I actually miss the old Mexican brick weed from thirty years ago. It could give you a headache, but otherwise, the high it produced of everything being hilarious doesn’t seem to exist anymore. Modern weed pretty much makes me instantly catatonic.

Further, I don’t know if it’s age, but a single bong rip will send me into violent fits of coughing that frequently render me running outside to puke.

I’ve stopped smoking entirely in favor of edibles due to the coughing thing. The edibles still knock me the hell out. I don’t know how the younger set wakes and bakes and carries on with their day with the modern stuff.

I don’t know. Some people who experience abuse and escape it become far worse abusers when they’re in position to do so.

I’d wager that his lease has a mandatory arbitration clause that requires him to pay up front then try to get it back via arbiters chosen by the landlord.

I used power delete suite last year. Just checked and most of my profile is back. Assholes.

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I’ve been on a jury once. In that particular case, there were a couple jurors who took it upon themselves to police anybody bringing up anything that we were instructed to disregard. You may not think twelve people is a lot, but I’m my experience, it was twelve wildly different personalities which was frustrating, but ultimately beneficial in coming to a unanimous decision.

Further, they sent us out of the courtroom several times during the trial so opposing counsels could fight over what could and couldn’t be entered into evidence for us to see.

I spent several months last year actively looking for a therapist. I’m not talking a single casual Google search and done. I’m talking months of calling, emailing, physically driving to. The only therapists I could find who were taking on new patients and would accept my insurance were magic Jesus Crystal types whose “therapy” was little more than thinly veiled proselytizing.

Given how it seems people need to go through several therapists to find the right one, I gave up after failing to secure the first.

I almost fell for that whole better help scam but fortunately it was exposed for the personal data mining nonsense that it is before I signed up.

I learned of my father’s death weeks after the fact. My involuntary reaction was an emotionless, “huh.” I think I was forty eight years old at the time.

I hadn’t spoken to him for over thirty years, and had suffered decades of nightmares that he’d found me.

After learning he had passed, the nightmares finally ended, but the lifelong fight or flight tendency to keep to myself and never rock any boat remains.

My sister has said that she’s jealous of my daughter because we have a pretty close father/daughter bond - something my sister never knew and never will.

In my fifties now, I generally avoid human interaction as much as is physically possible. While I could cite other reasons as to why I’m this way, I can confidently point a rigididly extended index finger at dear old dad as the foundation of it all.

My parenting duties complete, I mostly just exist waiting for the sweet sweet embrace of death when I’ll no longer have to go make money for the man or pretend that I enjoy the saccharin sweet small talk of co-workers who don’t give two shits about me or anybody else, but professional decorum for the win, right?

I don’t even look forward to weekends because those are just two day stints of solitude doing chores so I’m ready to go make more money for the man on Monday.

Send the scam a hundred bucks, lose it, sue Google for fraudulent endorsement.

(Yes yes, this wouldn’t work in the real world against Google’s legions of lawyers, but I like the thought exercise)

They’re being pedantic about how the original question was worded in a gotcha attempt. Not worthy of a response.

Tailgating. It’s gonna kill you eventually so let’s streamline the process.

Also fuck you, especially when I’m in a god damned exit lane.

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We’re headed for global serfdom, aren’t we?

I still have no clue how instances work but whatever I’m doing has been working fine for nearly a year

Wee bit of a labor shortage perhaps?

I’ve been rewatching quantum leap lately and it has me wondering what would happen if Sam failed to save the day. His missions were time sensitive, so once a given event would have passed without Sam fixing it, would he have been stuck in that place and time forever?

If so, would his lifespan be his age/body or that of the person he leaped into?

Funny you mentioned that. I was out with my daughter a couple days ago and she got a flat that had to be replaced. She was legitimately worried that Toyota would void her warranty for not buying a tire from the dealership. Nevermind that we were out in rural nothingness with no Toyota dealership to be found.

I don’t know if I could handle one today but God they were good when I was younger

Look up Oki Dog. Definitely a burrito. Then ponder how badly you want one and how direly you’ll regret it should you ever eat one.

The most famous Oki creation was–is–the eponymous Oki Dog, a couple of hot dogs wrapped in a tortilla with chili, pickles, mustard, a slice of fried pastrami and a torrent of goopy American cheese–a cross-cultural burrito that’s pretty hard to stomach unless you’ve got the tum of a 16-year-old, but strangely delicious nonetheless. - Jonathan Gold