels depending on what month she is here, and whether her check-in date is an odd or even number. This is for undercover work. I came across the code for her stays while doing the sasquatch work for China. She an I were caught in a snowstorm one night in Buffalo, NY, and had to share a room at the Holiday Inn near the airport. We had like 10 big Igloo ice chests with iced down sasquatch body parts with us in the room.

Anna was like, “No hanky panky, Rod. I am tired and I want to go to bed. Tomorrow we finish business.”

Frankly, I did not blame her for withholding her magnificent muff from me. I was tired as hell. But, I could not settle for nothing. So, when Anna was in the bathroom taking a shower, I started going through her suit case. I wanted to find some of her panties to jack off into. Instead, I found a little black notebook. Inside it contained her lodging codes, and some other interesting things. I photographed the contents with my phone and then put it back.

When Anna got out of the shower she was already dressed in her night clothes. She saw me lying on my back, nude on the bed, and jacking it. “Rod!! GROSS!!!! Go to the restroom to do that shit!!!”, she commanded. I just did it to get a rise out of her. LOL!!

So, if Anna is still inside the U.S., then using the codes I stole from her I can locate precisely where she will be that night. I studied it for a few moments then had my answer. Tonight she would be staying at the Dogman Inn on Hwy 95 South, Room 355. I told Rattler to get me there stat!

We had to stop several times for fuel and beer. Those Hueys go just a bit over a hundred MPH, you know. But eventually, we got there. I gave the boys some money and told them to go to the Waffle House for some coffee to sober up. Then they would fly me home.

I should mention that I also had Rattler’s fully auto Russian AK-74 with spare mags. During the long flight with 2 drunks from Washington State to New York City, I had worked myself up into a towering rage over how Anna fucked me on this Putin deal. She had clearly thrown me aside. But for what, exactly? I figured I would storm the hotel room, get some answers, then shower the room with gun fire.

I busted through the door of Room 355 at exactly 3:35 a.m. There she was. My entry roused her from slumber. I was pointing my rifle at her, center mass. She was shocked at the appearance of a gunman in her room at this time of night. However, she was not as shocked as one would think (this was not the first time something like this has happened to her).

I raised my face from the receiver just enough so she could see it was me. “Rod!!!”, she exclaimed. “What happened to you?!?!? I thought you had died up in those mountains when we never hear from you!” I replied, “Shove it up that cute little ass of yours, Anna. You fucked me. And not in the good way. What the fuck was all that shit about needing a sasquatch for Putin?!?”

Anna played dumb. But it struck me that I had been deliberately put out of the loop for 3 months. Why? Who wanted me away for that long, and why? What went on in my absence?!? I was just dying to know!!! I set my rifle down and pulled out my fixed blade knife, ready to get down to some real nasty work on Anna so I could get some truth. The pure evil of what I was about to do to her caused a wide death grin to grow on my face. Anna saw it. She knew what it meant. She swallowed hard and her eyes betrayed the shear terror she felt inside. I was engorged with blood lust. She knew she had fucked up one time too many this time!!

Suddenly came the sound of the toilet in the bathroom flushing. I was momentarily shocked. I did not expect anyone else to be there with Anna. Anna saw it in my face. I glanced at her and saw that the terror in her face was replaced with pleasure, a slight smile creeping over her face.

I was going to have to face off against this person in the bathroom, who would be out in a split moment. When I do that, I will have to turn 180 degrees from Anna, thereby making me vulnerable to her. I had only once choice: Shoot Anna first.

Just as this came to me, but just before I could act on it, the bathroom door opened. I had to deal with that person before Anna now. I spun around to see that it was a completely nude, and fat, white man. He was a real oafish blob. He looked surprised to see me. He also looked sort of familiar.

I next heard the crack of something hitting my skull hard. I remember the immediate hateful pain that shot through my body and the sound of blood rushing through my ears. I remember the dizziness, then falling to the floor. Clearly, as I fixed on the man from the bathroom, Anna had cracked me over the head with a blunt object.

I came to the next morning, Billy Ray and Rattler had manage to track me down based upon coordinates I left in the chopper that said “IN CASE OF EMERGENCY”. Billy Ray filled up the hotel room ice bucket with cold water and doused my head with it to bring me conscious. I was disoriented at first. But after a bit, what happened in this room the night before came back to me.

Honestly, I am surprised that Anna did not just kill me. I presume that she thinks she can leverage her drop-dead hotness to get me to do more shit for her in the future. She is absolutely right about that too. Rattler then said, “Hey, Rod, that snake bitch left a letter fer ya.”

He handed me the letter. This is what it said:
____________________________________________

“Dear Rod:

Sorry about the boo boo on your head. Hope it heals soon. Also sorry about leaving you in the mountains. I was not running a scam on you Rod. Rather, an opportunity arose for me to acquire a sasquatch body from another person. You may know him since you are a sasquatch hunter. His name is Matt Moneymaker. Anyway, until next time…..

Yours truly,
Anna Conda”
_____________________________________________
I could not fucking believe it. That was fatfuck Moneymaker in the hotel room earlier. Anna fucked Matt Fatfuck Moneymaker for a Sasquatch! That fat son of bitch!!

Billy Ray asked, “You ready to go Rod?” I stood up and said, “Yeah, let’s go.” Then Rattler said, “Hey, ya wanna stop and git some beer fer the ride home?” I replied “Hell yeah.”

I felt like I wanted to die. Thank God for beer and buddies. I don’t blame Anna. She is a fucking snake, and I knew that before this started. Also, I cannot really blame fatfuck Moneymaker for wanting to get some of that hot poon pie Anna serves up. I guess I have to blame fate for fucking me over this time. I even started thinking that next time I will just avoid Anna. But I know I won’t, thus making me subject to this sort of shit again. I had Rattler set us down in Charlottesville so I could buy some hard liquor.

Hello all!
I'm looking to trade my Spider-Gwen Omnibus, pictured here
For 1:1 trades I'm looking for:

Savage Sword of Conan omnibus vol 1
Conan the Barbarian omnibus vol 1
X of Swords (Brooks cover)

For combination of trades I'm looking for (in order of priority):

Justice League Dark Rebirth
Savage Avengers Omnibus
X-Men Krakoan Hardcovers (already have X-Men Omni, Wolverine vol. 1, Hellfire Gala)
Venom by Donny Cates omnibus
Infinite crisis omnibus
New Mutants vol. 2-3
Superman by Tomasi
Batman and Robin by Tomasi
Wolverine and the X-Men Omnibus
SuperSons Omnibus (Super Duper Edition)
Thor by Jason Aaron Omnibus
Wonder Woman by Gail Simone
TMNT Compendium vol. 1-2
Green Arrow Omnibus by Grell
Also looking for blank variants from X-Men, TMNT, Daredevil, and Conan related series

Hello and welcome to a very special installment of The Great Spice Off! What is The Great Spice Off?
I love the scent of Old Spice, so much so that it's the only aftershave I use as I don't really feel a need to splash anything else on. But, as we all know, Old Spice no longer makes shaving soap. They do still make a cream but that's hardly a great soap and it doesn't actually smell like Old Spice. As such my plan is to test out all the Old Spice options that are out there on as many bases as possible both to try out a variety of bases from different soapmakers and to report back to you on who really nails the scent.
I'll be shaving three times with each soap, using a variety of brushes and razors, and blades. Yes, I know that means it won't be exactly scientific but this is going to take a while and I want to use all my other shit too. Soaps will be rated on a few factors and given points from 1-5 for each.

Oldness: How much does the soap smell like OG Old Spice. This is the more analytical scent analysis and I'm comparing to an OG Old Spice aftershave I have and the Shulton aftershave from India.
Spiciness: This is the je ne sais quois of Old Spice. Does the soap make me feel the nostalgia, warmth, and whatever it is about the scent that works. Is there something special about it that makes it stand out? Does it invoke a memory or make a new one? The most subjective of this list.
Lather: You know, can I make a shave soap out of it.
Shave: How's it work on the ol' face while shaving.
Post: How's the scent profile after the event. How does my face feel.

Crowne & Crane The Spice

And so we enter (for now) into a strange little corner of Old Spice dupery that I honestly wouldn't have even entered if I had read the description of The Spice before ordering it long ago. Also, if Crowne & Crane hadn't named the soap something pretty inaccurate. Also, also, if I hadn't accidentally picked up a second dupe of the scent recently. Yes, The Spice is not an Old Spice dupe but an Old Spice Limited Edition (LE) dupe.
Record Scratch. Double Take. Wuuuuuuuh!???
So you're asking yourself what the heck is an Old Spice LE. Well, despite what most think, Old Spice has had many scents over the years and almost none of them are riffs or new twists on their original Old Spice scent. Old Spice, the company/brand, made a plethora of scents throughout the history of producing Old Spice that, while all fell in the kind of old fashioned scenting category, had nothing to do with what we think of as Old Spice. Old Spice LE was one of these scents. From the dating I can find online, it was released sometime in the early 90s and stuck around for a chunk of that decade and possibly into the 2000s. It's also possible it was a scent released every couple of years as I can see a few different bottle versions. I don't actually know that much about it, have never smelled the original myself, and the Internet is not actually full of Old Spice product history let alone a defunct aftershave from the early 90s.
Whatever the history, what appears to be consistent is that it came in a clear bottle and was called Limited Edition. It also featured a base of amber, cedar, and woods with supporting notes of cardamom, lavender, moss, and jasmine, and citrus top notes. As you can see, aside from the citrus, it doesn't have all the much in common with Old Spice but that hasn't stopped a fragrance seller from selling a dupe of the discontinued scent for those who may still be looking for it. And so, there are soapers out there who pick this scent up for whatever reason instead of actual Old Spice. Actually, there are only two and Crowne & Crane are the only ones I can find doing it intentionally (more on that in a future review). They're also naming it The Spice, which is a little misleading considering the only spice scent in it is cardamon and given the lavender, citrus, and moss present its clearly intended to be somewhat of a fougère. The Spice, I think we can all agree, is not the name anyone would give a fougère.
So why then am I even reviewing it? That is like asking why do people climb Everest? Why do athletes push their body to the extremes? Why does the woodchuck chuck wood? If these questions could be answered then perhaps I could answer why I am reviewing this. But they can't be.
Crowne & Crane was founded in 2016 by Karl and Liz, whose last names I can't find so we'll call them Karl Crowne and Liz Crane. Karl was an enthusiast it looks like before going into the ol' soapmaking business and, being founded pre-2020, is officially an ol' timer in the artisan soap industry. Despite that longevity they aren't really all that popular around these parts with u/PhilosphicalZombie and u/loudmusicboy literally being the only two folks who appear to use them regularly if at all. I'd say that's maybe because they're not just a shave soap company but Stirling isn't either so that logic kind of flies out the window. Then again, we're a bunch of grown men and women telling other people how we removed hair from our bodies on a daily basis. Logic means nothing here.
Crowne & Crane have two bases, vegan and tallow. Most of their soaps are in tallow only and that's what The Spice comes in so that's what we're working with here. Of note is a commitment to organic, humanely-raised cows for the beef tallow, which is always a plus in my book (and sustainably sourced palm oil). The soap itself is kind of dry and chalky, not in a bad way and it wasn't hard or falling apart. It's a soft, dry soap, which are not contradictory things. The base is made up of Potassium Tallowate, Sodium Tallowate, Potassium Stearate, Sodium Stearate, Aloe Vera Juice, Potassium Cocoate, Sodium Cocoate, Phthalate-Free Fragrance, Potassium Shea Butterate, Sodium Shea Butterate, Kokum Butter, Sodium Lactate, Glycerin, Lanolin, Tussah Silk. Nothing to much to comment on here except I can't stop saying the word tussah over and over in my head. It's a weird word and now it doesn't feel real I've said it so much. Tu... ssah. Tooo suuuhhh...
The labeling is a nice vintage boat symbol, which, again, is a bit misleading given the LE branding was very much a modern (for the 90s) Old Spice look, not the classic schooner branding of the OG Old Spice. If you weren't paying attention (*cough* me *cough*) you might just order this thinking you got an Old Spice dupe and open the lid to find you most assuredly did not. Well, open the lid is a bad description as I bought their 3 oz puck option instead of the 5 oz jar and it came wrapped in paper. 3 oz, by the way, is a great mid-price option that gives you more than a tiny sample but not a full plastic tub. I'd be perfectly happy to have other shaving companies offer this... please... please... there's so much soap under my sink. So... much... soap.
(Sidenote: if you are looking to get their soaps, do it quick as they're going on hiatus during a move in two days!)
Oldness: 0
As a scent not designed to smell like Old Spice this one knocks it out of the park. In fact, it does such a great job not smelling like Old Spice I'd put it up there with some of the greatest scents that don't smell like Old Spice ever made. Have a scent that doesnt's smell like Old Spice that you love? This one smells as much not like Old Spice as that one does! If you're looking for something that doesn't smell like Old Spice but has the word Spice featured in its name and the words "Old" and "Spice" in the description next to each other than this is the soap for you.
Spiciness: 3
This is actually a pretty solid scent even if its called The Spice but isn't really a spicy scent at all. It's definitely a vintage scent, though, and reminds me a bit of Seaforth! Spiced but not as good. Because of that I'm going to say that it still captures a bit of that classic feel that Old Spice gives you even if its a scent from the 90s, a decade that has yet to fall into the "classic" zone and thus still feels like everything from it was cringe (including teenage me).
Lather: 5
What an absolutely brilliant lather The Spice kicks up. From the moment water hits it turning it into a thick prot-lather to the gloriously shiny conclusion, it's just a pleasure to lather. The soap is super thirsty, which can often lead to some dialing issues but I never had those aside from having to add a lot of water to both my larger scoop shave and my medium scoop. You don't need a lot of soap to get this going big and it's really easy to get there and looks great the entire time. If you were going to make an ad about shave soap -- as we all dream to do -- and needed a pretty lather to build up this would be a great choice.
Shave: 3
The Spice offers an incredible cushion of soap that can tackle even the most aggressive razor, making it feel barely there on your skin. However, it is, at best, mid-tier on its slickness with limited residual slickness too. As I reduced the amount of soap I used on each shave I figured I'd eventually hit a lather that was both full of cushion and slickness, but even on my final shave with the least amount of lather I wasn't too impressed with the glide provided. There's slickness there, it's not like dragging some sort of pillowy sandpaper over your face or anything but despite the copious amounts of water I added it never truly peaked.
Post: 2
The Spice's Old Spice LE scent isn't exactly complimentary with either my Indian Old Spice for the vintage one. It's not an afront to the nostrils or anything (sometimes I picture what nostrils being afronted would look like and it weird me out) but it ain't great. It probably plays a bit better with the more floraly vintage spice if I was forced to choose one by some deranged wet shaving person forcing people to shave with stuff. The soap also left my skin feeling a little sticky for some reason, like there was a layer of it still on there. That dissipated quickly but it was an odd sensation.
Final Verdict: 13
Crowne & Crane might be one of my favorite soaps to lather as it's easy to do, looks fantastic, lathers big, and just drinks up the water. It's just kind of fun working it into a lather and for someone who appreciates the process of wetshaving that's a big deal. The shave doesn't quiet live up to the lather, though, despite some really great cushion. Where it really disappoints is the post shave where it not only still doesn't smell like Old Spice (even if it was never trying to) but also left my face feeling a little icky. No one likes an icky face, just ask .
Previous Great Spice Offs:

1940s Old Spice Shaving Soap in Vintage Mug (9)
1973-91 Old Spice Shaving Soap (7)
Old Spice Shaving Cream (Original) (12)
Master Soap Creations Vintage Spice (19)
Black Ship Grooming Classic (17)
OSP Old Gold (19)
Chiseled Face Groomatorium Trade Winds (17)
Wholly Kaw Twice as Spice (17)
Barrister and Mann Barrister's Reserve Spice (21)
Mama Bear Aged Spice (10)
MERShaving Old Timer Spice (20)
Soap Commander Endurance (20)
Signature Soaps Novus Spice (17)
Hoffman's Shave and Soap Company Burn the Ships (19)
Phoenix Artisan Accoutrements Cold Spice (15)
Hendrix Classics & Co Commodore (20)
Ginger's Garden Old Spice Type (15)
Lisa's Natural Herbal Creations Mariner (10)
Stone Field Shaving Company Ltd. No. 37 (18)
Cooper & French Old Goat (19)
The Holy Black Artisan Line Shaving Soap (21)
Stirling Soap Co. Stirling Spice (20)
Van Yulay Spicy Man (10)
Pinnacle Grooming The Good Ship OS (15)
Mystic Water Soap Windjammer (14)
The Village Soap Smith Old Spice (Type) (14)
Cloud Shave "Unscented" (13)
Wet the Face Spices From the Sea (17)
Artifact Soapworks Old Spice (Type) (15)
DentonMajik Ole Fife (21)
Phoenix Artisan Accouterments Oud Spice (17)
Lativ Natural Skin Revival Shaving Soap Old Spice (8)

Special Editions

I'm also looking for the below soaps if you've got any you're willing to sell/trade/donate:

Wild West Shaving Co. Snake Oil
Wickam Spice Trade
Occult Grooming Essentials Modern Spice
Fougare Salem

I already have these soaps that I have not reviewed yet:

Bundubeard Reijger
Bundubeard Drommedaris
Bundubeard De Goede hoop
Areffa Soap The Sea Son

I posted this in another sub, but thankfully someone referred me to this sub!! I'm just sooo over this & need to rant.
First example, on social media, I constantly see people commenting "my 8 year old is on this app" whenever they deem a post "inappropriate." HERE'S A THOUGHT.... Get your 8 year old off of a freaking app that allows the entire world access to them! It is YOUR responsibility to manage what your kid is watching... it isn't anybody else's job to not post something just because of your kids! Another example, a mom posting on Facebook that she took her kid to see Olivia Rodrigo. She was sooo disappointed that Olivia isn't a better role model for children because Olivia cussed, danced provocatively, and wore inappropriate outfits. WHEN AND WHERE did Olivia ever claim her music was kid friendly or say she wanted to be a role model to children?! NEVER. If you listen to half of her music, SHE CUSSES! Why are you so surprised that she cussed at the concert? AGAIN... it is YOUR RESPONSIBILITY to not let your kid listen to music with cuss words! It isn't Olivia Rodrigos or any other celebrities job to alter their work because of your kid!!!
Even going a bit more personal, my STEP SIL posts on facebook DAILY something about "noticing who isn't involved in your kids lives & we will cut you off." I'm fully aware it's about my husband & I. We work half of the month in another state, and when we get home, they are honestly some of the last people we are worried about seeing. She texted my husband pictures of her son & said "since yall dont care to ask about your nephew, here's an update." We aren't that close with them! When we have tried, they cancel. They've never once reached out to us. But even when we try, I just dont care if we see them or not. She posts about her awesome her kid is all the time, and I'm sure he is to HER. But, why do you think everyone should be obsessed with your kid?! And making facebook posts does nothing but push me further from caring about you & your child. Like, bold of you to assume I care! We have so much other things going on, your kid is not my priority, and honeslty I'm not obligated to have a relationship with him. Especially if you're going to try to hold him over my head.

What am I doing? Dominick Mason asked himself for the hundredth time that night. It was late on a rainy Sunday evening and Dom, a tall, lanky man-boy of twenty-five with a prominent Adam’s apple and too big eyes, stared out the rain-slicked window of the 905. The big bus swayed and jostled as it lumbered down Central Avenue, the movements strangely comforting, conducive to reflection…and self-doubt.
As if on cue, his phone buzzed, and a pit opened up in his stomach. He fumbled it out with long fingers and read the text. Are u almost here
His thumb hovered over the screen, but he did not reply. Part of him wanted to block the number, slink back home with his tail between his legs, and forget the whole thing. He could boot up his PS4 and play Red Dead Redemption or GTA V like always. Safe. Familiar. The thought, however, stirred a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach.
It was dread.
Every night, he did the same thing. He came home from work to his tiny prison cell apartment. He had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He played video games until it was time to go to bed. The worst part of the whole night was when he turned off the TV and saw his murky reflection in the screen. Plaid. Scrawny. Disgusting. He hated being locked in that apartment, with its old smells and white walls, but he hated going out even more. At least in his hole, he was safe, like a mouse. No one hurt or lied to him there. No one gave him funny looks. No one rejected him. He was completely safe in his solitude, a wounded animal hiding in its den and licking its wounds.
He was wounded and he knew it.
And he hated himself for it. Hated that he wasn’t stronger or better. Hated that even though he tried so hard, everything he did fell apart…if it even came together in the first place, which it rarely did.
The phone buzzed again.
Just a question mark this time.
His heart began to race and a steely fist slowly closed around his lungs. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and took a deep breath. He pictured himself alone in his little apartment. He loved the image, but he hated it too. Most nights, he didn’t mind being alone. He had to not mind it, because he didn’t have a choice. Some nights…some nights he didn’t want to be alone. Some nights he wanted warmth, he wanted tenderness…some nights, he wanted to be human.
Every so often, Dom would get the urge to find those things. They came less frequently than they did before, but unfortunately, they still came. He would create an account on Plenty of Fish and OKCupid, maybe some of the other sites as well. He would agonize over his stupid intro and his stupid list of hobbies. He would spend hours - literally hours - writing and rewriting them, trying at first to be serious, then light and funny, then cool, then aloof, then vulnerable. He would take the best possible pictures from the best possible angles, then upload them, never lingering over them because he hated the way he looked. He didn’t think he was ugly - mid was more like it - but apparently, he was ugly. Too ugly for love, too ugly even to talk to.
The ugly barnacle. So ugly that everyone died. The end.
All of Dom’s pictures were all selfies, of course. Guys he listened to on YouTube said he needed action shots, shots with friends, shots that showed women he had a life, was valued by those around him, and knew how to have fun. Too bad for him, he had no friends and no one valued him, not even his own mother. On the surface, maybe, but she had hurt him so many times over the years in so many ways that even the most devout son would stop and think.
It had to be selfies.
When his profile was in order - or as much in order as he could get it - he would start to browse. Dom knew his place and never messaged women who were too beautiful. He used to, but they never responded. He eventually began to skip their profiles with a pang of loss and a quiet what if? Now, he barely noticed them. Blonde. Petite. Blue eyes. Maybe she was a cheerleader at one time, maybe she was the type of girl who looked down her nose at guys like him. Maybe she was a sweetheart. In any case, he would never find out, so who cares?
He went for women he could realistically obtain…the type of women he’d dated and hooked up with in the past. Some were attractive in their own way, others were hard to look at, he wasn’t picky; he couldn’t afford to be picky. One woman he saw was a good three hundred pounds. She was nice and he liked her enough, but he lapsed into depression while they were dating and he never messaged her back…not that she made a huge effort to message him. Another was a pre-K teacher in her mid-thirties. Overweight with a big nose, glasses, and a plain face when she wasn’t wearing make-up. He liked her a lot and wanted to be with her, but after a month of weekend hookups, she said she didn’t love him. She told him she wanted a family - three kids, to be exact - but “changed her mind.” No, she didn’t. She just didn’t want those things with him.
Now she was in her late thirties, single, and having regrets.
She still wouldn’t settle for him, though.
Another woman he’d seen recently (six months ago) was fifty, but not unattractive. They texted for weeks, hot and heavy. She outright told him that she wanted to have sex with him. Said all sorts of nasty and sexual things. Their first (and only date) was her coming to his apartment. Instead of tender kisses, loving caresses, and intense emotions, they shared an awkward two hours on his couch. When he tried to hold her hand and put his arm around her, she stiffened. Not much, just a little. She said she “wasn’t ready.” He sat there and watched the flowers he’d gotten her wilt as she talked about her ex for an hour and a half, his arms pointedly crossed. He even leaned as far away from her as humanly possible, trying to communicate with his body language what he didn’t have the guts to communicate with his words: I’m uncomfortable, please leave. He planned to take her to a nice restaurant after they made love. Instead, he ordered something after she finally got the hint and left, eating alone like always.
After her, he deleted his profile (again) and resolved to never bother with dating again. Obviously there was something wrong with him. He saw guys who were uglier and more awkward than him with girlfriends, some actually stunning, but there was something about him in particular, something that repelled women…and men too.
Everyone.
It repelled everyone.
Maybe it was his self-loathing. After all, no one likes a sad sack. But that’s the thing: He was like this because of those experiences. It was a what came first, the chicken or the egg situation. Looking back, he had almost normal confidence at one point. Then all of this happened. The hundreds of messages he sent on the dating apps staying on read, unanswered, like he never sent them at all, like he was garbage unworthy of even a hello. The awkward dates. The occasional “success” that eventually fell apart…sometimes because of him, and sometimes because of them. The one girl who ran away from him when he tried to walk her to her car after a date. They didn’t click, he knew that, but he didn’t say or do anything creepy. Why did she do that? The girls who lead him on, talking about sex and sometimes even love but always had a reason they couldn’t meet.
There were other examples - many others - but it was all the same. Who cared?
Dom wanted to crawl back into his hole and stay there, to stop poking his head out and getting hurt. He wanted it so bad…but he was only human. Deep down, buried beneath layer after layer of scar tissue, there was still hope. Hope for love, for companionship, for acceptance, for intimacy and human touch. It was only an ember now, but even an ember is enough to spark a fire.
Some nights, he wanted to be safe. Other nights, he wanted to take a risk.
And this night was one of the latter.
Be there soon, he texted. He swallowed hard and wetted his lips. His heart was pounding faster and his bowels were loose. He really hoped this worked out. He didn’t think he could handle another rejection. If she turned him down, he’d probably go home and kill himself. Why go on like this?
He’d had that thought before…but he never followed through.
Maybe one day he’d actually shut the fuck up and do it already.
Maybe.
Ok :)
Her name was Heather and she was fat. She was not unattractive in the face and she wore her weight well, not that that mattered - he would take what he could get. They started talking on OKCupid last week and very soon, the conversation became sexual. He didn’t start it, though, she did. She was ahem very excited, she said. He liked to think that she was lonely, desperate, and wanted intimacy - any intimacy - just like him.
That really turned him on.
They agreed to meet, and now here he was, on the bus to her apartment on the other side of the city, hoping against hope that she didn’t hurt him too.
He put the phone away and stared straight ahead. The bus was nearly deserted, save for an old bag lady up front and a few Mexican guys in the back. Lights lined the bus’s roof, providing a cold, impersonal light. Dom took a deep breath and forced his dark emotions away. It was all on him to make this work. He would accept her fat, ugly, poor, and crippled, but he had to work to earn her love. He could do it.
When the bus finally reached his stop, he yanked the cord and got off. There was a plexiglass shelter lit by a single, lonely bulb. Trash littered the ground. Beyond the shelter, a park lay in darkness. Behind him, on the other side of the road, a housing project not unlike his own towered into the sky, lit up like a ship at sail. Dom swallowed his nerves and crossed the street. He found the door that she had directed him to use, and climbed the stairs. He expected trash, graffiti, and winos passed out on every landing. Instead, the stairwell was clean and deserted. His nerves welled as he climbed but he forced them down again. On the ninth floor, he went down the hall, battered on all sides by the stale smells of cooking and the murmur of TVs and voices coming from every apartment.
Dom paused at Apartment 237.
Heather’s.
You got this, he told himself.
And really, he did. Their plan - well, Heather’s, really - was simple and straightforward. She told him that she would leave the door unlocked. He was to come in, go to the bedroom, and she would be waiting for him. She said it was a fantasy of hers.
On some level, he knew all along that the whole setup sounded fishy. Was he being set up to get robbed? Would he walk in and get jumped by a bunch of Crips? He hesitated, but his need for love - and, yes, release - pushed him on.
He opened the door.
Inside, the apartment was small and messy, a living room to the right and a tiny kitchen to the left. The only light on was the one above the stove.
Everything else was in shadows.
Dom’s heart skipped a beat.
This didn’t feel right.
That thought was overpowered by the smell, a sickly sweet odor that suddenly seemed to be everywhere. His stomach twisted and he turned his head slightly to one side, as if to spare his nose. It smelled like something spoiled.
A voice spoke from the darkness, startling him. “I’m in here.”
It was light, airy, and cute.
For the last time, Dom hesitated. Some primal sense told him to turn around and leave…
…but he wanted to be loved.
Dom entered and shut the door behind him.
The smell was stronger. The atmosphere darker.
Ahead, he could barely make out an open doorway in the shadows.
He crossed to it.
The smell was overpowering here and Dom felt like he was going to puke. Any desire he had felt was gone, replaced only by revulsion and claustrophobia. It was cold, he realized, so cold that his teeth chattered.
Okay, fuck this.
He started to turn around, intent on leaving, but a small, white hand reached from the darkness. Icy fingertips brushed his cheek and his heart blasted into his throat.
Then she was there, her body pressing against his and her lips fused with his. The smell, the freezer chill, both stronger than ever.
They were both coming from her.
Her tongue hungrily lashed his own, and she pushed him against the wall. Her hands slipped under his shirt and pressed flat against his chest. They were so cold that he almost cried out.
Dom wanted to push her away, to run, but he didn’t. Instead, he froze up and allowed her to push him onto the bed. Was he too gutless to tell her no, the way he’d been too gutless to tell the woman who went on and on about her ex to shut up and leave? Did he secretly want to go through with this? He didn’t know, and he didn’t have time to figure it out. She was on top of him now, straddling him, his legs caged between her ample thighs. She grabbed his hands and pressed them to her bare breasts.
They were as cold as the rest of her.
She leaned down and kissed him again. He hadn’t noticed it before, but her tongue was…dry. Her mouth itself tasted strange. Off.
Heather broke from his lips and peppered kisses on his cheek and forehead, assaulting him with an intimacy that Dom no longer wanted.
Through it all, she was as silent as a tomb. She wasn’t panting or rasping with excitement. In fact, he didn’t think she was even breathing.
She brushed her lips along the exposed curve of his throat, and tingles of revulsion shot down his spine. She found his pulse and kissed it. Trembles of excitement raced through her body and she started to lap his neck like a dog.
Without warning, a fiery pinprick of pain exploded over him and Heather began to shake and pant. Dom cried out and tried to fight her off, but she was too heavy, too much.
With a tiny, mouse-like squeak - a sound of pitiable fear and resignation - Dom blacked out.

My s/o and I have been together for years. We do not live together, if we aren't hanging out together that evening, we do at least end up at his house or mine to sleep together every night. So while I don't think there has been any real infidelity.. I think he has crossed the line with female "friends".
He is the type that loves social media and the attention that you get from it. I however am not and was devastated by some of his actions I have come across when I do pop online.
At first it was "loving" pictures on Facebook of "friends" of the opposite sex, in seductive poses, or hardly wearing clothes and commenting with flames and bulging heart eye emoji's.
Then it was random women on group pages.
Constant Snaps all day and night from "strangers".
In public, he would see a woman he knows and obviously great them, but also hug them. He wasn't introducing me, and none of these women would ever be present in "friend" outings I was included in.
Eventually, I came undone and said enough was enough. His reaction was more, you should trust me. I am with you, than apologetic.
Reluctantly he agreed to stop, but then he started befriending women on Facebook that had slept or fooled around with his married friends.. I lost it again. He eventually agreed it was inappropriate and deleted them.
Yesterday, we ran up to the store and (without my glasses) thought I saw an emoji text of a kissy face pop up. I asked him who was texting him a kissy face, his response was to immediately put his phone in his pocket and tell me it wasn't a kissy face. At that point I demanded to see the text, he pulled it up, and it was a smiley face next to the words "thank you" from a female name.
However, there were no other text messages prior to that...he had deleted them.. Swore he just sent her a happy birthday text & it meant nothing, but like I said previously he is a social media nut, he sends every single person a happy birthday shout out on Facebook so it was stood out to me that he would reach out via text.
I asked who she was and he said a friend he has known forever, yet I have been with him for years and he's never once mentioned her, nor have I met her (we live in a very small town where everyone knows everyone & they all hang out together). Confronting him on why he deleted the message he said "because I didn't want you to see I was texting some girl and get mad"...
When my son heard us arguing, he asked what was wrong and my s/o replied "oh your mom is just mad at me because I texted a friend happy birthday"... completely ignoring that I was mad because he had deleted an entire conversation with a (stranger, to me) female..
I personally think in each of these situations he has crossed the line, he tells me it is perfectly acceptable for men to have female friends and I should trust him..
Is this an expectable and normal way to have "friendships" with the opposite sex?

I received a packet of papers from my 3 year old son on Friday. 2 days before mothers day. And I'm still trying to wrap my head around WHY. While completing a child exchange in front of the police station (this location because of previous incidents), my high-conflict ex husband had my 3 year old son serve me his "objection to the proposed order" Child support that was established 2 years ago, divorce was just finalized on April 16th. It is not clear what he is objecting to, and he does not list anything that he feels would be more appropriate than the "current order". There is no hearing date listed, and there is no case number listed.
Everything is filled out on his paper, and my 3 year old is listed as a "third party" under his name. In the section that asks him to explain the reasoning behind his objection, he writes (and I'll type it exactly as he wrote it): "I suspect and know my son is being abused/neglected during her 50/50 I've had word of her handing him off so she can go out. He's missed numerous dr visits + I've had to get him a new pediatrician. & he is always wearing the same hammy down clothes from his older sister. Why isn't the money I'm paying in child support being used to support my son in her care. I've been assaulted on three different occasions by her in front of our son. My son needs stability not the hourendous environment she puts him in."
Along with that statement, he included 17 photocopied pictures of various bruises and marks throughout my son's body without a timestamp of explanation, and they all included his girlfriend's lengthy fingernails, he included a screeshot of him talking shit about me with my own sister, and he included whatever paperwork the circuit court had for his alleged assault cases.
I searched the circuit Court records to ensure this was something he actually filed with the courthouse, and under my divorce docket, it states that he filed the paperwork 2 days before having my 3 year old son serve me the papers. Under the events and hearing section of my divorce docket, there is 1 comment left under the last paper he filed; "OBJ TO PROPOSED ORDER FILED BY DEF (DEF STATED HE WAS GIVEN THE OBJECTION PAPERWORK BY FOC AND HE WAS TOLD THAT THIS IS WHAT HE IS TO FILE)"
This isn't the first time he's created unnecessary drama right before mothers day.

Buffalo hump sons pictures

My family forgot to invite me to mother's day on my first mother's day

Crowne & Crane The Spice