Imaes of wedge hair cut

This may sound silly but I don’t know whether it’s abuse or not.
I always feel on edge to say certain things to my girlfriend and she doesn’t allow me to have a different hair style for one.
She constantly has a go at me for every small detail. Like I farted to much the other day and she went off on one how embarrassing I am because of it.
I never have a lie in even tho I am the only one who works I always wake up with our little one every night and every morning ( unless I have work then she has to wake up with him in the morning but I still get up all through the night, she Never does)
If I take 5/10 mins longer to go the shop then that will be an aurguement when I got home.
She calls me names, if I hurt my self at work and mention that I hurt my self today she calls me a pussy and to man up don’t tell me about a cut in your hand other people don’t moan about it.
I can write an extensive list as the the problems she tells me I do.
I just don’t know where to turn to or what to think anymore, I can’t think for my self anymore as I don’t want to cause an aurguement over something I have done

Hi all,
Thank you for taking the time to read my post, I appreciate your opinions. Things have been going well dating my gf of 4 months. We took things slow to really get to know each other before making things official. Since things were progressing well, we discussed our families and relatives and how we wanted to introduce each other to our families. During this discussion, I learnt my gf’s stepfather has a criminal history. I would be lying if I said it did not create feelings of doubt and unease within me to continue to relationship.
My gf’s stepfather came into their life when they were 18 when the stepfather married her mother. My gf moved out when they were 22. The stepfather served 10 years in prison starting at age 19 for choking his drug dealer to death after an argument while high. My gf said because their stepfather was pretty with blond hair and blue eyes, to survive in prison he joined the skinheads white supremist group and got a racist tattoo. My gf said the stepfather is a changed man with regret for his past. The stepfather got his degree in prison, reflected on his past, and swore to never repeat his mistakes. When he got out, he had a daughter to whom my gf says he has been the best dad to. He worked hard and built a business for himself. Despite that, his daughter cut contact with him after age 18. It devastated him and forced him to look inwards and become a better man. My gf says because of this, the stepfather considers her his child and really dots on her and their mother.
My gf said they initially hated the stepfather because of his past and warned her mother against dating him. Over time, she saw how well the stepfather treated her mother and began to accept him into their lives. She says the step father is one of the kindest men they have ever met. Extremely conflict adverse to the point the mother wears the pants. My gf says if I give him a chance, I will come to like him too like she does. idk
I feel unease with the fact. I asked her why their stepfather never removed the tattoo after coming out of prison, she said the tattoo was a part of his life in prison, a reminder of the mistakes he has made. I asked if he still does drugs and she said he has been sober for years. I try to be understanding but something is eating away in my mind.
My internal conflict is two factors
1) I am a person of color and I do not think my family will accept me dating someone with immediate family who was racist and a past murderer even if he is a changed man
2) my gf has been great so far, and this man’s history is independent from her. She wasn’t even raised by him, so I feel its unfair to see my gf in a negative light for something they did not do. However, I think this is a major consideration for a future relationship even if she is at no fault
I do not know what to do or even how to approach the situation. My gf has never done anything to break my trust or make me see her in a negative light and this situation is so far out of their control I cannot blame them. However, I am unease with things going forward given my family is not white and a little part of me fear for my own and their safety
I’d really appreciate your opinions on how to move forward with integrity, dignity and respect for myself and gf. What would you guys do? How would you approach this situation? Am I overreacting?
Thank you
TLDR: I am a person of color and I found out my gf's stepfather has been to prison for murdering his drug dealer while high as a 19 year old, 30 years ago and served 10 years in prison. He joined the skinheads in prison to survive and got a racist tattoo he has not removed. My gf has been great but as a person of color, I am unsure how to proceed with this new information

I am not entirely sure how to write this so please excuse the word vomit that is about to happen. Thank you.
I am an 18 year old online college student and I've always had a bit of trouble making friends and being able to keep them. My anxious tendency's make it hard for me to fully understand why someone would truly want to be my friend. I'm in therapy trying to work this my issues and trying to find better ways of communication. While I've only been in therapy for a short while I, personally, feel like made a ton of progress. I have contacted old friends and have made a couple new ones. I wouldn't go as far to say that I don't struggle with responding but I eventually will.
A big part of my anxiety is that I might take up "too much space", that my behavior would be "too much", that I would be annoying, and ultimately that people would hate be and I'd be lonely. My anxiety sometimes blinds me and I can't tell who I can and can't trust. I see the word alone being used a lot when people use it to describe how they feel but I don't feel alone. The word alone in the dictionary reads "having no one present" and the work lonely in the dictionary reads "without companions; solitary; cut off from others". I believe that the word lonely fits the description of my feeling better than alone. I know that I enjoy my alone time - my space - but for a long time I couldn't tell the difference between the two.
The first time I ever really felt my anxiety was in middle school. My younger self was much more open and optimistic than I am now. I still had that child-like wonder and sense of safety; like nothing could ever go wrong. I wish that feeling never left. As it is for most people, middle school was horrible. I remember being eccentric, happy, and very talkative. This was a direct hit for those "mean girl clicks" everyone had encountered in middle school. At that time I never really understand how cruel the world could truly be. This was the moment I truly felt the anxiety click in, hearing people talk behind your back then be so loving and caring to your face.I won't say that I am a saint because I know that I have also had rude conversations behind peoples backs and I can say nothing eats me alive more then knowing how rude I was. I know that it is almost impossible to get people to not talk about you behind your back, it happens to everyone but this never stopped me from trying.
Those "mean girl clicks" used to talk about how I'm too loud, annoying, they hated my hair, the way I dressed, etc. And I can positively say this went on with me though my entire life. I started dressing in all black, I would speak unless spoken to, I would keep my opinion to myself unless cued otherwise; I did all of this and more just to try and keep the attention off of me. I would keep a book with me at all times so I didn't disrupt anyone so that wouldn't be annoying. I was so fearful of seeing self-centered, being too much to handle, annoying, egotistical, and entitled to how much damage I was doing to my self worth in the long run. I wanted to so anything to avoid being those words because I thought that it would earn me friends; I thought that it would finally make me worthy.
All of this is to say that this was of living followed me though my life. Anytime someone needed something I was the first to volunteer, I wanted to help everyone in every way I could, I wanted to be a natural friend of people. A neutral friend - someone who was like enough to keep around but not noticeable enough to be talked about behind their back. I did this with everyone I met at school, work, family, etc. With this my therapist has helped me open up more and I've gotten more comfortable with myself and the fact that it's okay for me to take up space. However, I am still very aware of how I am acting and how I might be perceived. I think three times about what I am going to say before I say it to make sure I don't say anything that can hurt someone. Does it still accidentally happen, yes, but I am always empathic about it and I always apologize.
I have been in a bit of a job switch recently and I am working with people much older than me and I have had a hard time with management. My most recent bosses and have rude, unforgiving, and disrespectful. Now I understand that not all jobs will be perfect and for the most part you just have to deal with it but as I've said above I take comments that are made to me seriously. I know this can be a bad thing to do but my anxiety had a tendency to pick it up and run with it. My employer makes the schedule on a monthly basis, I am a full-time employee, and for the past two months I have worked 20-25 days each month and now the new schedule (June) I am only scheduled to work for 11 days. With quick math working 11 days can't pay my car insurance let alone the car note. I was understandably, in my opinion, upset and I took it up with them the next day so that I was not speaking out of anger in the moment. When I brought it up to my employer the next morning they told me that 30% of my productivity can from them helping me and the other 70% came from me working alone. I was essentially told that my productivity level was too low and that if I wanted to work more then I need to "prove myself". This honestly stirred a lot of my past worried and anxieties about never be good enough and not being worthy. And while that's not what was explicitly said it is what my anxiety heard.
When I finally got home (I live with a relative) they asked me what was wrong and I had explained the situation with that and I that I felt like I was being productive and trying my hardest. They had brought up the idea that my productivity level might be the issue and when I asked further I was met with one of the more gut-wrenching comments I have ever had anyone say about me. They told me that I act entitled. I have been called many things but for be being called entitled, one of the very things I have tried so hard not to be, it completely broke me inside. I have entered a few inserts below about my "Being Entitled" search.
Entitled - Adjective - Google Definition

• Believing oneself to be inherently deserving of privileges or special treatment.

What does it mean to be entitled? - Cambridge.org

• Feeling that you have the right to do or have what you want without having to work for it or deserve it just because you are who you are.

How do entitled people behave? - Well Mind Article

• Demanding special treatment, expecting others to do things for you, not showing gratitude, and the need for constant adornment.

Example of being entitled - Psychologytoday.org

• You see your own interest more interesting than others. See your goal and desires to be more valid than others. You disregard rules that are intended for everyones comfort.

What does entitled mean as an insult?

• In many cases, describing someone as entitled may be a criticism of their behavior or attitude, suggesting that they display a lack of humility or an unrealistic sense of self-importance.

With going though and finding all of these articles describing what an entitled person acts like I don't think that I fit into this category. I try so hard to make everyone happy to make sure that their days are going good. I have always shown gratitude when someone does something for me and I have a tendency to say that "I am sorry" even if it has nothing to do with me. They called me entitled on Monday the 27th of May and it is not June 2nd and I never received an apology. This evening I brought it up during a discussion and they asked if it was really still think about it. Part of me wanted to say no that it was just a joke, bottle it up, and move on but I didn't. Instead I said, yes I am, you never said sorry for being rude me, and all they said was that they were being honest. I told them I understand honesty but they could have brought it up in a nice more adult manner. They brushed me off and told be I was being a baby about it that I should take it for face value and "re-evaluate myself". They were never specific about any time I was acting "entitled". When I brought up why it was rude to me and that it was a main center point for my anxiety and that my therapist was helping me finally get through it; they told be that my therapist can't be the only person I talk to about my feelings. They told me that this is not what she is here for. That I needed to talk to my friends and family instead. But this is the problem, I thought that I was so safe with this relative (emotions wise) and now I have been proven wrong so I don't see any reason I would open up to them now. I also brought up the point that it is hard for me to make friends. They looked and me and said well I try and get you to go out to clubs and events but I just don't find it easy to make friends like that. I like quiet spaces where things are calm but even in settings like those it's so hard for me to make friends.
They still never apologized and I truly don't think that they will. I've been dwelling on their comment about me being entitled everyday. And everyday it makes me more and more anxious, I've noticed myself being more secluded to avoid stepping on anyones toes. I think what I am looking for here is opinions that aren't mine or theirs. I know that was a lot to read but if you did I would appreciate some feedback. Do I seem entitled? Do I deserve an apology? How do I deal with something like this because I am completely lost.
Thank you for reading my word-vomit <3

hi everyone! i’m 21 and i want to dye my hair with red henna. i have dark brown hair and its straight when blow dried but a little tiny wavy when air dried. i was wondering if the red would even show up on my hair color and if it would damage it at all? my hair isn’t as healthy as it used to be because of my diet tbh and right now it’s at my waist but im planning to cut it to just under my shoulders and that’s when i would dye my hair with henna since i dont want to damage it more with bleach and all that. i know its not going to be as bright of a color but would it even be worth it?

So I was rewatching Downton Abbey and I can't help but notice for some time that there are just striking major similarities between the two and I begin to wonder if Julian Fellowes took some inspiration after the novel or movie.
I mean there are 3 daughters: Mary, Edith and Sybil. And there is also the problem of not having any surviving sons.
Mary is like Scarlett who is very popular with men even though they are not the most beautiful (I always see Sybil as the beauty among the sisters) and is determined to keep Downton, just like Scarlett is determined to keep Tara. They both have to lose someone they love first before they realize they love them. (Only Mary got Matthew in the end)
Edith has the rivalry with Mary, similar to Suellen with Scarlett. Edith and Suellen are also the odd one one out in terms of looks among the siblings (at least in the film, Suellen is the only one with light reddish blonde hair, similar to Edith) and are considered the least pretty. They also have their first and only serious beaus (at the time) to be very old enough to be their father (Frank and Anthony Strallan).
Sybil and Carreen are both docile and is the friend of two fighting older sisters. They are also the ones that took after their mothers most in terms of personality and looks (at least for the movie Carreen). They are also both very simple, they do not care about wearing clothes in the latest fashion. Careen did not mind that she was wearing rags and tending to the soldiers back to health, the same way that Sybil is passionate about nursing,
Cora and Ellen are both calm and gentle people. They never raised their voices but it is clear that they are mistresses of the house and is in charge of the welfare of everybody in the household. They also brought the money to the family. (I know Gerald is already rich back then, but Ellen's dowry must have been large, considering her family's wealth and status)
Then there is Cora's mother (Mrs. Levinson) and Solange Robillard. I think they are both flamboyant women who speak their minds. And is not afraid of anything. They must have considered themselves "modern women" of their time. Based on the brief description about Solange, she wore rouge and is not afraid to wear low cut dresses and have her cleavage exposed on the portrait hanged in the Tara house, she made sure her voice is heard and even have men fight duels over her, even raking up 3 husbands!--- that is certainly no docile woman who stood in the background, just like Martha Levinson, who is always the life of the party).
These characters are not exactly alike of course, but they sure have a lot of similarities. The character outline of the show is probably inspired after the story
https://preview.redd.it/itwi2rock34d1.png?width=1920&format=png&auto=webp&s=3b2fb08f169e92f12dfaa64f730c0ab6fb6b2378

I am not entirely sure how to write this so please excuse the word vomit that is about to happen. Thank you.
I am an 18 year old online college student and I've always had a bit of trouble making friends and being able to keep them. My anxious tendency's make it hard for me to fully understand why someone would truly want to be my friend. I'm in therapy trying to work this my issues and trying to find better ways of communication. While I've only been in therapy for a short while I, personally, feel like made a ton of progress. I have contacted old friends and have made a couple new ones. I wouldn't go as far to say that I don't struggle with responding but I eventually will.
A big part of my anxiety is that I might take up "too much space", that my behavior would be "too much", that I would be annoying, and ultimately that people would hate be and I'd be lonely. My anxiety sometimes blinds me and I can't tell who I can and can't trust. I see the word alone being used a lot when people use it to describe how they feel but I don't feel alone. The word alone in the dictionary reads "having no one present" and the work lonely in the dictionary reads "without companions; solitary; cut off from others". I believe that the word lonely fits the description of my feeling better than alone. I know that I enjoy my alone time - my space - but for a long time I couldn't tell the difference between the two.
The first time I ever really felt my anxiety was in middle school. My younger self was much more open and optimistic than I am now. I still had that child-like wonder and sense of safety; like nothing could ever go wrong. I wish that feeling never left. As it is for most people, middle school was horrible. I remember being eccentric, happy, and very talkative. This was a direct hit for those "mean girl clicks" everyone had encountered in middle school. At that time I never really understand how cruel the world could truly be. This was the moment I truly felt the anxiety click in, hearing people talk behind your back then be so loving and caring to your face.I won't say that I am a saint because I know that I have also had rude conversations behind peoples backs and I can say nothing eats me alive more then knowing how rude I was. I know that it is almost impossible to get people to not talk about you behind your back, it happens to everyone but this never stopped me from trying.
Those "mean girl clicks" used to talk about how I'm too loud, annoying, they hated my hair, the way I dressed, etc. And I can positively say this went on with me though my entire life. I started dressing in all black, I would speak unless spoken to, I would keep my opinion to myself unless cued otherwise; I did all of this and more just to try and keep the attention off of me. I would keep a book with me at all times so I didn't disrupt anyone so that wouldn't be annoying. I was so fearful of seeing self-centered, being too much to handle, annoying, egotistical, and entitled to how much damage I was doing to my self worth in the long run. I wanted to so anything to avoid being those words because I thought that it would earn me friends; I thought that it would finally make me worthy.
All of this is to say that this was of living followed me though my life. Anytime someone needed something I was the first to volunteer, I wanted to help everyone in every way I could, I wanted to be a natural friend of people. A neutral friend - someone who was like enough to keep around but not noticeable enough to be talked about behind their back. I did this with everyone I met at school, work, family, etc. With this my therapist has helped me open up more and I've gotten more comfortable with myself and the fact that it's okay for me to take up space. However, I am still very aware of how I am acting and how I might be perceived. I think three times about what I am going to say before I say it to make sure I don't say anything that can hurt someone. Does it still accidentally happen, yes, but I am always empathic about it and I always apologize.
I have been in a bit of a job switch recently and I am working with people much older than me and I have had a hard time with management. My most recent bosses and have rude, unforgiving, and disrespectful. Now I understand that not all jobs will be perfect and for the most part you just have to deal with it but as I've said above I take comments that are made to me seriously. I know this can be a bad thing to do but my anxiety had a tendency to pick it up and run with it. My employer makes the schedule on a monthly basis, I am a full-time employee, and for the past two months I have worked 20-25 days each month and now the new schedule (June) I am only scheduled to work for 11 days. With quick math working 11 days can't pay my car insurance let alone the car note. I was understandably, in my opinion, upset and I took it up with them the next day so that I was not speaking out of anger in the moment. When I brought it up to my employer the next morning they told me that 30% of my productivity can from them helping me and the other 70% came from me working alone. I was essentially told that my productivity level was too low and that if I wanted to work more then I need to "prove myself". This honestly stirred a lot of my past worried and anxieties about never be good enough and not being worthy. And while that's not what was explicitly said it is what my anxiety heard.
When I finally got home (I live with a relative) they asked me what was wrong and I had explained the situation with that and I that I felt like I was being productive and trying my hardest. They had brought up the idea that my productivity level might be the issue and when I asked further I was met with one of the more gut-wrenching comments I have ever had anyone say about me. They told me that I act entitled. I have been called many things but for be being called entitled, one of the very things I have tried so hard not to be, it completely broke me inside. I have entered a few inserts below about my "Being Entitled" search.
Entitled - Adjective - Google Definition

• Believing oneself to be inherently deserving of privileges or special treatment.

What does it mean to be entitled? - Cambridge.org

• Feeling that you have the right to do or have what you want without having to work for it or deserve it just because you are who you are.

How do entitled people behave? - Well Mind Article

• Demanding special treatment, expecting others to do things for you, not showing gratitude, and the need for constant adornment.

Example of being entitled - Psychologytoday.org

• You see your own interest more interesting than others. See your goal and desires to be more valid than others. You disregard rules that are intended for everyones comfort.

What does entitled mean as an insult?

• In many cases, describing someone as entitled may be a criticism of their behavior or attitude, suggesting that they display a lack of humility or an unrealistic sense of self-importance.

With going though and finding all of these articles describing what an entitled person acts like I don't think that I fit into this category. I try so hard to make everyone happy to make sure that their days are going good. I have always shown gratitude when someone does something for me and I have a tendency to say that "I am sorry" even if it has nothing to do with me. They called me entitled on Monday the 27th of May and it is not June 2nd and I never received an apology. This evening I brought it up during a discussion and they asked if it was really still think about it. Part of me wanted to say no that it was just a joke, bottle it up, and move on but I didn't. Instead I said, yes I am, you never said sorry for being rude me, and all they said was that they were being honest. I told them I understand honesty but they could have brought it up in a nice more adult manner. They brushed me off and told be I was being a baby about it that I should take it for face value and "re-evaluate myself". They were never specific about any time I was acting "entitled". When I brought up why it was rude to me and that it was a main center point for my anxiety and that my therapist was helping me finally get through it; they told be that my therapist can't be the only person I talk to about my feelings. They told me that this is not what she is here for. That I needed to talk to my friends and family instead. But this is the problem, I thought that I was so safe with this relative (emotions wise) and now I have been proven wrong so I don't see any reason I would open up to them now. I also brought up the point that it is hard for me to make friends. They looked and me and said well I try and get you to go out to clubs and events but I just don't find it easy to make friends like that. I like quiet spaces where things are calm but even in settings like those it's so hard for me to make friends.
They still never apologized and I truly don't think that they will. I've been dwelling on their comment about me being entitled everyday. And everyday it makes me more and more anxious, I've noticed myself being more secluded to avoid stepping on anyones toes. I think what I am looking for here is opinions that aren't mine or theirs. I know that was a lot to read but if you did I would appreciate some feedback. Do I seem entitled? Do I deserve an apology? How do I deal with something like this because I am completely lost.
Thank you for reading my word-vomit <3

I (19F) just finished my freshman year of college. My grandmother (82F) is, unfortunately, in the later stages of cancer and is not expected to live much longer. We were very close when I was a child, much of which was because I am her only granddaughter, which is something she had always wished to have. One of the ways we bonded was through my hair. I had it very long, all the way down my back, and she loved how it looked like hers did when she was a kid. I was repeatedly told my whole life, especially by my grandmother, to never cut it as it was beautiful.
I came out as a lesbian at 16 and started to take on more of a masculine appearance, and in turn, my self confidence became a lot stronger, but it also definitely alienated me from my family. They're not super homophobic by any means, but they're definitely uncomfortable with the idea of be being gay, especially because I'm the only girl. Through those last few years of high school, despite wearing masculine clothes and getting and undercut in my hair, I still kept my super long hair. My parents didn't love this new look, but never tried to stop me.
Going to college far away from where I grew up has allowed me to embrace the look i'm going for a little more, and the obvious step for me was to cut my hair. It was something that I had wanted to do for years, and so in April, right after I returned to campus from spring break, I had a friend of mine shave all of my hair off, knowing I wouldn't have to face the consequences with my family for another month or so when I came home from college. I love my shaved head. I feel so much more like myself without all that hair weighing me down, and I donated all of my hair.
I was incredibly nervous for my family to see me without my hair. I was too nervous to tell my parents, so it came as a shock to them when my dad picked me up at the airport and saw me. His immediate concern was that this trip home could very well be the last time I see my grandmother and it would absolutely break her heart to see me without my hair. When I got home, my mom was absolutely livid. She said that it was incredibly selfish of me to do this when I knew I was going to come see my grandmother who loved my hair, and that it was unfair to have her last image of her only granddaughter being, in her words, "an ugly tomboy hairdo."
I feel absolutely awful, because while I did this for me and I feel great about the haircut, it breaks my heart to think about my grandmother and what I did to her by doing this, as the first thing she always used to do when she saw me was tussle my hair and compliment it. My parents are still very angry at me, and so are my brothers, because my grandmother is our matriarch and we are all trying to do everything we can to make her happy and comfortable at the end of her life. They are all saying that I should have at least waited for her to pass first before I cut my hair. AITA for not considering this when I chose to shave my head?

Adam and D-Sides Boyfriend, or DS for short, were deep into a game of Super Mario Bros Wonder on the Nintendo Switch."Yeah, this game is pretty good!" Adam agreed, just as the doorbell rang. He paused the game and got up. "Hang on, I gotta see who's at the door." Boyfriend nodded, and Adam walked to the front door. Opening it, he found Owen and Oskar standing there. "I often forget you know where I live," Adam remarked. Oskar darted inside, eager to escape Owen’s company. "Hi," Owen said, following more slowly. Owen took one couch, and Oskar took another, each eyeing the other warily.

Adam broke the silence. "So, where are your girlfriends tonight?" "Busy," they both replied in unison. "Well, okay then," Adam said. "I’m playing Mario Wonder with Boyfriend. Want to join?"
"You have a boyfriend?" Oskar asked incredulously. "No, his name is Boyfriend," Adam clarified. "You’re joking," Owen said, skeptical. "Nope. Hey BF, come out here!" Adam called. DS stepped out and waved. "Beep!" "Huh, you’re right," Oskar admitted.

Just then, someone knocked on the side door. "Hold on," Adam said, heading over. He opened it to find Isaiah and Eleanor. "Hi, Adam!" Eleanor greeted cheerfully. "Hi, guys!" Adam responded. Isaiah walked in, stopping when he saw Owen and Oskar. "Oh...who are you guys?" Isaiah asked. "I’m Oskar," Oskar replied. "I’m Owen," Owen added. Eleanor followed Adam, who closed the door behind them. "So, since there are more people here than usual, any ideas on what to do tonight?" Adam asked. "Beep Bo Bap!" DS beeped. "Boys' Night Out?" Adam suggested. "Boys' Night Out?" Owen repeated, confused. "It’s basically when just the guys go out for the night and have fun!" Adam explained.

"So, basically anything?" Oskar asked. "Yeah, as long as it’s legal," Adam said. "Are you okay with it, Eleanor?" Isaiah asked. Eleanor smiled and nodded. "Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll be fine. Your sister is home, right, Adam?" "Yeah, but she was a bit snappy earlier. I wouldn’t bother her," Adam warned. "Where would we go, anyway?" Owen asked. "Beep bap!" DS suggested. "Yeah, we can go to Applebee's," Adam said. "I’m okay with that," Isaiah agreed. "Can we go to the casino afterward?" Owen asked. Everyone stared at him in confusion. "Dude, we’re all 12-14 except for BF," Adam said. "Oh right," Owen realized. "We can go to the arcade next," Isaiah suggested. "That works," Adam said. "What about after that?" Oskar asked. "We'll figure it out. Ready to go?" Adam asked. "Yeah, I’m ready," Isaiah said. Owen got up. "Let’s go." Adam, DS, and Oskar followed. "Bye, Eleanor! We'll be back in a bit!" Isaiah said. Eleanor waved as the boys left.
After a bit, they finally arrived at Applebee's. "Alright boys, welcome to Applebee's. You know what I love about this place? The culture. I usually have a burger, but sometimes I switch it up. First meal, you’re in Asia; next meal, you’re in Greece!" Adam said.

"Beep bap bo!" DS chimed in. "Exactly, I feel like I need a passport to eat here!" Adam laughed. "So what do you recommend?" Isaiah asked. "What do I recommend? Isaiah, this is Applebee's. I recommend all of it! Wait, you're from New York, right?" Adam asked. "Yeah. Why?" Isaiah asked. "Brooklyn or Queens?" Adam asked. "Manhattan," Isaiah said. "Did you not go to Applebee's before?" Adam asked. "No, not really," Isaiah said. "Well, that's fine. You’re gonna love it," Adam assured him.

After a bit, the waitress came over. Adam’s heart sank. It was Mary Lou Maloney, a familiar face to him but not to the others. "Hello, welcome to Applebee's. My name is Mary, and I'll be your server tonight," Mary Lou said.

"Beep!" DS said."Y-Yeah..." Adam stammered, clearly unsettled. Mary Lou focused on Adam. "How about we start with you, handsome?" she asked, getting close and rubbing his hair. "What would you like to drink?" "Uh, I would like a..." Adam began to say. "You want a lemonade, right?" Mary Lou suggested. "Y-Yeah, that works," Adam said, visibly uneasy. Oskar looked at Adam, puzzled by his behavior. "I’ll have water," Oskar said. "I’ll have a Pepsi," Isaiah added. "Beep bo bap!" DS said. "He said he’ll have a Coke," Adam translated. "I'll take a water too," Owen said.

Mary Lou smiled and walked away. Adam faced the ground, holding his head. "Adam, are you okay? You acted strange when the waitress came," Oskar observed. "No, no, I’m fine. Just a bit hungry, that’s all," Adam lied, unconvincingly. "Who was that? You acted like she was your mom. Oh my god, was that your mom?" Owen asked. "What? No, that's not my mom. Look at me," Adam said. "Beep bap bo, skidoo bap?" DS asked. "No, not my ex or girlfriend..." Adam said. "Then who is it?" Isaiah asked. "Well, she's... a friend of mine. Yeah, a friend. I forgot she worked here," Adam said.

Mary Lou returned with their drinks, still grinning. "I have your drinks, boys. Now, may I take your orders?" "Yeah, that would be nice," Isaiah said. Mary Lou turned towards Adam. "Hey!" she said. "...Yeah?" Adam replied. "You want a classic bacon burger, right? Well done, fries seasoned?" Mary Lou asked. Adam’s heart dropped. "Y-Yeah..." "I’ll have a chicken sandwich," Isaiah said. "How do you want that cooked?" Mary Lou asked. "Crispy," Isaiah replied. "I’m not hungry, thanks," Oskar said. "I’m not hungry either," Owen added. Owen and Oskar exchanged glances, both thinking, "What's your excuse?" "Beep bo bap do bop!" DS said. "Alright, I’ll be back in a bit!" Mary Lou said, leaving with a tune. "Not your girlfriend, eh?" DS teased. "Why are you speaking English now?" Isaiah asked.
Meanwhile, Eleanor knocked on Esther’s door, but there was no answer. "Hello?" Eleanor called, knocking again. "Go away, Adam, or I’ll stab you," Esther threatened from inside. "But... I’m not Adam," Eleanor said. Esther opened the door and looked up at Eleanor. "Who are you?" "My name is Eleanor. You’re Adam’s little sister, right?" Eleanor asked. Esther groaned and tried to close the door, but Eleanor held it open. "Hey, what are you—" Esther began to say, but Eleanor's grip was strong. The door cracked as Eleanor instinctively burst it open, then sprinted off. "What the fu—"

Back at Applebee's, Mary Lou brought the food over, still grinning. "Enjoy your food!" she said, passing it around before leaving. "Damn BF, those nachos look tasty," Adam said. BF nodded, taking a bite and giving a thumbs up. Owen and Oskar’s stomachs growled. "You sure you aren't hungry? It’s not too late to order something," Adam offered. "I'm fine," Oskar said. "Yeah, me too," Owen agreed.

After around 20 minutes of eating, the food was done. "Wow, that burger was delicious," Adam said. "Beep…." DS said. "Yeah, it was," Isaiah said. Mary Lou came back. "I hope you enjoyed your food, now who's paying?" Mary Lou asked. Everyone looked at each other. "Uh, can you give us a second?" Adam asked. She nodded and left.

"Alright, I'm fine with paying if I need to but are there any takers?" Adam asked.
"...This might work," Oskar said. He pulled out Swedish cash from his pocket. "...Oskar, that's Swedish currency. I don't think that's gonna work." Adam said. "Oh…" Oskar said. "Wait, Oskar, are you Swedish?" Isaiah asked. "Yeah, Eli too," Oskar said. "Huh, I mean I can kind of hear it in your voice," Adam said.

Mary Lou came back and leaned close behind Adam. "You know, if you can't pay, if you come in the back with me Handsome, I'll let you off free…." Mary Lou said. Adam turned red as everyone turned towards him, dazed, surprised, and confused. “Uh..Uh..” Adam begins to say, dazed and confused. “Think about it handsome. I'll be back in a bit..” Mary Lou said, kissing him on the cheek. She walked away, humming to herself. Everyone just stared at Adam. “Did…Did she just…?” Oskar began to say. “I think…?” Owen began to say. Isaiah just stared at the ground.
“Bro, I think the waitress just offered to let us go free if-” DS-Boyfriend began to say, but Adam cut him off. “Boyfriend for everyone's safety DON'T finish that sentence,” Adam said. “...Are…Are you going to say something about what just happened….?” Isaiah asked. “I would rather not…” Adam said. Everyone just stared at each other. “You know what? I'll pay. That way we can simply move on.” DS said. “Really?” Owen asked. “Dude, when a waitress offers to bang your best friend to get out of a restaurant without paying, that's when you know you gotta get the f**k out of dodge,” DS said. “Hey, nice reference,” Isaiah said. “Thanks,” replied. “How can you afford to pay?” Owen asked.

“My parents are CEOS of big companies, that's how,” DS-Boyfriend said.
“Hey Adam, can you get the waitress?” DS-Boyfriend asked. “...Why me?” Adam asked. DS-Boyfriend gave a sh*t-eating grin. “Oh you gotta be kidding me,” Adam said agitated. “Hey, don’t look at me, she’s the one into you,” DS said. Adam rolled his eyes and got up, but when he turned around, he bumped into Mary Lou, who was walking back to the table. “Oh hey! Taking my offer?” Mary Lou asked. Before anything could happen DS stepped in. “Actually he was going to get you so we can get the hell outta here,” DS said. Mary Lou looked down before nodding her head. “Alright, we can have some fun another time then.” Mary Lou suggested. Adam turned red again as DS got up from his seat and handed Adam the Money. “Here you go,” Adam said. Mary took it and smiled. “Alright, you can go! Have fun boys!” Mary Lou said with a creepy smile. The others got up from their chairs and quickly left through the door. But before Adam could Leave, Mary Lou grabbed his arm. “...This was nice. Can we do this again sometime?” She asked. Adam shrugged. “I guess so,” Adam said. Mary Lou smiled. She took off Adam’s hat and rubbed his hair. “... It's a date then, see you later…alligator.” Mary Lou said. “YO ADAM, WHAT’S THE HOLD-UP, COME ON!” DS yelled. Adam turned and left through the door.

Eleanor was sitting outside on the steps in the backyard, thinking to herself about what transpired. She didn’t know what came over herself, she didn’t even mean to get so aggressive. She was about to just get up and go take a walk down the road when she noticed a toy Rabbit sitting near the gate. It wasn’t there before. It was grey, and one of its eyelids was drooped down. It had a red vest and a blue bowtie and its eyes were purple. “Where did you come from?” Eleanor asked. The toy roared to life. “R-R-R-Ready to Rocket!” the toy belted. Eleanor gasped out of surprise and dropped the toy, causing it to stutter on one line. “Bon is here- Bon is here- Bon is here- Bon is here- Bon is-” But then the rabbit stopped, its eye slowly turning to look at something in front of it. “H-H-Hi Bon!” Eleanor looked up and saw him. A large 7 ft rabbit animatronic stood in front of the gate, but he looked…damaged. The rabbit had a white latex mask, with a cigar in his mouth and its eyes glowed a bit white as it stood there.He wore a red bowtie connected to a dickie. The torso had a large hole in it, and it was…slightly lined with blood. His vest was tattered and damaged. It had a bunch of holes in it. He had a name tag on his vest “HELLO! MY NAME IS BON.” But it was slightly ripped. His lower arms were exposed with an endoskeleton, but the fingers looked like claws. His lower legs were exposed with an endoskeleton as well. Bon wasn’t looking at her at first before his eyes slowly tilted towards her. The rabbit slowly moved its head, a creaking sound coming from it. The mouth opened, and at first, nothing came out, but then it spoke. “M-My. Name. Is. BON.” The rabbit went to walk towards Eleanor when Esther opened the side door. “Hey. Knew I’d find you out here.” Esther mentioned. Eleanor looked back, but Bon was gone. It was as if..it were an illusion. She looked down and the toy rabbit was gone as well. “Oh, hey,” Eleanor said, trying to sound as normal as she could, albeit possibly hallucinating. Esther sat next to her. “Listen, I don’t know what that was back there, but I’m not going to lie, it was kind of cool,” Esther admitted. Eleanor smiled. “My name is Eleanor, what’s yours?” Eleanor asked. “Esther,” Esther replied. It seemed like she would continue the sentence, but she left it hanging. Eleanor smiled before she asked something, following up on something she heard earlier. “...Hey, can I ask you something?” Eleanor asked. Esther nodded. “...Why do you hate your brother?” Eleanor asked. Esther frowned a bit. “It’s…not that hate him. I’ve been in other homes before this one and most of the time my brothers were…assholes.” Esther explained. “And…is Adam one?” Eleanor asked. Esther sighed. “No...Not really, he’s been nothing but nice but..I just don’t believe it. Like how could someone just be so nice? I haven’t even seen him snap in anger yet. I know it's bound to happen eventually but still.” Esther admitted. Eleanor shrugged. “Guess I understand,” Eleanor whispered. Esther got up. “Well, it was nice meeting you, I’m going to go back into my room ok?” Esther asked. Eleanor gave a thumbs-up as Esther left.

“Right so, where is the arcade?” Oskar asked. DS looked at his phone. “Uh, somewhere around…Here!” DS shouted, pointing at a building. The Building was red, with white glowing neon lights. The arcade was called “THE NEON ARCADE!” “Dude this place looks awesome,” Adam stated. “Where did you find this place?” Owen asked. “I came here with my girlfriend once, gots a sick amount of arcade machines,” DS stated. “Well what are we waiting for, Let's go have some fun!” Isaiah shouted.

The gentlemen walked into the arcade, it was literally what you expected, mostly just an arcade, but there was a play zone, food court, and…a bowling rink! Yeah, that should be about it. “Dude this looks straight out of the 80s!” Oskar shouted. “How would you know? It’s not like you were FROM the 80s!” Adam replied jokingly. Oskar just stared at him, his face serious. “...Calm down! It was a joke!” Adam said, putting his hands up. Oskar made a sigh of relief. “Good, I thought I’d need to kill ya,” Oskar said, joking back. Owen stared at Oskar, his eyes wide with fear. Oskar looked at Owen, seeing the fear in his eyes. “...What?” Oskar asked. Owen didn’t respond, as if remembering…bad times. “Owen…Owen!” Adam shouted. Owen snapped out of his trance. “Oh, sorry...Just thinking of something.” Owen admitted. “Your girlfriend?” DS chuckled. "Something like that," Owen muttered, wanting to change the subject. Adam glanced at him, concerned but deciding to let it go."Alright, let's split up and see who can get the highest score on any game!" Adam suggested, trying to lighten the mood. "Winner gets bragging rights for the rest of the night." DS chuckled. “Bet I can get the highest score,” DS spoke cockily. “You sure about that?” Owen asked. DS looked up at Owen Smugly. “Wanna bet?” DS asked. “No, I just don’t wanna see you lose it.” Owen replied. “BET.” DS stated.

The boys went to different games as the hunt was On. Adam saw this cool game called “Death by AI”, while Oskar played a game called “Ring Out”, while DS and Isaiah played Air Hockey. Owen on the other hand, didn’t exactly know what he should play. Sure, there was Miss Pacman, but he didn’t feel like playing that without Abby. That’s when he noticed a game just..sitting there in the corner. It was an arcade game from King of the Jungle Cafe. But that closed a long time ago. How did it make its way here? The game was called “ZOO ESCAPE”. It was about King Louie and his animal friends being sent to a zoo and they needed to escape. Owen looked around. No one was watching him. Why not give the old game a go? Owen walked over and placed a token in. The game rocketed to life, the familiar jingle playing out. It put a smile on his face. And so, he began to play. Despite how old the game was, it was still fun to play. He was playing for a while when he sensed someone was watching him. He at first thought it was Adam, but he realized it wasn’t. It felt off. He paused the game and saw someone leaning against the arcade machine. It was a boy. He was wearing a black teeshirt with white stripes. It had the earth on it. He had a purple and blue bracelet on one of his arms. He wore tan pants with white shoes. His brown hair went slightly over his eyes. From his face, Owen could tell he had braces and freckles. “Enjoying the game, huh?” The boy asked. Owen nodded. “Yeah, it's fun, I used to play this all the time,” Owen admitted. The boy chuckled. “I used to love playing this thing.” The boy agreed. “..I’m Owen, what's your name?” Owen asked. “Ronny, nice to meet you. ..Though, I swear we met before.” Ronny pondered. “What do you mean?” Owen asked, tilting his head. Ronny shrugged. “Nevermind, it's nothing,” Ronny said. Owen wa about to respond when he heard Adam shouting from the other end of the room. “OWEN, WE’RE ABOUT TO HEAD OUT, YOU READY TO GO?” Adam cried. “Yeah, Coming!” Owen shouted back. Owen looked back, but Ronny was gone. He looked around, but couldn’t see any trace of him.

Adam and the others gathered near the entrance, their faces glowing with excitement from the night's activities. "So, who got the highest score?" Isaiah asked, smirking as he pointed at the air hockey table, where he had just narrowly defeated DS. “AI had nothing on me,” Adam replied. Oskar chuckled, shaking his head. "Ring Out was a blast. I reached level 15, but I think you might've beaten me, Adam." "Did anyone check the scores for Owen?" Isaiah asked, looking around.
Owen shrugged, a small smile on his face. "I was just playing an old favorite, 'Zoo Escape'. Didn't check my score." "Old games for old souls," DS joked, giving Owen a friendly nudge. Owen glared at him but shook it off. "Alright, boys, let's tally up and declare a winner."

The group walked to the main score screen near the entrance. After some friendly banter and a quick check, Adam emerged as the victor with his impressive score on "Death by AI". "Bragging rights secured," Adam announced, striking a triumphant pose. "Now, what's next on the agenda?" DS pulled out his phone to check the time. "It's getting late. Maybe we should start heading back." Adam yawned. “Yeah, I agree, come on gentlemen,” Adam commanded.

The group began their walk back to Adam's house. The air was cool and refreshing, a welcome change from the bustling, neon-lit arcade.
"So, what was up with that waitress at Applebee's?" Isaiah asked, breaking the silence. "She seemed...intense." Adam stopped walking and rubbed the back of his neck, clearly still embarrassed. "Yeah, Mary Lou's...interesting. I guess she likes to mess with me." "Mess with you? Dude, she was all over you," Oskar pointed out, raising an eyebrow. "You sure there's nothing more to that story?" Adam sighed. “Look, I don’t really know, I guess she’s just…like that. I have no idea what’s going on in her head. I guess she just has a unique way of interacting with people she likes.” Adam suggested. Owen looked around. “My house is nearby here, I’m gonna head out,” Owen said. “Right, see ya man.” DS waved. Owen waved goodbye as he separated from the group. “Actually, looking around now, I think my place is around here too. I’ll see you guys later ok?” Oskar said. “Alright, see you later man,” Isaiah replied. Oskar walked away, now it was just DS, Isaiah, and Adam here. “You know what? This was fun.” DS Remarked. “Yeah, it was,” Adam responded, a bit tired. “Just a question, why did you start speaking English out of nowhere?” Isaiah asked. “...Eh, I just felt like it.”

It took them a bit, but the trio got back to Adam’s house. “Welp, that was fun boys but I’m gonna head home, see yall later!” DS shouted. Adam waved goodbye as DS walked away. “Don’t know about you, but I’m tired,” Adam said. “Same, goodnight Adam!” Isaiah replied. Adam waved as they walked into the house, Adam walked into his room, as Isaiah walked downstairs.

Isaiah got back into the apartment downstairs and closed the door behind him. He breathed a sigh of relief. Unsure why he did that. “Isaiah.” A voice called “S**t!” Isaiah yelled out of fear. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” The voice responded. Isaiah focused his eyes and noticed two eyes staring at him from the darkness, but he recognized the voice. “It's ok Mom,” Isaiah replied. “Where did you go?” Naiomi asked. “I went with Adam and some of his friends on a boy's night out. Where’s Eleanor?” Isaiah asked. “In her room waiting for you,” Naiomi responded. “Thanks,” Isaiah replied. He was about to walk into the room when his mother stopped him. “...That Adam…is he any good?” Naiomi asked. “What do you mean?” Isaiah asked. “Is he treating you right?” Naiomi asked. “Yeah, if anything he’s like a brother,” Isaiah stated. Naiomi stared before nodding. “Alright, good. Goodnight Isaiah.” Naiomi said, with a deadpan voice. “Good Night Mom,” Isaiah responded. He entered the room as Naiomi looked at the door upstairs. But she decided against going up there, she’d need an invitation after all.

Inebriated Conversations

After eight long and grueling hours, we began our rapid descent from the heavens. I never really got the: “did it hurt when you fell from heaven” pickup line until we hit the tarmac. The force of the impact nearly knocked my head into the seat in front of me, so fuck yeah, it hurt when I fell from heaven. I’d imagine even Lucifer himself had a softer landing than we did. He also didn’t have to endure the stomach churning and nauseating food that was served on the plane, but I digress, at least we had finally reached our destination. A land not so far away that only varied in appearance, but the truth was this mystical and magical land, deep down, was no different from the place I grew up or attend college. As I waited in purgatory, the security line, I began wondering if I was dreaming. Was I really in London or even a different country for that matter? The line, which seemed so much longer than the European and the U.K., line was filled with fellow Americans. Perhaps they are still acrimonious about us beating them in the Revolutionary War, so they decided that this was ample punishment for our victory. Whatever the case, we finally made it through security, then collected our bags. I saw my relatively new bag with the bowtie on the handle and was relieved that it had not been lost or left in the United States. We met our tour guide, Emma, who at first glance seemed to be very different. She had an unusual hair cut that was much shorter than ones most woman her age would have, but I soon learned that her appearance, much like London’s, would not be any indication of what lies beyond. When we finally escaped from limbo, the airport, we were put on a coach bus, and taken to our hotel. I was exhausted and in need of a shower, but all I could do was drop my luggage off, then swiftly return to the lobby. As we stood outside in the crisp, refreshing air, we were handed our subway passes, or as they say, “tube passes.” We followed our guide, Emma, on a short walk to the underground. When our group finally descended the stairs and made our way to the map, a map Virgil couldn’t even navigate, we began our journey that involved the same punishment as those afforded to people in the eighth level of hell. We walked endlessly, 10.6 miles, and viewed the most popular tourist attractions London had to offer. I was surrounded by beautiful statues, fantastic architecture, and attractive people whose dialect could captivate almost anyone. At first, like everyone else, I was completely and utterly captivated by it all, because it was a completely different world. Our group finished the day with a mile and a half walk to the Globe Theatre, where we saw Shakespeare’s play, Comedy of Errors. My fellow students and I stood, as our professors sat comfortably watching the play. During the production, all I could think about was my numb legs and my aching feet. I tried drowning the pain with a few glasses of overly priced and nasty wines, but my attempt was to no avail. For once in my life, I knew what it was like to experience actual physical agony, not just the tedious and never-ending emotional kind. It wasn’t the lake of fire or some frozen wasteland, but that shit was still excruciating. After the play, we struggled to find a new passageway to the hot and crowded underworld, the tube, but luckily, I had service on my phone, so we found it. We finally made it back to the hotel around eleven in the evening. After a long day of flying and an excess of walking, I had never been as excited as I was to climb into a bed that was, quite frankly, too small for my six-foot-five physique. To anyone reading this, don’t worry, I’m not planning on giving a day to day synopsis of what I saw while I was abroad, because the sights aren’t what truly matter. I mean, I could just rant about Buckingham Palace and its beauty, Windsor Castle and its enormous layout, the Tower of London and its history, the Natural History Museum and its priceless artifacts, Stratford upon Avon and Shakespeare’s life, Oxford and it’s impressive library, Cornwall and its tranquil beaches, the Minack Theatre and its sublimity, or the Ashmolean Museum and its Jeff Koons exhibition, but that shit has no genuine meaning to it. I’m not going to waste your time by writing about some tourist sites that you could see in almost any travel magazine about the U.K., so if that’s what you are looking for stop reading. I suggest you pick up a travel magazine and read it until you are content, but if you want to read something real, then I suggest you continue. The reality is, the things I’ll take from this trip are the inebriated conversations I had with others. I not only gave these people advice about their lives; I learned something new about my own. I, ***** *******, am the Barstool Prophet, who descended from the heavens prepared to spout wisdom and retardation. Before I divulge the serious and deep conversations I experienced abroad, I want to let you know that the other person and I were under the influence of alcohol. I know what you are thinking, but alcohol has been a part of human culture since 7,000 B.C.; to put that into perspective, man invented alcohol before the wheel. From what I've seen in my lifetime some people drink to forget, some drink to remember, some drink to punish themselves, and some drink to converse with others. I fall into the latter category, but while I was in the U.K., I encountered people whose purpose for drinking was similar to mine as well as people that would fall in the other categories. I never really got the saying, "It's better to be a glass half full person, than a glass half empty person." I get the whole positivity aspect of the saying; however, I'd trust a "glass half empty person" far more, because they'd just order another drink. I am in no way trying to promote alcoholism; in reality, I am just trying to explain how alcohol can fuel an in-depth conversation. The Latin proverb "In Vino Veritas" states that "In Wine there is Truth"; wiser words have never been spoken. Alcohol allows people to speak their hidden thoughts and desires, especially to a stranger like me. 

Emma

As I stated earlier, Emma was our tour guide, who sported a relatively short and somewhat masculine haircut. Luckily, I had consumed enough alcohol at the time of her arrival to ask her why she chose that specific style. After giving me a vague: “because I like it” response, she clutched her glass of wine and forced it down. We talked about her occupation and how lonely traveling could get, but she seemed like she was familiar with the feeling of loneliness. She asked me what I wanted to do when I grew up, and I said, “I want to be a lawyer.” Emma slammed her glass down and began to laugh hysterically; she said, “Seriously?” I found her response quite peculiar until she revealed that her ex-husband was a lawyer. He was devoted to his job and always worked long hours, which did not bother her, at first. I surmise that his lack of interest in her is what led to their separation. After a long moment of silence, I gulped my drink down and gained the courage to ask: “do you think the relationship you had with him prepared you for this job?” She paused and began to think intently. She took a sip of her wine, laughed, and said, “I guess so, that’s one positive thing I got out of the relationship.” The chat continued with talk of food, politics, weather, and other small-talk topics, but then we somehow made it back to her haircut. Emma told me that she was bi-sexual, which, despite the tell-tell signs in her appearance, isn’t something she shares with most people. I told her that homophobia and racism is a major part of the culture that I grew up in, which surprised her. She couldn’t comprehend how someone with that upbringing could be so openminded. I responded with one word and one word only, “Self-Awareness.” I came to the realization that in life people are consciously and unconsciously molded by those around them, but at the end of the day, it is their choice to decide who they are and what they believe. Emma’s marriage may not have been picture perfect, but she was still able to take something positive from it. As much as we don’t want to admit it, even the worst of our relationships impact us in a positive way. 

Phillip Goldsmith

Before I get into this incredibly intense and somewhat depressing story, I’d like to describe its setting. I was sitting on a red velvet couch, drinking Jack Daniels Honey in a tall glass with one ice cube. I know what you are thinking, but I was not in a strip club. Our hotel’s game room/ bar area looked like an American strip club, not that I’ve ever been in one. Like seriously, if a few poles and dancers were added, I’d feel like I was at the Red Carpet, which is a strip club near where I live, but again, I may or may not have been there. I had finished half my bottle when Phil walked in, and I could immediately tell that he was hurting on the inside. Excluding dumbass frat guys, not very many people drink vodka straight out of the bottle with the intention of finishing it. He sat next to us, so I reached my hand out and said, “Hey man, what’s your name?” He said, “Hello, I am Phillip Goldsmith.” I responded as anyone would and said, “That’s a badass name!” We talked about life, love, and women as most guys do. We were both close to finishing our bottles when I noticed a tattoo on his arm that said, “Harry.” Who was this Harry? He certainly didn’t strike me as a Royalist, so I knew he didn’t just get the prince’s name on his arm for shits and giggles. I gulped down a few more sips of my drink and slowly placed it back down. I looked him in the eyes and said, “who is Harry?” His response shook every bone in my body to their core. After holding his tears back and ingesting some more of his vodka, Phil looked at me and said that “Harry was his son.” Was? He continued speaking, and I learned that Harry died three days after he was born. That tragic loss would result in a few other loses in his life, his wife, and his faith. Phil told me that he used to go to his grave on his birthday and Christmas, but he couldn’t do it anymore. He didn’t see a point in it any longer. Surprisingly I felt the urge to tell him that “God loved him and that he would see his son again.” I am in no way a prolific believer; I’d probably put myself in the wayward son category. However, something came over me, and I felt like I needed to tell him that. We had both finished our drinks, and as we were saying our goodbyes, he thanked me. I don’t know why, but he did. My encounter with Phil taught me that when you meet someone, you don’t know what they are going through, but through love and compassion, you can have a positive impact on them. 

Lexie

Lexie is a beautiful and intelligent young lady from Kansas City, Missouri. We met and chatted throughout the week because she was a part of our EF group. One night, after Lexie and I had more than our share of wine, we began to talk about our plans for the future. Before I tell this story, you must know, I have the unfortunate handicap of flirtation when I drink, but she was able to move past my impulsive outburst. I think my accidental comments about her beautiful eyes, stunning smile, and cute laugh allowed her to open up to me. Despite what you are thinking, I like to flirt because I enjoy making women smile, I don’t always do it for self-serving reasons. Anyways, as I said, we started discussing our plans for the future, but one can’t divulge their future in an inebriated state without discussing their past. I gave my whole spiel about wanting to be a prosecutor who would later become a congressman, then a Supreme Court or D.C. Circuit Court justice. She said, “Wow! That’s quite the plan. I want to go into Law as well.” I hastily responded by saying, “That’s sexy. I could see it.” We both laughed, but then she said, “I don’t know though, Law School is hard.” She didn’t strike me as a person who couldn’t handle a challenge, so I asked, “Why do you think you wouldn’t excel? You present yourself as someone who does.” She tried not to blush, then sipped her extremely sweet white wine. I know it was sweet because I made the unfortunate decision of trying it; it was so sweet that even a rock would get a hangover from it. Anyways, she started talking about high school and how people thought she was unintelligent. I laughed and thought about how I experienced that very same thing. I said, “Fuck that, screw them. God, high school girls are mean. Do you actually believe that crap?” She giggled and said, “Of course not, but it’s still in the back of my head.” I grabbed another beer from Raj, the bartender at the hotel. Yes, we were on a first name basis; did you expect anything less from the barstool profit? I sat back down and leaned in, intent on getting this point across to Lexie. I sipped my beer, ever so casually, and said, “Listen, we all remember the immature negatives of our high school existence, but this is now. At some point, we have to grow up into the people we want to be, not who everyone tells us to be.” She then asked, “Why are you so wise?” (You are probably thinking “sure she did,” but I swear that is what she said; I’m not a narcissist using creative license to praise myself.) I accredited it to my amazing parents as well as the shitty ex-girlfriends, situations, and friends I had experienced. We continued talking about a lot of random things like abortion, racism in America, and other pseudo-political topics. It was 3 am. when we finally decided it was time to go to bed. I hugged her and told her to use those negative voices as motivation. Again, I was thanked for the conversation, which, at this point, seems to be a normal thing for strangers to do. My conversation with Lexie made me realize that, when we travel, the baggage we carry isn’t only the physical kind. That tedious and deep emotional baggage also comes along for the journey. Most people, who travel somewhere, will lose a physical part of their baggage, like a sock, shirt, or something of that nature. Lexie did something most could not and do not, she left a piece of her emotional baggage, the night I spoke to her in the bar. 

Szymon

Szymon was in the bar area when I got to the hotel. He had a very interesting accent, which was far different from the ones I had heard that week, so I asked, “Where are you from?” He said, in a relatively drunken manner, “I am from Poland. You’re from America, aren’t you.” I responded with a firm: “Yes.” The conversation proceeded with small talk, but as I had a few more beers, the topics shifted to more serious topics. I was recently in a Holocaust history class, so of course, the first serious thing I asked was if he had been to Warsaw to see the Concentration Camps. He paused in silence, so I said, “Talk about hell on Earth, the holocaust was some fucked up shit.” After saying that he seemed to gain the courage to tell me that he was Jewish. He told me about the things his parents endured as children and how his grandfather had died in a concentration camp. He told me how he had rejected his faith after hearing these horrible stories. He said to me, “What could faith do for someone. The Jews have been persecuted countless times for it.” I understood where he was coming from, but at the same time, I didn’t. He had real reasons for his existential doubt, and I truly could not say the same. I got a shot of vodka from Raj; threw it back, and said, “Our faith shapes our decisions in life, even if we tell ourselves it doesn’t.” He sat pondering my words, but he seemed bored of the discussions about faith. I quickly changed the subject and asked him, “Why are you in London?” I learned that he travels all over continental Europe cleaning asbestos out of old buildings. I responded as any young person would and said, “that’s cool. I’d love to travel all over Europe.” He said, “it might be for a young single guy, but I hardly see my kids. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if my wife cheated on me.” I couldn’t believe he would say something that personal, but then again, that’s what alcohol does. I suggested that he quit the job and find one closer to home. He laughed and said, “Ugh… you sound like my wife right now.” I bought him another beer and said, “maybe you should listen to her.” He looked at me and said, “maybe you are right ha-ha.” My conversation with Szymon taught me that it doesn’t matter how much money you make or how many places you get to travel on the company’s dime. What matters in life is family and the ones you love. By the time we stopped talking, I could hardly understand him, but he shook my hand and said, “have fun in London.” I laughed and said, “I will, call your wife tonight and tell her you love her.” He smiled and nodded, assuring me he would. It was time to leave, so I packed my things and got ready to go to the airport. I finally boarded my fiery chariot that would bring me back to the heavens. I forced down a few shots of Jack Daniels, closed my eyes, and wondered if the Barstool Prophet would have a second coming. Would I ever return to this amazing city and spout words of wisdom and retardation? Would I ever drink two whole liters of cider and wake up with a black eye? Well, that one is a definite no, but so many questions are left unanswered. Did I actually impact those that I talked to? Did they even remember the conversation? As much as I want to believe I did, I’ll never know. We don’t know what this life holds or what our encounters with strangers will yield; all we can do is give it our best shot and live like we are dying… (Que inspiring music). 

Let me know if the foundation of this sardonic and surface level literature reference writing has potential… first ever post!

I hope a hole forms in your sock just in the shape of your pinky and ring toe, and then when you stub your toe, your toenails break and your toe gets injured.
I hope both sides of your pillow are warm tonight.
I hope your clothes get wet next time you wash your hands.
I hope next time you take a wee, it double streams.
I hope if you ever go in grass again (highly unlikely) you get ticks.
I hope your doorknob breaks so you get stuck in your room and you have to wait for your daddy to come and save you.
I hope your parents say dinner is ready but it'll be minutes before you're actaully eating.
I hope the next time you drink milk, the wierd stuff that forms on the side of the jug, forms bigger this time and gets stuck in your teeth.
I hope the heel of your foot gets itchy.
I hope you cut your fingernails too short next time you cut them, then it hurts and you get an infection.
I hope the next time you get a hair cut, they do the buzzer thingy too short on accident.
I hope your phone dies, and you forgot to set your alarm clock, so you miss school and get worse grades.
I hope you get a flat tire.
I hope the fan you sleep with breaks on a warm night.
I hope the next time you get new clothes, it rips on the first day.
I hope you drop your phone and it hits the screen on the corner of a brick.
I hope everytime you get up from your chair to do something, you forget what you were gonna do.
I hope you think you lost your sunglasses and not sure where they are, but you're litterally wearing them.
I hope you run out of toilet paper at the worst time possible.
I hope you leave the freezer door open after putting in a ton of ice cream, then it all melts and gets ruined.

I have Dyshidrotic eczema (eczema that affects primarily your hands and feet) and as a result of that and the steroid medications (I think) for it I can’t grow out my nails past maybe like 1-2 mm of the white part because otherwise I’ll hit my nail on something and it’ll literally bend backwards and that obviously hurts. When I tried to grow out my nails I made my nails bleed like three times from that lol. Even with gel polish on they’ll bend easily. I remember when I used to get gel extensions my gel extensions would start peeling because the base was so bendy and soft.
I love nail art and I would love to paint my nails more, but my nail beds are short and square and don’t have much space unless I grow them out. (Which I can’t do due to aforementioned reasons) And if I do paint them, my nails grow so fast I have to cut them in like three days max and that kind of ruins the look. I don’t know if this is related, but I have like no cuticles on 8 of my fingers.
Has anyone else successfully treated very soft nails? How? I already take vitamins and supplements for hair and nail health but I don’t think it helped at all.

I posted about this horrible experience I had with a stylist that has over 30 years of experience. My mom went to her and her hair looked nice so my mom suggested that I give her a chance. I’m currently disabled and my mom offered to pay for the service as a gift to me. I’m not working and have no income. I didn’t want to go to a place that was going to charge me an arm and a leg, however I knew what I wanted would be around $200 at this cheap salon called Smart Style. I had gone there last year in October, I had shoulder length, virgin hair at the time. I told the girl I wanted to be blonde but I didn’t want an all over bleach job where every single strand of hair is bleached. That’s what I used to do when I had a chin length bob, and it was fine cus my hair takes bleach very well but I was also constantly cutting it, keeping the ends looking nice and healthy. So the girl at the same cheap salon did an all over highlight with foils and it turned out really beautiful. I know she used over 100 foils for this service. I know costs have gone up as well so I sat down and talked with this new stylist for over 30 minutes about what I wanted. I had about 4 inches of regrowth and wanted my roots blended to the rest of my hair. But I showed a picture of a balayage and said I wanted it to look somewhat like the picture just more platinum. She kept trying to save me money, I never asked her to do that. I kept saying my last service cost $140 and I’m expecting to pay that or maybe more since I know costs went up. I don’t think this lady knew how to do a balayage to be honest but she wouldn’t just come out and say that so she kept pushing foils. I eventually said ok to that. She did 20 foils for my thick ass hair and only did the front and around the sides leaving the back completely untouched. She sent me home and it looked really bad. I’d say she did 25% maybe 30% of my roots but she only did these tiny little strands, no slices at all. last girl did thick strands and slices all over. i told her it needs to be fixed and that i would pay extra to get what I want, she said no its free. i asked about the balayage technique again and she eventually said yes we can but in the future. She then went in an painted some thicker strands with no foils. The end result is in the pictures above. There were orange pieces from not letting it process enough, a band, and super patchy pieces in pic 5 that looks absolutely horrible when I put my hair up in a bun (which is how I wear my hair 70% of the time). I posted this in my home towns subreddit. I guess I didn’t go into too much detail as I did here and everyone told me I was basically stupid and I get what I pay for. What I’m trying to get across is that I was willing to pay over $200 to have my roots touched up properly but was constantly denied. What you see in the pics cost $91 even though I kept saying I’ll pay more to get what I want. First picture was my reference pic but I asked for it to just be more platinum and match the color I already have. I then agreed to the foils but they started charging so much for them that I kept asking her what we should do going forward. Even if the answer was foils I kept asking her to do enough of them and kept asking for a price but never got one.
What should I ask for going forward when it comes to getting my roots done??? How much should roots cost? I don’t want my whole head of hair just root maintenance. I know this is a small town but this is so unprofessional. I asked the owner for a refund and they are refusing. I’m pretty devastated about it cus it looks so bad. I went and got some bleach and wella T-18 toner to try to fix some pieces myself. Is this worth suing over???

TLDR: I think i identity as gender-fluid between butch and femme gender identities but I want to hear thoughts on that because to me-it sounds weird…
Hi! I cut my hair about four months ago so that I could be visually perceived as butch by others (ive been id’ing as butch for about a year but I had long boobish length hair and I like to experiment with fashion) though I looked more feminine then the traditional butch look I still presented fairly masculine-kind of like a man with long hair who dresses how fashionable TikTok men dress. I had so much gender euphoria when I had long hair because of the androgyny that came with it but I was uncomfortable with people perceiving me as feminine. It wasn’t until two men hit on me in one night that I realized just how girl I was looking and suddenly having long hair was a scary thing and it had to be fixed. So I cut off my hair and now I look more traditionally butch. HOWEVER! I find myself truley missing a part of me STILL after MONTHS. Something I liked to do was cross dress or dress up as a straight girl OCCASIONALLY for funsies- long hair gave me the ability to be fluid in my gender expression and now with my short hair I can’t (I can dress in dresses and stuff but I don’t look like a ‘hot girl’-I would feel like that scooby doo ‘I got a chicks body!’ Meme…it was so funny) I like being butch. I find great pleasure in presenting very masculine. I am not one of those girly pop masc individuals. I am proud of and own my masculinity. But I also love presenting feminly sometimes but I HATE how men view me when I am. So this sounds stupid… but I think I am gender-fluid between butch and femme gender identities (btw I’m also non binary…ik right? Pick a struggle smh) is this so weird? Butch and femme are opposite ends of the lesbian gender spectrum and I only identify as either butch or femme, is what I think…but I wanted to hear some other butches opinions on this because to me it sounds weird but that’s how I feel…sorry for the whole long story I feel like it offers good context

i'm in english class and we're writing personal essays and i didn't know what to write about so my teacher comes to help me come up with ideas, so she asks me if there's an object that has like a deep meaning to me and i say a pair of scissors and so she asks me to elaborate which i honestly didn't think she'd ask but i thought i was whatever so was going to tell her i'm trying to tell her that it has to do with when i cut all my hair off but i literally couldn't even get the words out like i was choked up so bad and was like there's no way im actually about to cry yk so she went on to ask me why i had to cut my hair and i say like it's cause i was losing hair then i just start like bawling my damn eyes out in class i was so embarrassed but i couldn't stop crying i had honestly thought i'd be over it by now since it's literally been like a year and a half and my hair has grown out a pretty good amount even if it isn't close to the length it was before but after talking to the teacher she let me leave class to like take a breather and i dead went to the bathroom and cried so crazy hard it's actually so embarrassing to think about so many people saw me cry like not just the people in class but also other students in the halls it made me wanna kms i wanted to tell this to someone but i didn't want to be judged especially since i've been told multiple times that having to cut my hair wasn't a big deal and that it's just hair like people don't understand like how i feel about this so i don't want to be seen as overdramatic but yeah just wanted to get that off my chest👍.