I (21 y.o F) have been wondering for a while if a guy is into me or is it all just in my head. The guy I’m talking about is an assistant at my university (he’s a bit older than me). Since the class he teaches is a bit hard, I always try my best to pay attention and understand everything, but, honestly, from the start, I got the “feeling” that he pays more attention to me than to the other female students. Usually, he smiles at me, makes eye contact with me, calls my name for a several number of times, asks me to answer or help him with solving problems etc. Until last week, I only thought of it as a joke, but, since I needed some help, I went to his office hours. To start with, he didn’t ever give me creepy vibes. He made me understand everything I didn’t get in class, we also talked about university in general etc. At some point, he told me that he believes that I’m smart ( probably because I’m the only female student interested in his class ) and he repeated for 3-4 times that whenever I don’t understand something, I could always ask him for help. Am I misinterpreting the situation or is it possible for him to favoulike me? Is it a good thing or a bad thing?

I was in the elevator yesterday at my doctor’s office. It was one of those big medical buildings with everything from orthopedic urgent care to cancer treatment, and gynecology. There are 5 floors.
Boomer got on, listening to some kind of angry news Podcast on his phone speaker. By the second floor, he had figured out how to turn off the sound. A few people got off on the second floor. The moment the door closed, he started going off on people who come to the doctor and then take the elevator one floor. Like, it was their fault they were sick because they were lazy and never took the stairs. He started staring at all of us, asking us to agree with him and pile on about how disgusting and lazy these people were.
I was off my game, focusing on the procedure I had ahead of me, so I didn’t understand what was happening. I said, “I’m always scared I will get trapped in a stairwell of a building I don’t know well. Sometimes people lock doors, or in medical buildings, you need a pass to get on some floors.” He was so mad, he started turning purple. I had ruined his fun.
We all got off in the fourth floor and he was sputtering and glaring at me. I wish I had asked him why he couldn’t walk up four flights of stairs. It’s not like we were going to the 30th floor. It was 4 flights. Not a hard walk for someone in shape. But what he wanted was to shame and judge people going to the doctor, who may be dealing with all kinds of disability issues, for not taking the stairs. By taking his comment at face value and explaining why someone might be nervous taking the stairs, I guess I was the jerk. Why does all fun have to be at others’ expense?

If I had to guess I'd say this book was made sometime between 1990 and 2010. All I rember was a boy who was in a museum looking for his brother, and the only other person he could find was this talking model skeleton who joined him, I think the skeleton wanted to find out who he was before he died. They try to look for the main office to find the boys brother but the museums layout makes no sense and they have to wander aimlessly through exhibits, meeting stange characters as they go. Eventually they reach the office where curator tells the skeleton he is just a replica. If I remember correctly this causes the skeleton to scream , and the boy wakes up outside the museum with his brother.

I suppose I’m trying to understand if anyone else ever went through something similar.
I was a continent away from my family for my studies. It had been two months since I’d left.
I spoke to my parents almost every other day. At 55, my father was the most fit person in the family. He ate healthy and exercised.
They say a person knows or at least gets a hunch before they’re gone for good. My father didn’t. He had numerous plans for that day and the next. I spoke to him the day before.
He was perfectly fine, until he wasn’t.
I got that call from one of my father’s friends. My mother didn’t have it in her to break it to me. It was a massive heart attack.
It’s not like everyone has a choice. Alone in my room some 4,000 miles away from home, I didn’t have an active choice to let grief take its due course - that would have to wait. What could not wait was looking for the earliest flight back home while I packed everything, knowing right then clear as day I wouldn’t be back, at least not in a while. I was the oldest child, so I had a younger sibling to take care of. And my mother deserved time to grieve while I handled the aftermath - death certificate, documentation, insurance, and so many other materialistic bullshit spewed at you as if you don’t have to process the loss of a whole human from your life.
Shit needed to be handled, so handle is what I did. I emailed my university that I wouldn’t be able to make it for a course final presentation. I notified my workplace that I won’t be able to make it for a meeting that day. I got to the airport and bought all the chocolates and cashews for my mom and my sibling because them having enough food in their system to survive the next few days was my biggest concern.
I made a to-do list during my flight, noting everything I need to take care of in my father’s absence.
I was so..aware.
I spoke to every immigration and security officer like a regular traveler. I thanked the air hostesses every single time they gave me something to eat. I even wished one of them saying, “Have a good day” before leaving the plane because she was kind enough to dim the lights around me and give me a paracetamol when my head was pounding.
I really went to the immigration officers, looked them dead in the eye, and asked them to make an exception so I could book another flight and get home faster without having to wait 8 hours in transit. They had no idea, but they relented in the end because I stood right in front of them waiting for an answer.
I was hyperaware since the minute I landed. I vividly remember holding my mom, not only because I wanted to shield her from her grief - but also from people - because it was the same day I realized most people have the EQ of a brick wall, especially when it comes to loss.
I hadn’t cried in front of people, not even when they took me to the morgue, all eyes on me.
People asked my mom about it. My mom asked me why I hadn’t cried.
It positively is not denial. But I don’t know. Sometimes, it’s still difficult to believe this is how things are. I never saw the light leave my father’s eyes - I never even got to feel his warmth for the last time. He was freezing cold in that horridly shallow freezer by the time I arrived.
And now, everything feels like a distant memory. Life feels a lot like before and after.

As we all know, when applying for benefits or what not, there can be a ton of records from all over the place, with different supporting data and such.
Does anyone know of a program, that lets you create like a calendar with dates that you can input diagnosis and findings, attach the doctor notes from that event. Record tracked symptoms, load evidence of different pictures of symptoms on different dates and stuff.
Like there’s some great software for one or two of my doctor offices, but I’d like to be able to stitch all the data together for myself to submit when I see a specialist, or submit for review of some kind.
I understand a lot of organizations are willing to pull medical records, but I feel good being able to pull them myself, organize them linearly with additional information that wouldn’t be in a med record like pictures, and then be able to discuss my concerns simplistically in a visit, or what not.
Any ideas?

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Hello all. I’m a doctor who has around 15 years of experience on the field and I’m the main hair transplant surgeon of one of the best Hair Transplant clinics in Turkey. I’m not here for advertising and I’m not going to share my personal information. I just want to let people know about the bad side of the Hair Transplant in Turkey.
Right now, because of the market, 6/10 of the hair transplant clinics in Turkey work with no doctor. Technicians and nurses introduce themselfs as doctor, see the patients in a doctors office with white coat, and do the procedure. And because of that we see many many necrosis, donor area destruction, %60 percent result hair transplants. Health ministary in Turkey does nothing to prevent it, because they need euros and dollars that you are bringing in. I have around 30-40 patients monthly. So, as I told you I need no ads, no patients. Just want to help you on this journey.
So, always talk with the doctor who’ll perform your surgery and make you that he joins your operation. And ask to see that doctors medical certificate and check if the names match or not.
One bad operation or necrosis could affect your whole life and your whole look.

So this time last year (May ‘23) I went to see HR regarding a hiring committee I was a part of and the favoritism they showed a candidate. The Director of HR, granted she was the only HR employee at the time, is this beautiful African American woman with big, bright eyes and a gorgeous smile. We talked about my committee and then we just talked about life. She was going through hard times. We ended up becoming fast friends. I would go and check up on her.
Fast forward to August, I went to go see her again. Just dropped in as a quick hello and was reminded how beautiful she was. The next week I saw her. She stopped by where I was standing in line for food and touched my shoulder, finger to skin, and I literally felt a spark go through me. She just stopped to say hi. I think that was the moment I couldn’t stop thinking about her. From that moment forward I started to go to her office once a week. We had great conversation. I was learning more about her. We had astrology in common. We learned about each other’s families. We both were having problems as she was on the edge of divorce. My love life at the time was nonexistent with my wife and crumbling. However I started to enjoy her company way more than expected.
Because of our interest in astrology I knew her birthday was coming up in October. I decided to buy her a birthday card with a gift card for a restaurant. Before I got out of the car I said to myself ‘I think I’m in love with her’. That’s when I knew I was in trouble. I had began to write poems about her (which seem to be therapeutic) and having non stop thoughts of her. Mind you I’m still going to her office once a week. I gave her the card. We are still talking. She’s still going through shit with her husband. I’m talking about her to select coworkers. I offered to buy her lunch, another way to spend time with her. Well turns out she had a meeting with our CEO and we would have had less than 10 minutes. I was devastated. Like seriously heartbroken. Thus began my limerence. I still went to see her every chance I got. Probably too much. She never told me to not come and see her. In fact it became ‘You should come by more often’. I did.
A conference that both of us and several other employees attended happened in late November to December. We were very connected at the hip. She flashed me her room number without saying a word. I chose not to go. Literally the week before during Thanksgiving two things happened. 1) I ran into a psychic who gave me a reading and told me not to sleep with her. 2) My wife and I had a devastating argument about the state of our marriage. It had went to shit when we started therapy. Skipping the fact that I didn’t go up that night we had a great time together. We spent an incredible amount of time together. It was fun. I felt incredibly refreshed having spent time with her. The one downside to the entire trip was that she told me she was reconciling with her husband.
I asked her out twice for a meal in December. She never gave a direct no, but created excuses. January came and she got sick. I texted her a lot checking in on her. When she came back I asked her if I texted her too much. She said yes. I completely stopped. I think my poetry ramped up more because of that. She also reminded me she was trying to reconcile with her husband. In the same breath she asked me how I was doing as I was newly separated. It became emotional.
The next event per se happened in February. After Valentine’s Day I went to see her. I asked how things were going with her and her husband. She said they went well. I had started talking with people on dating apps. I mentioned this to her and she seemed a bit bothered. I was surprised. Somehow my wife came into conversation and I told her that I talk to her more than my wife. She blushed! Despite having good moments with her I was heartbroken that her and her husband were doing well.
I didn’t go see her for two weeks. There was a function midday. She waved at me and I was excited to see her. When I started to walk towards her she turned around and ignored me. This hurt me severely as I have trauma from people ignoring me. I stopped going to see her again. She texts me for my birthday, granted it was a week late, but I was excited. This was the first time we had a text conversation in over two months. She mentioned that she had to take medical leave. Needless to say I was devastated. I went to see her and she was very sad. She started telling me about her family life as a child, but we were interrupted.
While she was out, a coworker started a meal train account for her so she wouldn’t have to cook. There was an area where you could buy DoorDash gift cards. I bought $200 worth and also sent $300 in visa gift cards via a coworker who would see her.
When she comes back to work she tries to give one of the gift cards back. I told her I wouldn’t accept it back.
I’m very in love (or limerence/infatuated) with her. I’ve tried dating other people, but that doesn’t help as I end up talking about her when asked is there someone else.
I want to ask her what her thoughts are about me, but I’m horrified that she thinks I’m a creep.

I recently just adopted a dog and took them to a vet in the area. Turns out my dog had an infection and needed antibiotics. The vet was charging me $65 for the medication. I thought wtf that was way too much since I’ve taken this medication myself before and it didn’t cost much. I called the pharmacy near me that I use, Cinco Ranch Pharmacy, and they gave me a price of $35. In the moment I ended up paying at the vet bc they didn’t really offer to send it elsewhere. Is this common practice for meds to be upcharged this much at a vets office? It honestly feels unethical to me. Does anyone have any experience transferring their meds elsewhere?? I saw chewy pharmacy but the local pharmacy was still a lot cheaper

1. Rayalaseema Ruchulu:
   
   • Violations Found: Maida (refined wheat flour) highly infested with black beetles, tamarind infested with insects, expired Amul Gold milk, unlabelled cashews, and jowar roti.
   • Hygiene Issues: Blocked drain and open windows in the kitchen area.
   • Date of Inspection: May 18, 2024¹.
2. Shah Ghouse:
   
   • Violations Found: Unlabeled prepared/semi-prepared food in storage.
   • Hygiene Issues: Water stagnation.
   • Date of Inspection: May 18, 2024¹.
3. Kamat Hotel:
   
   • Violations Found: Unlabeled noodles and tea powder packets.
   • Food Handlers: Without medical fitness certificates, hair caps, and gloves.
   • Date of Inspection: May 17, 2024¹.
4. Hotel Sukha Sagar Veg Restaurant:
   
   • Violations Found: JK Button Mushroom Packets without manufacturing and use-by dates.
   • Kitchen Premises: No separation from the outside environment.
   • Date of Inspection: Not specified.

Source: 1.Dining out a risky recipe? Food safety scares leave a sour taste in Hyderabad. https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/city/hyderabad/dining-out-a-risky-recipe-food-safety-scares-leave-a-sour-taste-in-hyderabad/articleshow/110264554.cms. 2. Raids conducted at top restaurants in Hyderabad; unhygienic conditions .... https://www.siasat.com/raids-conducted-at-top-restaurants-in-hyderabad-unhygienic-conditions-found-3028598/. 3. Food safety crackdown: Raids on Rayalseema Ruchulu, Kamat for expired food products. https://newsmeter.in/hyderabad/food-safety-crackdown-raids-on-rayalseema-ruchulu-kamat-for-expired-food-products-729514. 4.Blatant food safety violations found at top eateries in Hyderabad. https://www.greatandhra.com/politics/telangana-news/blatant-food-safety-violations-found-at-top-eateries-in-hyderabad-138000. 5. Hyderabad: Food safety officers raid top restaurants, find unhygienic .... https://www.thehansindia.com/news/cities/hyderabad/hyderabad-food-safety-officers-raid-top-restaurants-find-unhygienic-conditions-879481. 6.Raids carried out in Hyderabad against vendors using chemicals to ripen .... https://www.thehindu.com/news/cities/Hyderabad/raids-carried-out-against-vendors-using-chemicals-to-ripen-mangoes/article67972904.ece. 7. Paradise Biryani House: - Violations Found: Expired spices, unhygienic storage of raw materials, and inadequate pest control. - Date of Inspection: May 20, 2024.

1. Chutneys:
   
   • Violations Found: Stale chutneys, improper food handling practices, and lack of proper handwashing facilities.
   • Date of Inspection: May 19, 2024.
2. Bawarchi Restaurant:
   
   • Violations Found: Unlabeled frozen meat, inadequate refrigeration, and dirty kitchen utensils.
   • Date of Inspection: May 18, 2024.

Please stay informed and vigilant when dining out, and be cautious about the hygiene standards of the restaurants you visit. It's essential to prioritize your health and safety! 🍽️🚫🤢

As the original question is saying, do you use an IPS for personal/professional reasons?
I want to ask you a few questions and I will appreciate it If you answer back:

• Which one
• Do you pay any external services for this?
• Is it worth the hassle?
• How long it took you to set it up initially and
• How long does it take you to maintain it on a constant basis?

I am thinking about adding Zeek to my home office setup, I''ve used it in the past professionally (as Bro) and I liked it but it had a very steep way to learn and set up. Maintenance however was pretty transparent.

TW for mention of critical illness, hospitals, parental strife
This story spans over a few years so I'm sure I'll have to edit this to clarify.
When I was 17 years old I got diagnosed with a thing in my brain* through an MRI.
^\The shorthand is "AVM" for arteriovenous malformation, a tangle of blood vessels that irregularly connects arteries and veins. In the brain, it can cause brain bleeds which affect cognitive and motor function and can also result in death. The way i explain it is that you've got the blood pressure and flood of an artery going into a deformed clump of capillaires and veins with thin walls, deforming them further. The risk of rupture increases every year. Idk if it sounds scary enough like that, but it's like a ticking time bomb.)
I got gamma radiation shortly after, which is only relevant because they use a metal frame with metal spikes they drill against your skull so you can’t move your head during radiation. I chose this method of treatment because it was supposed to be quick and painless with no general anaesthesia but it turned out that the treatment experience was completely traumatising and I’m still living with a clinical PTSD diagnosis following that.
This mode of treatment aims at calcifying the inside of the veins in a specific zone and the gradual closing of vulnerable veins can take from 6 m to 3y.
I have siblings and we’ve all always been afraid of our dad. He was always extremely authoritative and we were very well behaved because of that. He got angry very easily, and the smallest thing would send him storming off screaming and breaking things, preceded by silent treatment (which was somehow the scariest all). He’d punish us extremely strictly, and would often drive up to 40km/h over the speed limit to scare or punish us, the reasoning was something like « if we all die it’s your fault because we made me angry).
All this to say my relationship with my father has always been extremely vertical and our relationship never grew into something like equal footing and I always got extremely nervous and scared whenever I was about to meet with him.
This being said, there is no amount of words I can use to describe the depth of my love for him. He drove us around without a protest for hours and hours and hours, gave us a beautiful luxurious life and never missed any of our important dates. Birthdays and chistmases were an avalanches of gifts and we were completely spoiled. He was extremely involved and I know he loves me so much. I’ve stopped speaking to him a few years ago but it truly breaks my heart because I love him so much and I miss the smell of his aftershave and I know he misses me very much too.
When the MRI result came back, my dad was there. He was the one who walked up to me and said « everything is fine, there is just a *little* thing.
I’m sure this was hard for him because his mom died of cancer when he was 28, but he never mentioned it in relation to my illness.
Pretty quickly, my dad stopped me whenever I mentioned illness and made sure I amended any mention of the experience by adding a sweetened positive twist at the end like « I’m glad I learned so much » or « but I grew so much from the experience ».
Gradually and too seamlessly for me to really notice, he decided I was « cured » and would no longer tolerate any mention of illness. He’s get impatient, tell me off, and even genuinely angry when I did. He’d say « you’re cured now » and « idk why you keep talking about this, it’s in the past now, you need to move on and live life ». Important note here : he is not a doctor, just a regular dad in the world with zero medical knowledge.
I don’t know if it was his own version of « manifesting » healing for me or a symptom of his fear. I wonder if he misunderstood the neurologist saying it could take up to three years to see if the treatment was effective. Before the 3 year mark, with no tests and MRIS to back it, he’s managed to completely convince himself and the rest of the family that I was cured and only still talking about it for attention. He even invented a pseudo-psychological term he dubbed the « syndrome of the sick child » to belittle my fear and worry and terror and loneliness, which if I understand his concept correctly meant I was clinging to an expired diagnosis in order to be babied and gat my parents attention. IDK maybe this can give you insight into his personality, how convincing he could be.
And it was just a really lonely experience for me. All of the « why are you still talking about this you ‘re cured and you need to move on now », while still trying to cope with so much fear of dying at all times, without having anywhere to talk about it. I wonder if the lack of parental support I experienced thought such a traumatising experience as a teenager and then as a young adult was what contributed to transform the trauma into clinical PTSD (diagnosed).
Eventually, I got my 3-year mark MRI. The radiologist was my dad’s BIL and he called my dad and gave him the result directly instead of contacting me directly. I was a legal adult and ab. 22 by then. My dad then called me on the phone, I remember the conversation so clearly, he said I was cured and I proceeded to call my mom and grandparents and best friend to share the news.
yay now you can move on. When he got home he popped a bottle of champagne open in celebration.
This was so tough because something didn’t quite sit right with me. Because of growing up hypervigilent I’m usually good at telling when someone is lying and twisitng the truth.
He seemed off on the phone, and in person, and I couldn’t tell if it wasn’t just that I couldn’t imagine life ebbing cured.
A few days later the BIL called me and said there was a lil persisting on the MRI. I wonder if I’d been brainwashed by my dad already by the time BIL called because when I asked dad if there was anything he didn’t tell me, he said « well you can’t expect to be 100% cured with things like this », and « 99% cured is the same as 100% » and other things of the sort. It was like he’d twisted the results in favour of his opinion.
By that time, I was stuck and really confused, and everyone was already convinced I was cured. And it got really hard for me to know what to do and where to turn because I was till so young and the hospital system was so confusing.
It took two years for me to decide to get a second opinion. Someone else looked at the MRI and said there was still something left, but since I’d heard my dad assure me it meant I was cured, it took considerable effort for me to reach out to my service in the hospital again for an appointment with the specialist I’d seen back when I was 17. This alone was extremely challenging because no one took be seriously, and I had to call the secretary office on a daily basis for a couple weeks to ask what I should do to get a confirmation I was cured. I’m quite headstrong and I wanted to hear from the specialist directly that I was cured do as to have no doubts at all. Throughout this, dad tried to discourage me and then eventually accepted it might be the only way for me to move on.
The MRI happened and I sat in the neurosurgeons office at the hospital of my nightmares asking if my results were conducive with full recovery. He confirmed there was something left, and then that the aim of treatment is to be completely cured. That the malformation should not be visible on an MRI once it was cured. He added that the risk of rupture increased each year. I soon had another more intrusive san done and it confirmed there was a little left, which meant I needed to get another round of Gamma radiation.
This hit me like a ton of bricks.
The second round of treatment was just as traumatising as I’d remembered the first round to be.
I don’t know what to do with how angry I am with my dad. He lied to me and invited all of us to live in a fiction of his making, thus endangering me. Every insistence I’d been cured and needed to move on when I wasn’t, and in fact the risk of me having an aneyrism was growing with every day.
The worst is that he never apologised. He instantly switched up his story and started pretending he’d never said I was cured. He created a whole new fiction where « he’d always insisted I’d get a more thorough MRI checkup ». It’s so unfair. How he can’t embrace a world where he’s wronged me, and not because it destroyed me but because he can’t be wrong. He has to be perfect. How unfair.
I most likely wouldn’t have mede it past the age of fifty if I’d believed of indeed obeyed him.
I used to check my memories again to make sure I hadn’t made it up, and eventually I accepted I’d never get an apology. And that I was wronged and I didn’t deserve that. And that I should’ve gotten the support I needed.
I’m cured now, I sat in another doctors office a year ago and he said my MRI came back normal and the AVM was no longer on the scan. I’m really proud I was so headstrong.
And eventually I decided to take distance from my dad, and life improved when I stopped talking to him. I know it hurts him, and that he’s extremely angry. He expresses this to my siblings, and I know they get punished in my stead and I feel so guilty. But I can’t be around my dad, I’m too angry. I’m trying to live with the love I have for him in my heart, with my childhood memories and the guilt and missing him and then more guilt for being happier now that I don’t have to talk to him and listen to his tirades. And I worry for my siblings who still talk to him, because he doesn’t treat them kindly and they deserve so much love and admiration and support, which he’d never give them.
I used to want to press charges and I wonder if he shouldn’t be in prison for what he did but he’s a vicious man and he’s go to much money and friends in high places that I couldn’t take him on. And things would get ugly, I know. I just wish he could pay for what he did.
I’ll update later for typos and clarifications :)

Feeling demoralized for struggling with culture fit interviews. Have 9 years of experience.
I really like the company (a successful fintech company) - I have passed technical rounds last year except the final leadership interview.
Now they have tech screening (cultural fit).
ex:- feedback from a screening interview with tech lead.
Thank you for giving us the opportunity to consider your application to the Software Engineer - Data role. Your interest in the position means a lot to us. We’ve reviewed your application and, unfortunately, it’s not a match for what we’re specifically searching for in this role.
Here is some feedback which might help you for your next endeavors:
**Pros:**

• You seem to have a good understanding of technology and the end-to-end cycle of software development from a technical point of view. For example, you shared that you worked on a project from scratch - understood requirements, did capacity planning, applied it on load balancers and also mentioned the monitoring aspect of the project.
  
• You have worked closely with the product manager (in the context of the above project) and knew the business impact they were measuring.
  
• You have experience working with data scientists - in the same project.
  
• You didn't mind working from the office. We pressed on the office first and the 3-day policy. You were comfortable with that - seemed neither excited nor against.
  

**Concerns:**

• **Concerns on Explainability:** You went into a lot of unnecessary details while explaining the project as an example. I would expect someone with your experience to read the room and give the details required for the key points of discussion.
  
• **Concerns on Cross Team/Cross Function projects:** We asked about the challenging parts of owning the end-to-end project - in light of the project example you had given. You mentioned the technical part of caching and the application crashing due to garbage collection. We pressed a bit on the non-technical challenges. You said one of the teams did not want to support their use case so you built it on your own. We pressed a bit more on any challenging experience you have had in your career and how you resolved it or learnt from it. You told a story of the two engineers in your team having an argument over a design, where you implemented two solutions and then the EM in the end resolved it. My feedback on this is that you don't have the experience on the "end-to-end" ownership apart from technical design, especially in cross-teams projects.
  
• **Concerns on Experience:** For all the questions we asked, you gave answers in the context of just one project i.e., the system that you worked on previously. We also asked about your experience in your recent companies but no projects came up in the discussion - only that you don't like the way of working in your current company.
  

Finally: Should I fabricate stories from recent years where I don't have examples in reality. I have decent stories from 5 years back which are not too strong sometimes.
Honestly I am not a confrontational person.
What the fuck should I do? even sometimes I am not getting opportunity to shine in technical interviews.

Hi all. Just wanted to try getting a narrowed down idea of my type. Feel free to comment your thoughts! Thanks!
• How old are you? What's your gender? Give us a general description of yourself.
I'm a 25 year-old male. I'm a diligent student and am living away from my home country for now 9 years. Ive spent those 9 years trying to understand the way the society works here and have adapted rather well, to the point where people can't tell I'm a foreigner. I'm pretty active, although it's more so activity for the sake of activity. As such, I'm kinda fit.
• Is there a medical diagnosis that may impact your mental stability somehow?
Yes. GAD and PTSD.
• If you had to spend an entire weekend by yourself, how would you feel? Would you feel lonely or refreshed?
I would have fomo if I were to see everyone else that I deem as friend doing something cool on socials. Then I would become resentful. However, I myself am perfectly okay being in my own company. I prefer it. That is not to say I don't like being with my frens. I would feel refreshed but there would come a point where I would feel as if I can't bear being so alone. Especially after long periods of time. However, I am accustomed to being alone and finding the joy in it. Like I said, I would resent the very sociable folks because I felt left out
• What kinds of activities do you prefer? Do you like, and are you good at sports? Do you enjoy any other outdoor or indoor activities?
I like activities that i can enjoy anywhere. Though i think this is because of how used to using a phone i am. Mobile gaming etc... is pretty neat. I like activities in which i can see a story unfold. Reading is one of them, iwas a huge reader as a kid. But i gravitate more so towards watching cool shows. However i much prefer shows and things that arent as popular because then people wont annoyingly yap about the surface level of the shows that we mutually have watched. Though I do like creative activities, like painting, I also like shopping and walking around. I like doing things that I feel are leading towards something grand. So, for instance, journaling and practicing a skill daily brings me some pleasure. I used to be a huge football fan until I realized how corrupt the sport was. I do like some sports though. I've always liked tossing and catching balls, playing with bouncy balls as a kid etc... I like skateboarding, though I haven't owned one in years.
• How curious are you? Do you have more ideas then you can execute? What are your curiosities about? What are your ideas about - is it environmental or conceptual, and can you please elaborate?
Quite curious. I'm sometimes out of touch with reality just entertaining my mental musings. I will be sat and thinking about some random topic or thing iused to hear about and then research it. I'll try to make sense of the world and the "why" behind things. For example; why do I have nightmares when it's cold? Why are xyz so unreasonable? Why am I so attached to this toy? Why don't people do instead of y? I feel like social media has influenced this process tho. Giving us random things to consume, it leads us to clicking on videos and articles that spark new interests so easily and quickly, so I'm unsure. Though I tend to want to know why certain things are happening or WHAT is happening. Especially if theres like a crown gasping at something, for instance.
• Would you enjoy taking on a leadership position? Do you think you would be good at it? What would your leadership style be?
i have taken leadership positions in the past, and I did well. I much prefer to appeal to the good nature of my "teammates" and encourage them to do a good job.however, I prefer to select my team. I do not want laziness or incompetence in my crew. So I will scan my options and choose who I will team up with. If I have options that are limited to not-so-skilled individuals, I will play a leadership role and do most of the thinking. Tho I don't enjoy it.
• Are you coordinated? Why do you feel as if you are or are not? Do you enjoy working with your hands in some form? Describe your activity?
i'm coordinated, yeah. I actually prefer situations where I can grasp the essence of a problem and use my hands. I prefer writing over reading, so I guess I like using my hands fo effect the mediums I work with. I used to want to be like a spy who is interacting with a bunch of gadgets and mobilizing himself towards a goal. My activity is usually at my own pace. I frequently try to finish tasks ahead of schedule because I want to spend more time lazing around and doing whatever I want. I tend to seek clarity in instructions I am given and sequentially take care of each piece of the task I am given. I recently started using to do lists because the workload became HUGE. I will, however, not compromise my comfort.
• Are you artistic? If yes, describe your art? If you are not particular artistic but can appreciate art please likewise describe what forms of art you enjoy. Please explain your answer.
i am. I am skilled with pencil shading and line art and do pretty well with colours and aesthetics. I know what I like and try to make something that appeals to me and is objectively nice. I tend to also make pieces that resonate with myself, so things that I like. I even sought to learn to draw faces to draw myself and my friends ad fantasy characters. I'm good with visual arts but I'm also a pretty good actor. I've always excelled at making accents and role playing. I like thinking of people in terms of the archetypes they fill and even portray my friends in memes
• What's your opinion about the past, present, and future? How do you deal with them?
The past, I have a love hate relationship with it. I made mistakes that I regret and have been through horrible things. But I do appreciate things from the past that bring me meaning. Certain flavors, sceneries, good memories. As for the present, I tend to be locked out of the present moment. I struggle to live in the moment and can seem rather weird. I think more about things than actually doing them. It feels like I play a character at any given moment for any given interaction tho. As for the future, I tend to find it weird. I want a better future and sometimes think, in a tight situation, "don't worry. Tomorrow this will be over." I love thinking that the future is open and that better days are ahead. I often wonder what it will feel like doing things ive never done. Absent of anxiety, that is. With anxiety, whole different story. "Tomorrow is bound to be worse than today" when anxious
• How do you act when others request your help to do something (anything)? If you would decide to help them, why would you do so?
i help those i'm cool with or at least neutral towards. If the individual is full of nonsense and lazy or offers no value in return, no way.
• How important is efficiency and productivity to you?
I've been lazy all mylifr and I never stopped hearing about it. So just to prove people wrong, I will move bricks and mountains. Whichever is important to a degree of thinking "less is more". Productivity is alright too, but at my own pace ofc
• What are your hobbies? Why do you like them?
i listen to music, journal, watch cartoons and movies, work out, walk, try to find ways to "fix" my life (my friends tell me this is what I do most), play games, try some good food, meditate (I tend to neglect this one), research interesting things, draw, accomplish a goal
• What is your learning style? What kind of learning environments do you struggle with most? Why do you like/struggle with these learning styles? Do you prefer classes involving memorization, logic, creativity, or your physical senses?
I hate classes with lots of aural input from a lecturer, If it triggers my misophonia.i prefer learning things practically. explanations will just have me needing to read more and try to focus on boring notes. Using my hands and brains is preferred. I score high in Kinesthetic for VARK tests. Oh, and visual. I prefer classes that involve logic, creativity and physical senses. I can memorize things but this is the most tedious learning style for me.
• How good are you at strategizing? Do you easily break up projects into manageable tasks? Or do you have a tendency to wing projects and improvise as you go?
I can strategise when needed. I weigh the task up first. If the task at hand is hard, I will break it down and dedicate more energy to it. Else, I'll just do what feels right. I even ignore instructions sometimes.
• What do the "highs" in your life look like?
The flavour of the world feels warm, with a tinge of coldness. I would feel as if my suffering paid off and I am nowhere except where I am supposed to be. That there is no rush and no need to care of what others think about me. Where I can just do what I deem best amd find a balance between stability and adventure
• What do the "lows" in your life look like?
Nightmares, hypichondriasis, overthinking, rumination, anxiety, panic, jealousy, having no autonomy
• How attached are you to reality? Do you daydream often, or do you pay attention to what's around you? If you do daydream, are you aware of your surroundings while you do so?
I daydream quite a lot. But I will still feel what's around me enough to get somewhere where I can be in my head in peace. XD
• Imagine you are alone in a blank, empty room. There is nothing for you to do and no one to talk to. What do you think about?
I like empty rooms, especially if they used to be lively and full of people in past events. Goes to show that no matter what happens, some things remain. I would think of what life would be like if I were to live here forever. I would also be reminded of that meme where there's just a futon, a screen, a fridge and a katana: "all men need to be happy". If the room has no windows or doors, I'd be scared. Assuming it has windows and a door, I would look outside, eventually. How big is the room? If it's a HUUUUGE empty hall, that's so cool. I'd walk around and imagine myself in some great elvish building and maybe even lie down to see the roof. I even dreamt of such a building before, hexagon shaped cross section.
• How long do you take to make an important decision? And do you change your mind once you've made it?
I take a bloody long time to decide on anything important. For instance, i took 4 hours to decide what race my DnD character would be. Once I've made my decision, I will not regret it unless it goes wrong
• How long do you take to process your emotions? How important are emotions in your life?
I have always tended to act on emotion but i have been more balanced in the past 4 years. I regulate them to not make a mess and use them to deem what I will and will not tolerate in the future. I enjoy expressing them
• Do you ever catch yourself agreeing with others just to appease them and keep the conversation going? How often? Why?
No. Cause that's fake. If I don't agree, I'll just say "cool" and move on. Why talk if I'm going to say what YOU want to hear? I must say what I want to say.
• Do you break rules often? Do you think authority should be challenged, or that they know better? If you do break rules, why?
Yeah, but I often get told that what I'm doing isn't right and then I just get mad at the person that told me that. "No sir you can't wear shoes in this room" I'll think cwell, screw you too!" Besides that, I often follow the rules of any given institution well enough.

I ask because I found mine really stressful. I was quite anxious from the off as I'd never worked in O+G but had heard lots of horror stories about my local maternity unit from friends and colleagues. I was very worried about being seen as a difficult, over-medicalising doctor, and as a result I think I affected my own care. My midwife was very keen to buy into normal healthy births (midwives) vs. doctors who want to complicate things and spent most of the first appointment talking about what anxious mums doctors make. I had a few questions and each was brushed off. I was told to forget my medical degree and trust my body. I was high risk for developing pre-eclampsia and so took my own BP occasionally throughout. My midwife was really unhappy when she heard I was doing this and told me to stop as I wouldn't be able to interpret the numbers. I don't want to go into all the details but my community care felt generally haphazard, things were missed (including some quite important things that hospital consultants were later obviously not happy with), I spent most of my time seeing only student midwives and my own midwife went completely AWOL, so I missed my last community app as no one would book it for her and she wouldn't contact me or answer the phone. I ended up with reduced movements, pre-eclampsia and an emergency section. Whilst my hospital care was better, there were several times when I delayed my own treatment by not raising concerns (leading to delayed diagnoses of complications) because I was so worried that I'd be seen as difficult and like I was angling after a section (one midwife did make a comment about she 'suspected I'd be wanting a section'!)
Overall, I'm really upset at how I didn't feel able to advocate for myself and felt so worried about making a fuss. I want to start trying for my second but feel so much more anxious after the first experience (and even more so as my second will now be higher risk) and so worried that I'll put my subsequent baby at harm by being so worried about being seen as difficult. I'm even more worried after all the findings coming out at the moment about certain maternity units and maternity safety.
Can I ask if anyone else felt like this and what helped?

Kadillac Kirk had been a good friend of mine for several years. I had met him through friends from The Spring Stage; and he never had anything to do with The Imp, which is why he didn’t appear in the Married Mary saga. Mary would have totally thrown herself at him, and Kirk would have definitely “thrown it in her.” He loved the ladies and often remarked that there was no such thing as an unappealing woman, nor was there anything sweeter than finding the pearl of passion in an outwardly plain dame. Fortunately for Kirk, he never met Mary. This was probably fortunate for Mary as well, seeing as Kirk was a confirmed bachelor and his rakish nature might have broken her fat heart.
Kirk was an older guy. Not MOE old, though. He was in his early forties, but he easily passed for a carefree dude in his 30s... not that he lied about his age. I only mention this trait to juxtapose Kirk’s genuine youthful air with Moe’s unconvincing youthful farce. Kirk dressed normally, avoided stupid jargon, and never busted out gimmicks like tarot cards or spells. He just existed, behaved affably, and people liked him for it.
He drove a classic 1962 Cadillac El Dorado convertible with red leather interior, and he lived in a charmingly quaint (and ridiculously expensive) neighborhood. How he made his fortune remained a mystery, but he never bloviated about his wealth. He just threw spectacular parties and people showed up. And, to my knowledge, he never tried to lure women into bed with his money (although I’m sure he got his fair share of boom-boom thanks to his digs and his wheels, even if the gold-diggers denied their monetary agendas).
Kirk was legitimately handsome. He was a drummer, he had a full head of black hair, he was clean-shaven, he worked out, and he knew all the hidden gems in Wellsprings. So why hadn’t I tried... or even desired to date him? I don’t know. I just didn’t feel drawn to him like that. He felt like a cool uncle and he had, thus far, never done anything to change my perception. Plus, the age difference weirded me out a little. Kirk didn’t look forty; but knowing that he had so much more life experience than I did created a power imbalance that would have creeped me out if we’d been dating. As buddies, I just felt supremely cool riding in his Cadillac, smoking Fantasia cigarettes, and hitting the speakeasies and jazz clubs I would have never known about if it weren’t for Kirk’s connections.
And he had been a good person to talk to about my romantic woes. He never lecherously suggested that I should date him, and he gave the type of tempered advice that only comes with lived experience. But he often lightly mocked me for my crush on Dennis and he did a hilarious impression of Smegal popping too soon over his “precious.” So when Mary “got me back” by doing whatever she did with to Dennis, I called Kadillac Kirk and told him the drinks were on me if he’d be my designated driver for the night.
Why hadn’t I called Whisky??? Well, A) Kirk was way more fun to hang out with, at least from my past experiences up to that point. And B) I needed to bitch about a boy, something I couldn’t do in good conscience in front of a guy I was dating. So I put on the sexiest plunging halter dress I owned, applied heavy eye makeup and spikey accessories, braved a pair of stilettos, and sashayed out to Kirk’s convertible. I felt like a badass rock star. I probably looked like a try-hard hooker.
Kirk: Daaaaay-um! Somebody really did do a number on you, huh? I know you said you were upset, but the gents are gonna be writing thank you notes to that fat girl and that butt-fucking hobbit.
Me: I just need to feel pretty and numb. And I trust you to keep me from making a fool of myself.
Kirk squeezed my shoulder. “I’ve got you. You do whatever you need to do to get rid of these demons.”
He sparked up a J and offered me the first puff. I gladly accepted. He took one puff of his own, but said that the rest was mine since he didn’t want to drive stoned. See? He was responsible! Weed wasn’t legal in California yet, so I got a little bit baked before I stashed the sativa in the glove box and wrapped a scarf around my hair like a starlet from the Golden Age of Hollywood. Kirk sped out of the parking lot and said he was taking me to a downtown hotel that was hosting a party that night in their lush lobby.
Kadillac Kirk pulled up to the main entrance, paid the valet, and then opened my door. I was wobbly from the weed. And I had stupidly decided to wear heels. You can get high or you can wear high (heels). You can’t have both. Not if you’ve repeatedly injured both ankles (as I have). I had to take Kirk’s arm to keep from keeling over. “Can people tell I’m stoned?” I whispered. Kirk replied, “Nobody’s paying any attention to anyone else’s intoxication. I promise you that much.” I nodded, steadied myself, and strutted alongside my very cool friend, feeling a little more confident.
A live jazz orchestra was playing Cole Porter as we entered the lobby. Everything sparkled. The music was even more intoxicating than the spliff had been. “Just One of Those Things” brought tears to my eyes since the lyrics hit every raw nerve regarding the Dennis debacle. But I smiled. It might sound mental, but being distraught over a trash fire of a one-sided romance was exhilarating. Immature, for sure. But also exhilarating. You see, that kind of sadness doesn’t hurt. Not really. It stings. It leaves little bruises, but it’s very safe to wallow in because you haven’t actually lost anything. Melancholia over that which you never had is as sweet as it is bitter; and that type of twisted splendor is rivaled only by Stendhal.
“Here's hoping we meet now and then. It was great fun, but it was just one of those things.” I sang along with the band, and a fat tear rolled down past my melancholic smile and onto my chin. Kirk brushed it aside. “Too close to home?” I wiped away the remnants of the tear’s journey from eye to chin and smiled a more genuine smile. “The perfect distance from home. Shall we get drinks? Remember, I’m buying.”
Kirk: No, no. This is your time to heal. And I’m here as your pal, not your chauffeur. What would the lady like?”
I pretended to barf. Kirk knew I hated it when he got overly formal and overly attentive. So he did it just to mess with me. “Shot of vodka,” I replied.
Kirk: How many?
I thought briefly. “FIVE.”
Kirk: Five to one, baby. One in five...
Me: No one here gets out alive.
Kirk: Are you able to hold yourself upright, or should you come with?
I took a seat on an ornate, damask-upholstered chaise lounge. “I’ll be okay. And I was kidding about the five shots.”
I sat there lost in the music for a while. I thought very little about Dennis. Even less about Mary. And not at all about Whisky (whom I had shagged less than a week ago). My mind danced through the ornate lighting in the hotel lobby, and I suddenly felt the need to join the hoity-toity guests on the dancefloor!
Kirk returned with four shots of vodka. Two for him, two for me. That was quite reasonable of him. He knew damn well that I couldn’t handle five shots, but he also knew that I was in a... state. One that called for more than a single shot. I raised a both miniature glasses to “No more ninnyhammers or hairy-footed lovers.” Kirk did his hilarious Smegal impression, we double-toasted, and downed the shots. The band launched into “Let’s Misbehave,” and I kicked off my stilettos and made a beeline for the dance floor.
“There’s something wild about you child that’s so contagious. Let’s be outrageous! Let’s misbehave.” Kadillac Kirk swept me up, twirled me around, and dipped me as we both sang along with the lyrics. I wasn’t swooning for him, but I was enthralled by the moment. The music, the dancing, the combination of booze and bud... so I kissed him as he pulled me back to my feet. And he kissed back. In a way that Dennis never had. In a way that Whisky’s beard wouldn’t permit. I didn’t feel the visceral sensations that I’d felt when Dennis had kissed me, but it felt nice to feel desired. And then I noticed that other guests were watching us and applauding. Now, that was a dopamine rush if ever there was one!
I gently broke away from the embrace, high-fived Kirk and returned to the chaise lounge to put my stupid shoes back on. He followed me and smashed his face back onto mine. I pulled away and laughed. “It was a moment,” I told him. “I appreciate the dance, and that kiss was the perfect finale. But it’s not happening again.”
Kirk: Not to worry, Valerie. I know you. I knew all along that we were performing, and I was more than happy to be your scene partner.
Me: And dance partner! Those were some excellent moves! I didn’t know you had ballroom training.
Kirk: You name it, I’ve mastered it. Another drink for the lady?
I pretended to barf again. “Not yet. I’m not sad right now. Do you mind if I just sit here and enjoy the music?”
Kirk: Ah. My kisses do have healing properties...
I flipped my hand up at him. “Knock that shit off, bro. I wanted to hang out with you because I trust you not to get weird. Even if I get weird, I know you have the maturity to balance me out.”
Kirk: Are you calling me old???
Me: No. I’m calling you rational, responsible, and respectful.
Kirk: Well, now. If you can articulate an alliterative statement that fluently, then you clearly aren’t drunk enough!
I dismissed this comment as a joke. And he did indeed knock off the flirtation. We had a perfectly pleasant time chatting and dancing (no more kissing, though). And then I noticed a girl I knew from Into the Woods entering the lobby. She’d played Florinda and I’d played Little Red. I called her name and waved enthusiastically. She waved back. And then her date entered. It was D.E.N.N.I.S. I sank into the chaise. Kirk caught on immediately. “The hobbit???” he asked. I nodded silently. “You wanna make out again?” he enthused. I shook my head. I had to go say hello to Flo. And I had an idea...
I crossed the lobby, smiled, squealed, and hugged her.
Florinda: Lil’ Red! It’s been forever! So glad to see you!!! This is my friend, Denny.
From the corner of my eye. I could see Dennis shifting uncomfortably. I refused to look directly at him, neglected to acknowledge Flo's introduction and continued to converse only with her. "So glad to see you, too! What have you been up to since we left the woods?"
Dennis: C’mon, Val...
Florinda (appearing oblivious to the iciness between me and Dennis): Oh, I had some drama after the show closed. I'll have to tell you about it some other time... Have you seen Prince Big Bad (Scumbanger) lately?
I laughed. “Last time I saw him, he was hitting on some nasty fat chick at The Imp.”
Flo and I both scoffed at the pervy pest. Into the Woods was where I’d initially met Scumbanger. He played The Wolf/Cinderella’s Prince. Again... typecasting. There’s a whole essay in my brain about my first encounter with the pest, during which he quoted the song that he sang to me in the show, “Hello, Little Girl.” But it gets into some pretty uncomfortable territory because he made me feel... excited. Well, excited and scared. Nothing of note happened during Into the Woods, but our odd interactions did kind of set the stage for some extremely regrettable events during that Cats cast party.
I excused myself, saying that I needed to get back to my friend. And then I leaned in and said in a hushed voice to Flo, “Watch your ass with that one. If he’s the Denny I’m thinking of...” I gave her a look that only another female would be able to read. Her eyebrows shot up and she nodded. Dennis continued to shift as though he were trying to hold in a massive dump. “BABE! Uh...”
Flo apparently answered to that moniker as well. “What is it, Denny? Don’t worry. That was just telepathic girl talk. You apparently have a reputation...”
Dennis: Different Denny. I assure you I’m a pious gentleman.
Me: Ah. My mistake. Well, then. You guys have a good time! They’re playing Cole Porter, and the band is delovely. Great to see you, Flo!
I hugged Flo again, gave Dennis a curt nod, ignored the scent of mandarins and mountain air, and returned to Kirk.
I collapsed on the chaise lounge, exhausted from holding back the rage. I had no right to be mad at Florinda. I hadn’t seen her in three years, so how was she supposed to know that I’d had a thing with Dennis? Hell, I couldn’t even be mad at Dennis because the last time he and I had spoken in any meaningful way, I’d told him that I was no longer entertaining my crush on him. So why was I surprised to see him dating??? And why had he never taken ME out on a date like this??? And why wasn’t I smitten with Kadillac Kirk who HAD taken me out on a date like this, was an objectively excellent kisser, and a bona fide BALLER? What was wrong with me???
Kirk suggested going down the street to a quaint little bar and then sobering up at a diner closer to my apartment. I numbly nodded and followed him in silence for a few blocks. He assured me that I had “turned several heads” on the way to the new location, but I neither cared nor believed him. This wasn't the type of numbness I'd been aiming for. Now I needed to get schnockered. “Five shots of vodka, please.” Yes, I was serious.
Kadillac Kirk, my reliable designated driver, ordered only a beer and watched in something across between astonishment, concern, and delight as I slammed all five shots in rapid succession. I half expected to immediately retch all over the bar. But I felt fine. I half expected to immediately lose consciousness and wake up in the hospital. But I remained coherent. How I’d managed to take in that much hard liquor and suffer no direct consequences, I’ll never know.
I think I wanted to suffer. I wanted to either feel nothing at all or to feel a sickness bad enough to distract me from the scorching sting that pulsed through my being when I realized that I had lost the abstract notion I’d been addicted to this entire time. Hope. It wasn’t Dennis himself I couldn’t quit. It was that drug called hope. The hope that maybe, just maybe Dennis would give our romance a fair chance. The hope that maybe, just maybe he would make peace with himself, get his mind out of his crotch, and enjoy some agenda-free togetherness. The hope that maybe, just maybe he would stop bloviating about his admittedly impressive accomplishments for five fucking minutes and ask about my life. I had my own reasonably impressive accomplishments, even if they paled in comparison to his. A proper suitor would have enjoyed hearing about them.
But seeing him out with another woman, a woman who had no reason to parade her Dennis escapades before me as some means of revenge, a woman he was clearly courting of his own volition... My hope had died. It died before I’d had time to wean myself off it. Now I had to mourn the loss of hope, which is a very tricky brand of grief to navigate. Vodka wasn’t the answer, but it was what I had to work with. So it would have to do.
After enough time had passed without vomiting or collapsing, I asked Kirk to bring his car around to the bar so that I didn’t have to walk two and a half blocks drunk and in heels. He nodded and dramatically leaned in for a kiss. I recoiled. “DUDE! I told you. The moment has passed.”
Kirk: I beg your pardon. I misread your eyes. Thought I saw a green light...
Me: It’s fine. I just want to go home while I’m still feeling okay.
Kirk: Of course. Your chariot will be here soon.
He skipped off to fetch his Cadillac and I noticed that the lights in the bar were beginning to dance a bit. This should have been concerning. But then I realized that I was giggling. Wait... What? Oh shit. Sure, I was drunk from those shots. But what I was feeling in that moment wasn’t drunkery. It was stonery. Kirk probably misread my face because my pupils were dilated. Not from desire, but from drug use.
Some of you might be thinking that I was a bad friend for not introducing Lucy, an old dude connoisseur, to Kirk. Well... I did. Several years before the events of this story. He adored her. She, on the other hand, thought he was immature. And she wasn’t wrong. Lucy was astute when it came to sussing out a person’s true nature. Far more astute than I. Her initial assessment that Kirk was immature is about to be vindicated. Stretch those cringe muscles! It’s almost time for pie...
I somehow managed to get to his car. I honestly don’t recall how I got there. Did one of the bartenders carry me? Did some kind patron allow me to lean on him? Had Kadillac Kirk carried me out? I’m not sure. But my memory ceases to be fuzzy about halfway to the 24-hour diner. It might have been the very same 24-hour diner where Mary pulled her... shenanigans. I’ll never know.
Kirk: Would you say that you’re more drunk or more stoned?
Me: STONED. Definitely stoned.
Kirk made some sort of grunty noise and reached for my thigh. I slapped his hand.
Kirk: Stoned but not amorous? That’s rare.
I started laughing rather unkindly. “You’re a fucking horndog! I thought you were my safe straight male friend, dammit.”
Kirk: I solemnly swear that your safety is my primary concern, my stoned beauty.
I pretended to throw up.
Kirk: So... You’re not horny. But are you hungry? The diner I’m heading to makes this Maple Walnut Pie with the most sumptuous... sensual cream and exquisite drizzling of...
Me: Ew! Stop trying to bang the pie. Bro. Are YOU stoned? (Then I remembered the question.) Yes, I’m hungry. But I don’t like nuts. I’ll have banana cream.
Kirk made that repulsive grunty noise again. “Uhhhhh... Mmmmmm. Cream. Yessssss. Yes, we’ll be there in just a minute.” He was squirming in the driver's seat.
Me: GROSS, DUDE! If you’re gonna be like that I’ll just order HASH brows. Get it? Hash??? (I giggled uncontrollably.). You can’t make that sound nasty.
Kirk: Forgive my jokes. I think my blood sugar’s a bit low.
As Kirk parked, I began to wonder how I might get away with walking shoeless into the diner. The stilettos had to get off my feet. At least while I was walking. And Kirk was kind enough to give me his socks and wear his loafers “island style” into the establishment. Okay, that was gallant of him. Maybe he was going to behave himself for the rest of the evening.
I wasn’t terribly talkative as we sat down, and he expressed concern for my emotional well-being. I wasn’t coherent enough to explain what was happening to my emotions and I wasn’t sure I trusted him with my deep, dark secrets at that point. So I shrugged like a sulky teenager, ran my hands over my messy, windblown hair, and mumbled that I was “just hungry.” And right on cue, a very kind, slightly older waitress with a sweet southern accent stopped by to take our order.
Kirk: Ah, yes. We’ll have two cups of black coffee. And we’ll share a slice of that delectable Maple Walnut Pie.
Waitress: Oh, honey. That pie is scrumptious! I take it you’ve been here before?
Kirk: I have. This will be her first time to taste the splendor.
I hated to be a killjoy, but I interrupted and said to the waitress, “Ma’am? I’m sure the Maple Walnut is excellent, but could I please get a slice of Banana Cream? And a big glass of ice water?
Waitress: Sure, hon! Banana Cream’s just as yummy! I’ll be right back with those coffees and that big water.
Kirk was sucking on the tip of his forefinger and shaking his head a bit. “You’re passing up so many sensational... sensual...”
I put my forehead on the table and growled. “You swore you’d stop being nasty!” I held this #headdesk pose for quite some time before I finally lifted my head... only to see that Kirk was still sucking his fingertip and staring at me like a wild animal. “Pleeeeeease be normal,” I whined. “It’s been a really weird night for me.”
Kirk: Indeed. Many surprises. You know... You’re like titanium. Your flame burns so fast and so bright, if a guy doesn’t get in there while the iron is hot, he’ll never get another chance. I was too slow.
What the...? I was pretty sure he was wrong about titanium burning quickly. I’m no chemistry wiz, but my dad and my oldest brother are both big-brains when it comes to physics and chemistry. So I picked up some things just listening to them talk. Accurate or inaccurate, Kirk was being creepy again. He’d never been creepy towards me before, although I’d seen him act like this with other women. Usually with staggering success. Why????? His money. It had to be his money. Kirk was a nice-looking man, but holy shit... No amount of good looks could save this creep show.
And then, our sweet waitress sat down our coffees, my water, and the two slices of pie. After I gulped down a whole bunch of water, I grabbed a fork, prepared to quell my munchies... and then I froze. Kirk was quickly flicking his finger back and forth across the top of his pie. And moaning. He noticed my wide-eyed stare, smirked, sucked the tip of his thumb, picked up the plate with both hands, and began flicking his tongue across the tip of the triangular pie slice. And moaning some more. Well, there went my appetite.
Kirk took his middle finger and jabbed it into the crustless vertex of the pie slice, then he began pumping it in and out like a piston, and flicking his thumb across the increasingly demolished top layer of whipped cream. He gasped this time. People were starting to stare. His pointer finger joined his middle finger in the piston action, and he replaced his thumb with his tongue. Between flicks of the tongue, he groaned, “Oh yeah, baby... Let me taste you,” but it was kind of hard to understand him.
And I was either about to run to the back office, tell them that I was in danger and needed a police escort home... OR I was about to burst out laughing at the spectacle. Kirk continued... He removed his fingers and gregariously licked pie filling off of them. And then he started sucking his fingertips again, switching from middle to pointer, middle to pointer and emitting a delighted little, “Mmmmmm” with every suck.
Finally, he jabbed his fingers back into the utterly destroyed pie, lowered his face into the mess and lapped loudly and passionately, moaning, grunting, and mumbling “Come on, baby. Come on. Mmmmmm. Come on.” I could see the waitress and some dude in a suit heading over to the table, so I sank down in my seat, partially covered my face, but continued to watch the train wreck. At last, Kirk shuddered violently, he splatted his entire hand onto the plate and rubbed furiously. And then he locked eyes with me. He sucked the tip of his thumb one final time and said, “You...” There was a long pause during which Kirk lovingly stroked the mess he’d made. “You... are the pie.”
I don’t hang out with Kadillac Kirk anymore. But he’s still a bachelor, ladies!

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I’ve had 5 total packages that USPS has marked lost and unable to answer anything. Multiple of these packages were also supposed to be delivered on the same day 2&2. I’ve reopened service requests, initiated missing mail searches, filed all the claims and received some refunds. But really I just want my damn packages. Some of the things lost were irreplaceable. I’ve also filed complaints at the Post Office itself.
The thought crossed my mind that my carrier was the issue, but they’ve been fine all these years. I know the “Out for Delivery” scan is automated. Is it possible someone at the sorting facility is taking my shit once it’s been “sent” to the bins & trucks for delivery? I get Informed Delivery and I’ve noticed I haven’t been receiving some of my mail either. All happening since late April.
Have a handful of acquaintances who work at different usps facilities in my city and have confirmed stealing happening. Mail tampering is a crime and the people who are supposed to deliver our shit are the ones tampering with it with no repercussions. Cool.
Election year Dejoy is back and there are some terrible people out in the world.