Tag: The notes

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thecringeandwincefactory:

I fucked up my knee real bad as a teenager doing something stupid and had to get a couple rounds of surgery to get it sorted out. I can’t do general anesthesia because it’ll send me into a depressive episode, so I get epidurals instead. The last surgery I got was when I was maybe 24.

I did the epidural method for that one. From what I remember the anesthesiologist injected some fentanyl derivative directly into my spinal column, and – I basically just fucking spasmed out of pure joy on the gurney. I blurted aw, FUCK YEAH real loud because fentanyl direct to the brain is like Sex With God, and every person in the OR froze for a second, unsure of how to respond.

My point is, this is completely realistic.

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systlin:

wilddragonflying:

systlin:

You know I’d almost managed to forget about the Peanut Butter Keyboard Incident until I just was reminded of my tech lab days.

Surely you’re not gonna just leave it there! An Incident with Capital Letters™ is always intriguing.

So in college I landed a job as a tutor/work study in the computer lab. 

I was just supposed to be computer lab tech support/tutoring assistance for students working on stuff, but my boss was lazy as shit, and so my actual job ended up being tech support for most of the campus so that Kathy didn’t have to get off her ass and actually do anything aside from play solitaire in her office. 

Literally, she sat me down and told me “I expect you to stop anyone from getting to my office (you had to walk through the computer lab to get to her office) and speaking to me unless you absolutely cannot solve the problem on your own.”

So, whenever the tech line rang, I had to jump up and grab it, and see what was up. If it wasn’t something that I could solve over the phone, I then had to jog down to whatever classroom/office was having problems and sort things out. 

Any tech support person can tell you that the overwhelming majority of tech issues are simple fixes. Every once in a while, though, you get a real doozy. 

Such was the case with Mr. T. Mr T was a professor who taught a few sociology courses. He was smart as a whip about his course material, but was also Very Bad with technology and proud of it. He was also a hoarder. He had thirty years worth of files, magazines, junk, stuff, and trash crammed into his office.

I got a call one day to say his keyboard wasn’t working. He was Very Upset about this; we’d just installed new keyboards, and he was Very Put Out that we’d taken his old, functioning keyboard and given him a new, broken one. I ran through the normal troubleshooting…is it plugged in, ect. ect…but no luck. So I tell Kathy where I’m going and head on down to see what’s wrong. 

When I got there, I took one look at the keyboard and knew what was up. 

Mr T. had…among the rest of his stuff…enough food and snacks stashed in his office to eat for a week if he’d been trapped in there somehow. Apparently he’d been making himself peanut butter toast…and don’t get me started on the fire hazard inherent with a toaster surrounded by three decades of teetering paper stacks…and had set the hot toast…thickly covered with very generous spoonfuls of warm, melty creamy peanut butter…on top of one of his stacks of paperwork while he dug for something else. 

His elbow bumped the stack. The peanut butter toast and part of the stack of paper went over, landing facedown on his keyboard. 

He picked the toast off and ate it anyway, but then realized that his keyboard…which was now filled with a significant amount of peanut butter…didn’t want to work any longer. So he’d called us to complain. 

So I replaced the damn thing, explained in a way-too-patient tone that filling electronics with snack spreads tends to void their warranty, and told him not to eat over it any longer. 

And then took that fucker back to my boss and just set it quietly in front of her. She looked at it for a couple seconds, and then just quietly shakes her head and tosses it in the dumpster. 

would you like to hear about my creepy as fuck house? I know its not spooky month, but always spookiness

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luna-y-tuna:

witchyfeministpanda:

biggest-gaudiest-patronuses:

the-fae-lord-of-the-cats:

the-fae-lord-of-the-cats:

biggest-gaudiest-patronuses:

yes please

@biggest-gaudiest-patronuses
ok , well its a long list, do you want it all at once?

ok, y’all ready?

ok, child drawings in the attic and unmarked gravestone
 berried grave
 shed thats locked for no reason, and can’t be opened (i’ve tried)
  uhhh footsteps when i’m home alone stuff
falling down from the fireplace
 innards turning up on doorsteps
 cellar flooding for no dam reason
 lights flickering
  i’ll think i hear a parent callin my name when they don’t
cat just starin at shi
t my old cat just disappeared one day. 
cemitary over the road, and a old kennel
 surrounded by woods but some got cut down recently don’t know why
 a safe turned up in our driveway? like a month ago, the day after the trees got cut down as in a big metal one
 oh, also screams at night, 90% sure they are foxes tho 95%
house is where a angalo saxon monastery use to be like 600 or so years ago
 at 2? houses ago, so not the house i use to live in, but the house before that there was a ruined house in the woods and one night, all the windows were smashed we don’t know why there was a house there
 In my last house, i always felt like something was watching me in the anex, it creeped me the fuck out, i always had to run after i turned of the lights and i went upstairs twice to find a bat in my room just chillin

ok everyone share their creepy house stories, go

Before I became a witch and told things to be polite or gtfo:

I’d see shadowy people in the bathroom mirror as I turned away, and siting by my sewing machine as I left the room.

I’d hear people walking around above me at night (I sleep on the top floor)

I’d hear my door slam while I was looking straight at it

My (very sweet) black dog would just randomly bark, something he never does elsewhere unless he has a reason

He also sometimes would sit and stare out the window, growling at nothing

My sister had a guitar teacher when she was little who would always arrive just as we were starting dinner , even though the tunes we started ranged from 5:30ish-8:00ish and we never told him when we were eating

There was a period of time when cats would just randomly show up in our yard and sit and stare at us

My mom has a metal fairy silhouette thing in the garden, it’s always getting bent or scratched

We have these little stone animals (a rabbit, a frog, and a family of owls) that are always falling, losing limbs, or getting buried for a series of days beforse being completely fine again

Not nearly as spooky or weird as the other persons, but I figured id share

Back at my parents house everyone always felt uneasy and like theyre being watched

There was a man/figure that i kept seeing (never saw him or anything else anywhere else), he used to watch me sleep so I would always hide in my mom’s room until i was ~12

When i stopped sleeping in her room i started waking up with burns and scratches (some scars). They seemed to say something cause there was repeating patterns that looked like letters but i never figured out what they said

My hair would keep moving, one day i heard someone yell in my ear and my hair (which was super long at the time) FLIPPED over my head to the other side

We moved to a new place and when we got there our dogs wouldnt stop barking at this one wall, and when they didnt bark they cried, so we got them out of there as soon as we could

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ackermany:

angel-on-vacation:

equalistmako:

allthegoodurlsarewasted:

equalistmako:

equalistmako:

the pizza guy just looked straight behind me, smiled, and went “you both enjoy your pizza” ? i’m alone in my apartment???

image
image

*narrows eyes*

As I said before give 1 of 2 responses:
1) Smile and shake you head and point to nothing, “Oh no, he doesn’t like pizza.” Then close the door.
2) Wide eyes and whisper in a scared voice. “You can see her too.”

IT GOT BETTER

What Is Glitter?

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What Is Glitter?

thebibliosphere:

kellyclowers:

metapianycist:

oystersaintforme:

oystersaintforme:

injygo:

prudencepaccard:

When I asked Ms. Dyer if she could tell me which industry served as Glitterex’s biggest market, her answer was instant: “No, I absolutely know that I can’t.”

I was taken aback. “But you know what it is?”

“Oh, God, yes,” she said, and laughed. “And you would never guess it. Let’s just leave it at that.” I asked if she could tell me why she couldn’t tell me. “Because they don’t want anyone to know that it’s glitter.”

“If I looked at it, I wouldn’t know it was glitter?”

“No, not really.”

“Would I be able to see the glitter?”

“Oh, you’d be able to see something. But it’s — yeah, I can’t.”

I asked if she would tell me off the record. She would not. I asked if she would tell me off the record after this piece was published. She would not. I told her I couldn’t die without knowing. She guided me to the automotive grade pigments.

He also did not want me to visit his glitter factory. The jovial Mr.
Shetty told me over the phone that people have no idea of the scientific
knowledge required to produce glitter, that Glitterex’s glitter-making
technology is some of the most advanced in the world, that people don’t
believe how complicated it is, that he would not allow me to see glitter
being made, that he would not allow me to hear glitter being made, that
I could not even be in the same wing of the building as the room in
which glitter was being made under any circumstance, that even
Glitterex’s clients are not permitted to see their glitter being made,
that he would not reveal the identities of Glitterex’s clients (which
include some of the largest multinational corporations in the world;
eventually, one did consent to be named: thank you, Revlon, Inc.), and
that, fine, I was welcome to come down to Glitterex headquarters to
learn more about what I could not learn about in person.

now THIS is journalism

“Most of the glitter that adorns America’s name brand products is made in one of two places: The first is in New Jersey, but the second, however, is also in New Jersey.”

that is without a doubt the funniest sentence i have ever read

i’m proud to be from the glitter state

@thebibliosphere

Clearly I am living in the wrong state.

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writing-prompt-s:

You have been donating blood for the last couple of years. Unfortunately, you were forced to stop temporarily because of low blood pressure. A few months after your last donation a man with strangely sharp teeth stands in front of your door. He tells you that he would like to ask you a few questions, and asks you if he may enter your house.