A guy can dream though, right?

This is effectively license to riot in November and January.

My parents have long since passed on, so it’s not even possible. I may end up living with my daughter later down the line. I’m SO single and solitary (by choice) that I’m concerned about going all dementia/stroke/heart attack later on with nobody to tend to me, so I’ll likely lean on her when I’m in my mid to late sixties or so.

She’s getting everything I own, and I should have reasonable retirement funds, so it’s not like I’m going to rely on her financially.

My big mistake was fucking up on getting myself long term care, which I no longer can do unless I get a new job. My employer and I mutually fucked that up when I started at my current job.

Fun quotes from my daughter, around age ten or eleven: “You’re going to be the cranky old man that we grudgingly take on vacation with us.” and “You can always live in my basement.”

And yes, we have discussed this topic. I’m not unilaterally just saying this on the Internet.

Then slap him with a drunk in public and give him an extra day inside for it.

I archived this cancerous bloated paywalled shit show of a website just on principle

https://archive.md/5qN2M

Pretty much

Funny thing, I think back to how batshit that education was, and I’d say it was way more moderate bordering on sensible compared to the horseshit they teach today.

It’s getting worse, not better.

I went to religious school. Graduated thirty four years ago. That list would be mighty long.

This was my introduction to Bill Gates in 1992

The comments are pretty much all with you save one person. If I were you, I’d calmly walk away with that satisfaction before you get baited into a comment that “proves” you are what has been said of you.

(Note that “proves” is in quotation marks there.)

Are you asserting that nobody should ever have any preferences? Do you meet your own standard?

OP didn’t say he’s throwing women out of bed for having piercings. He expressed a preference for them not to.

To the immigrant thing - I was on vacation a few weeks ago and took five Uber rides. None of the drivers spoke English. I wonder if ride sharing is going the immigrant predator route these days.

For clarification, it didn’t bother me to have non-English speaking drivers. They were all great.

I can’t tell if that’s a joke or a real question.

If it’s a real question, nips in this case refers to those little bottles of alcohol you would get on an airplane. They’re readily available in liquor stores here. Common purchase for the chemically dependent alcoholic who just needs a quick fix.

I’ve already had this talk with my daughter. I’m not presently ill or anything, but I see this as the new American version of estate planning.

Somehow, I’ve managed to build up a few meager assets to leave to my daughter and I’ll be damned if I let American healthcare take it all.

(And please refrain from bringing up misinformed statements on estate tax. I’m a tax accountant. I’m more astute on that stuff than most of the population, and my little pile of shiny trinkets is well below any threshold for any of that to kick in)

There’s a reggae album out of Jamaica by Romain Virgo with a song called “I’m doin good”

In that song is the line, “may not be able to buy what vegetarians cook but I’m doin good”

The album is from 2010. The first time I heard that song was my first realization that vegetarianism can be difficult as I’d recently been to Jamaica, and they do love them some vegetarianism. It hadn’t occurred to me that maybe some of them wanted to be vegetarian but weren’t able.

Nah. In Texas all she has to do is say that God told her to do it, and she’ll get a couple years of taking drugs in a hospital.

The exception is Taylor Parker because she killed an _unborn child, and that’s a damn step too far.

Shithead maga bleeding a nonprofit dry example aside, this is a good (albeit extreme) illustration of why I’m generally hesitant to give to any large charity.

You can pull their tax returns up online (form 990) and see where the money goes. Too often, it all goes to executive salaries and marketing with some token single digit percentage going to actual charitable work that may or may not be doing any actual good.

Whoa there pal.

What part of driving pickup trucks with giant tires through the mud while drinking cases of ~~bud light ~~ Modelo and wearing jorts and a tank top with a picture of Rambo Trump firing footballs from a grenade launcher isn’t culture?

Product - use daily

Language - speak English, Spanish, and Korean, though the latter two are admittedly falling off from lack of use. Lived overseas for four years in my twenties

Collared shirts - wear daily, but I’d guess that’s not goth chick bait

Dancing - was religiously prohibited from such growing up and never took an interest in it

Personal skill - I can cook like a motherfucker. Like really good stuff. If I believed in love languages, mine would be feeding others. The women in my office make weekly requests for me to cook whatever they’re craving over the weekend and bring it in on Monday.

But I’m talking about energy. Gomez spends his entire existence striving toward being Morticia’s everything. I don’t have enough gas in the tank after seventy or eighty hours of getting yelled at for my income.

Next up, since everything is so easy, I guess I just simply waltz into another job, right?

Gomez lives off generational wealth and thus spends his time culturing himself with dance, art, and seductive languages.

I work until it’s not safe to drive home because I’m so tired and my eyes don’t work. I crawl home on surface streets, collapse into bed for a brief nap, and get up to go do it again because the man needs his dollar.

My spirit may be willing, but my flesh is spongy and bruised.

Meanwhile, the mantle is tailgating the hell out of the core wishing it would move over to the right lane