English is not my first language so be patient with me lol. We’ve been friends for 2 years. She always said that birthdays aren’t her thing so I wanted to make today special about her.
We have agreed to go shopping in the morning. She ended up not getting anything and I could see that she was pissed off. I asked her what was wrong and she said “We are in the mall all day with you shopping around and I didn’t get anything!” (???) I was confused but decided to not speak up and let it slide.
Keep in mind I had planned her birthday dinner with 2 other girls tonight. After we left from the mall and I got home she called me crying and upset. I asked what happened and then she lost it. She basically said “I was out all day with you shopping around when it was supposed to be about me today!! Also it was so annoying that you kept asking me if I liked something so you would get it for me as a gift! Gifts don’t work like this it was frustrating!!”
At this point I felt so mad and disrespected that I raised my voice at her. I told her that she is being ungrateful and that all I wanted is to make her day special. She then went on crying-screaming and saying that I didn’t even bought her a birthday cake and that all friends do that normally…
We eventually hang up and I was crying from frustration. I had 1 hour left before dinner and I was hesitant about going. I ended up showing up and getting her a birthday cake but it wasn’t heartfelt. I did it because of guilt. I was mad and pretending to have a good time while she acted like nothing ever happened.
Now that I am home I replay the whole day in my head and feel like I am going to explode. What are your thoughts?

I’m planning a birthday trip for a friend up to tobermory, I’ve never been and I would like to get him a custom cake. Are there any places that have good art work? He’s been really into Garfield so I’m thinking of a Garfield themed cake(having Garfield drawn on at least).

Saw Luann’s show over the weekend. She’s honestly in great shape and looked wonderful.
She was late coming out but then came out with her three piece band and started with a FMK song. During the song, it showed different magazine covers for divorces/splits/cheating scandals mixed in with clips of the show (not about Tom, her arrest video, naked guy in the living room after legacy, etc). She would sing a song, go over to her piano player, glance at the setlist, then either play a clip of old RHONY or tell a joke, before playing a different song. She played several covers and would forget what verse was next - her piano player had to cue her in a lot of times.
It was her birthday so they brought out a little birthday cake and everyone sang. She seemed really appreciative. There wasn’t much audience interaction, aside from a short FMK with the audience. She did say she would F Sandoval because “he’s so hot” and then she didn’t know Jax and Swartz but would marry Jax until the audience booed and she changed her answer lol. 3 or 4 audience members asked her three options, then she had pre selected options and asked the audience. I was hoping someone would ask about Joe Bradley but no one did - instead it was more like, Jason Hoppy, Mario Singer, and Harry Hubin. Three Dallas housewives were there and two played along, too. Leeann said she would kill them all and bury them in the backyard. Cary looked confused at her selections and the mic guy had to help her answer. They were all loving the attention and seemed happy to take pics with people who asked.
She didn’t play Jovani live, but did play the music video while she did an outfit change. Her last song was Money Can’t Buy You Class while wearing a wedding dress. You could tell the audience was really confused why she didn’t play Jovani live - lots of people around me had their phones out ready to record.
While leaving, I overheard a lot of mixed feedback. A lot of comments about how she didn’t mention any housewives tea, it seemed short, and they wished there was a Q&A session. But then also a lot of comments about how great of an entertainer she was and how much fun they had.

I met Luna on a train two years ago. I’d just escaped from a toxic relationship, so romance was the last thing on my mind, but then she sat across from me in the carriage and asked about the book I was reading. She had a copy in her bag and wanted to know if it was any good.
I'd never felt such an instant, effortless connection with anybody before. I took a chance and asked her to dinner, and by the time the waiters cleared away our desserts, I already felt comfortable being vulnerable around her. So we went on a second date. And a third. And next thing I knew, we were planning our second anniversary.
In all that time she never gave off any 'creeper' vibes. Until a few months ago, when I stayed the night over at her place...
She'd gotten up early to use the bathroom. I grabbed her laptop off the side desk so I could catch up on some work e-mails, and the incognito tab was just sitting there. My first thought was: either she's having an affair or she's got a secret fetish.
What I found instead was a Google account with a photo album called ‘Michael’s EX’. In it, there were 427 photos of my former girlfriend turned psycho stalker, Sadie. This included shots of ‘Sadie the stalker’ with her family, screenshots of her passport—the works. On Facebook, Sadie's latest post said Moving to the Philippines, and since then she’d become a social media church mouse, so how did Luna keep her under surveillance? And how did you even get PERSONAL ID from a person halfway across the globe?
Down the hall, I heard the bathroom door swing open. Quickly I closed the laptop and pretended to be asleep until Luna planted a kiss on my lips. “Wakey wakey Bugs.”
I faked a stretch. “Morning Lola."
(At school, the other kids christened me ‘Bugs’ because of my cartoonishly large front teeth; I called Luna ‘Lola’ because of her blonde bangs and heart-shaped face.)
“How about we grab a fry for breakfast?” Her smile didn’t seem genuine, more like she was wearing a mask.
“Crap. I forgot I’m doing overtime today, I’ve gotta get to work.” With that, I shot out of there faster than a bullet train to Tokyo.
Because I didn’t wanna believe the worst about someone I cared so deeply about, I didn’t contact the police (not that anybody could’ve guessed what Luna was up to) and made excuses whenever she asked to meet, delaying the decision whether to end our relationship.
At night, I couldn’t sleep. Every time a hedge rustled outside, I’d run to the window and pull back the curtain only to discover a black cat skulking around the garden. I put this down to my previous relationship leaving me with a mountain of unresolved PTSD.
Sadie the stalker also seemed normal until we moved in together. After that she started picking fights if she caught me talking to another woman, even just distant relatives or childhood friends. The screaming matches went from weekly to nightly, only ever ending when I conceded to her every wish and gave her full access to my phone and social media accounts. I literally needed to grab my clothes into a bag and run away one night, and then I started hearing noises outside my new apartment. And although I never found any evidence, I was pretty sure she’d broken in at one point because the books on my side table were suddenly out of order one day. What hurt the most was Luna knew all this and still acted the way she did.
Right as I reached my lowest point, my close friend Gertrude called and said, “The universe is telling me you could use a sympathetic ear.”
I told her the universe didn’t know the half of it.
I’d met Gertrude—aka my surrogate mother—on a flight to London. Passing over Wales the aircraft hit heavy turbulence, and the grey-haired hippie in the seat next to mine squeezed my hand so tight that my fingers turned blue. After we levelled off, she apologized and said, “So what’s calling you to London?”
“A job.”
A few glasses of wine from the service trolley later, she blurted out, “You know your aura is strikingly similar to my husbands.”
“Uhh, thanks. Where is he now?”
“Oh, he burned to death in a house fire.”
Gertrude’s eyes started welling up. To take her mind off the subject, I said, “I lied earlier. I’m going to London because I fell in love with a Londoner.” I pulled up pictures of Sadie (back in her pre-stalker days) on my phone. “We met in Italy. She looked flustered trying to read a map book so I offered to help. Next thing I knew, we were planning a trip to this place called Orvieto.”
“Michael, I need to know how this story ends. Gimme your number.”
Since then, we’d met two or three times a year.
I laid the whole mess out over pizza. It was the first time since finding the Google account I didn’t feel hidden eyes crawling all over me.
Just as I wrapped up the story, over in the corner booth, a family burst into a chorus of happy birthday. A waiter appeared carrying a chocolate cake, capped by a giant candle that looked more like a flare. Gertrude tensed up.
“So what do you think about all this?” I asked.
She looked back at me and said, “It’s possible your reaction has been a touch on the dramatic side.”
“DRAMATIC??”
“Well consider things from Luna’s point of view. Your last relationship lasted for, what, three years? Maybe she felt threatened.”
“I don’t believe this.” I grabbed a cigarette from my pocket, but Gertrude snatched it away.
“You know how I feel about you poisoning your lungs, Michael.”
“Don’t you start. I got enough of that crap from Luna.”
Gertrude always encouraged me to work through my romantic problems. Ultimately, I decided her love of fairytale romances clouded her judgement and ghosted Luna instead. But I couldn’t escape her shadow. She always felt close. In fact, it got so bad that at a friend’s costume party several weeks later, my eyes kept compulsively scanning the crowd as if she was there in disguise, ready to pounce.
I stood off to the corner until, over the sea of heads, I spotted a beautiful stranger dressed as Jarlath the Goblin King. I took a shot of liquid courage and made a B-line towards her.
Halfway across the crowded room, beer splashed across the front of my Ziggy Stardust outfit.
“I am so sorry,” a female pirate said, patting me dry.
“Don’t worry about it.” Every time I tried circling her, she moved to cut me off.
“I am such a klutz. Why don’t you come into the kitchen so I can clean up this mess?”
I put my hands on her shoulders and steered her out of the way. “It’s fine. Trust me.”
Approaching Jarlath from behind, heart slamming against my chest, I said, “Well this is awkward. One of us is gonna have to change.”
Jennie had bright blue eyes and dimples impossible to miss. Ten minutes into our debate about David Bowie’s greatest album, I said, “You know Absolute Bowie are playing the Half Moon next week. I could take you?”
“Sorry. I’m going with my boyfriend,” she said with a sympathetic smile. From beside the buffet table, the pirate stared daggers in our direction.
“No worries,” I replied, despite the fact I was brimming with jealousy.
The next day, as I jogged off my hangover, a brown-haired lady cut across my path and we both went spinning to the ground.
“Flip, sorry.” I rushed to pull her up by the hands. “I’m like a bloody zombie lately.”
She did a doubletake. “Ziggy, right?”
There was no mistaking those eyes. “Jarlath?”
“Well, Jarlath or Jennie. Eithers fine.”
“Right. Well, sorry again. Enjoy Absolute Bowie.”
Before I could jog away, she said, “Hey, so that guy I was seeing? Turns out he’s a total prick.”
Jennie and I went for coffee. Coffee morphed into drinks. Drinks morphed into a steamy make-out session on my sofa.
But as she covered my neck in soft kisses, my stomach turned. It felt like cheating. So, I put the brakes on things and said, “I can’t do this. I’m really sorry. You’re amazing, but I just got out of a serious relationship…and…it’s just…”
“Hey, don’t worry about it.”
We agreed we’d let our connection blossom in its own time.
Jennie had a playful mystique to her. Within a handful of dates, we’d developed inside jokes and could tell what the other was thinking. But Luna’s imprint was hard to shake, to the extent I almost mixed up the two ladies’ names multiple times.
To detox, I suggested Jennie and I spend a romantic weekend in the Lake District, because after two days of hiking and kayaking my ex would no doubt be a spec in the rearview mirror.
Hours before we set off, however, Luna’s mom called. She wanted to meet and wouldn’t accept any excuses.
“Look, it’s obvious why I’m here,” she said, sitting across from me in Starbucks. “Ever since you and Luna broke up, she’s been acting…different.”
“Different? Different how?”
“I call but she hardly answers. I go over to her place but she’s never there. Now she’s telling me she needs to find herself. Says she’s moving to Australia.”
Her fingers tightened around her cup. “I need to know what happened between you two. And I don’t care if that paints anybody in a bad light. I’m just worried about my daughter is all.”
I told her about the Google account.
“Did you confront her about it?”
“Hell no. I ghosted that crazy bitc—” I cleared my throat. “I mean, I just…stopped seeing her.”
She started crying so loudly customers at nearby tables paused their conversations. I touched her forearm, promised I’d call if I remembered anything else, then set off for my romantic weekend.
But while Jennie and I enjoyed all that fresh air and pub food, a thought nagged at me. Luna adored London, so why move to Australia? It seemed so out of character. Back at our rented cottage, I was so fixated on the thought I needed a smoke, badly.
“What the hell is that?” Jennie demanded, as she stepped onto the front deck.
I glanced at my hands. “Uhh, a cigarette.”
“Michael! Don’t be sarcastic. You know how I feel about those things.”
“…Do I?”
“Uhh, well it’s the same as anybody else. Quit poisoning your lungs and put that thing out.”
“Alright alright, geeze. Sorry Luna.”
“That’s okay.”
A knot formed in my stomach as she went back inside. I’d called Jennie Luna by mistake. And she hadn’t noticed. In fact, her reaction to me smoking was identical to Luna’s—even the snappy way she said the ‘poison your lungs’ line.
I followed Jennie into the lounge, where she’d curled up on an armchair with a Colleen Hoover novel. She was hiding something. What else did she know about Luna? Maybe I could trick her into revealing some details…
From behind, I started massaging her shoulders. “Sorry for being rude before. I know what you said came from a place of love.”
“That’s okay.”
I waited until her eyes drooped shut, then said, “It really is perfect here, huh? Maybe we should stay forever.”
“Wouldn’t that be amazing?”
Her little groans of pleasure, the rhythm of her breathing, it all felt so familiar. I waited until the tension in her neck dissolved, then I pushed my lips against her ear and whispered, “So how about we take this into the bedroom…Lola.”
“Hmm. Sure thing Bugs.”
My hands froze. Jennie jumped up. “Uhh, that felt so good, why’d you stop?”
“What did you just say?”
“What did you just say?”
“I called you Lola,” I replied, my arms frozen in midair. “And you called me bugs.”
“Like the cartoon, right? I thought it’d be a cute nickname. Anyway, I’m tuckered out.” She forced a yawn. “Why don’t we get some sleep?”
As her hand laced with mine, an image of me waking up drugged and gagged and tied to the bedposts flashed before my eyes.
I said, “Sure. I just…need to use the bathroom first.”
The second the door shut behind me, I flew out of the house, climbed in my car, and sped away.
Within seconds my phone started blowing up with calls, followed by texts. Where are you going? Is everything okay?
No, I wanted to reply. I’m onto your sick little game. Whatever it is, I’m onto it.
Luna stalked my stalker, now Jennie somehow knew Luna and I’s nicknames. How? Did all women take turns drawing straws and whoever picked the short one needed to become my girlfriend?
I couldn’t go home. For all I knew, my exes would’ve been there burning effigies of me. I needed a safe place. Somewhere I could lie low until I got all this straightened out.
“Of course you can stay,” Gertrude said over the phone. “I’m out with some friends, but I’ll meet you later. If you hop the side gate there’s a spare key under the kissing gnomes out back.”
Gertrude lived in a detached house in Wembley. It took a bit of foraging to find the gnomes hidden beneath the weeds in the brown, patchy garden.
I needed to shoulder the door open. Inside, a mountain of letters and flyers had piled up on the welcome mat.
Down the hall, a huge archway connected the landing with a lounge, where a bar sat against the far wall, surrounded by upholstered sofas, a low table, and tie dye sheets strung over the filthy carpet. Everything had a real elegant vibe, despite the musty air.
I’d drained two glasses of whiskey before Gertrude arrived.
“Looks like you’ve had a rough evening.”
I said we could talk in the morning.
“Not a chance. You can’t take negative energy to bed. Come on, confession is good for the soul.”
She sat on the sofa and patted the empty seat next to her. So, with a weary sigh, I shared a tale of deranged exes.
“Crazy,” she said.
“I sure can pick ‘em, huh?”
“No, I mean you’re crazy.”
“What?”
“Think about it. What’s more likely: that your ex’s are secretly in collusion, or you’re being paranoid? Look how bloodshot your eyes are. When’s the last time you got a good night’s rest?”
She made a great point; teenagers on the street occasionally shouted ‘Bugs’ or ‘Thumper’ at me. Jennie might’ve come up with the nickname herself. I pinched the bridge of my nose, groaning.
“Look, sleep here tonight. Tomorrow we’ll brainstorm ways you can make it up to Jennie.”
I fumbled through my pockets for a cigarette.
“Really?” Gertrude said. “If you insist on poisoning your lungs, can you at least do it away from my home?”
“Well if I can’t smoke, I’m gonna need a refill.” I shook my empty glass.
On my way toward the bar, a wave of wooziness hit me. My first instinct was to blame it on the alcohol, but there was something else.
It was her reaction to the cigarette. My finger ran through the thick layer of dust along the bar’s countertop. Why was it like the place had been abandoned? Why did Gertrude always pressure me to stay with my psycho girlfriends? And how come she always reached out, as if on cue, whenever my relationships hit problems? It couldn’t be coincidence…
I poured two glasses of whiskey and carried them to the sofa. “So, you’re really against the whole smoking thing, huh?”
“Of course. It’s a filthy habit.”
“Yeah. Plus, there was that mess with your husband. House fire, right?”
“I’d rather not discuss it.”
“Sure, sure.” I ignited the lighter with a roll across my trouser leg.
Gertrude grabbed a cushion and hugged it. “What are you doing?”
“Alright, cut the crap. What the hell’s going on? Have you been sending your friends to date me?”
“What are you talking about?”
I wrestled the cushion from her and held the lighter beneath it. “I want an explanation right now or I’m torching this place.”
This was an empty threat. I wasn’t some pyromaniac—I just wanted answers. Inch by inch, I raised the flame. “Last chance. Why are the women in my life acting weird?”
Gertrude grabbed for the lighter. As I swatted her wrists away, we both got scorched, and for a moment her skin went wild with spasms, a sensation I can only compare to reaching inside a bucket of wet, writhing maggots. My gaze whipped between her face and her hands, which vibrated like plucked guitar strings.
Before I could scream, she yanked me up, clamped a cold, wrinkled palm across my mouth, and forced me against the wall. I thrashed around, unable to move. For a lady old enough to collect a pension, she was crazy strong.
She waited until I ran out of breath, then said, “Michael, please. I’m not going to hurt you. Open your heart and listen.”
What else could I do?
“You were right before. I have been keeping a secret from you. The truth is, I’ve been in love with you since we met. I’d never flown before. And you were so so sweet. You started talking about this other woman, but I knew our energies were perfect for each other. And it’s like I always say, love makes us do crazy things. You can’t begrudge me that can you?”
She looked as if she expected me to respond, so I shook my head.
“But I think we’ve reached a point where our connection is so deep we can be completely transparent with one another.” She took a slow, steady breath. “Michael, all your ex’s, Luna, Sadie, Jennie. They’ve all been…well, me.”
I stared at her, confused.
She sighed. “It’ll be easier if I just show you.”
Out of nowhere her hand wriggled again, then her face tightened, as though the skin was being stretched over the bone. Wrinkles smoothed out and colour bled into her grey hair, turning it brown, and within seconds I found myself face-to-face with Jennie. Even her vintage clothes morphed into a green blouse and white slacks.
“See?” she said in Jennie’s voice, her now blue eyes locked on mine.
I screamed into the soft flesh of her palm.
“Sssh, it’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. Watch.”
Her entire body jerked and twitched, the muscles spasming as she shifted from Jennie to Luna. “See? Think of these as costumes”—from Luna to Sadie—"the important thing is what’s underneath. And you’ve fallen in love with what’s underneath three times. Now I’m going to let go, but I need you to promise you won’t overreact. Understand?”
On the verge of a panic attack, I nodded furiously.
The second she pulled away I made a break for the exit. The thing posing as Sadie grabbed me and hurled me backwards against the wall.
Like a disappointed teacher, she put her hands on her hips. “I’ve been so patient with you, Michael. So very, very patient.”
She blocked off any hope of escape. I sidestepped around the outer edge of the room, towards the bar.
“All those years moulding you. Trying to grow you into the man I know you can be. I really thought we had it this time. For the record, I wanted to do this the easy way. But drastic times...”
I was so scared I slammed right into the cabinet and yelped. Glass bottles chattered together, and then something wet ran down the back of my shirt. It was whiskey, leaking from the overturned bottle onto the carpeted floor.
Speaking more to herself now, Gertrude said, “I’ll just have to keep you here until you love me as much as I love you. Of course, that means posing as you so nobody gets suspicious, but that’s no trouble. I’ll tell your dad you’re moving to Italy. You always loved Italy.”
Pose as me? She'd been killing my ex's and taking their place, I was just the latest in a long line. She’d keep me as a personal sugar baby if I didn’t escape, but how? She was impossibly strong, and the only thing that seemed to scare her was…
Snatching the bottle, I doused the remaining whiskey all over the carpet and furniture. As I flicked the lighter open, Sadie’s hands shot up.
“Bugs…darling…what are you doing?”
I took three slow, steady breaths. “Breaking up with you, you crazy bitch.”
I tossed the lighter forward. Within seconds flames sprung up all around us, spreading as far as the sofa. Sadie’s shoe caught fire, and as she stamped around, unintentionally fanning the blaze, her body writhed again, starting with the ankles. Fat boils climbed up every inch of exposed skin, milky white and with the consistency of frog spawn, like she’d had a killer allergic reaction to poison ivy.
She dropped to her knees, wailing like a wounded animal. This was my chance.
I made a break for the exit, giving the creature as wide a berth as possible. But as I got one foot planted in the hall something clamped tight around my ankles. My chin hit the floor, then I started sliding backwards.
I twisted onto my back. Where Sadie’s left arm should’ve been, a tentacle-like appendage stretched across the length of the room, a distance of over twenty feet. It reeled me toward her like a fish on a line. Whatever that thing was no longer looked human. It melted like an ice statue, with no bones or connective tissue inside, its lips nose and mouth becoming hideously elongated before dripping off in huge globs like melted candlewax. A fire alarm started wailing as the tentacle dragged me through the flames, scorching my arms and legs.
The loose mass of skin reached out and encased me like a mother bird sheltering its eggs.
“WHY WON’T YOU LOVE ME?” all my ex’s voices screamed at once. Whichever direction I looked, silhouettes of faces rose and fell, as if trying to burst through. Parts of them dripped inside my mouth, disgustingly warm with a bitter taste worse than Vaseline.
I put everything into clawing my way out if there. What was left of the beast had the consistency of wet clay and came apart just as easily. I tore away chunks until there was a hole large enough to squeeze through. Then, I crawled along surrounded by black smoke.
At the far side of the room I risked a glance back and saw a bumpy, uneven hand reaching out of a puddle of ooze. Soon I was crawling over the bristly welcome mat, then fumbling for the door. All I remember after that are paramedics wrestling me into an ambulance…
A specialist officer came to see me at the hospital the next morning. They’d been unable to contact the homeowner, Gertrude Huyton, and through his line of questioning I could tell they hadn’t found her ‘remains’ inside the charred house. Like the wicked witch of the West, my stalker had melted. I told the officer she said I could stay the night, and that I probably started the fire by dropping a cigarette.
“In that case, we’ll keep trying to reach her.” He walked to the curtain surronding my bed and paused. “Oh, and I almost forgot to mention, her cat is missing.”
“Her...cat?”
“Yeah. The little black one. One of the firemen pulled it out of the wreckage. The poor thing had burns over its legs but it ran off before anybody could take it to the vet.”
I swallowed a gulp and thanked him for telling me.
And now I’m still sitting here listening while nurses rush back and forth, terrified any one of them might be Gertrude…

Hello, I am searching for a little clarity on this situation from an outside perspective.
Currently, my husband, baby, and I live with my parents in their home. My parents are snowbirds, so they're only here about half the year. They are well off, and do not charge us rent, which allows me to stay home with the baby. In exchange, we look after the house and do the majority of housework, and just generally try to be helpful and agreeable roommates.
Last week was my birthday, and my parents were in town for it. A few days beforehand, my mom started hinting that she had gotten me something big. She seemed really excited.
The day came, and we had a small party at home. Ordered takeout from my favorite restaurant, and my husband had gotten me a couple nice things I'd been wanting. Finally my dad brought out a large box, and my mom was practically jumping up and down. I was getting excited to. Then I opened to wrapping to find... a KitchenAid stand mixer. The mixer and accessories, all together, cost about $500.
Here's the thing. I hate cooking. I know how to do the basics, and I do my fair share of cooking in the home, but I get no joy from it. My mom knows this. We've talked about it many times. But my mom loves to cook. And she loves to bake. In fact, she's been talking about wanting one of those mixers for years.
I guess she could see the disappointment on my face, because she started trying to convince me how amazing the mixer was. She went on about all the attachments and accessories, and how it's top of the line. I tried to feign interest. I smiled and thanked my parents for getting me something so nice. But my mom was now noticeably disappointed by my reaction.
We moved on to the cake, and after dinner I was focused on getting the baby ready for bed. The next day, the mixer was still in the box, and mom started giving me a hard time about it. She kept making comments about how you'd think I'd be more appreciative of a $500 gift. And that if someone had spent $500 on her birthday gift she would've pulled it out and started using it right away.
I went ahead and got it out and set it up just to appease her. But I still haven't used it. Honestly I don't even know what to do with it. I don't bake. I told my mom that she should feel free to give it a test drive, but she responded that it was mine, not hers.
Now she's saying that she and dad might go back to their beach house earlier than planned.
I'm just not sure what she expected. She clearly thinks I'm being an AH, but it's just so obvious that she bought that gift for her, not for me. I would've rather her spent way less on me, and gotten something I could actually use. But maybe I'm just acting like a spoiled brat. I grew up pretty privileged, so maybe my perspective is skewed.
So reddit, and I being an AH here?

So I've been trying to quit sugar completely, didn't have any for 3 weeks, but had to "cheat" on a birthday dinner. The cake felt TOO sweet and i didn't enjoy it like i would enjoy it before. But the thing is, although my taste buds don't like sugar and sweets anymore, my brain still craves it. Ever since the cheat day, I've been craving sweets and thinking about how good it should taste, but today i had one kinder chocolate and to be honest it tasted horrible. Too sweet and too intense, but my brain can't comprehend that i genuinely don't like these anymore, like "how is it possible for you to not like something you've been absolutely loving your whole life?" I've had a HUGE sweet tooth my whole life, ever since childhood i was able to handle multiple packs of sweets at once. It just feels so weird to not like something that has been a huge part of my life for like 20 years. Does this happen to anyone else and is there something that helped you?

Rudy Giuliani got more than cake and presents for his 80th birthday bash – he was also served justice.
The former New York City mayor was tripping the light fantastic with pals in Palm Springs Friday night when he was intercepted outside the party at the home of top GOP consultant Caroline Wren by two officials from Democratic Arizona Attorney General Kris Mayes’ office, sources told The Post.
The pair served Giuliani with a legal notice of his Arizona indictment for allegedly being involved in a plot to overturn the 2020 election in favor of ex-President Donald Trump.
Most of the 200 guests were gone by the time the duo showed up around 11 p.m., but some of the stragglers began screaming – including one woman who cried as Giuliani was handed the papers, according to sources.
Giuliani, however, was not fazed, insisted a source close to the ex-mayor.
“It actually wasn’t that big of a deal,” the person said.
The party’s guests — who received gold-and-black invitations featuring a photo of Giuliani in a tux and another of him wearing aviator shades and a USA hat — included embattled former Trump advisors Steve Bannon and Roger Stone.
“While crime in Arizona is at an all-time high, the Arizona [AG’s] office felt it was a good use of resources to send multiple agents across the country to storm an 80th birthday party like it was Normandy,” fumed Wren.
Giuliani seemed to be enjoying himself throughout the party – celebrated 11 days before his actual birthday on May 28 – even posing for a photo with a bevy of blonde bombshells that he posted on X while taunting Mayes.
https://nypost.com/2024/05/18/us-news/rudy-giuliani-served-with-arizona-fake-electors-indictment-during-80th-birthday-bash-in-palm-beach/

Hello. I would like to tell you my experience about having a brain tumor. More specifically a pilocytic astrocytoma and hydrocephalus. So how I found out was I went to work as usual. I would also like to say I have been having headaches for quite some time and have gone to the doctors. All they did was give me a shot of something in the butt which helped a lot and I thought that was the end of it. So I was at work when I started to feel really sick. I then realized I was going to throw up so I started to go to the bathroom. When I was walking to the bathroom I could not remember where it was and ended up in management office. I then threw up all over the floor and sat down for about twenty minutes. It was almost as if I was completely drunk at this point. I finally got up and started to walk to my car. When I made it my car I started it and went home. When I got home I couldn’t remember how to put my car into park. So I hit my garage before my dad came out of the house and told me what to do. I then put my car in park, got out of the car and went inside. My parents thought I was on drugs or something because I then went into the garage and was looking for something. My dad was in the garage with me and so was my mom. I had also thrown up on my dad which made him upset so he left me there. My mom told my dad I probably needed to take a nap. My dad said that we should probably go to the emergency room. When we made it to the emergency room I started to have some anger issues which the nurse asked if I have always had these problems, and my mom said I did not. Apparently I was very rude to the nurses and what not, which makes me very upset at myself. While at the emergency room I peed into a trash can because I was so out of it. I even lifted the lid and thought I was actually in the bathroom. After that I was taken to another hospital that is about an hour and thirty minutes away. I was taken by ambulance even though it was about 1:30 in the morning. All while my parents were following me. After that I was scanned and had to have emergency surgery where they put tubes in my head to drain the excess brain fluid. I then was laying in the hospital room for two days while they were draining the excess fluid. The only thing I remember from this was talking on the phone with my grandma and grandpa. I had to have a shunt put in my brain to continue to drain the fluid in my head because the tumor is blocking my normal drainage path. When I finally went home I was feeling fine but my parents decided that I should go to UCLA and get a second opinion. We set up an appointment at UCLA a few months after the emergency room visit. When they said I had to get the tumor removed I cannot remember what I was thinking. Also I would like to say this was all at the start of covid so it was very difficult. I went into the surgery and it went well but they couldn’t remove all of the tumor. I had forgotten everything about my life except who my family was and I kept saying zoinks from scooby doo. I had to stay in the hospital for about two or three weeks after the craniotomy. While I was there the nurses had to teach me how to walk again. Afterwards I had to go to rehab which was kinda nice. Of course I don't remember the drive to rehab but I remember almost every time I talked to my mom I said do you know I'm at a rehab facility and she would say yeah because of your drug and alcohol addiction. I knew that was not the reason because I had a huge scab on my head and half my head was shaved. Rehab was very difficult but I finished my time there after three weeks. When I went home I was super excited to see everyone and my dog. I then had to do more therapy because my short term memory was destroyed and I couldn’t remember the last five years of my life. It was so bad that you could tell me something, ask me to remember it and ask me what you had told me to remember and I would not be able to. I remember after one therapy session my mom asked me what she told me at the end of it and I could not remember and started crying. After about two months of therapy I had finished physical therapy, but I still had to do occupational and speech. I did the therapies for probably about half a year before I got my next MRI. During this time it was decided that when I could get a tattoo everyone of my immediate family would get a brain that said I forgot below it. When we were talking to the doctor it was November and he said that the brain tumor had grown. He said I would either have to do radiation or chemotherapy. So about a month later they decided on radiation therapy. Which wasn't good news but I thought it was better than chemo. So it is now December 2020. I have been in therapy for about half the year. I told the therapist that I will be going into radiation. So I had to stop going to therapy and went to Santa Monica for my radiation treatment. I started radiation in January 2021. I really liked the people who did my radiation. They were very nice. I also had one of the nurses from UCLA come and see me one day of my radiation. Sadly I did not remember them. So radiation was not bad but not great. It made the expression dead tired so very true. I would also like to mention that my parents had gotten an apartment for us a few miles away. So I would have to walk to and from the radiation treatments every day. It was really hard but I'm glad that I did it. I also had some delicious food while down in Santa Monica. The radiation nurses also gave me a little cake because it was my birthday while I was doing radiation. On the last day of radiation I gave everyone something I cannot remember what it was that I gave them. I hope that they liked it. I also remember that I got to ring a bell on my last day but I thought that I didn’t deserve it unlike the people who did chemo. When we went home I had to continue doing speech therapy. I kept doing speech therapy till 2022. I did not get told that I did not need to keep going to speech therapy. I ran out of days that my insurance would pay for it which sucked. I remember at one point when my mom was working from home she was getting annoyed at the insurance representative. I would also like to say that they had made it very difficult to get approved for therapy multiple times. I had also developed a twitch or jerk that I could almost feel coming which I had since after the craniotomy. Skip to 2023 I had been taking some pills because they thought I was having seizures. I had to set up a week in the hospital with some stuff attached to my head to try and catch one. It was not the best and they did not catch one. I would also like to say that my head was so itchy. So they decided to try again at a later date but I would be able to be at home. So I went to get the wires and machine on my head and meet a very nice nurse who braided the wires together to make it easier for me. After a week with it on I went back to UCLA and got it taken off and they found that I was having seizures. I would like to say that none of what I went through was easy but it could have been worse. I am very thankful and happy that I had my family and friends with me through all this. I would also like to say that it gets better. I have my next MRI next month and hopefully it will be a year apart so I can get my tattoo.

This is soo petty and insignificant. But I just have to get it off my chest cuz like wtf. They didn't buy me anything when i turned 18 it's literally been 7months and I can't stop crying about it, It's one of those things that I find so hard to let go off cuz it's kinda supposed to be significant. First of all we are a pretty stable middle class family so its not about the money. They just didn't buy me anything, I remember cutting cake and waiting for them to hand me a gift. I sat there next to my friend while they were in the kitchen i opened up the gift. My friend and i were so excited to see what it was. I'm not type of person who needs a masive gift i rly dont ask for much. I open the wrapping and guess what it was... a light up sign saying 18. My smile dropped so did my friends cuz we both knew that this was the gift it was a small light up sign saying 18. Nothing else, if this sign was something rly unique or just better quality i would not complain. But it came with the 18 birthday kit... guys it was part of a 20euro birthday kit it wasn't even supposed to be a gift its supposed to be a prop in the back of my bday photos with the balloons ect. I just sat there dumbfounded. Idc what my friend thinks shes like a sister she definitely doesn't even remember my bday and isn't the type to judge. It's rather that it was my last yr for any birthday party. My parents aren't the type to celebrate anything after 18 because I'm officially an adult.
I cried that night so hard it wasn't just the bday gift which was the issue. On my bday i had to ask one of my friends to go out with me. I bought her lunch and she was great company i love this girl to the moon and back but obviously. She thought i would go out with a different friend or something, she cancelled her plans for the day and hung outwith me. My other rly close friends at that time were busy. My friends aren't bitches dw they just arent that close to me if that makes sense. They came to cut cake and give me gifts a few days later. But by then i was sick of my bday i just wanted it to be over wished i was never born so i didn't have to be in this awkward situation.
It hit me that it kinda sucked that my parents couldn't love me enough that day. You would think if i don't friends i would at least have my parents. But damn they didnt even buy me a birthday card. The one birthday that ive been looking forward to since a child thinking its supposed to be the best and most important birthday turned out to be the worst bday possible. The realisation kicked in that i have never actually had a single good bday in my life. And this was the last shot at it and it's fucked.
Just when I was beginning to realise how stupid i sounded. I am religious, i know that i should always be greatful for what i have and shouldn't ask for more. Materialistic desires never lead to a true feeling of fulfilment.
My friends suggested that we suprise a different friend for her bday. We walk into her house and her parents did the same thing for her they wanted to suprise her for her birthday. We walked in and the living room was fully decorated they put in so much effot for their daughter. They picked out 18 gift for her 18yrs. This family isnt rich either same as mine middle class all the gifts were simple and reasonable. Clothes, some small mini make up, nail polish and face mask and some of her favourite snacks. And they bought her one expensive main gift.
If they wanted to they would. Went home and felt so fucking useless. My parents couldn't even get themselves to write a card for me. I don't need a shit tone of bday gifts i just wanted a bday card with words of encouragement from my mom and dad. I just wanted a lil small tiny ring, didn't even have to be a fancy expensive one.. they could've gave me a gummy ring and i would just laughed it off and not cared and would've been happy with the card.
Idk it just sucks I'll probably laugh at it 30yrs in the future but it still sucks. Its so dumb to cry over somthing like this. There definitely are bigger issues in my life but i just wanted one important bday to go well. I wish bdays didn't exist. I don't even want my next birthday to come cuz it's just embarrassing sitting and writing in my journal about how shit my day was.
Sorry im on my period and wanted to rant. Also Im dyslexic asf ignore the typos. This is soooo embarrassing. Idk if this is the right place to be posting this either tbh.

lways ordered cakes for birthdays at work , today is my birthday no one wished me . Felt very sad. DO i deserve to be treated like this

I’ve been in a relationship for over two years with my current boyfriend and I’m happy but there’s always this part in the back of my heart that feels like this relationship isn’t mentally or physically satisfying me. for the past two years I’ve poured my everything into this relationship. I’ve always gone above and beyond for my boyfriend, whether it came to birthdays, anniversaries, him graduating school, and even small achievements. If we go on a date, I’m the one planning everything in the one making the plans. I take care of absolutely everything and I never feel appreciated or thought of.
On my birthday last year, he had absolutely nothing planned. he gave me a gift which was a kind gesture, but he didn’t have anything planned for the day. no reservations no movie tickets booked, nothing. When I asked him where we were going he just said “oh idk how to plan for these kinds of things you figure it out” because he never reserved anything and it was so last minute we ended up having to go to a chain restaurant that closed in an hour. for my birthday this year, he bought me perfume. which he didn’t even pick out himself. he just decided to meet me at the mall and have me pick it out and left after buying me it. he had a migraine and couldn’t take me out to celebrate but promised he would take me out another time. we never did end up going out and I didn’t end up celebrating with him.
now, for the last two years I’ve gone above and beyond for his birthday. I would reserve places months in advance and plan the entire day for him so he could feel appreciated. last year for his birthday, I bought him a bunch of stuff he uses or has been wanting, we went out for dinner and spent the night together and I even surprised him with a cake. the year before that I took him out for dinner and had a hotel decorated for him. but I in return have never received any gesture like this. I’ve communicated with him about how I always feel like he never plans or does anything nice for me and he says he just doesn’t know these things like I do. I’ve stopped asking for so much from him because I’ve just become so emotionally exhausted that I’d rather keep my mouth closed than have to deal with his excuses. I just want to feel appreciated, I want to feel like I’m being thought of, and I wanna feel like I’m deserving of the love I give out. I don’t know what to do or how to approach the relationship at this point. I love him but it’s so hard maintaining a relationship that feels like you’re giving out 90% and they’re only giving 10%.

So I would put the nightmare flair but it was actually pretty chill tbh, I wasn’t like panicking or too scared.
I was preparing for a wedding and me and my dad and sister went to a hotel. A basic one. Then I forgot smth at home and my sister went to get it and we kinda got in a fight. Then the bathroom looks like it has a ton of sinks of diff colors and my sister tells us that there’s women trying to kill us by putting knives trough the charging stations down to floor level. I go to check it out and some woman pushes a sword trough and I try to escape but it’s hard, like there’s knives and I managed to escape, it wasn’t that hard but still difficult. And at some point I’m sitting and the whole thing just turns into a horror hotel, and a like a little human made out of fine plastic with like round head and like rounded limbs and everything, like the pic but it had fine smooth shiny plastic all over and was probably a robot and no ears and a face way bigger with 2 dots as eyes and a big smile. And no ears. This thing tells me how sad and horror and sinister the whole place looks and holds my hand to show me and I feel like I’m gonna kms. But then the thing says “but you know how I know this is not real?” And then starts singing a song like a record in the 90s, yk that sound that goes when you rewind? That, and a happy La La La 90s song. And like vibrant paint from paint buckets starts splashing around and making everything coloured again. Next thing I know the narrator says the women have been caught, the ones with the knives, and also before all this, I dreamed it was my birthday and my aunt cami baked me a cake, and I was like “u didn’t have to do that” and she’s like “Gurl just say thanks and eat “ ,we all just like eat from it with spoons, no cut slices. And I was eating most of the coconut small cut cakes. We were all having a pretty good time! And at the hotel, before arriving it was raining, and we had to hold a pillow over our heads and my sister got a little left behind l and I started changing and didn’t realise my dad was there and yelled at him to close his eyes, he didn’t listen the first few times I said it. Then I put smth on and the rest of the story I just said. Oh and just realised I can’t put a pic for the teddy description thing. It was like , it had a round head, eggplant shaped limbs,all smooth shiny plastic .

"You gotta know that there's an art to it, Ezra," Hitch said, cutting another piece of duct tape.
The sleeves of his weather-beaten coat were shoved all the way up his arms, to stop the fabric from falling over his knuckles while he was working, and goosebumps lined his skin. He was strapping a rubber chicken to the back of his truck, over the lens of the shattered backup camera, with the legs pointing down so that they hung a couple inches above the ground. There were dents in the hood from the crash last week, and scratches along the door from scraping into a curb. The chicken, hopefully, would keep him from breaking anything else.
"You can't go cheap," Hitch said. "The cheap rubber chickens only make noise when pressure lets go. That's no good. As soon as I back up into something, I want this chicken to be screaming like it’s in the depths of hell."
“Sure thing,” I said in a monotone, leaning against the side of the truck.
There were scrambled electronic parts piled in the back of the truck, the innards of a radio, a broken computer, tangled wires, a couple loose pairs of earbuds. He found the parts in alleyways or bummed them off his friends for a couple bucks or stole them from the vacation homes that were left empty for most of the year. Then he sold them for a profit at the scrapyard. Hitch had bounced between minimum-wage jobs for a while after high school, spending a couple months as a bagger at the grocery store or as a seasonal worker at the farm two hours down the highway. He'd never stuck with it. At the very least, the scrapyard got him enough money to eat and occasionally spend a night in a motel when he got tired of sleeping in his car.
Hitch pressed the last piece of tape in place and grinned up at me. "I've got something for you, duck."
The nickname came from when I’d broken my leg as a child and waddled around in a cast until it was healed. I hated it with a burning passion, and I glared at Hitch with the ease of twenty-one years of practice. He had a duck tattoo at the base of his thumb that he’d gotten in a back-alley shop as a teenager. He said that he’d gotten it to remind him of me, and the fact that I hated the nickname was just a bonus. It was shaky-lined, with an uneven face, but he loved it anyway.
The handle stuck when Hitch tried to open the door, a consequence of the rust collecting in the crevices of the car and running down the sides like blood from a cut. The car groaned when the door finally popped open, a metal against metal screech that had me flinching away. Hitch dug through the cluttered fast food containers in the passenger-side footwell, eventually coming up with a crinkly paper bag. He waved away the flies buzzing around the opening of the bag and held it out to me.
The last time Hitch had brought me food, I’d gotten food poisoning because he’d left it out in the midday sun for two days. The donut was squished slightly, and the icing was stuck to the bag. I still ate it, grimacing at the harsh citrus flavor. Taking Hitch’s food was an instinct engraved from the days when Dad had given us a can of kidney beans for dinner and Hitch had drank the juice, leaving the beans for me.
I rarely went hungry anymore, three mostly square meals a day and granola in my pockets just in case, but habits didn’t die easy.
These days, Hitch only brought me food when he wanted my help, like when he saw a place he wanted to hit but was worried about doing it alone.
I got in the car, like I always did.
We drove past the cluster of seafood-themed restaurants with chipped paint decks, the beachfront park where there were always shifty-eyed men sitting under the slide, the single room library where all the books had been water damaged in the flood last year. The change was quick as we drove across Main Street, heading closer to the beach. The roads were freshly paved, the concrete a smooth black except where the sun had already started to pick away at it. The three-story homes lining the sides of the street were crouched on elegant stilts, with space underneath for a car or three. Most of the garages were empty, with the lights off and curtains drawn in the house. Come summer, the streets would be swarming with tourists and vacationers, but until then, most of the buildings nearest to the beach were unoccupied.
Hitch stopped as the sun started to go down at a house that was leaning precariously out towards the beach, tilted ever so slightly, the edge of its foundation buried in the shifting sand of the beach. It certainly looked deserted, with an overgrown yard and blue paint peeling off the door in sheets.
Hitch took his hammer out of the backseat, hoisting it over his shoulder. It was two feet of solid metal with rags wrapped around the head to muffle the sound of the hits. Hitch squared up, bending his knees and holding the hammer like a baseball bat. Before he could swing, though, the door creaked open on its own, the hinges squeaking. The house beyond was dark enough that I could only make out general shapes, glimpsing the curve of a sofa to the left, what was maybe the shimmer of a chandelier on the other side.
Hitch lowered his hammer, looking vaguely disappointed that he didn’t get to use it. “That’s…weird as hell.”
“Maybe the deadbolt broke, maybe they forgot to lock it, it doesn’t matter,” I hissed, checking our surroundings for other people again. “Just hurry up and get inside before someone calls the cops.”
Hitch flicked the lightswitch on the wall, and the lights flickered on. They were dim, buzzing audibly and blinking off occasionally. The walls were plastered with contrasting swatches of wallpaper and splattered with random colors. There was neon orange behind the dining table, a galaxy swirl in the kitchen, and on the ceiling there was a repeating floral pattern covered in nametag stickers. Each of the stickers was filled out with The Erlking. Chandeliers hung in every room, three or four for each, and rubber ducks sat on every table. A miniature carousel sat in the corner along with a towering model rocket.
Sand was heaped on every surface, at least a couple inches everywhere. It was piled in the corners and stuck to the walls, and it covered the floor in a thick blanket. Our hesitant steps into the house left footprints clearly outlined in the sand.
Hitch took a cursory look around and headed immediately for the TV mounted on the wall. “Look out the windows and tell me if anyone is coming.”
I shook the sand out of the blinds and pulled them open, then had to brush sand off of the window before I could see anything.
Hitch was quick, practiced at finding and appropriating the things that were worth taking. He came back to me with an armful of electronics and chandeliers, dumping it at my feet before turning to head deeper into the house again.
There was a thump, somewhere upstairs, and then footsteps, slow and deliberate. Hitch froze at the threshold of the room, then ran for the door with me just ahead of him, sand flying out from under our feet.
My hand was almost brushing the doorknob, close enough that I could see the light from the streetlamp outside streaming in through the cracks in the door. My fingers touched the wood and it gave under my touch, becoming malleable and warm. I yelped, stumbling backwards, and the door started to melt. The paint ran down in thick drops, pooling at the bottom of the door, and the wood warped like metal being welded. The soft edges of the door ran into the walls until there was no sign of an exit ever being there.
“Well, well, well,” said a cultured voice with just an edge of snooty elitism. “What do we have here?”
The man was well over eight feet tall, with long black hair covering his eyes. He was wearing a yellow raincoat with holes cut out of the hood to accommodate the deer antlers jutting upwards from his head. There was sand settled on his shoulders and hovering around his head like a halo.
“Who the fuck are you?” Hitch said, inching towards a window.
He smiled, just a little bit, and his teeth shone in the dim light. “I am the Erlking.”
Hitch nodded, and seemed about to respond. I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him towards the window. I could feel sand in the wind roaring against my back as the Erlking growled in anger, the grains scraping harshly against my cheeks.
We were almost to the window when Hitch was ripped away from me, and I came to a startled halt. The sand had formed long grasping arms that pressed Hitch against the floral wallpaper. His wrists were held tight, and as I watched, a sandy hand wrapped around his mouth and forced its way between his teeth. He gagged, and sand trickled out of the corners of his mouth.
The Erlking strolled towards him, not seeming to be in any sort of rush. “You know, I’m not very fond of your yapping.”
He made an idle gesture and the sand wrapped around my ankles, tethering me in place.
“I yap all the time,” Hitch said. “Three-time olympic yapper, that’s me. Best to just let me go now and save yourself some trouble.”
The Erlking tapped a manicured nail against Hitch’s mouth, hard enough to hurt, judging by the way he flinched away. “But why would I ever let you go when I’ve gone to this much trouble to catch you and your sister? It’s so hard, these days, to find people that no one will miss.”
Hitch struggled against the sand, trying to escape and failing. “What do you want with us, then? You just said it, we’re nobody.”
“I’m fae, dear one,” the Erlking said. “I get my power from my followers. And I think that you two will make lovely additions to my flock.”

He flicked Hitch's nose and Hitch gasped. Feathers started to form on his arms, popping out from under his skin in a spray of blood.
Hitch pushed off the wall, using his bound hands as a fulcrum, and his knees crashed into the Erlking’s stomach. The Erlking fell backwards, wheezing, and the sand around my ankles loosened.
Hitch made desperate eye contact with me as feathers shot up his neck and jerked his head towards the window. The message was obvious. Run.
The last thing I saw before crashing out the window and into freedom was Hitch’s body twisting, his arms wrenching into wings and feathers covering every inch of his skin. By the time I landed on the concrete outside, he was a small black bird, held tightly in the Erlking’s hands. The whole building was sinking into the ground, burnished-gold sand piling up over top and streaming from the windows.
Thirty years later, I saw Sam’s Supernatural Consultation and Neutralization written in neat, looping handwriting on a piece of paper taped to the door. The tape was peeling at the corners and the paper was yellowed with age, but there was obviously care put into the sign, in its perfectly centered text and looping floral designs drawn over the edges in gold marker.
I knocked, hesitantly, drawing my woolen coat closer around my shoulders. I’d bought it as a fiftieth birthday gift for myself, and I took comfort in the heavy weight of it over my shoulders.
“Coming!” someone called from within the depths of the office.
There were a couple crashes, and the sound of paper shuffling. Eventually, the door was opened by a young woman with ketchup stains on her shirt and pencils stuck through her hair.
“Hi, I’m Sam, I specialize in supernatural consultation and hunting, how may I help you today?” Sam said, customer-service pep in her voice. She stood in the doorway, solidly blocking entry into the office.
“My name is Ezra, I’m for a consultation. I emailed you but you didn’t respond?” I shifted in place, suddenly feeling awkward.
“Oh! Yeah, I lost the password for the email ages ago. Sorry for the bad welcome, I get lots of people thinking I’m crazy or pulling a prank and harassing me.”
She ushered me into the office, clearing papers off one of the chairs to make room for me to sit down. There was a collection of swords along one wall, all of them polished to perfection, several with deep knicks in the metal which indicated that they’d been used heavily.
“So what can I help you with?” Sam asked again, more sincere this time.
“Thirty years ago, my brother was turned into a bird,” I started. I’d told this story so many times that it barely felt ridiculous to say anymore. I was used to the disbelieving looks, the careful pity. But Sam just nodded along, face open and welcoming.
“I’ve almost given up on finding him, at this point,” I said. “But I saw your ad in the newspaper, and…here I am, I suppose.”
“Here you are,” Sam echoed, smiling. She pulled one of the pencils out of her hair and took a bit of paperwork off of one of her stacks, turning it over so that the blank side sat neatly in front of her. “Tell me everything.”
I told Sam everything, and she wrote it all down, pencil scratching along the paper.
The last part of the story was always the hardest to tell. “I left him there. I ran and I didn’t look back.”
I had been to dozens of detectives and investigators over the years, once the police had dropped Hitch’s case. I’d been to professional offices with smartly-dressed secretaries and met scraggly men in coffee shops. All of them had given me the same look, pity and annoyance all mixed up into a humor-the-crazy-lady soup. Sam, though, just seemed thoughtful.
Sam leaned forward and put a hand over mine, carefully, like she thought that I would pull away. “Sometimes you have to leave people behind.”
I tightened her hold on Sam’s hand and drew it towards me, like I could make Sam listen if only I squeezed tight enough. “But that’s why I’m here. I don’t want to leave him behind.”
“Okay then. I’ll do my best to help you.” Sam agreed, finally. Then she paused, and said softly, “You know…I think I met your brother once. He might have saved my life. He’s certainly why I started in this business.”
“Really? What happened?” I asked.
This is the story that Sam told me, related to the best of my abilities:
It was a new moon, so the only illumination came from the stars gazing idly down and distant porch lights shining across the scraggly brush of the dunes. Sam’s neighbors were decent people who cared about baby turtles, so the lights were a low, unobtrusive red, and the ocean sloshed like blood. Sam walked on the beach almost every night, drawing back the gauzy pink curtains and clambering out her bedroom window. She didn’t often bother to be quiet; her mama worked the late shift and came home exhausted. As long as Sam got home before the sun, her mama would never find out that she paced the shoreline and dreamed of inhaling sand until her lungs became their own beach.
The sky was lightening. The sun would come up soon, and that meant Sam’s time on the beach was over. She needed to get back to her real life, go to her fifth grade class and stop that nonsense, as her mother would say. Her mother loved to say things like that, pushing Sam into her proper place by implication alone.
“She’s a good kid, of course, but she’s a bit…” Her mother would trail off there, usually getting a commiserating expression from whoever she was talking to. Sam always wondered how that sentence would have finished. She’s a bit strange, maybe. She’s a bit intense. She’s a bit abrasive. She’s quiet enough but when Jason tried to steal her pencil in math class, she stabbed him in the hand so hard that the lead tattooed him.
Her mother was better, for the most part. The days of her stocking up the fridge, and leaving a post-it note on the counter, and leaving for days at a time were gone. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen tile where her mother had collapsed and caved her head in, even though the bloodstains had been replaced with new tile.
“Your auntie got an abortion, you know,” her mother had said from her place on the couch, slurring her words. “Pill in the mail and then bam, no more baby.”
She had clapped her hands together to illustrate her point. Her mother jerked forward and grabbed Sam by the wrist, then, staring up at her until Sam met her eyes.
“I love you, you know? But sometimes I wonder…” She settled back onto the couch. “Yeah. I wonder.”
She’d gotten up, then, back to the kitchen. She’d been stumbling, a shambling zombie of a woman. The ground in the entryway of the kitchen was raised, ever so slightly, and her mother went down hard. Her head cracked against the tile, chin first, and she didn’t move.
Sam had been the one to call the ambulance. She had stared at the scattering of loose teeth on the ground while she waited, and considered what her life would be like with a dead mom. Not so bad, she thought, and immediately felt guilty for it.
Her mom was better, now, for the most part. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen floor where she had collapsed. There was still a matchbox hidden under her bed with the gleaming shine of her mother’s lost teeth, two canines and a molar. It was nice, having a piece of her mom to keep. Even if she left again, Sam would still have part of her.
Sam sighed, and turned away from the ocean. As she faced towards the low dunes further up the beach, she saw a sandcastle sitting nestled among them. It was such a strange sight that her eyes skipped over it at first, almost automatically, disregarding it because it was so out of place.
Sam found sandcastles out on the beach sometimes, usually half-collapsed and on the verge of being washed away by the waves, but she had never seen anything like the sandcastle in front of her. It was life-sized, something that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the Scottish highlands, with spires shooting up above her head and carefully etched out bricks lining each side. The front wall was dominated by an arched set of double doors, twice her height, with a portcullis nestled at the top, ready to be dropped. All of it was lovingly detailed, down to the rust on the tips of the towers and the wood grain of the door. It was made out of wet, densely-packed sand, held together impossibly. It had not been there two hours ago, when she had come to the beach.
There was a bird sitting on the overhang of the door, small and black.
As soon as she took a step towards the sandcastle, the bird shook out its feathers and swooped down towards Sam, landing at her feet with a little stumble.
“Hey, kid, get out of here,” said the bird.
Sam closed her eyes, very deliberately. When she opened them, the bird was still there. Sam considered herself a very reasonable person, so she immediately drew the most logical conclusion. The bird was, she was almost certain, a demon.
“Trust me, you don’t want to run into Mr. Salty, the queen bitch himself,” the bird said.
“Mr. Salty?” Sam inquired, polite as she knew how to be. She edged to the side, trying to get a good angle to kick the bird like a soccer ball.
The bird did something similar to a wince, all its feathers fluffing up then settling back down. “Ah, don’t call him that. He’d turn you into a toad.”
The bird gestured with its head, towards the looming sand structure. “That’s his castle. He’s in there, probably scuttling along the ceiling or some shit because that’s the sort of weirdo he is.”
Sam nodded, encouraging. She pulled back her foot and lined up her shot, the way she’d seen athletes do on TV. She aimed right for its sharp beak and let loose. The bird saw it coming, its beady eyes widening, and it cawed in distress. It flapped away, avoiding her kick only to fall backward into the sand in a scramble of wings.
“What’s your fucking problem?” it squawked. “I was trying to help you!”
“I don’t need the help of a demon,” Sam yelled, trying to remember the exorcism that her mama had taught her once, because her mama believed in being prepared for anything.
“I’m not a demon,” the bird said indignantly.
It was at about that moment that Sam gave up and just decided to roll with it.
“What are you, then?” Sam asked.
The bird shuffled its clawed feet, looking about as awkward as it could, given that it didn’t really have recognizable facial expressions. “Technically I’m a familiar of the Erlking, prince of the fae, but I prefer to be called Hitch.”
“You can’t blame me for assuming, though,” Sam said. “Ravens do tend to be associated with murder.”
“Hey, excuse you,” Hitch said. “I’m a rook, not a raven. Ravens are way bigger.”
“Sure,” Sam said, not really paying attention. Her eyes had caught on the details of the sandcastle, and she was transfixed by the slow spirals of the sand, the strange beauty of it. She found herself stepping towards the great doors, lifting a hand to knock, and as she did, the sand warped in front of her eyes, heaving itself towards her with bulging slowness. The door creaked open before her, revealing a vast, empty room. Just before she stepped inside, she felt a piercing pain in her foot, and she yelped, leaping backwards.
Hitch pecked her again, really digging his beak in. “Don’t be an idiot.”
Sam glared at him, rubbing her foot. About to retort, she finally really took in the room inside the sandcastle, and her words died in her throat.
There was a body just past the threshold of the door, face down and limbs hanging limp at its sides. Long hair splayed out in a halo around its head.
“Don’t,” Hitch warned, suddenly serious. “Just leave, kid, I mean it. I’ve seen too many people go down this road and you don’t want to be one of them.”
Sam ignored him. She made her way across the beach, slipping with every step. The sand felt deeper, piling up around her feet in silent drifts. She picked up the nearest stick and poked the body with it through the door, ready to leap back if anything went wrong, staying firmly outside of the sandcastle.
This close, Sam could tell that it used to be a woman. Her head wasn’t attached to her body. It hadn’t been a clean amputation, either. Her upper body was bruised, with chunks taken out of it, and the bones in her neck hung mangled, not connected to anything.
“Well, I warned you,” Hitch said, defeated. “I did warn you.”
Sam nudged the head with the end of the stick, nudging it over so that she could see the face. Her mother stared back at her, torn to pieces, breath still wheezing from her lungs. She wasn’t blinking, just gazing forward with glazed eyes. Sweat dripped down from her hairline.
Sam screamed and dropped the stick, tripping over herself in her haste to get away.
Her mother’s eyes were wide and pleading, and she was mouthing desperate words at Sam. Her vocal cords were broken to bits, and the only sound that came out was a strained groan.
The head rolled, inching closer to Sam like a grotesque caterpillar.
Her mother gasped for air, torn lips fluttering. Finally, comprehensible words came out. “Help. Help me, daughter.”
“That’s not your mother,” Hitch said, quiet.
Sam knew that. Her mother was sleeping back at home, and anyways her mom had never asked for her help. She had an aversion to accepting charity, as she put it.
“Okay,” Sam said, shaking all over. “Okay.”
She backed away from the sandcastle, not looking away.
“Failure,” her mother hissed as she stepped away. “I never wanted a daughter like you.”
The sun came up over the horizon. The sandcastle, Hitch, and her mom all disintegrated into sand as the light hit them.
The beach, the next night, was almost exactly how I remembered it. The beams of our flashlights sent light bouncing across the dunes, illuminating the waves, and I imagined faces in the foam of the waves.
“I’ve been back here a hundred times. There’s nothing left,” I said.
Sam took the car key out of her purse and pointed it at the sand, adjusting the sword slung over her shoulder in order to do it. The key had belonged to Hitch; Sam had requested an item of his, and it was the only thing I had left. She rested the key on the sand and drew a circle around it, inscribing symbols around the borders.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Sam shrugged. “Not much, really. I’m…I guess you could say that I’m knocking.”
The key laid inert on the sand for long enough that I was just about to give up and go home, admit to myself that Hitch was dead and that I was a fool to believe that Sam could actually help me. Then a building started to take shape, flickering in and out like it was struggling to get away. With a pop of displaced air, the sandcastle settled into existence.
Sam banged on the entryway. Nothing happened. She did it again, harder, and scowled when the door still didn’t open.
“We demand entrance, under your honor,” Sam yelled. There was a hard rush of wind, and I gripped Sam’s arm to keep my balance, but the doors cracked open reluctantly.
The inside of the sandcastle consisted of one enormous hall, the roof arching up out of sight. Rafters crisscrossed from wall to wall, and a cobbled path led further into the building, but other than that, it was completely empty, except for the birds. There were thousands of them, perched on the rafters or hopping along the ground. They parted in front of Sam and I, and reformed behind us, leaving us in a small pocket of open space. They were all black-feathered, with sharp beaks and beady eyes.
The Erlking sat on a throne at the end of the hall, lounging across it with his feet up on the armrest. He watched them as they came forward, the soft caw of the birds the only sound.
“I am here to bargain for the life of my brother,” I said, with as much dignity as I could muster, before the Erlking could say anything.
The Erlking ignored her, tilting his head to look at Sam. “I remember you. I almost got you, once.”

Sam glared at him but didn’t respond.
“You want your brother,” The Erlking said to me, and he almost sounded amused. “Then go get him.”
As if by some sort of silent signal, every bird in the room took flight at once, and their cawing made me think of screams. I covered my head against the flapping of their wings, and my vision was quickly obscured by the chaotic movement of them. I found myself on my knees, just trying to escape them.
A hand met my shoulder. Sam urged me to my feet, and together we ran for the edge of the room, where the swarm was the thinnest. We pressed ourselves into the corner and the swarm spiraled tighter and tighter at the center of the room. It went on until there seemed to be no differentiation between the birds, all of them fused together into one creature.
When the chaos died down, the birds had become one mass, with wings and eyes and talons sticking out of its flesh, thrashing and chirping. Human body parts stuck out of it, bulging out from the feathers. It was hands, mostly, with a couple knees or staring eyes. The bird amalgamation had no recognizable facial features, but there was one long beak extending from the front of its head. Most of the body parts were concentrated around the beak, and they peeked out from where the beak connected with muscle, or grew from the tongue, nestled between the two crushing halves of the beak.
It turned its beak down and crawled forward, using the hands to balance. The fingers scrambled over the ground. I was afraid of centipedes as a child, and I felt that same crawling dread when it started moving.
“Holy shit,” Sam whispered, which was rather disappointing, because I had been hoping that at least one of us knew what to do.
The creature turned, a lurching movement that crushed some of the hands underneath it, and started heaving itself slowly towards our corner.
“Better hurry up!” the Erlking called from his throne.
It was blocking the exit, by then. The shifting body of it had moved to block us off. It ambled towards us and I tried to sink further into the corner.
As it approached, getting close enough that I could smell the stink of it, I saw a flash of a tattoo on one of the hands. I leaned in, trying to find it again, like looking for dolphins surfacing in the ocean. And again, I caught a glimpse of a duck tattoo, the tattoo that Hitch had gotten on his hand as a teenager.
I ripped away from Sam’s death grip and ran for the monster.
I fell to my knees in front of it, wincing as I impacted the ground, and reached into the nest of hands. I could feel them tearing at my forearms and ripping into me with their sharp nails, but I kept going. I pressed further in, up to my shoulder in a writhing mass of limbs, aiming for the spot where I had last seen that tattoo.
The hands were tugging at me, wrapping around my back and hair. They were pulling together, trying to draw me completely into the mass of them. I was aware of Sam at my side, anchoring me in place and bashing any hand that got too close with her sword or the sparks that leapt from her hands with muttered words. But I didn’t think it would be enough. They were too strong, and there were too many of them.
I was up to my waist in the hands when something grabbed my palm. I felt the way it clung to me, and the calluses on its palm, and I knew that I had found my brother.
I flung herself back. The hands didn’t want to let me go, and they fought the whole way, but slowly, I made progress. I kept hold of Hitch’s hand in mine the whole time, gripping it as hard as I could. I finally broke free, Hitch with me, and Sam was immediately charging the creature, able to use her sword with much greater strength without being worried about injuring Hitch. She swung it forward, and it sliced through the wrist of one of the hands. It fell without a sound, red sand flowing out of it. It deflated until it looked like dirty laundry, just a piece of limp flesh. The creature shrieked, scuttling away enough that the door was finally accessible. The three of us ran for it, Sam and I supporting Hitch between us.
I looked back as I left and found the Erlking staring right at me.
“Interesting,” he murmured, his voice carrying impossibly across the vast space between us.
The sandcastle collapsed behind us, the great walls falling in on themselves. We were out in the morning sun, the sandcastle disappearing as we watched. Hitch was on the ground in front of me, as young as he’d been thirty years ago, when he was captured. He started laughing, feathers puffing out of his mouth. He laughed until he cried and I hugged him in the way that he’d held me when I was young, in the times when my life had been defined by hunger and fear.
Hitch left, afterwards. He scratched at the pinhole scars covering his body, where feathers burst through his skin, and pulled his long sleeves down around his wrists. He didn’t know where he was going but he told me that he needed time
I had spent thirty years worth of time without him. I wanted to grab my brother by the shoulders and beg him to stay. But he flinched when I hugged him goodbye and he refused to go near sand and he stared distrustfully at the birds chirping in the trees. Hitch needed to go away and I loved him too much to stop him.
I sat out on the beach every morning. I felt the sun on my face and I waited for Hitch to come home.

That’s it. That’s all. This is the worst thing they’ve done out of every birthday they’ve ruined in my entire life.
The cake wasn’t even something I wanted, but a flavour and brand my mom wanted for a while. I never once got to pick the cake I want or restaurant, it’s always what my family and siblings wanted.
I’m actually at my wits end. I’m so tired. They’ve been shit to me for my WHOLE life and this is the final straw.

I (f) just turned 17 today and my entire family is mad at me for spending the day with my bf 17(m). For some context I’ve never had a good birthday. I would always get in trouble the week of and before because my mom is irritable and I would never earn a good birthday. Celebrations would always happen without me or what I would get would be a card or a cake with foreign languages on it with mean comments. For my 15 she got a cake and in blue icing in Spanish she wrote do better and then put me on punishment for confronting her. She kicked me out a year ago to be with her boyfriend and my 9(m) brother her “perfect family” that don’t include me so I’m living with my grandma 65 and aunt 39. They don’t like my mom’s take to my birthday and how I have to earn it and how my brother always has what he wants but I can’t even be present. I’m sorry to sound like a brat but 17 years of resentment adds up. My grandmother and aunt have been preaching about how this birthday will be MY day but the allure of birthdays aren’t even there anymore for me. I got a bf almost 9 months ago and he’s been saying the entire time how for my birthday he’s going to go all out he asked them every month is he can take me out my birthday and they always say yes. I have always had restrictions put on me and they just got worse when me and him got together. I have to turn my phone in every night she checks if I’m otp with him so I can’t be and I haven’t seen him outside of school since his birthday five months ago. I ask and I get random excuses every time when they tell me no. My mom was the one who suggested that I spend my birthday with my bf and when my aunt and grandma were like yes ofc you can they were even saying that can be your birthday gift. I hadn’t asked much for my birthday everything I wanted had been turned down and so what I asked for I made sure I could get when I get told no. All I wanted to do was roller skate and get a cheap hello kitty Stanley dupe off Etsy since they said I could pick a place to go. When today rolled around and they dropped me off at his house since they also haven’t allowed me to learn to drive or get a permit I had fun at his house. He taught me madden even though it made him mad we made cookies and he took me to get chipotle. He got me a bunch of hello kitty gifts and got me a personal strawberry shortcake which is my favorite. I didn’t ask for what he did all I wanted was to play video games and get a cuddle in before I can’t see him for I don’t even know how long. I got home and everyone was mad at me my brother if visiting for the week and even he put his iPad down long enough to mean mug me . My grandmother explained to me that everyone was mad because I chose to spend my birthday with my bf. My brother honestly didn’t even know it was my birthday he asked if it was true. I asked her what she meant and she said how I had chosen my bf over spending time with them. How they had an elaborate day planned out and I didn’t want to. I tried telling her that wasn’t it I would’ve been fine with seeing him tomorrow or even a few hours but they gave me the whole day so I took it and then she said well we feel like you chose someone else over your family when you were supposed to choose us you owe this day. I was asking why they didn’t say no or give me an option or we could’ve compromise d and she said no I was supposed to choose them and be with them but now they know where my loyalties lie. When I went to my room my brother came in and asked why I didn’t choose them and I told him I’ll talk to him later so I wouldn’t get mad towards him. I’m still confused and very mad and hurt by all this but I took an opportunity when it was handed to me so am I the a hole?

Yesterday. on the day of my birthday, I saw news that allegedly AB had seen my post on Star Wars. I thought that was far-fetched since AB said someone sent him a message calling him obsessed with Anakin (my exact wording) but I only posted about it here and did not reach out directly to AB
I guess I was wrong because shortly after my account was banned/under review....And you did it at my birthday dinner... thankfully I was able to log back in today but I'm going to be honest, I thought it was over for sure and made my peace with it. but now that I have this second wind I decided to take it
So remember remember, the day of my birthday, of gunpowder treason and plot, I know of no reason why the gunpowder treason should ever be forgot.
Here I want to talk about H3's practice of knowingly inciting indirect harassment and threats,, the number of times Dan has had to cut off Ethan's claims to not be aware or responsible for the actions of his rabid fanbase makes the argument for me. that and the reports of harassment made by certain public figures that have had the misfortune of crossing paths with Ethan and his goons.
going after people who vocally don't agree with him, borderline blackmailing them for a retraction and apology. whether it is a twitter account like misha, or fellow YouTuber like Jake Do little, whose only crime was to not have a good sense of humor and being condescending, going on online crusades to destroy their reputations and livelihood claiming moral high ground while justifying genocide, and justifying your pedo-rapist-human-trafficking friends with "friends will be friends"
targeting this sub and trying to shut down any avenue of unflattering nuanced conversation and monopolize being a giant dick
the crew is not only the workforce that keeps the show alive, they are also the force that keeps the racists happy by offering the pass,
I don't expect anyone to be the embodiment of morality but come on, you don't need to be one to see a genocide unfold and want it to stop. you do not need to be a perfect angel to see the absolute devastation and ethnic cleansing unfolding and fearing being on that position, in the shoes of the oppressed forced to witness their entire families be wiped out in the most brutal of ways.
ok, I guess they no longer spread hate and misinformation on Palestine, they claimed they won't discuss it any longer and that leaves us with the sh3tshow that is leftover today.
might as well do sleeping streams
Speed run:

• Teddy Fresh steals designs like H3 steals content
• AB disrespects his wife, friends and family for internet clout
• Olivia is just around slaying and hey-ing like an NPC , also her research game is weak, like her reading comprehension
• Dan is in such a high horse he needs an oxygen mask just to handle the altitude.
• Ethan, is racist Zionist amongst many other things
• Hila married for the greencard
• Zach,,,, just wow,..
• Love rejoicing as a babe in the cradle in the arms of daddy Ethan and mommy Holda because tomorrow belongs to him
• Lena, Ian and Sams participation is very limited so its like whatever.

so put down the knitting. the book and the broom, its time for a holiday

I knew my husband was in recovery when I met him (which he so kindly threw in my face Wednesday night) and we’ve been through some rough times with his addiction during our 8 year relationship. This last year, however, has just taken the cake.
He hadn’t used drugs in several years but was still drinking. It escalated to a point last summer where he started hallucinating things, including thinking there were people in our house. He was convinced I was cheating on him, when all I was trying to do was make it to and from work every day without having a meltdown. He finally sobered up in January and was sober until the end of March.
We went on a trip for his birthday in April and he decided it was ok for him to drink. I knew it wasn’t, but that’s not my decision to make. At first it was “manageable” but I could quickly see the escalation even if he couldn’t.
It finally came to a head Wednesday evening when he drank so much that he jumped out of the car while I was driving us home from a concert. He then blamed me for abandoning him, and got violent when he got home which resulted in me calling the cops. He wouldn’t let me get any of my belongings or my car and so I left in a Uber with the clothes on my back. I went back the next day to try to get some things, only to discover that my car had been moved from the garage to the street and it looked like someone had taken a baseball bat to the entire drivers side. I can’t prove he did it but I know he did.
I have been staying at a safe space since Wednesday night and he’s continued to text me on and off since then, going back and forth between being sorry, being hateful, and being all woe is me. Based on his bank account activity, I suspect he’s not only drinking but also using drugs.
The thing that kills me is that he claims he knew I would never see him as enough for me, that I would always want more. The more I sit and reflect on the whole thing, I realize that nothing I did would ever be enough for him to stay sober. I know that’s not my job but it still really freaking hurts. I love that man so much but it will never be enough.
Sorry for the long post. I’ve been trying to be super logical about next steps and the emotions just all hit at once.