Please, cash register person. Please, for the love of all that is sacred in human interaction. Please, do not ask me what I’m making with my groceries. It’s shame, that is what I’m making. The shame of the pre-made overpriced snack that become an entire meal on the couch. Or the shame of my best intentions fresh and healthy items rotting in the back of the fridge. SHAME IS WHAT I’M MAKING. ARE YOU HAPPY!?

That’s right lemmy, don’t ever tell anyone anything unless you’re paying them to listen to you.

Or random people going on some bigoted conspiracy tirade.

“Oh really the New World Order and The Gay Agenda? Oh wow look at the time, I have to go BB!” (sadly a true story)

This will probably piss some people off, but this is why churches in some form still need to exist. People who have no money or family or friends need someone to turn to for help and a lot of churches offer therapy and other services or at least they used to. Until we have a better resource to pick up people who fall through the cracks we still need churches despite their many faults.

I can’t watch Young Frankenstein because in the middle of the movie (I was watching it on a laptop in the student center of the university I was at) a girl came up to me and told me how her cousin raped her repeatedly. The worst part is that she joined the clubs I was in and trauma dumped on everyone all the time.

There’s two kinds of oversharing.

Telling me too many things about yourself, I don’t like.

Telling me things that are far too personal to talk about the first time I meet you, we’ll get along great.

This is gold 🤣

The incipt + that face… just perfect 👌💥

It’s called being authentic you vanilla square.