Trash can pad pavers

Now I’m gonna start this off by saying I mean no harm to anybody and I’m not trying to play Olympics for who has it better. Now that, that’s been established I just wanted to say I’m kinda tired of scrolling through TikTok and seeing all these people with smaller chests do binder reviews. My chest is at least a triple D and maybe I’m not looking in the right places or my algorithm is trash but I wish I could find more plus sized people or people with my chest size doing binder reviews so I can at least have some idea on how it will look on me. So if anyone has a good page to look at drop it in the comments it will be appreciated greatly.

For legal purposes I will take out some sensitive info.
My friend got caught vaping in the plane bathroom and triggered the silent alarm, which just basically alerts the crew and pilots, not the whole plane.
When my friend went in, within 5 seconds he unzipped started urinating and reached in his pocket to grab his vape so he can try to sleep for the rest of the ride.. The smoke detector, which looks like a vent lol, beeped quietly 3 times. He really thinks it could have been the prior person, as he smelled the odor before even entering the bathroom + the silent alarm went off literally within 3 seconds of him peeing. He said his urine barely hit the water before the guy came barging in (by the way is that even legal? No idea how he opened a locked door)
Literally, and I mean literally, within 3 seconds the door started violently shaking and a male flight attendant (seemed a more senior level, he was wearing a suit type outfit) is furious and yelling all this scary legal jargon. Meanwhile, friend is in panic and shock, first at the fact he's still peeing, and the fact that he has a vape in his pocket. The attendant says to show him what he has, a vape battery or something with actual fire/lighter...and my friend stupidly in panic showed him it that he just had a vape in his pocket, and it wasn't a lighter or anything with fire.
Friend comes out, and attendant basically just scares the shit out of him and demands seat number. He give it to him right away and he says to go get seated and he'll be right there.
He comes back 10 min later with a small yellow slip of paper that says "notice to cease objectionable and illegal behavior" After reading it thoroughly, he was relieved because this notice officially confirmed its just a warning. The last sentence states "failure to cease such behavior may result in removal from this aircraft ...blabla...and/or civil penalties, imprisonment, or ban from future travel". Reading this, he just had enough and didn't want to deal with it anymore, and wanted to take the warning seriously and move on and not be stupid again in the future, so he threw away his vape cartridges. (this is important for later)
Friend's anxiety and paranoia is at peak level at this point, so he throws away the vape cartridges into a beer can he ordered earlier in-flight. so he can breathe and get to his work trip with a clear mind.
The same attendant came to pick up trash and make sure to come to my friends seat. When he was collecting trash, the beer can made a rattle noise as it was going into the trash bag.
Fast-forward... Deboarding the plane...the worst is waiting. 1 officer, 1 rep from the airline, the captain, the attendant, and another person. Guess what, they pulled out a Ziploc baggy with the 2 cartridges in it... Then they stated that my friend "handed" the cartridges to the attendant.
This is not true, the only way the attendant had these cartridges was by digging thru the trash in the back.
A part of me thought, maybe they will say hey, these cartridges definitely belong to you because they were in that beer can, and only you ordered that beer that flight. But is this proof that it was actually being vaped? Throwing away vape cartridges isn't admittance of actually vaping is it?
After about 20 minutes, my friend stuck to his guns and did not admit it was him and states he did not hand the attendant the cartridges. In fact, he asked "did you find that in that trash?" (He did). And also asked "did you open a locked bathroom door?" (He did). To which the attendant replied "I don't need to respond to a some kid who sucks on vapes all the time" (friend is epileptic and has high anxiety disorder, requires CBD and anticonvulsant meds so prevent seizures. He was just dumb bc he used the vape and not like an edible or tincture/oil)
The officer was extremely nice, and said likely nothing will happen. The attendant said "they are going to press charges" but I don't know if he was serious, bc he also told me I am going to be fined $25,000...anyone could tell his main objective was solely to scare the living shit out of my friend for no reason...a blind person could see that.
The only information they took from was a picture of his driver's license and said we can go.
He went to bathroom to unleash panic attack, debrief, And throw up ...
Then, walking to ground transport, we saw the same officer walking around.
Friend had a change of heart He went over and said thank you for being kind and apologized for wasting time. He asked if he can rest easy, and officer said they won't be pursuing anything, but definitely could if they wanted.
It doesn't make sense to me that a massive company like this would go out of its way to ruin a young stupid kids life...I think you scared the living shit out of him enough already.
Anyone know if my friend will be ok? Anyone been in a similar situation? Anyone know if my friend will receive a subpoena or legal letter in the mail a few weeks from now (that's what he's most stressed about rn). He has 0 dui, felonies, misdemeanors, or even a traffic ticket lol. Works hard too.
Tldr; Friend caught vaping on plane bathroom. Denied it and said it could have been any previous persons, (there was indeed a decent line for either of the 2 lavatories). Threw away 2 vape cartridges when they were collecting trash, (later we found this was pointless, as possession of the cartridges was not the problem, it was the act of vaping them). they dug it out the cartridges out of trash and claimed we handed it to them. Police officer said we'd be fine, but airline rep only spit out threats.
Who can we believe and what can we expect?
Already feel like shit and friend def won't be vaping on planes anymore. Id appreciate sharings of any similar experience or some words of advice.
Tbh think friend will be fine and just still in panic mode but who knows.
P.s. we really don't mind about a no fly ban with the airline, or like a small fine....but that male attendant and also the airline rep were talking crazy. Mentioned like "pressing charges", "federal crime", "jail time", "prosecution" and "writing reports and subpoenas" "$25k fine"...when he know full well my friend already learned the lesson jeez. What were mainly concerned about is any sort of permanent/ criminal legal repercussions, and how likely is that?

Question: If April flowers bring May showers, what do May flowers bring?
Answer: Puritans and misery.
Part 1 - May Flower Moon
I'm no expert but I'm pretty sure this is a ghost story. It all started in early May under the, "Flower Moon".
In the still of the night, I awoke from a deep sleep to witness a moonlight so spectacular it hurt my eyes.
Fumbling for my glasses, I found them, dropped them, cursed, then almost stepped on them. I finally got them where they belonged thinking I needed to use the bathroom. I glanced at the digital clock on my desk.
3:33 am. Again.
Willow weep for me
Bend your branches down along the ground and cover me
-Ann Ronell as sung by Billie Holiday
The birds were chirping loudly. I shuffled to the window. I looked up wide-eyed at the sky. There was the moon; big, round and golden like it didn't mind a big electricity bill. As I used the bathroom, I remember thinking that I didn't ever remember a full moon so bright it could light up my apartment.
I washed my hands then splashed warm water on my face. I cracked my neck. I dried my hands and face with a towel. I remember thinking if I didn't get back to sleep the day was going to suck.
Shuffling back into my bedroom I thought to look for my ski hat. I figured I could pull it over my eyes and escape the light under the blanket. Flower Moon was beautiful but so too is sleep. If I could just hide under the blanket perhaps it wasn't too late for sleep to creep up on me.
I have been renting the same sunny shoebox in old Brooklyn for more than 20 years. It's a corner apartment on the second floor of a 19th century walkup. Across the street, diagonally resides a community garden fronted by a very tall and expansive weeping willow tree that won't let me move away. I didn't know it's age until recently. But it's younger than me. Most things are these days.
I shuffled to the corner window to squeeze the blinds tight and that's when I felt grateful, grateful I had decided to use the bathroom first.
There, at the base of the hundred-foot-tall willow, behind the wrought iron fence, illuminated beneath the moon's glow, I witnessed something that froze my blood and tested my aging bladder. Standing beneath the moonlight, I saw, clear as day, a little boy in footed pajamas with a trap door. The little boy was holding a blue stuffed Grover Muppet in one hand and crying.
Trying to get a good look at the boy was like trying to look at something from behind a campfire. There was a shimmering distortion. What I could clearly see was that he was pointing down at the ground in front of his feet with the non-Grover hand. Suddenly, the little boy spun his head up and around looking directly at me. Eye contact occurred and then too, something I can't explain.
First, a truck transporting fuel broke loudly for the red light at the corner. Through the open windows I smelled what seemed like diesel. I grew light-headed. The room spun around. I remember thinking this feeling smelled both nauseating as well as timeless.
I reached down to try and pick up the floor and that's when it hit me in the face. A sharp pain across my cheek like I had been slapped in a 3 Stooges short. I felt icy fingers grab the hair I had not had in over 30 years and jerk my head back. I smelled more diesel. I grabbed the edge of the desk to keep from losing my balance.
Holding on to the desk, I noticed my mind's eye was playing the little boy's face like a movie. The camera panned in. His little boy face filled my consciousness like I was watching from the front row. He was about four or five years old with long dirty blonde hair. His face looked familiar from a dream.
Then, another slapping pain turned my last good cheek. Losing my balance, I fell ass first to the floor.
Out the window, from on my ass, I watched the traffic light turn green. I heard the truck lurch into gear, rev it's engine then drive away. As it rumbled off into the distance my equilibrium returned.
Muttering my life sucked I gently shook my head and felt for damage. Just my non-existent pride. I got myself vertical, yet once again; feeling a distinct twinge of anxiety.
I looked out the window but the little boy was gone. An FDNY ambulance took his place, it's siren jarring me back to reality. I closed the blinds and got under the blanket. I never did really get back to sleep that night. Or ever since.
Part II - Unhappily Ever Since
Sad as I can be Hear me willow and weep for me... -Billie I keep seeing a little boy under the tree... - me ...
The first thing I want to say is that I keep waking up for decades at exactly 3:33 am.
It's the exact time my decrepit birth certificate claims I was introduced to this world. Can't say why, but ever since digital clocks became a thing, I'm up more often than not to witness 3:33 am transpire. Never remember it happening before digital.
One of my friends recently told me it was an angel number. I don't know anything about angels. Never met one. But I for sure have met some demons in my day. In fact. you might say I was born of demon mother, and I might not be offended. Back to my birth certificate. I was born and yes, still live in Brooklyn, New York. There were gaps but it's my home.
I moved to this particular apartment building a few months after 9/11. I had moved in with a woman at the tail end of doing a romantic nickel, but that fell apart like Madoff, Abramoff or Fuckoff, and she married another dude a year later. So, there in 2002, I and my faithful golden retriever, Spenser, found ourselves, for the very first time, on our own. And, we liked it.
Like I mentioned, Spenser and I lived diagonal to a community garden that fronts a big and beautiful weeping willow tree. I felt an immediate kinship as my favorite book as a child had been, "The Giving Tree" and that's what she reminded me of; only more beautiful.
There will be more about the tree. Anyway, the tree and I dwell in an old part of south Brooklyn called Park Slope, infamous for being the stomping grounds of a young Al Capone, and, believe it or not, young me.
That was a long time ago. Things have changed a lot since Al and I, were separately roaming the streets of Park Slope, looking for adventure and whatever came our way. I came up in the day when if you cried your mother would give you something to cry about. And, not going to lie, I cried a lot. I don't remember my dad that much.
I remember he was a hippie. I remember he had a big beard and moustache and long hair. I remember his denim jacket was always cold, smelling like weed and cigarettes. I remember he gave me, "The Giving Tree" and taught me how to read it. And then, I remember he was; gone. Just. Gone.
I also remember my mother. I remember her never talking much. I remember her just smelling like hair spray, cigarettes and instant coffee with sour milk. I never was able to drink milk, not even as a child, and to this very day just the sight of a milk carton turns my stomach to acid.
I lived alone with the old lady about half a mile from where I live now. Yeah, in over thirty years I made it a whole thirteen blocks. Like I said, my pride was non-existent these days unless I was sitting on it. Another, weird thing besides waking up at 3:33 am is I have a lot of memory lapses. It has been getting worse the last few years. Especially, since old Spenser had a seizure in my arms back on the 9/11 of '09. He was fifteen and my best friend. I'd always loved dogs. But after losing Spenser, I couldn't quite remember things right all the time.
Sometimes, it was little things. Like did I turn off the stove or lock the front door. Other times, it was deep things, like did the telephone repair man try to do something to me when I was five and left home alone. Like did I pull a kitchen knife on him before he scampered out like a thief in the night; scared he'd be caught by my screams for Batman? Did I remember my mother having strange guests over late at night? Did I remember being locked in my room? I just couldn't remember anymore.
I had taken to obsessively keeping lists. But you can't put ghost-busting on a list, can you? And that was my real problem. Ever since, the May Flower Moon the haunting just kept rinsing and repeating. Eat edibles, Nyquil, and Advil PM and still wake up at 3:33am. Smell diesel. Wave of nausea. Little boy in garden. Little boy crying. Little boy pointing at something. Little boy looking up at me. Little boy. Little boy. Little boy.
By last Friday, I was a mess.
My work is suffering. I am too embarrassed to tell my aunt or besties I see a little boy. They already think I am weird enough and last thing I need is a wellness check.
To remain scientific, I have continued my daytime visits to the garden whenever it is open. Everything seems so lovely in the day. I even brought the new woman I am seeing. She fell in love with the tree at first sight. The flowers are gorgeous. And the roses; so mesmerizing. Even the fish in the koi pond are happy.
But at night. Something isn't right.
...Weeping willow tree Weeping sympathy Bend your branches down along the ground and cover me Listen to me plead Hear me willow and weep for me...
My new friend at work I mentioned, who told me about angel numbers, asked me recently if something was bothering me. She told me when we met, she is in the midst of a spiritual awakening.
Part of it includes awakening every morning to read the Tarot cards and commune with who, or what, she calls, "spirit".
I cracked and told her about the little boy under the tree. She didn't bat an eye. She told me spirit wants something from me. I didn't know what to say to that so I just left it alone. I guess I'm afraid what if she's right. And what if I don't like what, "spirit" wants?
Last night was Saturday. I had a dream.
That night I dreamed about a collie I had when I was a very young boy right after my dad split. Her name was Pearl. I had found her on the street on my block and for some inexplicable reason had been allowed to keep her.
Not long after, one hot summer day in Prospect Park, when my mother was going to give me something to cry about, Pearl suddenly ran down the hill she was frolicking on, making a wide sweeping arc that screamed, "ride or die, full throttle, and damn the fucking torpedoes," it's trajectory directly between my mother's legs. Fur overcame flesh just in the nick before I was given something to cry about.
Instead, I laughed.
I laughed so fucking hysterically at the sight of her on the grass, on her ass; smug look gone with the wind; replaced by an expression seething red menace that would have been McCarthy's wet dream.
And, like the little boy at 3:33 am, Pearl's eyes met mine. She seemed to nod her collie head, as if she were acknowledging that, yes, she was the best dog and don't you forget it. I didn't cry much for a while after that till I came home from school and Pearl was gone. Just gone. To some farm I was told. Where she could be happier. So, I guess I did get something to cry about after all.
And then last night I had a dream.
Part III - It weeps for me?
I dreamed of Peter Pan and buried treasure. I dreamed of Stove Stop stuffing and commercials loud enough to drown out a breech birth. I dreamed of Spider-Man letting Uncle Ben's killer go free. I dreamed of being American. I dreamed of Watergate, the fall of the Berlin wall, 9/11 and watching people jump out windows to avoid burning to death out the window of my office.
I dreamed of Iraq and Afghanistan and George Floyd and Covid and never-ending cycles of boom and bust. I dreamed of a golden carrot on what started out as a stick but soon morphed into what I realized was a branch. A long flowing beautiful branch covered in red. A branch that hung low. It swayed along the ground, swayed above my head and there I was.
I was in the garden. Under the tree. I felt drops of warm dew caressing my face. I was about to reach up to caress the tree. My tree. I noticed I was wearing pajamas. Not the black satin jammies I had been wearing for decades but old footie pajamas. They were Star Trek pajamas. With three golden rings on the cuffs and a trap door.
A drop of dew fell in my eye. I wiped it away and looked at my hand. It was red. Red with blood. My Mickey Mouse watch involuntarily color-coordinated with the blood. It appeared to be just after 3:30 am.
Suddenly, a dog appeared. It was Pearl. Then another, it was Spenser. They jammed their snouts into my flannel covered crotch. I pet them both and noticed my tears mixing with the dewy blood drops turning them a soft pink under the moonlight.
"Good boy. Good girl." I said.
"Hi," a voice I recognized but couldn't place said.
I looked around. And there, was, the little boy. And, in his hand was Grover.
"Hi," I heard myself say.
"Who's the dog?" he said.
"That's Pearl. And this is Spenser." I answered.
"I know Pearl, silly. She's my dog," then, "Hi, Spenser."
Spenser left my crotch for the little boy's. They went together like peanut butter and sandwiches.
"Where are your parents?" I heard myself ask.
"Dad left. Mom told me to stay here until she comes back."
"When was that?" I asked.
The little boy shrugged then, "Been a while I guess," and he started to cry. Spenser got agitated and started to whine. I approached. I went to put my hand on the boy's shoulder and he jumped.
"Hey, it's okay." I took my hand back.
He looked up at me. Then he said, "You want to see something?
I said, "Yes."
The little boy fished around in his pajamas and pulled out something, it looked like a piece of rolled up construction paper secured with a red ribbon that matched the bloody dew drops.
He un-scrolled it then solemnly showed it to me.
It appeared to be a child's treasure map. That ended in the garden. Only it wasn't a garden. It said, "JUNK YARD" and there was a big X next to the corner of the rectangle the words were written in. I looked down at him.
"There's no junk yard here, son," I said.
The little boy looked away from Spenser and up at me. Pearl ran to his side. I felt six eyes on me.
"That's what you think," he said
A moment later there was the loud cracking of fireworks being detonated. I awoke in my bed. Fumbling for my glasses, I found them, dropped them, cursed, then almost stepped on them. I finally got them where they belonged thinking I needed to use the bathroom. I glanced at the digital clock on my desk.
3:33 am. Again.
I ran to the window to look out. But, unlike every other time for the past month, the boy was not in residence. He was gone. Just. Gone.
Part IV - The is The End
Gone my lovely dreams To weep my tears along the stream Sad as I can be Hear me willow and weep for me
...
This was fucking ridiculous. I am sane. I am not mad. I'd been reading, "The Giving Tree," too much. Spending too much time alone working from home. Maybe I just needed to get away. Take a trip somewhere.
I realized getting back to sleep was going to be impossible. So, I went into the kitchen and made a pot of tea. No milk.
Back at my desk, my "SHIT. FUCK. DAMN." glass mug of tea firmly in hand, I took a deep breath. There was no point in giving myself a heart attack. Maybe it was just anxiety. Maybe panic attacks. I had dated lots of neurotic women. That could be it. Maybe some Lexapro and I'd be good as new. I decided to check my email.
A woman I used to date from Queens and stayed friends with had sent me a link entitled, "Birth of a community garden." It was video to my garden. Before it was a garden. Over forty years ago. It was a decrepit vacant lot filled with dead cars and refuse and apparently had been a neighborhood drug bazaar. Like I said, things have changed a lot since Al and I were young as springtime.
By the time I moved back you would have never known what things had used to look like. Spray painted signs that read, "NO DRUGS SOLD HERE!" and the like. Just like the Batman, Dark Knight, the 80s were a time when Urban Renewal was striking back. And before you could say, "corruption at City Hall," there was fecund soil where once had stood God knows what.
It gave me hope that humanity wasn't so bad. Maybe I had just been going through a tough time. Maybe I should quit while I am ahead and get a good night's rest. So, I closed the blinds and went to bed.
Why I am never sleeping again
That night I dreamed I was part of the junk yard's saviors. Hauling out decades of festering trash and replacing it with good old Mother Earth. A whole community coming together to commune with nature. I felt myself smile.
All day we hoed the rows. The fecundity of the soil filling my nostrils. There was food and laughter and soon day turned to night. One by one all the gardeners left into the dusk. Soon I stood alone next to a young woman. She held a green army duffle bag. And two shovels.
"You look like a big, strong man. They're going to be planting a weeping willow tree here soon. But first, I wanted to leave the earth a special gift to grow up with the tree. This time I think we should give to the tree. Won't you help me?"
I felt a passing twinge of disgust. I rubbed my upper lip with the back of my hand and thought I smelled the faint smell of diesel. I heard myself say, "Hand me a shovel."
An hour later I had fulfilled the lady's request to deposit the duffel bag deep within the new garden's soil. She lit a cigarette I recognized. She blew some smoke in my face and it smelled like sour milk.
"Ever read a boy and his dog?" she asked.
I nodded.
"This is the opposite," she said. I smelled the diesel again and then remembered no more.
This morning I awoke feeling none too swell. I got my glasses on without dropping them for a change then sort of hobbled to the kitchen area to make some tea. I opened the blinds and there was my weeping willow tree. Swaying gently in the Sunday early June overcast chill.
Implacable. Inscrutable. True to it's nature. The day was gray as a widow's anniversary.
Well, there's always tea, I thought, ever the optimist. And then I dropped my, "SHIT. FUCK. DAMN." mug on my foot, simultaneously battering and scalding it. I let out a yelp.
Then, mouth agape, I smelled the diesel waft in the window by the fire escape. The window, where, leaning against the fire escape's stairs I witnessed something that froze my blood and tested my aging bladder.
I spied two shovels and an empty duffle bag.
I wonder what spirit will have to say about that?
Gone my lovely dreams To weep my tears along the stream Sad as I can be Hear me willow and weep for me
Willow Weep For Me?

2013 1.8 LT Sedan. Bought in 2016 with 8k on clock, now 147k.
Was really hoping it would last another year or two, but appears to be entering money sink territory.
Always meticulously maintained. You could eat off the underside of the valve cover. Driven softly enough that I could squeeze 40mpg out of in on my morning commute and didn't need brake pads until 125k. Except for the galvanized exhaust, not a spec of rust underneath thanks to regular undercarriage washes, especially in winter. Has never been garaged despite being in New England and still looks beautiful.
Saturday night, heard a new intermittent squeal. Figured it was the serpentine belt on it's way out. 9am this morning, I'm at the shop having it replaced. Did not fix the problem. They started it with the belt removed and it still made the sound which means it's likely the crank pulley. Also have a fresh P0171, but that could be related to the pulley; if it actually is an emissions thing, there is still about 2500 miles left on the extended exhaust warranty they can fix it under after I trade it in.
Being that I commute 22k mi/yr, if this is the start of the more expensive breakdowns then it's time to cut my losses. I'm going to miss this car, it's been a rock of reliability for me over the years; inexpensive to fix most things, a lot just doesn't break.
Local dealer has a 2023 Trailblazer base model for $23k and change. I'm probably going to switch to that in the morning. Was really hoping the car would last long enough for the new Trax to hit close by, but no such luck. This is one of those times where a car will be needed TODAY as opposed to ordering.
I'll still be around for a bit to share my experiences with this car, at least until the suits finish gutting all of Reddit for IPO money via API price gouging.

Literally my son doesn't even try. For the most part I do blame myself...maybe I should've started earlier, maybe I should've had a better routine, stop using the excuse of being tired after work and keep him on a night time routine. But it just sucks doing this on my own. Literally! Like how can I be responsible for him learning a daily routine when I'm at work 7 days a week and no one else helps??? Hes 5 years old and will be starting kindergarten soon. I have a younger son who just turn one, between buying diapers AND pull ups I am stretched with every dollar. I keep hearing people say "boys are just harder to train....he'll get it one day" .....FUCKING WHEN!!! Every time he craps his pants I have a meltdown. And when I do sit him on the toilet he won't do anything. I can sit him on the toilet for 3hrs (which I've done - multiple times ) he does nothing, less than 5 minutes later after putting him on a pull up he poops. I can't just let him run around in underwear because we live with my grandma at the moment and she's not okay with 'accidents' and neither is their sitter(not that it's any of her responsibility, but she has them everyday of the week for almost 10 hours). I just feel so helpless right now. He's got maybe 3 pull ups left right now and I don't know how I'm gonna get another pack. I'm sure I'm over reacting right now, but it's how I feel. I scold him-he thinks it's a joke. I make him sit in it-he doesn't care. I can change him and make him stand in time out while holding his soiled pull ups-nothing, he just swings the bag around like a toy. I've tried the reward system last year and it worked for a couple months, then when I had to start taking him back to daycare that all went in the trash. Please someone tell me I'm not alone here. I can't believe the hardest part of parenting right now is getting my kid to poop in a toilet....

Hey all,
I hope you don't mind me asking this question here. I just bought an intex Mariner 4 inflatable dinghy and a 3 bow bimini to go with it. I now need to install those PVC mounting pads where the bimini connects to the boat.
Does anybody know If it is better to glue them on (using HH-66) when the boat is inflated or deflated? I've seen both when looking for an answer.
Thank you in advance for any wisdom/advice you can share!

I managed to close my garage door on the trash can and unspooled the wire for the opener. Probably a quick fix for someone who knows what they're doing -- any suggestions?
Thanks!

It’s been a while since I scrolled on this thread, but after doing so tonight I decided to pass on some words of encouragement! I thought joining a forum like this would make me feel better knowing there’s others like me out there, but all it did was heighten my anxiety tenfold. Reading about certain foods upsetting others or illnesses going around didn’t help at all. So I took a break from Reddit and I think it’s helped a lot. And while I understand everyone posting here is seeking reassurance while they’re nauseous or ill and are panicky, sometimes I want to comment “read what you just wrote and tell me why you’re nauseous”, usually when they talk about all the junk food they eat quickly or other things and yet are wondering why they’re nauseous. It’s obvious. But that’s un-constructive criticism.
I still wash my hands a ton, especially using the hand washing timer feature on my Apple Watch to ensure I’m doing it properly. I still carry ginger drops everywhere in case I get nauseous. I still map out all the exits, bathrooms, and nearest trash cans of whatever building I’m in just in case. I still get anxious when other people say they’re nauseous or don’t feel well. I still absolutely get anxious when I get nauseous or don’t feel well if I’m anywhere but home.
But I HAVE been eating three meals a day, even if they’re small. I don’t rely on Zofran or any prescription medications anymore as they’re not a cure anyway. I try new restaurants and new foods. I eat during road trips now. If I am nauseous and I’m home, I breathe and remain calm. I’m gaining weight, not a ton, just a few pounds here and there which I haven’t been able to do for years.
I feel normal.
It’s possible for you, too.
The hardest part to overcome is that yes, you will throw up. You will. You can’t always control it, you can’t control when or where or how. I think that’s why this phobia has such a hold on all of us, and why I’m still not 100% “cured” yet. No matter how much Zofran or other meds you take, if you need to be sick, then you will be sick. I took 2 Zofran during the stomach bug 6 months ago and still vomited 10 times. Taking prescription meds all the time do more harm than good, and if you can’t function without them you’re teetering on the edge of an addiction and need serious help like I did.
I know it’s hard. I know it feels hopeless. I’ve been there. I still am sometimes. But please remember to celebrate your small victories and remember that the only person who controls your recovery is you, you just have to be willing to put the hard work in. I believe in you. I’m so proud of all my small victories, and I’m proud of yours too.

I rent from an awful rental company. For over a year my partner and I have been dealing either constant power outages, lights flickering/strobing non-stop, or bulbs blowing. If I plug in anything in the bedroom, half the house dims or goes out. We've had to replace a PC, numerous phone chargers, and so many light bulbs I don't even want to know how much we've spent.
I just found out that the rental company has a habit of sending out technicians to diagnose the issue, never have them fix it, and then charge you from the deposit when you leave as of it was your fault. They've sent out four electricians over the last YEAR and the consensus is that we have some open grounds and the breaker box is far too small/weak to handle this home anymore, that there are numerous shorts happening. Two electricians said it's a fire hazard and seemed legit concerned about us, but the rental company tells them not to fix anything. Then they have the actual audacity to call/text and ask us if the problem is fixed. They KNOW it isn't. I want to call the city, because this house can't be up to code, but I wouldn't be surprised if they retaliate and evict us for it.
These tools want to know if we will stay another year, and we want to leave so bad, but rentals are a nightmare right now and this dumpster fire is the most affordable thing I can find that allows pets. I know rentals are a nightmare nationwide right now and I'm just so angry for everyone struggling to find homes with landlords thinking we all make bank, apparently.
I don't understand why are landlords and rental companies are allowed to be such trash, and how my state barely has renters' rights or protections in place. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, it is Missouri after all. It just sucks we feel like we can't leave for long periods of time, and every time I'm out and see a firetruck headed in the direction of the house, I wonder if today is the day and panic because I have dogs.

Hey all,
I just bought a Mariner 4 and a 3 bow bimini to go with it. I now need to install those PVC mounting pads where the bimini connects to the boat.
Does anybody know If it is better to glue them on (using HH-66) when the boat is inflated or deflated? I've seen both when looking for an answer.
Thank you in advance for any wisdom/advice you can share!

I absolutely love Thai food, one of my favorite cuisines. But in the last few years i have noticed a pattern that the day after eating it, i always have upset bowels, sometimes really bad. The strangest aspect of this is that it doesn't seem to make a difference what i order, or from which restaurant. It's all Thai food. So, my question is... Is there an ingredient in almost all Thai food, regardless of the dish or the restaurant, that I may be having a reaction to?
Things that have occurred to me:
-fish sauce -coconut (oil? milk?) -lemongrass -lime
However, i have eaten these ingredients and cook with them in other contexts, never any issue. Is there something more obscure I'm not aware of? Even something only used in restaurants, an additive of some kind? Anyone ever worked in a Thai kitchen who would have some insight?
I do order a variety of dishes, but some of my most common include:
-som tum (papaya salad) -pad Thai -pad se ew -curries, especially musaman and pumpkin
I'd love to figure this out so i can find a way to continue enjoying some of my favorite foods. Thank you!

• Landscape mode doesn’t work at all, app glitches when you try to open it in landscape
  
• When you full screen a stream, the stream doesn’t resize properly and is very zoomed in
  
• Just randomly crashes and closes the app
  
• Can’t see chat while viewing stream
  

The iPad app just over seems unfinished and not a working product. It’s a iPad 7th gen

I've always had a huge level of anxiety from a young age, even took Lexapro for a few months but quit it due to side effects.
Something that was a complete game-changer for me today was watching the movie Click by Adam Sandler. The entire movie plot revolves around anxiety.
[Spoiler alert].
So Adam Sandler's character is gifted a remote controller that is able to fast-forward his life into the future and he starts using it.
But the thing is that every time he transports himself, he loses something good he had in his past. Like when he wished "skip me to when I get promoted", but when he got there his dog had died, or when he wished "skip me to when I'm CEO" but had completely lost his health when he got there.
So the point is that we shouldn't crave to live in the future, because only now you have your parents, only now you have your wife, only now you have your health, and you can only enjoy those things now.
At the end of the movie, the main character gets a chance to live his life again, then throws the remote in the trash can and proceeds to live life in the moment.
There's a phrase I repeat to myself "it will come at the right time".
It feels like I untied a knot in my brain, I feel so much better now, my leg isn't shaking anymore. I hope this text will help you as well.

So I’m currently writing something about my ocs, and I wanted to write something with the hybrid AU involved. Specifically the one where there are humans, and then there are hybrids separately in society. I have the basic information down, like how in this specific version of the AU the hybrid people are essentially fully human on the outside with the exception of animal ears, tail, claws/talons, teeth, eyes, wings, paw pads etc, but I’m having trouble finding any information about how hybrids in that certain context act, their dynamics with fellow hybrids, how they function in a modern society, and information that explains hybrid biology/psychology in that universe. I know there are breakdowns online for tropes like A/B/O and countless soulmate AUs and other similar ones where society has been changed significantly by something like that, but I can’t find any in depth guides for how to properly write hybrid AU stories. Does anyone have any tips or possible resourcesI could use for references while writing?

Selling everything I’ve collected so far with regards to manga, light novels, and merch. Shipping is a flat $5 for media mail for purchases up to 8 volumes. Anything over 8 volumes will depend on volume count. I’m not looking to split the larger volume sets, but will sell the single volume, or volumes at the end. For example: With the collected volumes 1-10, I would not sell 4 or any single volume in the middle. I would sell volume 10 and any previous volume as long as it doesn’t create a gap.
Light Novel Images Manga Images Merch Images
- Most Merch items were photographed a long time ago. Here is the links showing the bulk items with the timestamp: Merch & Figures
Most items are new and never read and are in G5 quality. Death March & Vinland Saga are really the only items I ever read with most bein still in G4 to G5 minus any exception stated below.
I tried to price the items fairly and in accordance with my will to get rid of them, but I am open to offers. All of the Merch is free. I am planning to get rid of it by the end of the week if no one on this platform is interested in any of the items. If you are interested in the merch itself and not the LNs or manga's, the item is free minus shipping.
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Light Novels	Volumes	Price	Damage
Bakemonogatari	1 - 3	$24
Kizumonogatari		$9
All Monogatari		$30
Death March in a Parallel World	1 - 9	$60	Volume 8 has water damaged pages
Didn't I Say to Make My Abilities Average in the Next Life?!	1	$8
Overlord	1 - 4	$45
The Rising of the Shield Hero	1 - 4	$30	Slight discoloration on volume 1's outer pages
Tokyo Ghoul: Days		$8
Tokyo Ghoul: Past		$8
Tokyo Ghoul: Void		$8
All Tokyo Ghoul		$20
Manga	Volumes	Price	Damage
A Silent Voice	Complete: 1 - 7	$50	Volume 5's cover has a creased corner
Battle Angel Alita	1	$7
Berserk	1: Shrink-wrapped	$9
Black Clover	1	$6
Death Trance	1	$6
Delicious in Dungeon	1	$9
Dojin Work: CE	1	$4
Final Fantasy Type-0		$7.5
Fire Force	1 - 5	$30
Gothic Sports	1	$5
In/Spectre	1 - 2	$13
K-ON! Kakifly	1	$5
Konosuba	1: Loot Crate Edition	$10
Land of the Lustrous	1	$7
Soul Eater	1: Loot Crate Edition	$10
Spice and Wolf	1	$8
Takeru	1 - 4	$20
The Girl from the Otherside	1	$8
The Seven Deadly Sins	1	$6
Tokyo Ghoul	1 - 9	$70
Tokyo Ghoul: RE	1 - 5	$40
Twin Signal	1	$5
Vinland Saga	1 - 6	$70
Yamada-Kun and the Seven Witches	1 - 15	$95

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Merch: Free with purchase of any of the above listings.
Apparel -

• Black Clover Shirt - XL
• Blame! Shirt - XL
• Dead Man Wonderland Shirt - XL
• Deathnote Socks
• Pyshco-Pass Shirt - XL
• Robotech Beanie
• Steins Gate Shirt - XL
• Tri-Gun Shirt - XL
• Saint Seiya Hat

Figure -

• Astro Boy Light-Up Figure - Astro Boy
• Izuku Midoriya Figure - My Hero Academia
• Josuke Higashikata Figure - JoJo's
• Madoka Kaname Figure - Puella Magi Madoka Magica
• Saitama Mini's - One Punch Man
• Sasuke Figure - Naruto
• Shadow the Hedgehog Figure - Sonic
• Shiroyasya Figure - Gintama

Miscellaneous -

• Mini Plush Asuka Langley - Evangelion
• Ai Yori Aoshi ~Enishi~ - Soundtrack
• Gunparade March ~Spirit of the Samurai~ - Soundtrack
• Batman & The Justice League: Preview Edition by Shiori Teshirogi - I can remove as it is a comic book, but I figured it is permissible because its in the style of a manga plus was in an Anime Loot Crate.
• Mushi-Shi Tea Cups
• The Art of Yoshitaka Amano - Book
• Gurren Lagann Art Works
• Fruit Basket Sticker Collection
• Miss Kobayashi's Dragon Maid Paper Pad
• One Piece Cinch Bag
• Hawk Eraser - The Seven Deadly Sins
• Dragon Ball Z Unopened card pack
• Bungo Stray Dogs Wallet
• Food Wars! Soma Key Chain
• Skip Beat Kickstarter Chicken Key Chain
• Aria Kickstarter Mug Paper pad Art cards
• The Vision of Escaflowne Kickstarter Tarot Cards Necklace
• Knights of Sidonia Cell Phone Stand
• Anime Loot Crate Cell Phone Charm x 5
• Anime Loot Crate Pins x 4
• Food Wars! Soma Key Chain

Finally, I have most of the 2018 Newtype magazine from Japan that focuses on anime. Only missing January and Novembers edition.
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If you have any questions regarding the items, feel free to reach out.

I think my neighbor is killing the strays in my alley
Hi. I have literally never used Reddit to post before but this makes me worried so much I decided to make a post about it. I’m under 18, live with my mom in a shared apartment building and we have a lady who lives across from us. I don’t know if she’s a single mother or the dad just isn’t around, but she’s a drunk and lets her kids run around with no supervision. In our neighborhood, we’ve always had an abundance of stray cats. They’ve never done anything unusual or caused any damage anywhere, quite frankly I think they helped clean up the place by eating the trash that my neighbor throws out. Lately, they’ve been going missing. My mom went over to the house earlier this month after finding that the lady had set live traps and was catching the cats to ‘send to the pound,’ Just now, me and a friend were sitting outside when we heard a horrible meowing sound, like multiple cats stuck together. After looking around, turns out they were in a box in my neighbors yard. We didn’t cross the area, just kind of stood around thinking what to do, because we totally would take care of and find these cats a new place to live, (I have family in the country), but this lady opens the door and is incredibly rude to us asking and talking disrespectfully about ‘if she could help us?’ And ‘no, we can take care of it, im sick of the stray cats in the alley, we’re sending them to the pound.’ The cats were basically screaming in this box at that point, so I went and told my mom, because I’m pretty sure if they cared about the cats enough to send them to the pound she wouldn’t have them tied up in a box. My mom goes out to look, and just as she sees and hears the meowing, my neighbor takes the box and puts it inside her house. My mom is a total animal lover, so she goes to our animal loving upstairs neighbor. They neighbor then goes on to basically say she’s seen and has videos from her security camera on her balcony of the lady walking into her shed with a shotgun and an empty trash bag, and walks out with a full one. Either that, or she leaves them in the live traps long enough for them to die from heat or starvation. I believe it. The question is, should I do something about it? I have outside cats and learning more about this situation is making me fear for them. I also just don’t want to live next to a potential psychopath. I have somewhere I can put the cats. I don’t want her ‘disposing’ of them, pound or not.
TLDR: my neighbor is a douche and I think she’s killing the stray cats in my alley after learning about her and encountering the situation myself

Cliffs/actual question: I can order YTTV+Sports Plus(RZ)+Sunday Ticket and outside of the primary home on Sundays watch Red Zone via YTTV/Sports Plus on 1 TV, and still have 2 Sunday Ticket streams to use outside of the home (on my 2nd TV)
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Long Version: I currently pay for Spectrum TV for my dad 75 miles away. Problem is the app is trash and they lock the account/password all the time and is damn near unusable for him. I'm planning to change to paying for YTTV for him. He will only watch 1 device at a time. I'm assuming his name/location will be the primary acct/home location for the account to not have any issues on his end ever. I previously used his login to watch RedZone on one TV at my home, and my Sunday Ticket on the other(s)
I'm wanting Sunday Ticket for me. I'm assuming with him being the primary home, if I added Sunday Ticket to his YTTV I account (I pay for), I'd be limited to 2 Sunday Ticket streams at my house. I'm only asking because you can get $100 off by adding YTTV and ST together on the same account. On Sundays I have RZ on one TV, and Sunday Ticket quad box on the other.
I suppose I could get YTTV+Sports Plus (for RZ)+Sunday Ticket all on his account, watch RZ on one TV through YTTV, and then have 2 "outside of the home" streams for Sunday Ticket here. 1 for the quad box and 1 extra if I add another TV or iPad. Usually the 3rd screen I used on Sundays was for a big game that was local/blacked out on Sunday Ticket. I sold the iPad I used for this anyway so I may not even need the 2nd stream. Anyway, I'll stop rambling.
Thanks for the help!!!!!