Human food for dogs or dog food

what instant food should i bring for work? this is like my 4th week at amazon and i keep having to doordash or get food from the food truck. im also trying to save money, which is pretty much impossible because i eat out 4 out of the 7 days of the week and this week was my biggest check!! so, that being said what is your favorite instant food!

Hello, everyone. Thank you in advance for any and all advice you can give me.
My one year old rescue has been diagnosed with Dysplasia a few months ago, in the winter. She was given Purina prescription diet for joint issues. She started refusing her kibble, and, since it was prescription, we attempted to make it more palatable by adding wet food, parmesan as food topper, cooked food. She ate the first few bowls without issue, and then started refusing it, choosing just the "good" stuff and leaving out the kibble. We then switched her back to the kibble she used to love. Except the damage I think was already done. Either by spoiling her with the food toppers or by being frustrated when she would refuse to eat, she now started refusing her usual kibble as well. She is scared of the bowl we serve the food in, but even scattering the food around does not help, she runs away and sometimes even pees in the house, despite being trained against it. The vet did not think there was anything wrong, except her being a picky eater.
Any advice will be greatly appreciated, thank you!

for the first time in a while i broke down pretty bad. ive thought too much into myself, about the fact i was essentially groomed without me even knowing it, fed and taught into having horrible fantasies involving myself a younger self a reflection. someone else who i encapsulate and wear the skin of, and then flaunt around in awaiting to be noticed and hopefully loved, because everyone loves him, and i want love too
he speaks and thjnks on his own because i gave him life, and that life has burdened him. he wishes to be put down yet he fears death at the same time, and he screams and cries when he feels it necessary, or if he wants to fucking die, which is lovely. tonight wasnt even human it was a dog, whining and crying. a fucked up dog, fuvked up fucked up
and we botb thoight but moreso him prior to that moment that we wished to be groomed again. whether it be we deserve it, or if we want it again, eitherway doesnt matter we'll take it in anyway. just to feel a bit of thst rush again and the sheer elation of being fucked senselessly until we couldnt even think anymore, to feel the embrace of that fucking man and have him rip us apart, or us rip him apart instead
but there is nothing to gain from it besides a temporary satisfaction. the worst part about it all is the person we didnt even block, we never fully realized they groomed us until it was too late. they probably dont even know my new names but its scary the idea they could prop up ahain whenever they like. but part of me wants that, so we can have a proper relief again. who knows maybe it'll fix me, this pseudo-relationship simply to fulfil each others desires, because im an adult now. that should make me more desirable right?
bodily, at the very least of course. mentally, not so much. but that is an adult nonetheless, right? they were 3 years older than me, making them 23 then. thats within my acceptable range with other adults yeah? do you think theyd take interest in me? an older version of the sick fuck they kept contained? except its a conscious willing decision, fully and now legally consensual. hell im sure they missed me, we ended off on an awkward note but maybe they'll see i can be exactly the way i was before! a dumb bitch with a hypersexual hyperhormonal body and an appetite for those older than me
i used to think it was my sexual assault that led to me being this way. or my cousin exposing me a bit too much to the internet. or my lack of adult supervision in general. neurotypical parents cant deal with autistic kids. but really i believe i was fucked the moment i came out of the womb. like no child ever thinks thats okay! aren't they all much wiser? apparently those my age were! so why didnt they fucking DO anything? a child visibly tearing itself apart and yet the things in danger were the fictional ones. oh boohoo, god forbid you exhibit clear traits of mental illness
everyone is all for mental health awareness and support until you exhibit the undesirable symptoms and have visible signs of trauma. trauma isnt just the constant lingering sadness its the inescapable haunting thing that can never leave you and beckons you to do things you would never do. and nobody is safe, if you were there too you'd listen to it too. i remember when i first hit puberty. i blamed it on my assault because i never processed what happened to me
and then 4 years later i engage and get fascinated with overlapping stories to my own, and i saw nothing wrong with it. because i never processed what happened to me, and when i found out it was too late. justas it is with everything else
i type like a madman i must SOUND mad but i swear. im telling as much as i can and this is as coherant as one can get
ive run out of things to say

I remember this book being read to me in the early 2000s, and had idioms such as 'When Jane is out riding bikes with her friend, she feels like a fish out of water' and shows an Angelfish riding a bicycle on land. Or another distinct page I remember is something along the lines of it being a 'dog eat dog world' and it shown a bulldog dressed like an early 20s mafia boss eating a sausage link.
The art style was relistic painting-esque artwork skin to 'Dogs Playing Poker', right down to realistic animals doing human activities such as riding bikes or writing letters. I have searched google but to no avail and I'd love to give the book another reading just to admire the artwork.

I, (29 female) have been in a strange relationship with my boyfriend (33 male) for over 10 years now. I was 16 when we met and 18 when we had our first child of 2. Before having kids we had a bit of a wild side and would sometimes bring another person or 2 into the bedroom with us, we never got jealous and we're just young and having fun. We settled after the first child but about a year or so after having the second child I was not as sexually active as him and we started to explore the swinging world once again. This was mostly to satisfy my partner but also as a 21 year old I was interested in the fun. As we began to explore he also took up the art or making home brew. This was the beginning of the worst 4 yrs of my life... he would drink alot every day, he was a happy drunk so I wouldn't mind at first but it got really hard for me, he would not help with anything or play with the kids, infact I was genuinely scared of him around the kids or holding the kids as he would fall over alot and brake their things. At this time my oldest son was starting school, behind on speech, hated school and needed alot of therapy. My youngest child was diagnosed with Autism not long after, the highest on the spectrum. All while I'm dealing with this, my partner decided to have multiple litters of nednose pittbulls, each time she had 10 btw lol. So I'm trying to raise 2 toddlers who have special needs and 10 dogs... but all he cared about the whole time was drinking and swinging.... the house was in constant chaos... every birthday party, every Christmas, every event I worked so hard on he would just get so smashed and ruin the whole thing for the kids. But that alone I could have maybe dealt with and maybe we would be fine now but while all this was in full swing he would constantly be making plans with other couples, he would send people my pics and videos then invite them over without even asking me.. well he was asking me but then wouldn't ask if he knew I would say no.. but I already gave him boundaries not to bring them to our house or our kids to be around, we wer supposed to get a baby sitter... I just played along the first time because they were nice and didn't know the situation at all. But then he just kept doing it, random couples rocking up at our house and they were people I didn't want to sleep with, I told him I was not attracted to them but he would keep pushing and peer pressured me and I'd give in. I was around 21 and he wanted me to sleep with 50yr olds that I never even met, one time I just got drunk and told them to leave because I didn't know them and never messaged them, another time when i gave in and we be began sex and I hated it so much I pretended to be sick from drinking. It was constant fighting to keep these random people away. This was constant for years! I just wanted to focus on my kids, I cried every night, became so depressed and dangerously skinny with an eating disorder.
After 4years he proposed we move in with his parents to save money and buy a house, I only agreed because I knew he couldn't do it anymore but by this stage I was so burnt out and depressed I was bed ridden and just wanted to die. Him and his parents were so mad that I was depressed and told me I was so pathetic and lazy and had to get a job, I lost 2 jobs in a row because the school and therapy were so constant I couldn't be at work enough... I was never good enough no matter how much I did.
We eventually bought a house and I had a steady job that I enjoyed but I couldn't help feel resentful, I could no longer enjoy sex with my partner, I was pretending to like it but I was digusted. He had already broken my heart so many times that it no longer felt right.
Now for the last 3 yrs we have been in a back and forth battle of weather to end it or not. He says it's in the past and doesn't matter but it was a large period of my life and quiet traumatic. He says he will do anything for me and for the past 3 yrs he has been the best partner anyone could ask for. He does all the chores, shopping, cooking, cleaning and just anything I ask. He does all the kids stuff and is just amazing.. but I hate it. I wish he was there for me when I needed him the most, when I couldn't eat or shower when the babies were crying... when I just wanted a sleep... basic human needs... how can you look at the mother of ur kids struggling so bad, just wanting to eat or shower, wanting to end her life and just not care at all... the way he treated me... I don't think I can ever get over it. I've been expressing this to him for 3years. We tried and tried to get over it and make things better but his touch still makes my skin crawl.
But every time I try to leave him he won't let me! He begs and calls and texts and promises the world and won't leave me alone!!! He left for a few days last week but now he is back here and says he is happy to live with me but not have sex. I'm so fked in the head right now. He makes me feel bad, like I'm making the wrong decision. I feel like a bad mum, denying her kids of a better future with their dad. I don't know what to do, he's driving me crazy and it feels like the longest break up in history!
TL;DR: baby daddy won't let me go after a strange abusive relationship.

Hi everyone!
I'm 25yo and have been obese for my entire life. I have a history of binge eating (which has gotten better since being medicated for ADHD) and general disordered eating traits and weight obsession since I was a child. I also have a very addictive personality and am worried that I may end up with an addiction to something else if I can't have much food anymore. I plan to seek out a psych to work through these issues, but was just wondering if any of you have experience with disordered eating, weight obsession or transfer addiction and have any advice/insight.
Thank you!

I'm having family problems (they're being kicked out the house (today probably) (also I don't live with them, I'm currently living with my single aunt and she pays the rent, most of the food when im home and the rest) they're renting for undue payments, dad works at a shop which he'll be kicked out of in a month too because the bosses changed, my mother can't work, tries to here and there as a maid, or by helping her friends because no one would accept her at any normal job, for 1 not having a high school deploma and two for having six kids, including me as the oldest at 21 years old.) the company i work in is a distribution company run by family members that have internal problems which effect our work environment, I've been asking the whole time I've been working here for a set schedule but they're expecting me to overwork and do a shit ton of their tasks as if that company is my life, and i live in a small town, Nador, Morocco. And I'm thinking about moving out to Casablanca or Tanger, I can't help my family because i can barely help myself, finding a job here is very difficult since they barely hire anyone plus I'm still in college with 0 diplomas except my high school degree and my "real life" experience. My parents couldn't pay for any of my education, i got accepted in so many schools after high school but in order to study you need money to live, so i had to make the hard decision of choosing something to study which would allow me to work at the same time, it was English Studies because it always has been effortless for me, but even that needs work and i barely have time to eat or work out at the current company. Right now I don't have any money i gave it all up to my family, and I'm planning on asking them at work, get that money which isn't anything more than $200, get a bus and go start my journey somewhere else in a more open environment even though it might be extremely difficult that way. I need ideas and or personal experience so i can make the best decision possible please.

What is Air Operated Diaphragm Pump?
An air operated double diaphragm pump is a pneumatic device that circulates compressed air back and forth between its two sides using an air valve. Air-operated diaphragm pumps are capable of transporting liquids with low, medium, or high viscosities, as well as liquids containing suspended solids.
How does air operated diaphragm works:
To pump fluids into and out of the pump's fluid chamber, AODD pumps use dual flexible diaphragms mounted to a shared shaft that moves back and forth repeatedly in strokes. This motion generates a vacuum, which draws fluid in through an inlet port.
When the diaphragms are pushed back to their original positions by compressed air, the fluid is expelled from the product chamber through an outlet port. This cycle is repeated while the AODD is in operation, resulting in the pumping action for which this device is famous.
Types of Applications:
Air-operated double-diaphragm pumps (also known as AODD pumps) are becoming increasingly popular in a variety of industries and applications. Because of the wide range of materials from which the diaphragm can be made, combined with the pumps' seal-less design, even aggressive chemicals and acids can be handled.
Positive displacement (PD) air-operated double-diaphragm pumps have two diaphragms that shift the air supply from one fluid chamber to another. Furthermore, AODD pumps are sealless and run on compressed air rather than a traditional motor system, allowing for smooth, leak-free fluid transfer and movement of any suspended solids. As a result, AODD pumps can be used in a variety of processing and treatment applications.
The air operated diaphragm pump design allows it to be used in a variety of industries:
​

• Oils and fuels
• Acids and chemicals
• Resins, adhesives, paints, and inks
• sewage water
• Cosmetic and food products
  Benefits:
  

Flexibility:
Manufacturers provide a variety of flexible sizes, allowing users to purchase a pump that will provide them with a balanced system.
Good dry running capabilities:
AODD pumps can run dry without causing any damage or problems. Other pump types must always be primed and must not run dry in order to avoid damaging the entire pump or some of its components and necessitating an expensive rebuild.
A self-priming process:
Self-priming air diaphragm pumps have good suction capabilities (up to 8m when wet) without the need for a manual priming device. As a result, they are frequently chosen for applications where suction conditions are difficult, such as tank and container emptying.
Safety:
The AODD pump is less prone to fluid leakage than typical centrifugal pumps because it lacks motors, packing, and seals. This makes it an excellent choice for handling volatile, corrosive, or dangerous liquids that could cause harm if spilled.
Simplicity:
AODDs are simple to install and operate because they do not require complicated wiring or electrical control. In fact, they are far more user-friendly than many other types of pumps.
Contact Momentum Pumps for more information, as they have the best diaphragm pumps for sale in UAE!

I am a software engineer (SWE) and I was making a professional networking app for this company.
I was connecting it to their existing Wordpress site via APIs.
They fired me claiming I didn’t know the language I was writing in (boss wasn’t a dev and didn’t know it existed before me), I didn’t know WP APIs (connecting this way isn’t documented well and was my first time so I had trouble but I got it done in the end), and lied in the interview about my skills.
I was there for 2 months. Shitty place. There were other red flags that I chose to ignore.
I feel like I wasted time I could have been using looking for more reliable job while I was working there.
Now I feel hopeless, like I’ll never get a stable job, and pissed off.
My background is: I’ve been programming since I was 13. Started with HTML/CSS + PHP blog and moved to WordPress and then MySQL and now I’ve dabled in react, angular, MSSQL and all the C langs. I’m trying to be well rounded. Professionally, I got my degree in 2013 as an IT Management which didn’t require higher level math or an internship and then never used the degree cause I’m an idiot. (Though I don’t fully regret it because I met my husband)
I was retail until 2022 when I got a 11-month SWE job but they wanted senior and I was fully honest about being JR. fired me. That was last year. Since then I worked for another company that barely paid me enough to live. So I moved from FL to Austin, TX and got another job in December. That one I got in August or September. So only a few months. The one in December laid me off in Feb due to financial issues (supposedly). Said they would hire me back though.
Then I was unemployed for a month and got this last job in March.
So I have a spotty professional career but I have been practicing and learning so much in my free time that I consider myself a senior front end SWE and JR back end SWE or JR full stack SWE.
Been applying for jobs over the last 2 weeks but I know the market is crap.
I’m worried I’ll run out of TX unemployment and then have to get retail jobs which will barely pay me enough to live.
We don’t live extravagant. Husband has celiac disease. We shop at Whole Foods but frequently check prices between HEB and Walmart and target and everywhere else is more expensive for what we get. We stick with chicken and shrimp and salads mostly.
All our expenses are the lowest they can be. We rarely eat out and don’t spend money on things we don’t need. Husband is very frugal and isn’t even getting his hair cut until I have a job. I don’t cut my hair or do my nails or do any of that girly crap. I hate coffee so we don’t spend on that stuff either.
We frequently make sure our bills/expenses are as low as possible.
Yet $50k a year or less after taxes will not sustain us. Husband has Autism so can’t work. Once I get a job he plans to sell coral so he will have some income and he has some disability from the VA but that’s it.
My last job was paying us $100k and we barely saved $1k/mo due to expenses. Again nothing changed between then and now. We spend the same amount.
So now I feel like I’m gonna have to get 2 jobs if I don’t get a job and I’ll never see my husband and I don’t want to live like that.
How do I deal with the disappointment of being fired for a lie and not having a stable job/income ? I feel like I’m drowning.

This article explains how Indiana abortion restrictions complicates doctor training, raising the time and cost and also perhaps impacts the quality of the training.
<< Board-certified OB-GYN Dr. Jenna Beckham studied the impacts of Dobbs v. Jackson on graduate medical education with the Society of Gynecologic Surgeons. OB-GYN professionals and academic leaders were surveyed in summer 2022.
Beckham said those who train the next generation of doctors were “immediately” concerned about how to get residents and medical students the education they need.
Scott said the public usually doesn’t understand what can go wrong in pregnancy and delivery. In most cases, a mother and baby are healthy, she said, but in emergencies, training and skills related to abortion care are critical.
Over 25 percent of pregnancies end in miscarriages. The U.S. has the highest maternal mortality rate among developed countries, and it looks worse in Indiana. The Hoosier state is ranked third in the country for maternal mortality. Data shows the number of mothers dying in pregnancy or one year after childbirth is increasing each year. >>
https://indianapublicmedia.org/news/abortion-restrictions-prevent-ob-gyn-training-so-iu-sends-residents-to-illinois.php
Indiana's abortion restrictions now necessitate sending medical residents to an Illinois clinic for abortion training, adding additional time and cost burdens. Indiana residents also must obtain an Illinois medical license.
<< This ban also impacts how and where OB-GYN residents can legally gain required training for abortion care and pregnancy loss. IU’s OB-GYN residency program will now send doctors out of state to complete their training, costing more time and money but providing doctors with important experience....
“They will typically go two days out of the week to perform procedures,” Scott said. “And we will fully fund their travel, lodging and food.” >>
Abortion restrictions apparently make Indiana less attractive for resident applicants, impacting the quality of Indiana residents and perhaps their willingness to remain in Indiana after completing their residency.
https://www.reddit.com/Indiana/comments/1crt64k/indiana_medical_senior_residency_applicants_fall/
Concerns exist that residents aren't obtaining the same quality of abortion procedure training as in the past.
<< “What's that going to look like five, 10 years into the future where we have less and less physicians and providers who are able to provide full spectrum reproductive health care?” Beckham said. >>

Nowadays one of the features that I look for most in new gear is it’s portability. I don’t really know why. I don’t travel a whole lot even though I would like to. I don’t take my gear around the house very often, it mainly just sits on my desk in my room. I’ve been feeling uninspired lately though and I keep seeing all over the Internet people who take their portable gear and go out into the forest or something like that and make some music there. They talk about how the change of scenery inspires them. I’ve always wanted to do that and a few days ago I decided to do it. My girlfriend and I went on a short camping trip to the beach, and I brought so much gear with me. It was ridiculous, and I felt ridiculous at the time, but I just didn’t know what I wanted to play with or what I would be inspired by out there. And I was really looking forward to feeling inspired again. I wanted to make sure I had the right thing for when it hit. I was expecting it to be a really great feeling…
It wasn’t. Not only did I not feel inspired, I really hated lugging my equipment onto the beach, I felt like a dweeb playing with electronics on the beach, and it just didn’t feel right. My girlfriend kept telling me to pull something out and make music because I said I wanted to do that, but I continued to hesitate. While I was talking to her, there was a moment when it just hit me that I was at the coast with the person I love and our dogs. Why would I want to throw headphones on and go into my little world. I do that so often already.
I keep thinking that music production is such a prevalent part of my life, and it is, but there are more important things and sometimes I I don’t think about that. Maybe this would’ve been different if I was alone, but my point is, don’t forget to take time and spend it with the people you love and animals you love. Don’t take them for granted.
When we got home from the trip, I unpacked and sat down at my desk and felt refreshed, totally inspired and made an awesome track that I will upload soon. Basically, the trip worked in my favor, I felt inspired just by getting out of the house into nature, and I had a great time with my partner. Does this resonate with anyone else?

very vague i know, but i want to hear everyones tips and tricks on this.
so basically ive been very unactive for like 6-8 years, not exercising at all apart from walking my dog and well walking to school/work. now lately ive wanted to exercise again and i actually enjoy it, however diabetes is making me despise it.
if im gonna go for a walk/jog i turn off my basal COMPLETELY like 30min-1hr before i go, and i keep it turned off the whole time im walking/jogging. however it almost ALWAYS drops, and i have to eat sugar and alot of it, and i cant go on too long of a jog because it will drop and keep dropping.
i eat before i go and dont even bolus for it usually.
i also have to keep my basal off for like 1-2hrs after the workout too, and also eat something. why is exercise making me drop this bad?? its so unmotivating especially when im trying to lose a bit of weight.
everything i do makes me drop. ive tried the gym too ad weightlifting, i drop so much. no matter how much i basically eat.
so ive tried going exercising high, like 12mmol/l. ok it stays around there for the most part of the jog, sometimes it doesnt even go down at all. but then at some point it also starts dropping SO FAST and i need to go home ASAP and eat sugar
this post makes no sense and its kind of just a vent as well because im just so tired of this disease i dont think ive ever exercised without a low.. and if i go exercising when its like 9 mmol/l its not enough and WILL drop. it always freaking drops :(
help.. does anyone have any tips or anything on this or does anyone relate?? is my body reacting so drastically because i havent exercised alot before ? or is this just normal for everyone

Just to preface this, i've genuinely never dated before. She's my first girlfriend ever, at 26.
I buy her things or pay both our ways whenever we go out. Like when i take her to a movie, i usually cover it all myself. I bought her dinner and paid her shoe rental when we went bowling. Plus i bought her flowers. It's just what i've always assumed a guy does for his date. (Am i wrong for thinking that? i genuinely don't know. I'm new to this and only know what i've seen in movies/tv)
She always does appreciate it, like she seems genuinely moved by it. She'll get emotional, hug me and tell me i either don't need to do it or offers to pay me back. There's also been a couple times where she bought something for herself or me on dates so i'm not covering it 100% (Like after i covered the meal and our shoe rental, she bought her own drink just for example).
Currently, she's between jobs. We were talking on the phone and she was talking about her favorite desserts and in that same conversation, she mentioned how she's struggling financially. She's relying on her savings and her parents help her, but they're trying to get her more independent. I told her if she needed anything to tell me, but she said she's afraid to ask people for things and only takes help that's offered. So i offered to buy her some groceries. At first, i offered to buy her this ice cream she mentioned that she loved, then i asked later if she needed anything else while i was out. Which she accepted, she give me a list of a few things and it was a little pricey (The bill was a little over80 dollars).
I take it to her house and her dad sees the bags and really seems unhappy about the amount of food. Like he wasn't rude or aggressive to me, but there was this tension in the air. Like he wants me gone.
And later, my gf calls me and says her dad fussed at her. He made her feel bad because she got that stuff for free and didn't pay me back anything. I made it clear i did it cause i really like her and i know she's been struggling to get a job.I wanted to help her.
She told me that he doesn't want her to be taking advantage of me and that i was spoiling her. She told me "She eats well"
And now, 3 days later, she hasn't really talked to me since then (we talked almost every day prior) so i think i might've messed up. Either by buying the groceries for her or by just generally buying her gifts and things
She makes it seem like he thought i was spoiling her or that she was taking advantage of me and that's why he fussed at her. She also said it might be because she didn't have permission to have me over or didn't tell them first. I don't know.
Her dad was nice to me, but he seemed like he was trying to kind of...get me out of their house. He told me "You don't wanna keep your ride waiting" and how she "Has a job interview this afternoon". But we shook hands and he asked me about my job.

First/Previous
The travel took on a less gloomy quality in the day that passed since Gemma’s self-reflection and although there remained a queer distance in her eyes, she seemed in better spirits in losing the weight of the words.
It was a night just beyond Wabash Crevasse that we pushed on till sunset was almost upon us and we were each tired and the food stocks ran low and so we found harbor in a half collapsed cellar where a home once stood; it was only after examining the slatted, rotted boards of the old place, fallen over, tired with decay, that we spied the cellar doors intact; sheets of door metal plied us with safety from the outside world and the interior of the place stank of mold and the deeper recesses were collapsed, but there was a cradle to crossbar the stair hatch and I put my prybar there for the night. We finished the water and canned tomatoes, and I smoked a cigarette, staving off the inevitable doom which would come with the dwindling of our supplies.
I’d peeked through the space where the doors met at the cellar’s entry and watched the full darkness there while the youngins spoke of life and the trivial pursuits of it and I hardly said a word besides.
Sitting on the lowest step with Trouble dumbly maintaining her station by me, by the low glow of the space in the threshold, I saw they’d pushed their bedrolls together and Andrew had fallen asleep with his arm over Gemma’s shoulder and her eyes glowed with shine from the crack, blinked a few times while seeing me; she too eventually drifted to sleep, and I spent time by the secured door.
Gunshots rang across the stillness, and they stirred from their quiet slumber and Gemma asked, “Harlan, is it alright?”
I moved to the space there at the doorway again and listened and watched what I could through that crack and nothing beyond came. “It’s safe. I’ll be up a bit longer. I’ll watch.”
Andrew asked, “Can’t sleep?”
“I’ll sleep in a bit. Don’t worry about me. Rest. Sleep good and we can put more behind us.
They sat up, legs crossed triangle-wise, and Gemma spoke again, “Why do you have such a hard time sleeping? It seems I’m asleep after you and only awake after you too.”
“Yeah,” said Andrew.
“It’s cool at night. I can listen to the wind.” I shrugged.
“You should be the one that tries to get some sleep,” said Andrew.
I said nothing.
They reached out their arms and I shook my head.
“Here,” Gemma said, “Move your bedroll closer.” She reached across the dirt floor of the cellar and dragged my splayed roll so that it sat beside hers.
“I’ll sleep later.” I turned my attention back to the door and ignored them till their sounds of sleep could be heard. The Alukah was nowhere and did not tap on the door that night and when I moved to sleep, I shimmied onto the roll beside them, facing away on my shoulder; the dog followed, laid on the bare dirt beside me and I held the mutt.
Though I refused a noise as they stirred in the absolute darkness, I felt Gemma’s arm fall over my own shoulder and felt Andrew’s hand touch my back, and water traced the bridge of my nose and I slept deeply thereafter.
There was no breakfast without food, and the water was gone; I felt the eyes of the dog on us as we packed up our belongings that next morning and I tried not to imagine the poor animal skinned over fire. I smiled at Trouble, patted its head, scratched its chin; she sniffed my hand like she was looking for something that wouldn’t be found.
We went west again, ignoring roads and pushed through straight wasteland where nothing was and no one was, and with every dry footfall on the dry hard ground, I wished for rain, and I wished that when it had rained, as infrequent as it was, that I had been wise enough to save what we could from the sky; that sky was red and swollen and refused to burst. We pushed on through strange dead thickets where grayed and twisty yellow branches lurched from the ground into the sky like even they too wished for an end to all the suffering. It was days more till we would see Alexandria and though I could stave off hunger (thirst too, if necessary), I was not so certain that the children would be able to push on without it; they did not complain and watched the ground in our march and maintained higher spirits than I could’ve imagined from them.
Early in the day, they spoke often, and I listened and as they wore on, their words came less and even the dog seemed in a lower mood for the unsaid predicament; me too.
Gemma broke the silence on the matter by saying, “What are we going to do about food? Water?”
“We’ll push on.”
“We could turn back?” asked Andrew.
“The more time we spend out in the open, outside of a city, the more likely it is that the Alukah will catch us unawares. Tighten your belts.” Our feet took us around a dilapidated truck, an old thing with a rusty hook which dangled off a rear arm. “Save your urine.”
They made faces but did not protest.
“Does that work? You ever drink pee?” asked Andrew.
I laughed, “I thought we’d be there by now. I took us too long by trying to drop the scent of the Alukah. That thing’s hunted us for days—last night was the first time it ain’t bothered us. It’s got me wondering why.”
Gemma piped up, licking her dry lips before speaking, “Do you think that monster ran into those scavengers we saw?” Then I caught her shooting a look at Andrew, “At least we warned them.” Her smile was faint and almost indiscernible as one.
I shrugged. “Can’t say. Don’t think it’s smart to turn back. Won’t be long and we’ll touch the 40 and then it’ll be a straight on to Babylon—couple of days—can’t turn back though. Maybe without food; that’s doable. Water’s the worst, but if it comes to it,” I paused and looked on the weathered faces of the children, on the lowered head of Trouble which followed her nose across the ground (it searched just short of frantic), “Like I said, ‘save your urine’.”
The first pains of hunger held within me brought up some reminiscence and I wished for nothing more than to hold Suzanne; I could nearly smell them and in the swaying walk which took us on past toppled townships, I held long blinks where I could nearly make out their face and if I really pushed the limits of my imagination, I could feel them. In those moments, as we passed dead places, rotted pits of despair, I could think of little more than their presence. Though I knew it was a dangerous game, hoping for more than I was worth, I hoped for Suzanne then and I wished that I’d taken them up on their offer to travel to Alexandria with them; it could’ve been home—it never was in all the times I’d gone there, but who knows? The thoughts of Babylon brought forth their gardens; the wild gardens and the water which flowed freely through their pipes. I wished I was a different person entirely and that too would’ve been better for Suzanne; how it was that they’d seen anything in me, I don’t know. How it was that they could stoop to the level of being with someone like me—I warded off that thought, because to place the blame there would certainly be unfair. I thought of my love plainly and wanted a different life more suited to them.
Imaginations played more furiously, and I remembered the evening when Dave stopped me from leaping from that roof—it’s doubtful that he even realized that he’d slowed my demise; perhaps he did know—I wished then that I could ask him. Too kind for the world. People too kind for the world were scarce and hardly worth the trouble. Yet, there I was, chaperoning those two across the wastes.
Gemma was a broken person when I’d found her, tortured in Baphomet’s well; Andrew was a dullard boy who’d lost his hand. What a silly predicament.
I stopped in my movements and swiveled on my heel to catch Andrew by the shoulder. “You still got your hand, don’t you?”
In good humor, the boy grinned, lifted the nub on the end of his left forearm to show me, “Nope.”
“Dammit, no! The hand in the jar!”
Andrew raised his eyebrows. “In my pack.”
“Stop,” I commanded Trouble; the dog hardly recognized my words and continued a way then circled back, sad eyes looking up from where she took to sit by my side. Gemma, both arms dangling loosely from her own pack’s shoulder straps, took into the circle we’d formed.
The girl asked, “What about the jar? It’s nasty, but I guess it’s his.”
“I think that’s it,” I said. I took Andrew by his shoulders, looked him in his eyes, “We could use it!”
“What?” The boy almost laughed in the display of our concern. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“I think I’ve got it! It’s good for a trap.” I shook him; maybe too hard. I almost smiled. “It’s worth a shot!”
“It’s mine.” He bit his top lip, withdrew from me.
“You’ll feel differently about that,” I said.
Gemma placed a hand on Andrew’s pack and tried ripping it open. “Give it to him!” shouted the girl.
The boy whipped from her grasp, and he spun on his feet, and panic stood on his face. “It’s mine, isn’t it?”
I took a step forward, “No, not anymore.” I put out my palm, “Give it.”
Andrew nearly flinched at the thought of it and shook his head a little. “Why?”
“I told you why,” I said.
“You don’t even know if it’ll work, do you?” his words were long in protest.
The girl started again, “Andrew, please.”
He locked eyes with Gemma and once again, his bottom teeth came up to meet over his top lip and he moved his jaw methodically with contemplation.
“What does it even matter?” she asked.
“It’s mine. You don’t know what it’s like.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!”
“C’mon,” he said, but his pack straps fell from his shoulders, and he hunkered down on the ground and opened his bag; his right hand plunged into the recesses therein and withdrew the jar with his severed left hand. He held the object up, refusing to come up from his open pack, keeping his eyes on the ground. “Take it then.” He shook the jar; its contents sloshed with liquid decay.
I grabbed the thing, held it to skylight; the remains within had congealed and rotted and lumps nearly floated in the brownish liquid which had formed in the base of the container. I shook it and stared for a moment at the miniscule debris which floated alongside the hand; each of its digits had swollen and erupted to expose bone; some had come away in pieces. “Tomorrow,” I said and nodded.
We gathered ourselves and Andrew pulled his pack on again and we moved, Trouble still looked sorry and the boy remained quiet while the girl chattered on with questions while we took through the dying ground in a formation with the dog on point then me then the children.
“What will you do with it?” she asked me.
“Not sure yet.”
Andrew made a noise like he wanted to say something but didn’t.
“You think it will work?” asked Gemma.
“Nothing’s a guarantee. They’re smart—Alukah.”
“Smart enough to figure out a trap?”
I shrugged. “We’ll find out.”
“We could put stakes in a pit.”
“Keep on the lookout for a building. Something with multiple floors.”
With that, we moved on, found a worn, mostly destroyed road and we fell into a travelling quiet and the thought of hunger or thirst arose again, and I pushed it down—though I knew the uneasiness could only last so long before savagery would overtake the human condition; the kids seemed strong enough, but I kept an eye on the dog too. Savagery belonged not only to humans, after all.
The ground of the wastes was harder when it was quiet, and it was flatter further west. The sky—red and full of thin and transparent drifting clouds—seemed an awful sight when stared at for too long; it was the thing which stretched as if to signal there wasn’t an end in any direction, as if to declare we had much more to go till safety. Wanderlust is a thing that I believe I’ve felt before, but under that sky, with those two and the dog, I didn’t feel it at all. It was doom that I felt. Ignorance and doom. And it was all because I was certain I’d made all the wrong mistakes, and it was coming back to me. I was experienced. We should’ve had food and water. Perhaps there was some deep and nasty part inside of me that had intended to sacrifice them along the way. The words of the Alukah might have rung true: You say you make no deals, but I smell it. I think you’d deal.
Surely, I felt differently. Surely.
“Getting darker,” called Andrew as we came to where signposts—worn and bent and barely legible—told us of a place once called Annapolis and the buildings were nearly gone entirely; places, maybe places that were once homes, were leveled—I was briefly caught in imagining what it might’ve been like all those ages ago. As are most places, it was haunted like that and when we came to a long rectangular structure of metal walls—thin walls—we took it as a place for rest for the night.
It once served as an agricultural station, for when we breached its entry, there were a line of dead machines—three in all—cultivators or tillers which stood higher than any of our heads and Gemma asked what they were, and I told her I thought they were for farming. The great rusted bodies stood in quiet shadow as we came through a side passage of the building and the great doors which had once been used to release those machines from the building stood frozen in their frame. I approached the doors, lighting my lantern and motioning for the children to shut the door we’d entered through.
Upon closer inspection, it seemed the doors would roll into the ceiling and the chains which held the doors in place were each secured with rusted padlocks—I removed my prybar from my pack and moved along the wall of doors, giving each old lock a smack with the weapon; each one held in place, seemingly fused there through years of corrosion, and I rounded the cultivators once more, back to the children, near the side door where they’d discovered a rickety stair frame which crawled up the side of the wall to a catwalk; along the catwalk, a levitated box stood at the height of the structure, stilted by metal legs, and we took the stairs slowly with the dog following close behind; the poor mutt was mute save the sound of its own shuffling paws.
The metal stairs creaked under our weight and Gemma held her own lantern high over her head so that the strange shadows of the place grew longer, stranger, and suddenly I felt very sure that something was in the dark with us, but there was no noise except what we made. My eyes scanned the darkness, and I followed the children up the stairs till we met the overhang of the catwalk and I peered into the shadows, the blades of the cultivators—far extended on foldable arms—struck up through the pool of blackness beneath us and I felt so cold there and if it were not for the breath of my fellow travelers, I might have been lost in the dark for longer than intended—lost and frozen and contemplative.
“There’s a room,” said the boy, and he pushed ahead on the hanging passage, and he was the first to the door. “Boxes,” he said plainly.
Upon coming to the place where he stood, Gemma pushed her lantern over the threshold, and I saw what he’d meant as I traced my own lantern to help; the room was crammed with plastic totes and old metal containers of varied sizes. There seemed to be enough empty space to maneuver through the room, but only if one watched their feet while they walked. Carefully.
We moved to the room, and I found a stack of crates to place my lantern then motioned for Gemma to douse hers. In minutes, the place was rearranged so that we could sit comfortably on the floor; crates lined the walls precariously and we breathed heavy from the work done, but we began to unpack and upon watching the children while I rolled a cigarette, I felt a pang of guilt, a terrible summation—all choices in my life had led me here and with them and perhaps it would have been a better world for them without me.
Mentally shrugging this thought away, I lit my cigarette, inhaled deeply, and then withdrew the jar which Andrew had handed over. I held it to the lantern to examine it. The grotesqueness of it hardly phased me and I watched it more curious and hopeful than disgusted.
“I hope it’ll work,” said the boy, “Whatever it is that you plan on doing with it.” He grimaced and maintained a further silence in patting his bedding for fluff. The dog moved to him, and she pushed her forehead against him where he squatted on floor. The boy scratched Trouble’s chin and whispered, “Good girl,” into the top of her head where he’d pushed his own face.
“I’m hungry,” said Gemma; she placed her chin in her arm while watching Andrew with the dog. She sat on her own flat bed there on the floor and stated plainly the thing that I’d hoped to ignore for longer.
“I know.” I took another drag from the cigarette and let the smoke hang over my head. “The dog?”
Andrew recoiled, pulling Trouble closer into his arms.
I smiled. “It was a joke.”
Andrew relaxed, but only a moment before Gemma added, “Maybe.”
The boy narrowed his eyes in the girl’s direction, and she shrugged. “If it’s life or death.”
He didn’t say anything and merely continued stroking Trouble’s coat.
That night, we slept awfully and even in the complete darkness, I felt the cramp of the storage room and the angled shapes of the tools that protruded from the containers on all sides remained permanent well after we’d turned the light off and it felt like those shapes were the teeth of a great creature like we were sitting inside of its mouth, looking out.
Trouble positioned herself partially on my chest, her slow rhythmic breathing brought my thoughts calm and I whispered to her in the dark after I was sure the others were asleep, “I promise it was a joke.” And I brushed the back of her neck with my hand and the animal let go of a long sigh then continued that deep rhythmic breathing.
Still without food or water, the following day was the true indication of the misery to come. Gemma’s stomach growled audibly in waking and Andrew—though he kept his complaints to himself—smacked his lips more often or protruded the tongue in his mouth in a starvation for water. The room, in the daylight which peered through pinpricks of its half-decayed roof, seemed another beast altogether from its nighttime counterpart; it was not so frightening. Again, I admonished myself for the lack of preparation, but there was another thought that brought together a more cohesive feeling; we had a possible plan, a trap for the demon that’d been following us.
We went into the field to the west of the building where there was only dirt beneath our feet in the early sunlight and in the coolness of morning air, I nearly felt like a person. The sun crested the horizon and brought with it a warmth that would quickly become overwhelming—in those few minutes though—it felt good enough. I wished for the shy dew and saw none. The weirdness of holding Andrew’s rotting hand in a jar momentarily caught me and I almost laughed, but refrained and the dog and the children looked on while I held the container up and suddenly, seeing the congealed mass of tissue floating in its own excretions, I was overcome with the urge to run, the urge that nothing would ever be right again in my life, and that I was marked to be that way.
I blinked and tossed the jar to Andrew. “Say goodbye,” I said. He fumbled after it with his right hand and caught it to his chest.
“It’s strange you care so much anyway,” said Gemma, shrugging—her eyes forgave a millisecond of pity and when Andrew looked at her, still holding the jar in his right hand, she smiled and stuffed her hands into the pockets of her pants.
“We’ve enough oil, I think,” my voice was raspy from it being early, “Enough for good fire, but if we use it, it’ll mean a few more dark nights on our way.”
“We’re going to set it on fire?” Andrew pondered, keeping his eyes to the contents of the jar. “It worked good enough last time. It’ll work,” I nodded, “I has to, doesn’t it?”
His dry lips creased into a brief smile, and he tossed the jar back to me and I caught it.
“Let’s dig,” I said.
Without much in the way of proper tools, we began at the ground under us with our hands, then taking turns with my prybar till there was a hole in the ground comfortably large enough to conceal a human head and I uncapped the jar and spilled it contents there and we covered it back and I lightly tamped it with my boot. My eyes scanned the outbuilding we’d taken refuge in the night prior and then to the street to the north then to the houses which stood as merely rotted plots of foundation with frames that struck from the ground more as markers than support. “I’ll take up over there across the street when it gets dark. I want you two in that storage room before anything goes off.”
“We can’t help?” asked Gemma.
“You can help by staying out of the way—the mutt too,” I said; the words were harsh, but my feelings were from worry.
“Wouldn’t it be better if we stuck together?” asked the girl.
I shook my head. “You stay in the room and keep quiet. No matter what you hear, you stay quiet and safe.”
“That’ll put you at a bigger risk,” Gemma furrowed her brow at me and shifted around to look out on the houses across the street, “There’s hardly any cover over there.”
The boy nodded, smacked his lips, and rubbed his forearm across his mouth then audibly agreed with her.
“Doesn’t matter,” I said, “No matter what you hear happening outside, no matter, you don’t open the door and you don’t scream—don’t make a noise at all. Alright? Even if you hear me calling you, you don’t do it.”
“Pfft,” Gemma crossed her arms and kicked her foot against the ground. The way her eyes seemed hollowed with bruising showed that the irritation would only grow without food. “Alright,” she finally sighed.
Andrew looked much the same as she did in that; he swallowed a dry swallow then stuffed his hand into his pocket and looked away when our eyes matched.
We gathered our light oil. Altogether, it seemed enough; rummaging through the room of the outbuilding we’d earlier taken refuge within, we managed three intact glass containers—the only ones found that wouldn’t leak with liquid; two were bottles and the third was the jar that’d once kept Andrew’s hand. With that work done, we sat with three Molotov cocktails within our huddled circle of the storage room.
“Is it enough?” asked Gemma.
“We’ll see,” I began rolling a cigarette to ignore the hunger and the thirst.
Andrew took to the corner and glanced over his shoulder only a moment before a steady liquid stream could be heard and when he rotated from the wall once the noise was finished and he held a canteen up to his nose, sniffed it and quivered and shook his head.
As the sun pushed on, I scanned the perimeter outside, and they followed. Far south I spied a mass of shadow inching across the horizon and Gemma commented, “What’s that?”
I pushed the binoculars to her and let her gaze through them.
“A fiend—that’s what we called it back in the day anyway. A mutant.”
She held the binoculars up and frowned. “A mutant? So, it was once human?”
“A fiend was once many humans.” I pointed out to the horizon though she couldn’t see me doing so and continued, “If you look at the edges of its shape, you’ll see it’s got limbs galore on it. Sticking up like hairs is what it’ll look like at this distance. Those are arms and legs. It’s got faces too. Many faces.” I shuddered.
“I can barely see any details,” she passed the binoculars to Andrew, and he looked through them, “What’s it do?”
“What?” I asked.
“What’s it do if it catches a person?”
“It pulls people into it. Makes you apart of its mass. Nasty fuckers.”
Andrew removed the lenses from his eyes and held them to his chest and asked, “It won’t mess up your trap, will it?”
“We’ll keep an eye on it,” I said, “You don’t want to mess with a fiend unless you have to.”
First/Previous
Archive

AITB for buying my girlfriend groceries?
Just to preface this, i've genuinely never dated before. She's my first girlfriend ever, at 26.
I usually do buy her things or pay both our ways whenever we go out. Like when i take her to a movie, i usually cover it all myself. I bought her dinner and paid her shoe rental when we went bowling. Plus i've bought her gifts, like the groceries and i bought her flowers. It's just what i've always assumed a guy does for his date. (Am i wrong for thinking that, i genuinely don't know. I'm new to this and only know what i've seen in movies/tv)
She always does appreciate it, like she seems genuinely moved by it. She'll get emotional, hug me and tell me i either don't need to do it or offers to pay me back. There's also been a couple times where she bought something for herself or me on dates so i'm not covering it 100% (Like after i covered the meal and our shoe rental, she bought her own drink just for example).
Currently, she's between jobs. We were talking on the phone and she was talking about her favorite desserts and in that same conversation, she mentioned how she's struggling financially. She's relying on her savings and her parents help her, but they're trying to get her more independent. I told her if she needed anything to tell me, but she said she's afraid to ask people for things and only takes help that's offered. So i offered to buy her some groceries. At first, i offered to buy her this ice cream she mentioned that she loved, then i asked later if she needed anything else while i was out. Which she accepted, she give me a list of a few things and it was a little pricey (The bill was a little over80 dollars).
I take it to her house and her dad sees the bags and really seems unhappy about the amount of food. Like he wasn't rude or aggressive to me, but there was this tension in the air. Like he wants me gone.
And later, my gf calls me and says her dad fussed at her. He made her feel bad because she got that stuff for free and didn't pay me back anything. I made it clear i did it cause i really like her and i know she's been struggling to get a job.I wanted to help her.
She told me that he doesn't want her to be taking advantage of me and that i was spoiling her. She told me "She eats well"
And now, 3 days later, she hasn't really talked to me since then (we talked almost every day prior) so i think i might've messed up. Either by buying the groceries for her or by just generally buying her gifts and things (IE: i bought her some flowers, the food, i usually pay whatever food bills when we eat out)
I don't know what the issue is. She makes it seem like he thought i was spoiling her or that she was taking advantage of me and that's why he fussed at her. Or maybe he was offended by me giving her the food instead of him as the dad (Her family is a little traditional christian type). She also said it might be because she didn't have permission to have me over or didn't tell them first. I don't know.
Her dad was nice to me, but he seemed like he was trying to kind of...get me out of their house. He told me "You don't wanna keep your ride waiting" and how she "Has a job interview this afternoon". But we shook hands and he asked me about my job.
But yeah, i mean...it got her fussed at and she hasn't really been engaged in talking to me since. So i think i might've gone too far.

For context, he's a neutered 3year old basset mix 71 pounds not considered overweight since he's fairly tall for his stubby legs. A week ish ago he had woke up one morning and was just limping on his back leg all the way to the back door. He ran after a squirrel in the yard, and was ’better'. But you could see he was hobbling on it a bit.
We went to the vet and got pain pills to see if it helps a long with some rest. For a few days the same limp would happen after he'd wake up and be gone as he moved more. He's out of pills now and no longer limps but is still hobbly. And its difficult to see.
It's the leg that he sits on his hip with. And he also turns it slightly inward when walking. The knee also clicks occasionally. The vet is leaning towards luxating putella if it doesn't resolve or possible acl tear which would be his second. I've noticed on our morning walks he no longer pulls nor does he play tug hard. He runs just fine and prior to the limp was hard core running after his dog friends. Its not quite how it happened with his other leg but it's similar and a previous vet had already diagnosed a luxating patella.
I'm really worried for my pup and I really don't want to face another couple of months of recovery. What makes this difficult is I have to be in office during the summer and can't work from home till August.
The next steps are x-rays. After his first round of X-rays for his previous ACL injury, his limp was noticeabley worse. Is it possible with either of these injuries to hold off on X-rays for a couple of months?
I'm trying to keep him mostly chilled out but he still gets sick of it and loses his mind after a couple rest days. I let him play chase after a few days of walking and gentle play. He was doing good after a few days on pain meds. Its been really hard to see his limp throughout the day but he no longer pulls on his leash which I don't think is good. He normally doesn't pull super hard but he likes to walk fairly fast and has just been going so slow. He doesn't flinch it away when I tried to touch his leg. It just seems super achey and today he had a bad hobble after chasing some squirrels on our walk.
Long shot, but Is it possible that he's just simply sprained a toe or something benign since it's not as pronounced a limp and he just needs strict leash walks for a few more days?
For now I've requested more pain meds. I called the vet but the receptionist couldn't give a straight answer, and I'm guessing all the docs were busy. I can't imagine the follow up will be productive without X-rays. Any advice helps thanks.

Yes, I am aware this may not be worth anyones time...bear with me. Especially you you BIG Texas GUY! Actin all big. Acting all smug! Hiding in the Alamo like most Texans do... living it up with your 5lb bag of tofu jerky, like the soy boy really are... deep inside. Yea, you probably bought that shit with the money you claim to not spend on Jack Daniels HONEY!
I KNOW BETTER! I know what you're really up to with that last 5$
Better known by you as 4.60 euro. Since your so in love with acting like a French PRINCE!
DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU PUT ME THROUGH!
Go ahead, convert that back to 5 USD like a real BIG GUY! AND WHAT DO YOU GET!
YOU GET NOTHIN!
Or atleast thats what you, and the so called customer service that my fiance never contacted thinks! Yea. I bet your like maybe if you did, but ive had enough of what if... You caffine covered RAT! If thats what you even claim to be! Who knows!
Its been nearly two years, schlatt. (Thats right amongst all of the capitalization I [capitalized!] Chose to lower case your name and will from here on out!) Anytime I listen to you. WHICH I USUALLY DONT MIND DOING! However, thats starting to change! Ya wana know why?
Its not because all of the god damn dogs you've made too scared to serve MY country. I could make LIST schlatt. A list... numbering the things you find more important than me!
Its because almost two entire years have passed... and my fiance is still waiting for her sampler that she NEVER RECIEVED!
You know what i do most often schlatt.(god why can't I make your name smaller)

 I WORK SCHLATT 

With my regretful hands! I wake up, shower, and in that shower it's not so bad to hear you just act like you don't give a shit. But on the other side of that wall when I walk out is my fiance.
Do you know that all that good ass work juice you pump my heart leaks out all over my shitty wood floor right when she point it out.
She says,"Is that schlatt, I can't believe he did that to me!?" Anytime she hears your voice. She use to like you shlatt... Shes hot as shit covered in tattoos, beautiful smile... and you took her last 5 USD, the type of currency that we use here in America, and she invested in you schlatt. She wanted those samplers.
I hear about this roughly every other day since. She won't let it go. Why would you take her money. Why make her do this instead of talking to support? Why won't you, without being aware, reach out to ME personally and fix my little shower problem.
Do you know what it's like to come home after standing on a ladder all day just to have someone you consider to be a hero, a friend, a brother just repeatedly stomp on your loved ones bank account!? Not even sprinkle any dust in there?
I hate to say it but if you don't do something soon I may loose it all. We were willing, where were you when she needed you schlatt. Why do I have to hear this every time I try to listen to you. I'm trying to help you! I'm not even asking for a refund, I just need your advice... she doesn't see you the way she did schlatt... and I'm afraid she will never recover.
I will not be gratified by your response. I can continue to imagine you as some sort of dog stomping ghost if i need to. You have a responsiblity here. She WAS your fan. Can you help a helpess homie out with a solution here or what.
BECAUSE IF YOU CAN NOT I'M GOING TO HAVE TO SEE IF TUCKER OR TED HAVE ANY DUST FOR SALE!
IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT US TO DRINK. I see no other option. Bring her back, don't put Teds fucking dust in my mouth BRO! Just do something. Please! Before it's all over. I have four step children that are going to be drinking the dust off of these guys dude. Its just not right what you have done to me. Sometimes you can try your best and all you have is smog flavored dust. However, Tucker's has a rather robust high note. So idk may just have to drink his dust i guess... until i jump off a bridge into normal water. With no tits... no juice... no hope.
No hope guys! No hope and no dust!
I don't want to hear it again!