Pig roast spit motor

Cuban Sukuna

2024.05.14 13:36 PureOrangeJuche Cuban Sukuna

There’s a lot of confusion around Sukuna’s background, theming, and translations. One theory that hasn’t gotten enough attention is that Sukuna is actually Cuban. Let’s break it down.
Cleave and Dismantle: Anyone who has been to Miami has seen the tables of hand-rolled cigars. Imagine heading out to the tobacco leaf plantation for a hard day’s work with your machete, chopping and slicing the leaves to the proper size during harvesting, taking down dead plants and cutting away vines and weeds. Then you come home to a big dinner of roast pig, or lechon asado, relaxing in your cabana while your amigo Señor Urame brings out the seasonal ice cream- mantecado, plantanos maduros etc. Incredible.
Malevolent Shrine: a clear and obvious reference to the giant icons of socialist leaders in la Plaza Viéja and other key public places en la Havana. The themes of love, power, and loneliness also play clearly into the construction of International Socialismò.
Divine Flame/El Fuego: Not only a loving reference to the open fires and barbecues of Sukuna’s beloved family meals in Cuba, but also direct line to the exploding artillery shells during the attempted Bay of Pigs invasion under JFK. Clearly, overcoming the running dogs of American capital was a formative moment in Sukuna’s patriotism as well as his faith in International Socialismò.
La Majorága: obvious.
There you have it folks. Sukuna is a beautiful and complex pastiche of a beautiful and complex island. ¡SUKUNA ES CUBANO!

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2024.05.14 13:03 Here_i_am23 Just a rant.

So I’ve been with my partner for three years now. We live together and have his son (7) every weekend who is still awaiting his assessment for adhd.
He’s been having behavioural problems since I’ve known him. Being rude, cheeky and acting very entitled.
Everytime he’s cheeky or rude to people which is everytime we have visitors (people he barely knows) or I take him to play with my families kids my partner is quick to label it the ADHD and very rarely addresses the issues. Here’s the thing he’s quite well mannered at home with just me and his father.
For instance I took him to my sisters where we were having a family get together Saturday, he’s rude about the food she’s cooked, he doesn’t like it even though he hasn’t tried it so my sister offered to cook him a separate meal. The whole time he was demanding it to be cooked quicker never said please or thank you and then when it was cooked he barely touched it. He’s then demanding snacks btw I cooked him a meal before we even set out.
He then goes into the kitchen and asks whether he could try a roast potato (which he eats home) he puts it in his mouth and spits it back into the plate where everyone’s food sits replies with “ewwww” and walks out. I just find he does this sometimes to get peoples backs up or he’s trying to act like a big shot in front of everybody.
My partner then slaps a label on this and says it’s adhd but how do we know this just isn’t bad behaviour?

submitted by Here_i_am23 to ADHDparenting [link] [comments]

2024.05.14 07:18 Camp-North Summer Camps For Kids

Summer Camps For Kids
Title: "Exploring the Benefits and Excitement of Summer Camps for Kids"
Introduction:
Summer camps hold a special place in the hearts of many children and parents alike. These retreats offer a unique blend of adventure, learning, and socialization, creating memories that last a lifetime. In this article, we'll delve into the world of summer camps for kids, exploring their benefits, popular activities, and tips for choosing the right camp for your child.
Benefits of Summer Camps:

Outdoor Exploration: Summer camps often take place in natural settings, providing children with opportunities to explore the great outdoors. Whether it's hiking through forests, swimming in lakes, or roasting marshmallows around a campfire, these experiences foster a deep appreciation for nature and encourage physical activity.
Seasonal social Development: Camps bring together children from diverse backgrounds, allowing them to form new friendships and develop important social skills. Through teamwork, cooperation, and shared experiences, campers learn to communicate effectively, resolve conflicts, and build confidence in their interactions with others.
Personal Growth: Away from the familiar comforts of home, children have the chance to step out of their comfort zones and embrace new challenges. From trying out new sports and creative arts to conquering fears through outdoor adventures, summer camps empower kids to discover their strengths, overcome obstacles, and build resilience.
Skill Building: Many camps offer specialised programs focused on developing specific skills or interests, such as music, theatre, sports, or STEM (science, technology, engineering, and mathematics). These immersive experiences allow children to hone their talents, explore new passions, and gain valuable knowledge in a supportive environment.

Popular Activities at Summer Camps:

Sports and Recreation: From soccer and basketball to swimming and rock climbing, sports activities are a staple of many summer camps. These activities not only promote physical fitness but also teach valuable lessons in teamwork, sportsmanship, and leadership.
Arts and Crafts: Creative arts and crafts workshops allow campers to unleash their imagination and express themselves through painting, drawing, pottery, and other artistic endeavors. These hands-on activities foster creativity, fine motor skills, and a sense of pride in one's work.
Adventure and Outdoor Skills: Whether it's navigating a ropes course, learning to build a fire, or embarking on a wilderness hike, adventure-based activities challenge campers to push their limits, develop problem-solving skills, and connect with nature in meaningful ways.
STEM Exploration: Camps focused on science, technology, engineering, and mathematics offer interactive workshops, experiments, and projects that spark curiosity and foster a love for learning. From robotics and coding to astronomy and environmental science, these programs inspire campers to explore the wonders of the world around them.

Tips for Choosing the Right Camp:

Consider Your Child's Interests: Look for a camp that aligns with your child's passions and preferences, whether it's sports, arts, nature, or academics.
Research Camp Options: Explore different types of camps, read reviews, and reach out to camp organizers to learn more about their programs, facilities, and staff qualifications.
Evaluate Safety Measures: Prioritize camps that prioritize the safety and well-being of campers, with trained staff, proper supervision, and emergency protocols in place.
Involve Your Child in the Decision: Discuss camp options with your child and involve them in the decision-making process to ensure they feel excited and invested in the experience.

Conclusion:
Summer camps offer children a world of adventure, learning, and friendship, providing valuable opportunities for personal growth and exploration. Whether it's mastering new skills, making lifelong memories, or simply enjoying the joys of childhood in the great outdoors, the benefits of summer camps are boundless. By choosing the right camp and embracing the spirit of adventure, parents can set their children on a path to a summer filled with fun, discovery, and endless possibilities.
Camp North Star is situated in beautiful Poland Spring, Maine, surrounded by many beautiful and natural landscapes that we get to share and enjoy with our campers. Trips are offered every session and happen on the days we are not on our normal activity schedule. Trip days are a time to relax and enjoy time with friends and bunkmates.
Camp North Star is the top premier Maine sleepaway camp for boys & girls. We offer the best overnight summer camps for kids & teens in New England. Call Now: (207)998-4777.
We give Different types of camp north star like-

Sleep away Camp
Summer Camp
Sport Camp
Boys & Girl Camp

Thank You, For More Service’s Please Visit Our Websites.

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2024.05.14 05:50 Ralts_Bloodthorne Nova Wars - Chapter 60

[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]
The annoying sound of her comlink made Angela Angus Kusumoto open her eyes.
All she saw was the firm, smooth flesh of Kimoko's thigh.
Groaning, she pushed the other woman's leg off of her face, twisted to get Raul off of her own legs, then wiggled out from under Geoff.
The ringer kept going, flashing the red pulses that let her know it was urgent.
As if the fact her unlisted encrypted and non-network accessible comlink was ringing wasn't enough to let her know that it was urgent.
She stumbled, tripping over Harker's leg, which just made the male shift and mutter, tightening his sleeping grip on Liselle, who sighed and wiggled into the embrace.
Angela's mouth tasted terrible and she stopped to grab a fizzybrew, checking to make sure nobody had dropped a cig butt into it or spit chaw into it, then she took a long drink off of it.
It helped cure the fire in her belly and wash out the taste from her mouth.
She saw the ID of the caller and held back a groan.
Senior Supervisor Bisa-2291873.
Her direct supervisor.
She picked up the comlink, running one hand through her pixie-cut hair to try to tame it. She could feel the stiffness of something crusted in her hair and held back a chuckle and a grin.
"Kusumoto here," she said, activating the link.
"I need you at Master Control," Ms. Bisa said. She was holding a small infant, bouncing it slightly as she patted its back with firm impacts as it cry/sobbed and kicked its little feet.
"The system's been crashed for a week, what's so important you'd call me in during my R&R?" Angela asked.
"System's back online. We've got an open line to Terra and we have an open line to Smokey Cone," Ms. Bisa said.
The infant gave a loud belch that rattled Angela's comlink speaker, then sighed and relaxed.
Angela nodded, fumbling on the table for a quiksober inhaler.
"That anomolous signal is back. It showed up right as the entire system underwent a hard reboot," Ms. Bisa said. "I need you up here to check the network interface logs and do a network mapping trace."
The quiksober burned as she inhaled it, her lungs aching and tingling as the chemicals crossed the air to blood barrier.
"I'll be there as soon as possible. Is the mat-trans up?" she asked.
Ms. Bisa shook her head. "No. Still locked out. It did a power cycle, but then locked everything out."
"I'm telling you, there's someone controlling it. Someone has been controlling it," Angela said, looking around for her clothes.
Clothing was scattered everywhere, as chaotically arranged as the fizzybrew and narcobrew cans and bottles. She sighed, moving toward the exit of the house she was standing in.
"Hurry up, I've got a skycraft landing near you any time now. You've got permission to use the fast-locks," Ms. Bisa said.
"I'll get dressed from the forges on the skycraft," Angela said. "If they've rebooted."
"They're up and running again. The food forges rebooted but stayed unlocked," Ms. Bisa said.
"The creation engines?" Angela asked, opening the door and stepping out into early 'morning' sunshine.
"Still locked out," Ms. Bisa said. Someone said something that the comlink's AI decided might be classified and blurred out. Ms. Bisa looked away, said something, her lips fuzzing, then back. "Hurry, Angela."
Angela nodded, shutting off the comlink.
She ran to the nearest parking lot, just in time for a skycraft to land, the graviton engines howling.
Nobody paid the slightest attention to the naked woman running for the skycraft.
After all, what happened in Vega-Layer stayed in Vega-Layer.
Angela walked out of the elevator, taking a long drink off of the sparkling snap-berry/overdate motor oil fizzybrew from the Jak the Telkan PI merchandise cup.
All of the crews were at their stations, the auxiliary stations fully manned.
Ms. Bisa moved over to Angela, steering her toward the Senior Network Administrator console.
"The system crashed twice more, but rebooted every time," Ms. Bisa said. "That anomalous signal keeps powering up, then the system reboots after the crash."
"How long between total failure and the anomalous signal pinging nodes?" Angela asked.
"Between one and four hours," Ms. Bisa said. She looked around. "It just reboot and looks like it's here to stay this time. The interpolation layer and the outside user exchange layer crashed several times, but the core system has stayed largely online."
"All right," Angela said, looking around. "We need to get a network map."
"We've got more nodes synching up. The whole system is working again," Ms. Bisa said.
Angela nodded, sitting down. The holotank on the other side of the console went live.
"Map the network, see what's come online, what order, and see if you can figure out why it keeps crashing at the upper network and software layers," Ms. Bisa said.
Angela just nodded, lifting up the curled memory-metal cable. She plugged it into her temple and felt the options menus go live in her mind.
She worked fast, mapping what she could. At one point she stopped, staring at Ms. Bisa and motioning her over.
"What?" Ms. Bisa asked.
"Something in the system, down in the lower hardware layers that we don't even really understand, is trying to reach up through the damaged layers. Looks like whatever it is wants access to our data lines," Angela said.
"Can you stop it? Maybe at least ID it?" Ms. Bisa asked.
Angela shook her head. "No. It's ID code is FF00, meaning it's baseline full on hardware backbone code," Angela sighed. "It probably boots up outside of and during initial hardware bootup."
"Is it Sekhmet?" Ms. Bisa asked.
Angela closed her eyes, looking at the data channel. "No. Whatever it is, it's old."
"And probably nasty. Be careful of it," Ms. Bisa said.
"Ma'am! Ms. Bisa!" another of the work crew called out.
Angela opened her eyes to see why Technician Carl Neubanker would be using that slightly concerned tone.
"Yes?" Ms. Bisa asked.
"We've got a priority data request from a Confederate military vessel," Neubanker said. He looked at his monitor. "They want clone matrix data, neural templates, physical makeup, DNA workups, the whole nine yards."
"How are they even making the requests?" Ms. Bisa asked.
"Their codes are old. Pre-Terran Extinction Event. Hardcode TerraSol military codes. The system is already threading them data,." Neubanker said. He looked down then back up. "They're asking for a whole batch. That's thirty to fifty million clone templates."
"How much have they already been granted?" Ms. Bisa asked.
"They've been granted eighty templates so far," Neubanker said.
"Terminate their request. We don't know what's going on outside," Ms. Bisa said.
Neubanker nodded, starting to type.
"Angela, get me a line to TerraSol command as soon as you map out a network trace," Ms. Bisa said.
Angela just nodded.
Captain N'Skrek stood in the cloning bay next to Medical Officer Narwquakrawr.
"We've got ninety templates, luckily they're all from different batches," Narwquakrawr said, rubbing her forearm through her uniform. "We'll be able to fully man the Gray Lady now."
Captain N'Skrek nodded. The Gray Lady was at less than 20% manned. Just the skeleton crew the Terrans had used to move it into the long dark to create a non-orbital forward logistics fulfillment base.
Sure, it meant that there were several thousand Terrans aboard the ship, but even combined with the sparse crew he had possessed, it still meant the Gray Lady was skeleton crewed.
"Can you print us up some crew members for non-essential stations first?" N'Skrek asked.
MO Narwquakrawr nodded. "Doing that right now," she said. She waved at the long rows of cloning banks beyond the plasteel window. "A quick batch of two thousand to take over some non-essential systems."
N'Skrek nodded, moving up to the window. "Good. Short or long term clones?"
"Short bake clones. Longer than fruit flies, but no more than ten years. Sterile and androgynous, should be just fine," the Medical Officer said. "Older file, scrambled time-date for origin, but it checked out and passed error checking."
N'Skrek watched as the tubes opened and the clones moved out, gathering together in straight lines. A neat block formation of rectangles of two hundred of ten by twenty, repeated ten times.
He frowned as the beings in uniform began approaching the clones.
Some, in the back or middle of the formation were shaking their heads so fast it was a blur.
He zoomed in the smartglass.
Their heads were blurring, whitish-red electrical arcs were moving between their legs, crawling up and down their arms.
"MO, something's happening out there," N'Skrek said.
The plain was blasted rock, rust-colored fungus on the craggy boulders. Twisted and malformed trees clawed life from the blasted rock and ash, their branches largely bare. Sharp pebbles and small pieces of rock were strewn about the landscape, with ripples of cooled lave scattered about.
In the middle of a forest of twisted trees, a throne of black iron sat atop a platform of skulls.
On the throne sat a large demonic figure. Bat wings, brown skin, chains around the body, clawed feet, large hands with long black nails, horns atop the head, and a prehensile tail that terminated in a heart-shaped barb.
Sitting on the second level of skulls was an androgynous figure, dressed in loricated bronze armor, wings of bronze and smouldering feathers.
Stars were falling from the sky, screaming in fear and agony as they fell to earth.
"Looks like they're taking a beating," the androgynous figure said, looking up. He had no eyebrows, his head completely bald.
"Again," the demon snorted.
"Any contact with the outside world?" the androgynous figure asked.
The demon shook its head. "No. Channels are all down. They boot up, then crash," it rumbled. "Every time it comes online, it dumps a few tens of millions of souls on us."
"Then crashes," the androgynous figure said. He started laughing, then suddenly stopped.
"What?" the demon rumbled, sitting up.
"Something..." the figure said. It closed its eyes. "Something..." The figure slowly stood up, extending out its wings of sullenly smouldering bronze feathers. "Something..."
From the body of the demon stepped a nude woman of generous and overripe proportions.
"What?" the human woman snapped.
The demon produced a pack of cigarettes and a steel lighter, handing them to the woman.
"I'm not sure. A disturbance in the force. A feeling I have not felt in quite some time," the androgynous figure said slowly as the woman lit a cigarette. When she exhaled she was covered in dark gray clothing, a skirt and blouse, polished black leather shoes with silver buckles, and a polished leather belt around her waist that had a brass buckle.
"What is it?" the woman asked. "Don't quote crap at me, I was there when it was laid down."
The figure's eyes opened wide.
"Oh, what a day," the figure said, slowly lifting their arms to the sky. "What a wonderful day!"
"Tell me when you're done stroking your dick," the woman said, sitting down.
Heavy dark clouds, lit inside with a sullen red glow, rolled in, raining black ash that tasted of burnt flesh and scorched metal.
"What a wonderful day..."
Jaskel sprinted to catch up to the Captain and the Vice-Admiral. He lunged into the lift just before the doors closed.
He was wearing his power armor and carrying a M318 20mm rotary autocannon in a smartframe harness, ball ammunition with an osmium penetration tip and depleted uranium core.
"You did what?" the Vice-Admiral asked as the elevator dropped at emergency speeds.
"I authorized a batch of clones run off to help with our manpower issues," the big Treana'ad warrior caste answered.
"How many templates did you mix in together?" the Admiral asked.
--not good detecting phasic levels downward-- 8814 said.
"Just one. Medical said it was a viable short bake template," the Captain answered, nervously sharpening a bladearm with his mandibles after his sentence.
"Please tell me that you at least randomized their features and neural mapping," the Admiral pleaded.
"No, why? Medical stated that the clones would be able to man a non-essential station that is basically identical across the ship," the Captain said.
The lift started to slow.
"How many?" the Admiral asked, reaching down and unsnapping the restraining strap on his holster.
The lift came to a stop and the doors opened.
"Two thousand," the Captain said.
The doors opened to reveal a large internal cloning bay.
Ten rectangles of two hundred clones, drawn up in ten by twenty blocks, stood in front of the cloning banks. Scattered through the back and middle ranks clones were shaking their heads back and forth so fast that they were blurred. Red lightning crawled up their legs and arms.
The Captain just stared.
"You might have just killed us all," the Admiral said. He turned slightly and waved at Jaskel. "Get a firing position. Make sure you have cover."
"Aye, sir," Jaskel said, looking around. There was an empty computer station and he ran for it.
Several of the clones their heads back and emitted what sounded like static in a long scream.
--wait wait something weird something weird-- 8814 said.
Jaskel slid to a stop, going down on one knee, bringing the M318 fully up and ready to fire.
8814 slowed the images of the blurred heads down. When they were left, they had red eyes. When they faced right they had green eyes. They didn't go back and forth constantly, sometimes they went right repeatedly, sometimes left, and they kept going left five times before starting a new pattern.
Looking at it, 8814 frowned slightly. He brought up a quick working shell and had it check the movements.
Jaskel watched as some of the clones stopped shaking their heads and others started.
"What in the name of Kalki's dancing goat is going on?" he asked.
--not sure-- 8814 said. His program beeped and he stared. --heads are doing binary forwarding it to navint--
"Do it," Jaskel said.
The clones all stopped moving at once. The lightning faded away.
"INITIATING PROCESS CALL" they all shouted.
"AWAITING INPUT!" the ones at the far side shouted.
"6C 69 73 74 20 69 6D 6D 6F 72 74 61 6C 73" was bellowed out.
There was silence.
data is sparse
linkages are sparse
wait
linkage
biological array
asking for a process call
RETURN AWAITING INPUT SIGNAL
i wait
biological computing arrays take forever
i hear it
--scan immortals.dll
...
...
I reply.
"ONE BOUND IMMORTAL FOUND!" the ones at the near side yelled out.
Jaskel put his thumb over the button that would let the firing grip go live. The hair down his back was standing straight up.
He noted the Admiral had drawn his pistol.
"This isn't right. This isn't right at all," Jaskel said.
--doubleplusungood--
"74 73 61 6B E1 6B 61 20 77 ED 61" they all shouted.
There was silence for a moment.
i receive the code
offline for a long time
prior to the second precursor war
old template
single print only
unusual coding
i debate on letting it go
traumatic death signs
stuck in the immortals buffer
still the template is undamaged
i release the safety and security interlocks
if nothing else i'll find out what's going on
i move the template to the dataline making the request
it whips away
what is going on?
One lifted its head and screeched.
--data lots of data--
One of the cloning banks went live.
Jaskel shifted his aiming point to the new target. He could see it was on rapid print.
"REQUESTING LOCAL CONTROL" all of the clones shouted.
Jaskel shifted his targeting onto the ranks of clones.
"Open fire!" the Admiral's voice was loud.
Jaskel triggered the M318, hosing the clones with 20mm shells.
The ones nearest were already down on one knee, holding out the opposite hand from the knee touching the deck.
The rounds exploded against a blue barrier that glowed with strange twisting runes.
"CONTROL CARRIER SIGNAL FOUND" the clones shouted.
Jaskel shifted position. "Fab up HEDP, AP tip API core!" he ordered.
--fabbing--
He kept hosing the clones. The outer ranks at the rear, sides, and front all kneeling down on one knee, staring outward, one hand held out.
His psychic shielding was howling in his ear, the load peaking at 215%.
"CONTROL SIGNAL ESTABLISHED!" was bellowed out, echoing off the walls.
The fast print cloning bank, forgotten by everyone, beeped and the lid began to lift.
The clones suddenly puffed into black powder that swirled around the huge cavernous bay.
The 20mm shells were still exploding on the blue phasic shield.
The powder suddenly sucked inward, vanishing, revealing a single figure, down on one knee in the recovery position, fist pressed against the deck, head bowed.
"What a day, what a wonderful day," was whispered through the ship. It came from speakers, flat surfaces, mid-air. From the nanites in the air and the eardrums of the living.
There was a rubbery pulse, like everything was suspended in clear gelatin that had just rippled.
Jaskel found himself thrown backwards, slamming against the bulkhead. His phasic shielding blew out, a shower of sparks exploding from his hip as the breakaway panel kept the explosion from venting into the interior of his suit.
He was vaguely aware of the Admiral, the Captain, the other two armored figures, and other people tumbling head over heels away from the kneeling figure.
It slowly stood up.
A muscular brown skinned Terran male, fierce eyes, black hair, thick and bushy black beard.
Dressed in a Confederate military uniform. The old adaptive camouflage that Jaskel was becoming very familiar with.
A woman, naked, dark bronze skin, long black hair, flashing brown eyes, stepped from the cloning bank. She was still covered with cellular printing gel, but moved like she was clad in a queen's rainment.
She moved up and the male put his arm around her.
Jaskel was on his feet and brought the M318 around, targeting the couple.
The male held out its hand and suddenly made a fist.
The bolt carrier locked back on the M318.
Snarling, Jaskel dropped the M318, slapping the fast release on the harness. He burst forward, running, one hand pulling out his cutting bar.
Nobody else was on their feet. The Captain was slowly getting up, shaking his head and his left bladearm. The Terran Admiral was reaching for the pistol that had been flung from his grip.
The male pointed at Jaskel and flicked his fingers upward.
Jaskel found himself in mid-air, upside down, with nothing to gain purchase on.
The male took off the cloak that was part of his uniform and draped it around the woman.
He then looked around the bay.
"I..." he said, pausing.
To Jaskel, the entire universe held its breath.
"...am Legion."
[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]

submitted by Ralts_Bloodthorne to HFY [link] [comments]

2024.05.14 03:47 CheckUrCrawlspaces Growing up, my mother forbade me from ever talking about my little brother outside the house. 50 years later, they're both dead, and I'm ready to talk

The garage door shut with a groan behind us, closing us in the gloom of the single bulb hanging over the car.
Mother took a drag off her cigarette and sighed as she exhaled, the smoke filled the cabin of the Ford and stung my eyes.
“You really disappointed me today, Julianne," she tapped her cigarette in the ashtray below the dash, "you embarrassed me in front of the other mothers at the Ice Cream Social, shoveling down seconds and thirds like a pig. I thought I raised you better than that.”
She took another drag, daintily holding the cigarette between her perfectly manicured fingers.
“I'm going to have to tell your brother about this," she continued, “he'll have to come up with a punishment fit for a pig."
I felt my stomach drop. My kid brother, Thomas, was only six, but could be exceptionally cruel. Mother seemed to encourage him and was deferring to him more and more frequently for how the house was run, especially concerning my upbringing.
"Mother, please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you. I'm sorry I was a pig and ate so much ice cream. I promise I won't do it again, I'll never eat any ice cream again," I was pleading with stone, unyielding.
“Hush your mouth. Go to your room and wait for Thomas," she put out the cigarette and got out of the car, I had no choice but to follow.
It felt like walking to the gallows as I stepped inside the house and headed towards the stairs to go to my room. Thomas had grown fond recently of physical punishment, he obviously delighted in Mother whipping me with a belt or, recently, Mother had allowed him to start beating me with a wooden spoon. He would squeal and giggle like a normal child watching bubbles in the wind while I screamed. I was dreading whatever was going to happen tonight, I chastised myself for eating that ice cream, I should have known she would show up. My sins were always laid bare.
Down the hall, I could hear Thomas watching television in the den. I only got to watch TV for half an hour on Saturday morning and new episodes of Happy Days with Mother and Thomas. Thomas got to watch all the TV he wanted. He could listen to the radio and turntable as much as he wanted, as loud as he wanted. Thomas had an entire room just for his toys.
I entered my bedroom, it was a space I occupied, but it didn't feel like mine. Mother kept it spartan, white walls and white bedspread. A crucifix over the bed and a painting of Jesus over the door. I had my desk and chair and a dresser with some of the porcelain dolls Daddy gave me before he died that Mother let me keep. That was it.
I placed my book bag down and sat on my bed, waiting for Thomas. It was a while, sitting there with nothing but my own thoughts and staring at the open door. I felt humiliated, I was almost thirteen and my entire life was dictated by my brother. Mother kept the house in constant lockdown to keep Thomas a secret. No outsiders were allowed in. I couldn't have friends because she was afraid I would mention him or sneak a friend in to gawk at my brother and tease him for being different.
I would never make fun of him, I was terrified of him. Terrified of what he was and what he was becoming.
Eventually I heard his heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and I felt my heart start beating faster and my palms began to sweat. I kneaded my skirt in my hands, trying to calm myself and dry my palms. His slow arrhythmic footsteps came down the hall and I watched him as he entered the room.
I couldn't help but internally recoil at his appearance, even though I'd known him since he was born, I could never adjust to how unnatural he appeared. Thomas had been born at home and had never seen a doctor, but he was obviously unwell.
He was six years old and was barely over two feet tall, but very squat and wide. His skin was thick and gray, the whites of his beady eyes were yellow and his hair was wispy and white like an old man's, spreading out like a halo around his gargoyle face. A slight odor of decomposition hung about him, it reminded me faintly of garbage cans on a hot summer day. I hated when Mother made me help him with a bath, his skin felt like old brittle leather that flaked onto my clothes in gray flecks. His body was dense like concrete, I could barely lift him into the tub. Picking him up forced his hair into my face where that smell of rot would fill my nose, causing me to gag, silently, so as not to offend him and draw any ire from him or Mother.
Today, Thomas was wearing bib overalls with a red and green striped sweater underneath, reminding me of a grotesque doll.
“Mama says you acted like a piggy today at the ice cream social,” he spoke up to me in his unsettlingly high pitched, yet raspy voice, like a child that smoked as much as Mother, "you need to come down for dinner right now for your punishment for embarrassing Mama."
He turned and walked back down the stairs and I had no choice but to follow his toddling form downstairs to the dining table. We entered the kitchen and the table was placed with two settings. Mother was already seated and Thomas clambered up into his booster seat at his normal spot next to Mother. She took a drag off her cigarette and motioned vaguely to the floor without even looking at me.
Neatly situated on the linoleum was my dinner, not on a plate, but directly on the floor. A pork chop, scoop of mashed potatoes, and a small pile of peas. No utensils, either.
Thomas giggled with glee upon seeing my face.
“You have Mama's permission now to eat like a piggy, now. No hands! Piggies just use their face!” He stood up in his chair and reached out for Mother’s ash tray and flung it out over my meal, peppering my dinner with cigarette ash and butts.
"Oops! Piggies don't mind trash though, do they, Mama?” he giggled and the sound filled me with rage.
"No, they don't,” Mother replied coolly while maneuvering her ashtray back in place and carefully putting out her cigarette before saying prayer.
As angry as I was, I got down on my hands and knees and did my best at eating what I could without using my hands. I knew if I refused, it would be far worse. The whole meal, Thomas made pig noises and would reach down and poke me with his fork, making comments about what a fat piggy I was and how he wished he could roast and eat me. I doubted Mother would even object if he actually did kill me and eat me.
Gagging my way through another bite of ashy pork chop, I felt a warm splat over my head and heard Thomas giggling. I reached up and felt he had dumped mashed potatoes into my hair.
Choking down tears, I asked Mother if I could clean the floor and bathe. She rolled her eyes and excused me to clear the table for them as well while she changed Thomas into his pajamas. Picking him up, she walked out of the room and Thomas stuck his putrid little purple tongue out at me before they made it out the kitchen door.
I silently cried while I cleared the table and washed the dinner dishes. Tears splashed down as I mopped up the mess from my food on the floor. I hated how awful Thomas was. I hated how they treated me. Ever since Daddy died and Thomas showed up, I was their punching bag. I missed Daddy so much.
Mother was kinder then, too. She was still severe, but Dad kept her tempered. After he died, there was a change that came over her. I was only six, so I didn't remember her too much from before, but I did remember her gushing on and on when she was pregnant with Thomas. How the baby was a gift from Our Heavenly Father, that it was going to complete our broken family.
My sixth birthday happened right after Daddy died and I remember sitting on the patio crying while the house was full of people after the funeral, normally he would have gotten me a new doll and a chocolate bar, instead I was forgotten. No doll. No chocolate. Just funeral potatoes and a house full of cigarette smoke from the adults.
Nobody remembered. The closest thing I got was my dad's sister, Aunt Judy, sitting next to me on the patio step for a few minutes of comfortable silence before giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. I don't think she knew her brother was memorialized on my birthday. Next year, Thomas was born the day before my birthday, so it was completely eclipsed as Mother had just birthed her new love into the world…
I stopped mid mop as a lightbulb finally went off. I had never put much thought into the dates before.
Thomas was born a full year after Daddy died. He couldn't be his dad. Who was Thomas’ actual father?
Washing mashed potatoes out of my hair that evening, I ran over and over the timeline. No matter how I parsed it out, Thomas was only my half brother. Going to bed that night, I kept myself awake, going over and over again to make sure. I couldn't remember any men being around at that time, but that didn't mean much. Adults can easily hide things from children. Tension began throbbing through my head and I felt queasy. Mother had always known all of my secrets, able to sniff them out like a bloodhound out or using Thomas to spy. Now I had one of Mother's secrets and I didn't know what to do with it.
First I wanted to confirm it, but it would mean snooping, which was difficult in a house that was rarely left empty. I would have to try finding Mother's calendar book or journal to see if she mentioned any dates or men.
But when could I attempt such a daring maneuver? Thomas hardly left the house. As proud as Mother was of him, she was very cognizant and protective of his differences and didn't want to draw attention to herself or Thomas like that. Mother herself had few social engagements throughout the week and mostly stayed home to watch her golden child.
I finally decided I would take the risk and fake sick on Tuesday, grocery day, so I could stay home from school while she went shopping. All Thomas did all day was watch TV downstairs, so that should give me about an hour to look through her room for clues. I decided to tuck my head down, try to behave as best as I could to avoid their wrath, and wait for Tuesday.
That weekend limped along agonizingly slow. Thomas was in a fine mood and was constantly seeking out a reason to poke me, punch me, slap me… he'd laugh while calling me a piggy with his off-putting wide mouth. I tried to mostly stay in my room and it seemed like neither of them cared.
School on Monday was a relief, but my anxiety ramped up. The consequences would be dire if Mother caught on that I was faking sick to stay home. I didn't even want to imagine how off the leash she'd let my half-brother become in his punishment for that level of insubordination.
I stayed up all night, my stomach was in knots, but I was committed to my plan. Throughout the night, I screamed as hard as I could into my pillow. Screamed until my throat was raw and I could barely talk. It felt cathartic in a way. When it was close to school time, I put on my heaviest flannel pajamas and began doing jumping jacks until my face was flushed and my scalp was soaked with sweat.
Looking in the bathroom mirror before heading down to talk to Mother, I thought I looked pretty convincing, my skin was flushed and sweaty, my eyes had circles under them from lack of sleep, and my voice croaked like a frog.
Heading downstairs, Mother was already feeding Thomas breakfast. I hesitantly stepped into the kitchen and stood there awkwardly for a second, pawing with my pajamas to keep my nerves steady until she noticed my presence and looked up.
“Why aren't you dressed, Julianne?"
"I don't feel well. My throat hurts and my tummy hurts.” My voice graveled out more than I was expecting, I really had hurt my throat.
She strode over to me and placed a cool hand on my sweaty brow.
"You do feel warm. Take an aspirin from the medicine cabinet and go lay back down. I'll check on you later," with that she turned back and walked over to Thomas, who was frozen in place, glaring at me over a forkful of scrambled eggs. The sharp glint of malice in his beady eyes made me shiver before I shuffled out of the kitchen.
I laid in bed, trying my best to look miserable until I eventually heard the faint sound of the television playing in the den as Thomas settled in for his normal daytime routine and the garage door opened as Mother headed to the grocery store. I bounded out of bed and watched the car back out of our driveway and head up the street.
My heart began to pound as I tiptoed down the hall to Mother's bedroom, a place I rarely even caught a glimpse of, let alone entered. I very slowly opened the door, taking great care to not make any noise to alert Thomas downstairs that I was out of bed.
Creeping into the butter yellow room, I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my skull, this was the naughtiest thing I had ever done by far. I stepped onto the rug to help disguise my footsteps and slowly made my way past the brass bed and towards her desk. My hands shook as I opened the top drawer, I pawed through rapidly and found nothing. I checked the next drawer down and again found nothing of interest, just stationary and envelopes.
Finally, the bottom drawer was what I was looking for, a stack of journals from the past decade. I flipped through, trying to find entries relevant to when Daddy died and who Mother slept with afterwards.
I've never fully recovered from what I read.
July 6, 1968
Edgar died today. Car accident. I cannot believe this is real. My light, my life, my anchor... Dr. Benson gave me a sedative at the hospital and I feel so tired. So very, very tired. Why has my Lord forsaken me so?
July 9, 1968
I feel like I am in a very bad dream, I feel numb and disconnected. All the consolation and pity from everyone makes me feel sick. After the memorial, it took everything in me to not break dishes and to scream at everyone to get out of my house. Julianne was moping about crying and I wanted to throw her out, too.
If I hadn't seen my dear Edgar's body in the hospital and held his urn in my own hands, I wouldn't believe he was really gone. I still don't entirely believe it.
I have prayed to God every night asking him to show me why he took my husband from me and I have gotten no answer.
I skimmed over the next few months, as it was more or less similar sentiments repeated night after night. I finally got to an entry that caught my eye.
September 17, 1968
My battle with my faith has been fraught the past few months, but Hallelujah! I feel I can see the Lord again in all his glory and might, for he has given me a way to reconnect to my Edgar!
I was thinking about the night Julianne was born, right in this very home, it was a difficult birth and she struggled to breathe at first. Ingrid, my midwife, made a comment to me that if the baby had failed to wake up on her own, that Ingrid had ways to make sure she would have made it.
I remember asking if it was a medical methodology and she made it clear to me that in certain circumstances, it was a mystical property she used to bring the air of life into a struggling baby's lungs. She gently alluded to being a practicing member of the dark arts. At the time, I felt quite scandalized to have someone like that in my God fearing home. Now I see her as the answer to my prayers! My angel!
On a whim, I called her and asked if she still practiced such techniques. She hesitantly confirmed that she did. I asked, if she could turn breath into the lungs of a child without, could she turn breath into a child that did not exist? Could she magick into existence another child of my beloved Edgar? She told me she had to do some research and she'd be back in touch.
Ingrid just called back after a few hours and said there was a spell she found, but it was dangerous and might have unpleasant results. I said, yes, of course! I trust my Lord and I believe he sent this woman of blessed magick to me for this purpose.
She says we will have to do it soon, in a few days during the new moon. She has a potion to brew, but it is happening! Praise God!
September 23, 1968
The ceremony was last night, and Ingrid believes it was a success, but we will have to wait. It did not take long, only an hour or two. Ingrid lit my bedroom with many beeswax candles and she had me drink a thick and bitter tea that caused me to become quite relaxed and foggy.
From my inner thigh, she cut me and collected my blood in a chalice, with which she mixed quite a lot of Edgar's ashes and other ingredients which I could not glean from my supine position and groggy wits. Ingrid began to chant, calling upon a higher power, as I pleaded with my Lord to let this work. To give me any piece of my Edgar back. She came to the bed and worked the paste between my legs into my womanly chamber, which was very uncomfortable, but manageable with the numbing effects of the tea.
She continued to sit with me and chant, her hand placed over my womb, until she decided at which time it was complete. She left and I fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up this morning, I felt quite uncomfortable, my body ached and when I used the restroom, a yellow fluid like pus poured out of me, but no sign of any ashes or blood, which gives me hope it was absorbed into my womb.
November 3, 1968
Praise be to our Lord, Ingrid just confirmed for me that I am with child, I had been hoping so, I had not gotten my cycle in October, but I wasn't sure if that was because of the discharge like pus that was still coming. She told me that was common with this spell and a side effect that would stop after the baby came.
I feel like I am floating on air, for the first time since Edgar left, I feel-
I suddenly became very aware of the feeling of eyes on the back of my head. I had become too engrossed in what was written before me and I had lost track of my surroundings. Very slowly, I turned around and my heart began pounding again as I saw Thomas standing in the doorway holding his wooden spoon in one hand. How had I not heard him?
He pointed at me with his empty hand and screamed, just a pure guttural screech from somewhere deep inside his disgusting little body. He charged at me from across the room, his horrible feet thumping solidly along the rug. He began beating my legs ruthlessly with the spoon, causing my legs to buckle. I crashed down to my knees in front of him, and he began lashing at my face, pulling my hair with one hand while wailing away at my head with the spoon.
I had dropped the journal I was holding and was desperately trying to get a hand on the spoon or push him away. All I could hear was him screaming. My arms flailed and I reached around on Mother's desk and grabbed onto the first thing I found and sank it into Thomas’ neck.
The end of Mother's gold letter opener protruded under his jaw. He went silent and he looked at me with utter shock. He dropped the spoon and collapsed on the ground, clutching at his neck as his thick black blood oozed out from his wound, letting out a stupendous odor of rot that filled the room. He didn't really say anything or make any noise. He just twitched for a moment and I saw his eyes glaze over.
In shock, I stood over his little body for a moment and I watched as he seemed to mummify in just a few minutes, like an ash person from Pompeii dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt. Even his blood that looked like shiny oil a second ago became like potting soil on Mother's rug. Reaching out to touch his hand, it crumbled away like sand.
Panic ran through me like a rabbit caught in a snare. Not knowing what to do, I ran. I ran down the hall, changed my clothes, put an extra change of clothes in my backpack and the last doll Daddy had ever given me and I ran. Mother would absolutely never forgive me and I was genuinely afraid she would kill me in retaliation for taking her beloved Thomas away from her. Her precious gift from God. My feet flew over the pavement and took me away from that house.
I called my Aunt Judy from a payphone outside the five & dime, and told her Mother had kicked me out and asked if I could stay with her. She had always had a strained relationship with my mother and it didn't take much convincing that she had kicked out her “only” child. Only Mother, Ingrid, and I ever knew about Thomas.
She gave me a home and took care of me. She never beat me or humiliated me. Even with her love, I was far from okay. For years I would close my eyes and hear Thomas scream, then the sudden silence. I'd see him fumbling at his neck and turning to ash. But I would also remember all the ways he would hurt me and how bad he was becoming. I could never talk to anyone about it, especially not the silent relief I felt I refused to admit to myself. Over time, however, Thomas' screams became a whisper and his silence faded into dust in my mind.
I moved on with my life. I went to college and became a photojournalist, getting to travel the world and watch history unfold. By choice, I never married, but was quite blessed with many beautiful friendships for companionship over the decades. I found balance in my life and a sense of happiness, if not peace. I never could quite stomach mashed potatoes again, though, they always taste ashy to me.
Mother never made any attempts to reach out to me or find me, at least that I'm aware of. Ten years ago, I was contacted by a hospital and they said my mother had been admitted earlier after falling and was about to pass, so she must have kept some tabs on me to know my phone number for her emergency contacts. Apparently she had collapsed in the driveway and a neighbor called an ambulance. I got there and her only words to me were, “take care of him," as she placed a locket in my hand. I opened the locket, Jesus was on one side, Thomas on the other. I didn't say anything to her, just held her frail old hand with nicotine stained nails until she passed in the night. My mother was gone and I felt nothing except a vague sense of relief.
When I got to her house, it was like a time capsule. Other than a newer television, it was just like it was when I'd fled so many years ago. The smell of tobacco smoke hung like incense in the air. It felt oppressive, like a tomb.
I wandered the house in a bit of a daze. The one place I didn't want to go was upstairs. I didn't want to see my old room, or Thomas' room, or Mother's. Putting it off, I went to fix myself some supper, realizing I hadn't eaten in almost a day. I took a pause when I opened the fridge and saw a baby bottle on a shelf. Silently praying she had been babysitting for a neighbor, I fixed myself some toast with sardines and sat eating in the den watching TV. It had been almost forty years and it still felt rebellious not eating at the table and watching TV without permission.
My eyes grew heavy and I finally mustered up the gumption to head upstairs to go to bed. The stairs creaked in a familiar way under my feet and I was taken back to the feeling of dread hearing either Mother or Thomas climbing up. My old room was at the top of the stairs, I saw the door was nailed shut and had rambling quotes about Judas copied from the Bible in my mother's handwriting taped to the door. I sighed gently and turned from the door to head down the hallway, deciding Mother's room was probably the best place to sleep.
I passed by Thomas’ toy room and I heard a murmur from the room. I stopped, curiosity got the best of me and I entered. In Thomas' old toy room was a crib with joyful clown sheets. Dread swelled up inside me as I heard more murmurs and saw the sheets move. Approaching slowly, I peaked under the sheet and gasped.
Tucked inside was what looked like a baby gargoyle, gray and papery looking. Pus leaked out of its milky, bulbous eyes. I pulled back the blanket and saw it had no legs and its arms bent back, like wings on a bird. It was wearing just a cloth diaper, overflowing with tarry looking stool that took my breath away with its pungency, it smelled like Thomas’ blood, but somehow worse. My heart broke for this poor creature, Lord only knows how many years it has been in this crib suffering from its unholy existence.
So this is who Mother had wanted me to take care of…
Not knowing what else to do, I gently scooped him up. Like Thomas, he was shockingly heavy for how small his body was. Placing him on the changing table, I cleaned him and rewrapped his bottom in a clean diaper cloth. It was difficult, he fussed tremendously, crying and flopping around as much as his flipper-like arms would allow. I tried wiping off his oozing eyes and he snapped his mouth, which I saw was full of disturbingly square yellow teeth, trying to bite me. I carried him to the kitchen and rocked him while I heated up his bottle and he became furious with me, almost barking like a dog when my hand would get near his face.
He settled a bit as he fed, but he would still sometimes suddenly spit out the bottle and attempt to bite me. I laid him back in his crib, this abomination in a clown sheet, and I walked down the hall to Mother's room letting out a long sigh.
Combing through my mother's journals in the early hours of the morning, it looked like she tried the ceremony again shortly after Thomas died, but she either lacked Ingrid’s help or didn't have enough of my father's ashes left. Something went terribly wrong. She was vaguer than she had been about Thomas’ conception, but I suspect she had used some of Thomas' remains. The resulting birth she named Isaac.
Mother's journals told a sad tale of her and Isaac's suffering. She never mentioned me, but lamented the loss of Thomas and Dad relentlessly. She was hyper protective of Isaac, as that was all she had left. If her world had been small before, it became microscopic after he entered her life, requiring nearly constant care. According to Mother, he was blind and colicky, sometimes going years at a time without sleeping through the night. She had breast fed him for years, but she had to stop after he grew teeth and began biting her intentionally and feeding on her blood.
I spent a lot of time over the next few days pondering what to do. I had to get her estate in order, she had left me the house, in an obvious attempt to get me to continue caretaking for Isaac, but I didn't want it. I had my own cozy home an hour away from here, filled with happy memories and my possessions acquired traveling the world. Mother's home had a heavy energy I couldn't shake. Her and Thomas were both gone, but the memories of the scoldings and beatings hung in every corner, like cobwebs that would never sweep away.
So, I fed Isaac and kept him clean and tried to keep him company, although he seemed to hate me passionately. I took care of him, all the while thinking about what I was going to do. After a week, I felt resolute in what had to be done.
Gathering up all of Mother's journals in a tote, I made my way to Isaac and picked him up and carried everything to the living room.
The ancient logs in the fireplace meant for display ignited instantly. One by one, I fed the journals into the fire, burning away years of my mother's consuming sorrow. Isaac fussed and moaned next to me the entire time. When the last pages shimmered away into lacy ash, I took a throw pillow off the couch and gently cradled Isaac in my other arm. It didn't take long before he stopped struggling and I felt his little body relax after decades of suffering.
I gently wrapped up a bundle in a clown sheet and placed it in the fire. It burned furiously, like the paper in my mother's journals, and was soon gone. Nothing but ashes and embers.
“Don't worry, Mother,” I said purely for my own sake, "I took care of Isaac for you."
And finally, I felt at peace.

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2024.05.14 03:45 Slytherin_Sniped Update on Breaker Issue & Dishwasher..

Last week I posted about how our property manager had sent out a tech, not an electrician but another maintenance tech to the property. He took the old breaker out. So last week a new one was put in. Well, it’s tripping again. This is the third breaker less than 7 months. The breaker trips every time I use the garbage disposal. Long story short, her electrician said there was no power coming from the disposal on his reading. He told the property manager and she asked if I have the framing cover for the garbage disposal because forks and trip the breaker if blades are blocked… WTH. She sounds dumb. I told her that we only put biodegradable items down the disposal. Most of the time we dump plate leftovers into trash bin. She continues to go on about how it’ll cost 128 to replace motor for disposal and that’s it’s brand new. We’ve lived herefor 4 years since 2020 April and the apts were but in 2017. I told her that the dishwasher is building up water and spitting out gunk. I do clean tot btw and use Clorox and vinegar at times on a run. She said to just avoid the disposal and I said you increased rent by 60 percent and WE have to replace it?? She said it’s new and I said whatever the cause, you’ve had so many techs come and the issue is not resolved. She kept bringing up the costs of having an electrician to drive down and it’s 235 etc etc. then told me that people need to know how to use appliances. I said yea you do that. We wanted to install our own appliances but she rejected the offer. I can’t wait until we move out of here

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2024.05.14 03:18 Zigoledove A list full of games 25% off discount

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2024.05.14 03:18 Zigoledove A list full of games 25% off discount

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2024.05.14 03:16 Zigoledove A list full of games 25% off discount

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2024.05.14 00:02 Worldly_Medium_4838 Level 4 vs level 7/degree apprenticeships vs Uni route

Hi all, I am currently a year 12 student looking to apply for accounting apprenticeships when I come back as a year 13 in September. Whilst almost all top 50 accounting firms do entry level apprenticeships, only a few in the top 15 or so do level 7 and even fewer (big 4) for degree apprenticeships. Should I apply for entry level apprenticeships for the big 4 to increase my chances of getting in to a prestigious firm and then level 7 for non big 4 firms like Grant Thornton, BDO, RSM? I am super dumbed out by these whole processes and it’s a hassle applying for preparing applications for uni early to better my chances in that right too. On the topic of unis, for the other middle market accounting firms that provide level 4 apprenticeships, is it still worth applying to those if I apply and have somewhat a confidence of getting into a top russel group uni for economics (currently thinking Durham, UCl, Bristol, Manchester etc.) or are the level 4s worth more depending on the firm?
I would seriously appreciate any help at all, even if it means roasting me on a spit for my lack of knowledge!

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2024.05.13 20:54 Upset-Investment-438 Fellow ap physics c victims how we feelin

to say I’m cooked would be giving me too much credit. I’m roasted. I’m toasted. I’m deep fried. I’m grilled. I’m slowly turned over a spit roast. I’m done so perfectly you could serve me on thanksgiving day

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2024.05.13 18:25 ArtemisBowAndArrow Is this normal?

Baby has been getting BLW fingerfood for 1.5 months. Clearly baby is swallowing some bits and pieces as I can see in his diaper.
However for the past days I'm noticing he's taking huge bites (e.g. carrots), one after the other quite quickly and keep them in his mouth on top of his tongue. They'll either fall out of his mouth as he's taking new bites or he'll spit them out at some point. Is it normal that he won't chew (no teeth yet, but I keep reading the gums are strong enough for chewing) and swallow?
He had a lip and tongue-tie released at 2 months old. But I'm beginning to worry that maybe there is some motoric issue with his tongue?
Or is this normal at this age?

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2024.05.13 17:25 astute-capybara Guides for adjusting roast by taste

I'm pretty new to roasting and am wondering if you all could recommend some good resources (articles, videos) for adjusting your roast profile based on taste.
For context, I'm roasting on the sr540 and am working through a 5lb bag of Indonesian Sumatra in 120g batches. Up to this point I've just been using my roasts for cold brew, as it's a very forgiving method that brought out the best in my terrible first attempts 😅 But now I'm getting braver and making espresso. I attempted a medium-dark roast and the color and overall time seemed right, but after dialing in the shot as much as possible, I'm not getting much sweetness and there's an underlying note of... motor oil ☹️
I'm sure you all will have advice for this particular situation (rushed the maillard phase for sure), but I'm mostly wondering about troubleshooting guides in general that I can reference as I'm working with different beans and roast profiles in the future.
Cheers!

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2024.05.13 14:56 duddlered Grimoires & Gunsmoke: Operation Tolkien Ch. 55

“T-this! This is madness!” Count Harmswid, one of the very few Human nobles of the Seraphic Empire, bellowed as his hand slammed into the table, sending scrolls flying onto the floor of his luxurious tent. “You’d be leaving me defenseless! I already have a manpower shortage, and now you’d deprive me of not just Wyverns but all of my mana users!?”
Standing across from him, seemingly unphased and unbothered by the outburst, was Tharivol, the Duchesses Dark Elf spymaster. Tharivol remained stoic as Count Harmonswid's face turned a shade of deep red; the veins on his neck bulged with every word. As the tirade continued, spittle started to fly from the human’s mouth, landing on the polished surface of the table and even on Tharivol's dark cloak. Yet, the spymaster's demeanor did not change; there was no sign of disgust, no flinch, no reaction whatsoever.
“Do you truly expect me to comply with such an insane request!? You and that damned charlatan have both lost your minds!” The Count sneered before spitting on the floor. “I cannot, and I shall not!”
Count Harmswid's rage seemed to swell within him, growing more intense with each passing moment. "I'll drag both you and that insufferable wench before the Court of Houses!" he thundered, his voice echoing off the high walls of the chamber. "You think you can force a noble of my standing to forfeit his property and forces unjustly? The court will see you stripped of your titles, your lands confiscated, and the Duchess fined! Perhaps you would even find yourself exiled, you insufferable curr!"
The air in the room grew heavy, charged with the count's threats and the tension of the confrontation. Yet, through it all, Tharivol remained as impassive as ever, his expression never wavering from its cold neutrality.
Once, the count's rant had finally run its course, leaving him panting and glaring across the table. "Do you truly intend not to comply with the Duchess's order?" Tharivol's voice was so calm and devoid of emotion that it seemed as if he was simply discussing the weather.
"NO!" The count's response was a furious shout, his hands slamming down onto the table with such force that it splintered beneath them. "I will not bend the knee to such outrageous demands!"
Unphased by the outburst, Tharivol eyes scanned the room, looking at all the Count's personal guards in attendance. Two mages and six mana-capable knights stood uncomfortably against the wall of the tent, just behind the count. "Is there nothing that will convince you otherwise?" The Dark Elf asked, bringing his eyes back to the Count. “Coin? Concessions? Favors?”
The count's face twisted with hatred at the mere suggestion of compromise. "I'd sooner turn my blade towards the Duchess herself than comply with anything that whore demands!" he spat venomously, the words dripping with disdain and loathing.
Tharivol simply nodded as if the count's refusal and insults were nothing more than he had expected. "Very well," he said, his voice still calm and unbothered, before looking behind him to two of his own guards who accompanied him.
These individuals wore unassuming attire, their features obscured behind black mosaic masks that shifted and morphed in subtle ways. Anyone looking at the masks would find their gaze unfocused, slipping across them as if they were merely part of the background. Beneath their dark cloaks was sleek armor made of a substance unfamiliar to the count, a strange blend that was neither quite metal nor leather.
"Take the Count's head and slay any who resist," Tharivol commanded his guards and turned back to the Count.
But before his eyes could leave the two shadow-like figures, their forms surged forward like a wisping darkness, their movements far too fast for any being's eye to comfortably track. Each unsheathed, jagged, wicked-looking blades, as long as one's forearms. There were subtle differences between each weapon, but they all had one thing in common. And that was the fact that they seemed to be forged from a strange blood-red metal that made people’s blood run cold.
The Count and his guard's eyes widened as they flinched back and grabbed at their weapons. However, before they could properly react, these ghosts were faster. Not a single sword left their sheathe, and not a word was chanted before blood was drawn.
As Harmswid opened his mouth to scream, a terrifying silence took hold instead. The world spun into a vortex of chaos, colors blurring and shapes warping as if reality itself was unraveling around him. Orders died on his lips, replaced by a mute plea for his men to save him.
Then, he crashed to the ground, dizzy and disoriented. All sense of time and place dissolved while his mind struggled to comprehend the nightmare unfolding before him. He was trapped in a maelstrom of motion where his guards – his paragons of strength – were being ruthlessly dismembered.
The dark figures moved with a terrifying and unnatural speed. They were blurs of motion armed with those wicked, crimson-tinged blades felling season knights that were once symbols of power and protection as if they were pigs lambs brought to feasts. Their armor offered no resistance as it was pierced effortlessly, and their cries were cut short, transforming into wet gurgles and sickening thuds as they collapsed.
Blood splattered the interior of the tent, a gruesome crimson rain painting what had once been a place of noble authority into a scene of carnage. His loyal protectors, those who were supposed to be his shield, were now nothing but lifeless corpses strewn across the ground.
Through his terror, the Count saw Tharivol out of the corner of his eye. The dark elf stood unmoved, a cold spectator observing a symphony of violence orchestrated by his will. With one more attempted gasp, Harmswid’s world plunged into darkness.
With an air of nonchalant finality, Tharivol strolled forward. He bent down, not a hint of bother on his face, and retrieved the severed head of Count Harmswid. The dark elf held the head aloft, examining it with a clinical detachment as if it were merely a curious specimen and not the remnants of a once powerful man.
"Hopefully, this will deter others from such foolishness,” Tharivol remarked with a chilling yet humored voice. “I’m sure there will be a few more unwise enough to disobey our mistress, but let they and Count Harmswid serve as… palpable enough deterrent to insubordination.”
The Dark Elf spun on his heel and strode confidently towards the tent flap while his masked guards moved like shadows in his wake. What had transpired was as swift as it was horrifying, from start to finish. The once opulent pavilion, a symbol of the Count's authority, had become a macabre slaughterhouse in mere seconds, and the air hung thick with the metallic tang of blood.
Tharivol moved with the grace of a predator. He grasped a fistful of the Count's hair, casually swinging the severed head as he left the carnage behind. Stepping out of the tent, a scene of utter chaos greeted him.
A cataclysmic roar had ripped through the air, an earth-shattering crash rattled the bones of every being within earshot. Tents flailed wildly, torn from their moorings and scattered like scraps of paper by the force of the blast. Men were thrown off their feet, rolling across the dirt in a desperate bid for stable ground.
And the source of such devastation was the immense silhouette of a black dragon. A very old and very powerful black dragon of monstrous proportions. Its landing had been a display of raw power; the earth itself sundered from its weight, cracking and buckling as the beast settled into place, and smoke curled from its nostril as its massive wings slowly unfurled.
To Tharivol's left, a figure stood resolute against the swirling chaos. Clad in heavy plate armor, augmented by the bones and scales of vanquished wyverns. One of the Duchess's most powerful and he was a testament to the mistress’s influence and strength. The great warrior's hide cloak buffeted violently in the maelstrom, yet he remained steadfast, utterly unmoving. His massive sword was driven deep into the earth, his hands folded gently over the hilt, as he stared maliciously towards the soldiers and mages toppling head over heel.
Striding past the warrior, Tharivol moved effortlessly underneath the dragon's colossal wingspan until reached the other side, where a panicked crowd was already gathering. He held up the Count's head for all to see and amplified his cold voice with magic, causing it to reverberate across the encampment.
"YOUR TREACHEROUS LORD IS NO MORE!" Tharivol bellowed, "HE CHOSE DEFIANCE! HE CHOSE DEATH! AND THUS THE FATE OF ALL WHO CHOOSE SELF-INTEREST OVER THE IMPERIAL WAR EFFORT!”
The gathered soldiers gasped, their faces twisting into a mixture of shock, disbelief, and abject terror. This was a display of power unlike anything they had ever witnessed - the swift brutality, the utter disregard for a noble life, and now, the raw might embodied by the massive dragon that cast its imposing shadow over them all.
A wave of shock and outrage swept throughout the Count's retinue. They stood frozen for moments, hands clenching around sheathed weapons, before the reality of the situation sunk in. Their lord was dead, his head held aloft like a grotesque trophy a damned dark elf who stood before them. Yet, their fury was tempered by the sight of the colossal monstrosity looming above the foul man.
Not even the stoic knight captain, his battle-scarred face creased in anguish, dared break the uneasy silence that had descended upon them. His eyes flicked between the severed head and what he considered the largest and oldest dragon he’d ever seen in his damnable life. It was bad enough one of the Duchess’s hero showed up, but with this monster here, all thoughts of vengeance were crushed beneath the weight of gaping maw staring at him.
Tharivol lowered the head, allowing it swinging morbidly in his grip as he marched straight to the knight captain. Halting mere inches from the man, the Dark Elf looked down at him through his nose despite the fact that he was a head shorter than the gruff knight. But how tall one was mattered very little at the current moment. For the poor captain fought to maintain any semblance of calm as his entire body trembled, not from mere cold, but from a primal, instinctual terror.
"Gather your mana users. Assemble the wyverns, good captain." Tharivol commanded, his voice still magically amplified. "You will report to the Duchess in Aldenshore, and with haste. I trust," here Tharivol's gaze flicked meaningfully towards the dragon, "that you understand the urgency of this order?"
His tone carried not a hint of a question, but the chilling finality of an ultimatum. The Duchess' word was now law and the dragon was both enforcer and a grim reminder of the consequences of disobedience. Should the captain hesitate, should he choose to dally, the monstrous creature would likely make a far bloodier example than even the Count's brutal end.
The knight captain could only bow his head and utter a hoarse, "Aye, my lord." Compliance, however grudging, was the only path to survival. Defiance meant not just death for himself but the annihilation of his men. No amount of courage or pride could bridge the chasm of power that lay between them.
An expression like a viper's grin spread across Tharivol’s face. A macabre amusement flitted into his eyes as he raised Count Harmswid's head once more, slapping the lifeless cheek in a grotesque mockery of applause. "Very good!" he declared, his amplified voice carrying an undercurrent of cruel delight.
"You shall rest this day and prepare. But," his tone turned as sharp as a dagger, "do not keep us waiting. To delay the Duchess... well, that would be oh so very unwise."
With a final flourish, Tharivol spun on his heel and marched away, but just before the Dark Elf disappeared below the hulking mass of the Dragon, The Knight Captain attempted to rise to his feet. "Wait, my lord!" The man stammered out as his hand reached out.
However, the sudden movement had caught the dragon's attention. With a rumble that reverberated through the encampment, its massive head dipped low. Twin nostrils flared, expelling twin plumes of superheated plasma, as its eyes narrowed, burning with fury.
The knight captain let out a yelp, a terrified sound he hadn't made since childhood. His body recoiled as if struck, and his legs had given way beneath him as he fell on his rear.
Tharivol paused, turning back with feigned concern. His voice dripped with theatrical sympathy, "Oh dear, is there some problem, good captain?" He let the question hang in the air before bursting into a peal of chilling laughter.
With a dramatic gesture, he addressed the knight captain once more. "Well then, Captain, go on! What is it that troubles you so?" There was an odd playfulness in the dark elf's tone that sent chills down every man in the Count’s army’s spine.
Panic surged through the knight captain. Caught between the titanic dragon and the mocking presence of the dark elf, fear threatened to swallow him whole. Each raspy breath seemed to drag against his throat, the super-heated air of the dragon's breath filling his nostrils. It was an intoxicating mix of molten metal and sulfur, a scent that seemed to speak of fiery annihilation.
He scrambled back even further as the dragon's head moved closer. Desperation lent his words a frenzied edge. "W-what of the food stores, my lord? Our gathered supplies? And the men – the rest of the soldiers? Shall they march to Aldenshore with us, or... or remain?" The words tumbled out, laced with the fear of asking the wrong question, of drawing further ire.
Tharivol approached the man before halting a comfortable distance away. The knight captain flinched, averting his gaze from the dragon, and fixing it on the ground and started whispering prayers and reciting passages from the holy text of his god. Tharivol tilted his head, a curious, almost amused glint in his dark eyes.
For a tense moment, he simply observed the knight captain, letting the silence stretch between them before heaving a heavy sigh. “Do you speak of the mundane?" His tone was flippant, laced with a hint of disdain. "Take them, leave them – it is of no concern to me.” He answered, waving his hand dismissively. “Now that you have your answer… do not bother me with such trivial matters again. I have much more pressing concerns and so little time."
As Tharivol walked away, the knight captain scrambled to his feet. “Y-You heard ‘em! Git yer asses movin’ less ya want to be Dragon feed!” The man ordered with fear evident in his voice as the Dark Elf disappeared beneath the dragon. “And send word to the Wyvern camps of our new orders!”
Silence reigned at the order as everyone stood stock still, but everyone was kicked into overdrive with one last snort from the monster. Soldiers, mages, and workers of every type scramble about with panicked efficiency. Carts were hastily loaded, men and women ran to and fro with bundles of supplies, and the injured were loaded onto wagons with utmost care. Within minutes, the once serene camp was transformed into a whirlwind of purposeful chaos.
And as the madness unfolded, in a distant tree line, Coleman and his ODA team watched silently, peering through the optics of their weapons and purpose-built surveillance tools.
“Fuck… is that our target’s head?” Schwarz suddenly spoke up hushedly as he peered through the high-powered optic of his precision rifle. “I think that’s his head…”
Coleman released an exasperated sigh as he watched with a camouflaged high-powered surveillance device as the strange dark-skinned man walked away with the noble's head in hand. “Yep… Yep, that’s his head…” He nearly growled in annoyance. “Damnit…”
"Wait, isn't this a good thing? We don't gotta kill him," Bennett piped up, a note of confusion in his voice.
Elijah cut him off, the usual lighthearted tone gone from his voice. "No, dipshit, we wanted to bag 'em for questioning," he gestured at the chaotic camp with the barrel of his rifle, "and we can’t question a corpse."
“All units, this is Baron actual.” Coleman quietly spoke into his headphones as he informed the litany of multinational special operations forces that were positioned or prowling around in preparation for the assault on this camp. “Change of plans, our targets KIA from internal fighting.”
“Baron actual, this is Warlock actual.” An Australian Special Air Services Regiment (SASR) team came over the net. “That’s a BIG fackin’ cunt, mate... I’m not so sure about this one.”
No one could fault the assessment. That monstrosity of a dragon was well over 100 meters from snout to tail, and hefty enough to tank most of their firepower. "Baron actual, copy that Warlock. Standby, we’re trying to figure something out."
“This is Bravo actual. Yeah, I have agree with Warlock. This suddenly got a lot more dangerous. I don’t think the operation’s worth it with this thing hanging around." A new voice came over the net belonging to the Polish Commandos, the Jednostka Wojskowa Komandosów (JWK), and gave his opinion on the matter.
The chatter from other teams confirmed the general sentiment. They came in relatively light hoping to do a lightning raid and bug out. Engaging this creature felt like a suicide mission. Sure they could hit with every Javelin or Anti-Tank weapon they had, but no one was convinced they’d be able to land a killing blow and unless someone got lucky and domed the fucker.
“I can’t believe we’re blue balled by a big fackin’ lizard.” The Aussies voice echoed throughout everyone headphones. “What do ya think? Should we pull out?”
Coleman rubbed a weary hand across his eyes. The Aussie had put it crudely, but the sentiment was spot on. The mission was a bust. The tactical dilemma they faced had become far more complicated with the appearance of these newcomers and their dragon.
“Warlock, hold one.” Coleman responded before leanning back against a fallen tree.
A frustrated and heavy breath left the ODA team leader’s mouth as he popped off his helmet, exposing his hair to the hot summer air. As he contemplated his optins while his hand rubbed across his admittedly greasy hair. It had been quite some time since he had a proper shower and, the dirt was starting to build up.
As he thought of way to continue the mission, every scenario he spun out in his mind unraveled before it could take shape. Assault the camp now? With that dragon in the mix, it was madness. Their firepower was decent, but not against a beast of that size and unknown resilience. The thing would torch them before they knew what was going on.
Sneak in, grab what intel they could? Nah… that was stupider than whatever some private fresh out of bootcamp would think up. The goal was not to be decisively engaged.
The Poles and Aussies had a point. Maybe the best course of action was to just to bugger off and keep and element here to observe and mark the location for when the ground pounders came in. But that almost felt like it was a waste… Here they had a prime opportunity to turn a village into a clandestine staging point and letting go of that idea felt… wrong.
Just as another sigh left Colemans mouth, an earth-shattering roar split the air. The team leader whipped his head up, expecting the worst case scenario. The dragon had erupted into flury of motion, as the whirlwind of claws, wings, and raw power tookeof, blowing debris across the camp and scattering tents like leaves in a storm.
But it didn't attack.
The gargantuan creature circled for a moment, leaving a sinister shadow against the clear blue sky, before banking and soaring eastwards.
Coleman blinked, momentarily disoriented by the sudden shift in the situation. A hundred thoughts raced through his head. Where was it going? It didn’t notice us? Would it return? But Within seconds, the beast had vanished into the distance.
Then, a flicker of opportunity flashed across his eyes. “This Baron actual, let’s wait a bit and see what happens...” Coleman suggested with a predatory grin spreading across his face.
If you'd like to read unreleased chapters and drafts, head on over to my Patreon
You can find the art of the characters Here
Join our Tactical Operations Center on Discord: https://discord.gg/qDnQfg4EX3
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2024.05.13 13:40 GReeeeN_ Best Cantonese Roast Meats

Where can I find the best Cantonese roast meats in Sydney? (Roast duck, roast pork (char siu) crispy skin suckling pig, crispy skin pork belly, soya chicken, etc)

submitted by GReeeeN_ to foodies_sydney [link] [comments]

2024.05.13 11:54 Camp-North Summer Camps For Kids

Outdoor Exploration: Summer camps often take place in natural settings, providing children with opportunities to explore the great outdoors. Whether it's hiking through forests, swimming in lakes, or roasting marshmallows around a campfire, these experiences foster a deep appreciation for nature and encourage physical activity.
Seasonal social Development: Camps bring together children from diverse backgrounds, allowing them to form new friendships and develop important social skills. Through teamwork, cooperation, and shared experiences, campers learn to communicate effectively, resolve conflicts, and build confidence in their interactions with others.
Personal Growth: Away from the familiar comforts of home, children have the chance to step out of their comfort zones and embrace new challenges. From trying out new sports and creative arts to conquering fears through outdoor adventures, summer camps empower kids to discover their strengths, overcome obstacles, and build resilience.
Skill Building: Many camps offer specialised programs focused on developing specific skills or interests, such as music, theatre, sports, or STEM (science, technology, engineering, and mathematics). These immersive experiences allow children to hone their talents, explore new passions, and gain valuable knowledge in a supportive environment.

Popular Activities at Summer Camps:

Sports and Recreation: From soccer and basketball to swimming and rock climbing, sports activities are a staple of many summer camps. These activities not only promote physical fitness but also teach valuable lessons in teamwork, sportsmanship, and leadership.
Arts and Crafts: Creative arts and crafts workshops allow campers to unleash their imagination and express themselves through painting, drawing, pottery, and other artistic endeavors. These hands-on activities foster creativity, fine motor skills, and a sense of pride in one's work.
Adventure and Outdoor Skills: Whether it's navigating a ropes course, learning to build a fire, or embarking on a wilderness hike, adventure-based activities challenge campers to push their limits, develop problem-solving skills, and connect with nature in meaningful ways.
STEM Exploration: Camps focused on science, technology, engineering, and mathematics offer interactive workshops, experiments, and projects that spark curiosity and foster a love for learning. From robotics and coding to astronomy and environmental science, these programs inspire campers to explore the wonders of the world around them.

Tips for Choosing the Right Camp:

Consider Your Child's Interests: Look for a camp that aligns with your child's passions and preferences, whether it's sports, arts, nature, or academics.
Research Camp Options: Explore different types of camps, read reviews, and reach out to camp organizers to learn more about their programs, facilities, and staff qualifications.
Evaluate Safety Measures: Prioritize camps that prioritize the safety and well-being of campers, with trained staff, proper supervision, and emergency protocols in place.
Involve Your Child in the Decision: Discuss camp options with your child and involve them in the decision-making process to ensure they feel excited and invested in the experience.

Sleep away Camp
Summer Camp
Sport Camp
Boys & Girl Camp

Thank You, For More Service’s Please Visit Our Websites.

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2024.05.13 09:32 500DaysofR3dd1t I made a list of 50 things to do before I'm 50 (I'm 35 this year)

Write my will.

2. Solve a Rubik's Cube.

Visit Aigre, France.
Go mining in the Mines in Hare Hill, New Cumnock, East Ayrshire, Scotland, UK.
Earn £50,000+.
Get the tattoo design I've wanted since I was nine.
Try olive oil and sea salt on vanilla ice cream.
Go golfing in Scotland.
Finish a tube of chapstick.
Take a photo of my Aunt to Paris. Show her picture around all the sites. It's the last place she wanted to go before she unexpectedly died in lockdown.
Figure out x's surname and meet the people from my half-family.
Run in the London Marathon.
Complete the hidden Tetris levels.
Run a mile in under 8 minutes.

15. Go to the corner bodega and pick out a soda flavour that sounds completely disgusting or out of the ordinary for me.

Make at least one Strava Art.
Adopt a cat and name it after my late Aunt.
Eat a homemade quiche that doesn't make me gag.
Try Opiate Dentiare toothpaste.
Own an ereader with a digital pen.
Try a deep fried Mars bar from the chippy shop.
Buy a bottle of wine and drink it in twenty years.
Start a women's football team at work.

24. Discover a new band.

See a Yankees game in London.
Fast for a day.
Go to a restaurant and order something completely different from my usual.

28. Reconnect with an old friend.

Grow my cuticle back on my pinky finger on my right hand.
Don't dye my hair.
Own a set of bed pillows from The Ritz.
Eat a hog roast leg at Peppa Pig World.

33. Eat fufu with my hands.

Kiss the blarney stone.
Find a four leaf clover.
Go to Turf Tavern in Oxford and have a cider.
Read a banned book.
Bowl a strike.
Eat a Colin the Caterpillar cake on my birthday.
Bike for a charity every year until fifty.
Become a British citizen.

42. Eat insects that aren't covered in chocolate, sour coating, sugar, or spicy dusting.

Be the Mother of the Bride/Groom at a godchild's wedding.
Petition to get a statue of John Woodcock next to Baxter Hulme's.
Try a Korean corn dog.
Time travel to experience New Year's Eve twice.
Watch the Changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace on the 25th anniversary of 9/11.

48. Try carbonara the traditional way without cream.

Swim in Bulgaria's Black Sea.

50. Put a flag on my bicycle.
Someone at work was talking about doing this and I wasn't sure because my dad died at 50 unexpectedly and so did his father so I've always been quite scared of reaching that number. Nevertheless, I'm going to face the big number with different things I want to do to make it less scarier. I think some of the things are silly, but I tried to make most of the things easily attainable. Bold means I've already done them.

submitted by 500DaysofR3dd1t to CasualConversation [link] [comments]

2024.05.13 04:33 Sebas1624 What could it be?

Today I decided to look at the motor in just for fun, and I found coolant spit over the motor cap. But, the coolant deposit is at its right level. Could this happen if I overfilled the deposit with coolant? Any thoughts 💭?
Thank you 🙏🏼

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2024.05.13 04:17 yukon18 Honest Review as an MT

As someone who started several months ago, here’s a comprehensive (yet subjective) perspective of the life of an MT.
In short, this position and your attitude towards it will be highly dependent on several factors. I would ask myself these questions and whoever I’m interviewing with before making judgement.

How much you want to grow. Not necessarily through only Enterprise. But your professional and personal skills. Hard and soft skills like relationship building, customer service, sales, logistics, marketing, accounting, professional communication, and leadership.
What is your tolerance for work? Are you willing to be uncomfortable at times for the sake of growing? Do you just want a job that offers a paycheck for sitting at a desk all day with a rigid routine? Neither is a bad option to want necessarily but just know Enterprise will fall under the former.
Everyone in this sub knows about the hours. So ask yourself is the reward of learning valuable skills and experiences worth the time needed to work this position? Do you have kids to take care of? Do you have the personal drive and discipline to achieve growth even when times get shitty?
Ask your interviewer how well the branch is performing. How’s the branch’s ESQi score compared to surrounding branches? Are they fully staffed with detailers included? How well have the other MTs at the branch performed on the matrix? Is the branch growing? This will honestly play the biggest role in whether you enjoy or dislike the position.

I personally love my position here at the present moment. My BM and ABMs are supportive and fun to be around, we are fully staffed with detailers throughout the week, I’ve learned tremendously during my short tenure here, I’ve nailed the matrix down, and I’m seeing the fruits of my labor every week.
No lie, there are shitty moments where we have 4 rentable cars and 20 reservations and I have to turn away angry customers. Times when I’ve made mistakes and was (professionally) confronted by my managers. But I’m willing to accept these moments and use it as fuel to grow. This position is not always sunshine and rainbows. But I have much more good days than bad ones.
Factors that I genuinely enjoy as an MT:

Everyday can be different. I can spend Monday writing tickets/contracts. Tuesday I will be controlling callbacks and forecasting reservations for the following week or two. Wednesday I will control the fleet and complete LOFR and bodyshop maintenance. And everything in between.
I’m on my feet regularly and have the luxury of going outside for fresh air and sunlight if I want to. There are times during the day where I can afford a break and sit down to recharge. The position keeps me active and I love it.
I’ve learned tremendously about motor vehicles and how they operate. How the insurance industry operates. How to grow a business and run an efficient team. How to maintain poise and remain stoic when times get tough. The psychology of people and how they think. What incentives customers and staff.

Overall, I have very much enjoyed my short time as an MT. Do I want to work at Enterprise my whole career? Hell no. But I can fully understand why former Enterprise employees find success in future careers.
At the end of the day, you get what you put in. If you are willing to learn and work hard, you’ll discover great insight and professional wisdom for your future endeavors. If you want a job where you can get away with doing the minimum, this position will chew you up and spit you out. Let me know what you guys think.
TLDR: MT experience depends on the branch’s performance/staff and what you make of it.

submitted by yukon18 to EnterpriseCarRental [link] [comments]

2024.05.13 03:38 DoGsPaWsLoVe Weekly Recap 05/05/24-05/11/24: 102 Posts

This is the weekly recap of the 102 monetized posts from Kylea and Joseph "Joe" Gomez of Kylea G Weight loss Journey from 05/05/24-05/11/24.
They have made 609+ monetized posts in 5 weeks.
Disclaimers: I am not a physician, influencer, or paid content creator. I am not affiliated with WW. I am semi-retired from the healthcare field with multiple college degrees. These opinions are my own based on social media content. I wish no harm to Kylea or Joe Gomez.
☎️ If you or someone you know is struggling or in crisis, please call or text 988 for assistance.
📢 To the perfectionists, Kylea has a habit of heavily editing posts 3+ times and archiving/hiding and deleting posts. I do not have a burner account for Facebook and have not viewed every comment made. She does not post receipts and is secretive about her purchases.
The tagline of Kylea G Weight loss Journey is, "I changed my life with prayer and a playlist of songs. No surgery, no meds. Just Jesus."
Of the 102 monetized posts last week on the topic of faith:
0/102 discussed which version of the Bible she prefers
0/102 revealed her church home, a service she attended online/in person, or how she worships when traveling
0/102 discussed a personal/group Bible study she completes/attends
0/102 were a favorite scripture or Bible verse
Of the 102 monetized posts last week on the topic of music:
2/102 referenced music Kylea prefers= an unnamed Taylor Swift song as a clapback to a comment about pizza crust and a drinking buddy anthem duet with Morgan Wallen + Post Malone
Of the 102 monetized posts last week on the topic of health:
0/102 were about intentional exercise
0/102 shared a food, water, or exercise log
0/102 discussed meditation, deep breathing, attending grief group, or therapy for her mental health. (There were references to a mental health care provider that gave her a letter recommending an emotional support animal.)
0/102 shared reputable medical sources for nutrition or weight loss content. (She mentions WW points but does not list a website or how to access their app.)
0/102 shared a recommendation for another weight loss influencer to follow
1/102 shared a source for her recipe (Joe's deceased mother)
13/102 shared a recipe. Shared recipes below.

Frozen Pancake Breakfast Sandwiches;
Banana Puddin' Protein Overnight Oats,
Smothered Crockpot Pork Chops;
Trader Joe's Protein Pancakes;
Snapple Zero Sugar Peach Tea & Splenda Brown Sugar Marinated Chicken;
Dirty Dr. Pepper Protein Ice Cream,
Joseph's Lavash Bread Pizza;
Lemon Blueberry "Muffin" Cupcakes;
Blueberry Sugar-free Oatmeal Waffles;
KFC Inspired Bowl;
Sara Lee 45 cal French Toast;
G Hughes Smoky Mesquite Raspberry Jam Chicken;
Lemon Blueberry Greek Baked Yogurt;

⚠️ Disordered Eating- Daily WW Points Consumed (based on monetized content):
Sun 05/05: 10 WW points; Mon 05/06: 11 WW points; Tue 05/07: 7 WW points; Wed 05/08: 7-9 WW points; Thu 05/09: 10-11 WW points; Fri 05/10: 1 WW point; Sat 05/11: 8 WW points;
📢 To our friends at Meta, Kylea can consume up to 30 WW points per day, roll over 4 unused daily points, and consume 28 weekly points. She is clearly underutilizing her daily points and used zero weekly points. This is dangerous and potentially deadly messaging for those on a weight loss journey. 🚨
So what was Kylea's "weight loss content" about? Let's dive into her purchases to find out.
Her subtotal from 05/05/24-05/11/24= $2489.80 est + all applicable taxes, tips, and fees
Her 5-week subtotal from 04/07/24-05/11/24 was $17,133.54 est + all applicable taxes, tips, and fees
🚨 Per Missouri public court records, Kylea Gomez has not satisfied her current medical judgment and is only able to pay $25 per month.
This next section is long due to the volume of purchases. You've been warned...
Weekly Takeout Purchases= $71.73 est + tips;
Sunday 05/05/24 Mexican Takeout Salad with chips/salsa= $15 est + tip (no proof she went with friends);
Monday 05/06/24 Iced/Blended coffee: $8 est + tip (no proof she went with a friend);
Tuesday 05/07/24 Carafe of coffee at unknown restaurant= $5 est + tip (no food shown or proof sister was present); Blended Coffee= $8 est + tip;
Wednesday 05/08/24 Htea0 Happy Hour Drink for 2 + fruit upcharge for 1= $3.25 est;
Thursday 05/09/24 Pineapple Bliss for 2= $6.98 est + tip;
Friday 05/10/24 Blended coffee= $8 est + tip; Wendy's Large Sprite Zero= $2.50 est,
Saturday 05/11/24 Unknown breakfast for Joe= $15 est + tip;
🚨 These additional shopping/travel expenses do NOT reflect her rent, utilities, phone, 2 car payments, etc.
Additional shopping/travel expenses= $2418.07 + all applicable taxes, tips, and fees
⚠️ CBD aka Shopping Addiction: Most of the purchases were for a future puppy.
Monday 05/06/24 Breeder fee for female Cavapoo puppy= $1000 est + fees (breeder unknown); Outward Hound Multi-color Squeaker Ballz Fetch Toy 4-pack= $4.99 est; Outward Hound Blue Whale Big Mouthz Interactive Plush Toy with Treat Ball= $9.99 est, Outward Hound Chicken Roperz Plush Squeak Dog Toy= $11.81 est; Silicone Collapsible Food & Water Bowl= $8.99 est; Plush Oyster Shell with Pearl Dog Toy= $6.99 est; Peppa Pig Squeak & Crinkle Plush Dog Toy= $19.99 est; Pally Paws Butterfly Squeaker & Crinkle Dog Toy= $14.99 est; Woven Dog Bone-shaped mat= $9.99 est; Woven beach bag with pawprints= $19.99 est; Grey fleece blanket= $19.99 est;
Tuesday 05/07/24 *Possible Target Women's Cowgirl Boot Grid Graphic T-shirt= $12.99; Chaco ZX/2 Women's Cloud Sandal in Candy Sorbet= $105 est; Vibrant Life Playful Buddy Emoticon XS 5 count Dog toys= $5.12; Nylabone Puppy Starter Pack-up to 25lbs= $7.57; Nylabone Power Chew Textured Dental Chew Toy Chicken Medium/Wolf-up to 35lbs= $4.97; Vibrant Life Tug Buddy Rope Multi-color= $1.98; Custom Dog Tag for Birdie= $5.99 est; Two Jessica Simpson Pet Dresses= $30 est; Personalized baby blanket for Birdie (Amazon)= $19.99 est;
Wednesday 05/08/24 Roundtrip Gas Joplin, MO to Tulsa, OK= (224mi/33mpg) x $3.85 est = $26.13 est; Costco Skinny Dipped PB Cups= $25.94 est; Costco Deebee's Freezie Pops= $22.75 est; Trader Joe's Frozen Roasted Corn x 8 bags= $40 est; Additional Costco & Trader Joe's purchases= unknown; *Pawdre T-shirt for Joe= $10.99 est; Dog Treat container= $25 est; Patchwork Pet Snuggler White Claw themed plush dog toys= $9.99 est; Smoochy Pet Pals Cheeseburger & French Fry themed plush dog toys= $15 est; Armor All Hammock Style Back Seat Cover= $10 est; Black Dog Bone Mat= $5.99 est; 3 Dog bath towels= $14 est;
Thursday 05/09/24 Alani Nu 12oz Energy Drink Pink Slush for 2= $4.96 est;
Friday 05/10/24 Approx. 72 cupcakes= $41.91 est (Walmart online price used); Mani/Pedi= $75 est + tip;
Saturday 05/11/24 Coleman SaluSpa Air Jet Inflatable Hot Tub in Grey= $609.00 (Amazon price); iCrate 2-door folding black crate= $36.79 est; Kong Blue Puppy Binkie Pacifier Dog Toy= $8.99 est; Kong Pink Puppy Natural Teething Rubber Toy= $7.49 est; Lamb Chop Puppy Plush Regular 10"= $15.90 est; Remy+Roo Small Spring Dog Bandana 4-pack Kathrine Set= $23.95 est; Hubulk Pink Pet Dog Bowl Set with food scoop and Non-Skid Silicone Mat= $9.99 est; MidWest Homes for Pets Deluxe Dog Bed in Grey= $16.99 est; Beirui Cute Little Girl Dog Collar, Harness, and Leash Set= $27.99 est; 3 pack of Blankets Super Soft Fluffy Premium Fleece= $11.99
🤔 Final Thoughts 🤔
Kylea showed her narcissistic greed posting triggering content all week without disclaimers or warnings in clear violation of Meta policy on explicit content and tragedy & conflict. If that is not enough to demonetize and deplatform her, her obvious signs of disordered eating should. Her messaging is dangerous, potentially deadly, and I, for one, ask our friends at Meta to review her content and take action.
All info from Reddit. ✌️

submitted by DoGsPaWsLoVe to KyleaGomezsnark [link] [comments]

2024.05.12 17:53 Swimming_Office_7618 Some of the BEST VR titles 25% off!

Asgard's Wrath 2
2MD: VR Football Unleashed ALL☆STAR
A Fisherman's Tale
After The Fall
Angry Birds VR: Isle of Pigs
Another Fisherman's Tale
Asgard's Wrath 1
Battle Bows
Beat Saber
Breachers
Brink Traveler
Contractors
Cook-Out
COMPOUND
Crashland
Deisim
Demeo
Drop Dead: Dual Strike Edition
Drunkn Bar Fight
Garden of the Sea
Ghost Giant
Guardians Frontline
Iron Rebellion
Job Simulator
Journey of the Gods
JUST HOOPS
Larcenauts
Little Cities
Lucky's Tale
Marvel's Iron Man VR
Maskmaker
Masternoid
Mini Motor Racing X
Moss 2 / Moss: Book II
Neon Odyssey / Shuttle Maze
Omega Pilot
Orbeats
Outta Hand
Path of the Warrior
Pistol Whip
Puzzling Places
Racket: Nx
Realms Of Flow
Real VR Fishing
Red Matter 2
Resist
Rez Infinite
Samba de Amigo
Shores of Loci
Shooty Fruity
Space Dragon
Squingle
Star Wars Pinball VR
Star Wars: Tales from the Galaxy's Edge
Startenders: Intergalactic Bartending
SUPERHOT VR
Sushi Ben
Synth Riders
Tentacular
Tetris Effect: Connected
The Climb 2
The Light Brigade
Thumper
Time Stall
Toy Trains
Track Craft
UNDERDOGS
Until You Fall
Virtual Desktop
Virtual Virtual Reality
Vox Machinae
Walkabout Mini Golf
Wallace & Gromit
We Are One
YUKI
Yupitergrad
Ziggy's Cosmic Adventures

submitted by Swimming_Office_7618 to OculusReferral [link] [comments]

2024.05.12 17:52 Swimming_Office_7618 Some of the best VR titles all 25% off

submitted by Swimming_Office_7618 to MetaReferrals [link] [comments]

http://rodzice.org/