Sam [none/use name]

The bait worked, its like chum in the water

I’m going as King Harold Godwinson. Am I a moron? Does ANYONE know who that is?

Any UK/France/Ireland school goers will have had 1066 drilled into their skulls for about a year.

Once I stopped in a subway and I hate all the sudden choices you gotta make so I usually just focus on some sort of meal deal on the menu and stick to it, which is how I ended up with some sort of sandwich drenched in sweet chilli sauce. There are alot of things which my shitty genetics has decided to punish me for eating but that sugar filled syrup is my mortal nemesis, this sandwich is my world killer. I still eat it though, because every aftermath from consuming it is so bad that I basically turn into a feral animal, slipping only back into consciousness when the macrobiome regains control of the micro, plus I just got peer-pressured into paying five quid for this sandwich Im gonna eat it.

I dont even get halfway through my foot long chicken filled hyper-laxative before my gastric system attempts to depart my torso, at this point the IBS blinders slip on and I am suddenly completely removed of all social anxiety, I am prepared to shit in a bucket in front of the whole store and god if it will allow me to return to the pretence that I am in control of my own bodily functions (and finish the rest of the sandwich). In this tiny subway there is only one door, right in front of the extremely long queue of people waiting to pay too much for not-bread and horrifically square meat. It has bathroom signs on it, but there is no way this door that a couple of teenagers are currently leaning against is the bathroom surely? They may as well have put windows in so the unwilling spectators could get a good look at the horrors they are hearing.

I do not care, I am a meat machine born to shit, I rush the teenagers leaning against the door, scattering them in my wake as I slam the door shut and turn to discover there is no lock.

There is no lock

For a moment I fall back on my instinctual irish catholic childhood and begin to categorically list all the transgressions against the Pope that could have led me into this tiny section of hell. Is it friday? Is this because I ate meat on a friday? Why dont I know what day it is? Jesus Sam you need to get your life together. Then Gut-Brain resumes control and my world narrows to the disabled friendly toilet that is dangerously far from this unlocked door. If it swings open, I will be at the mercy of the non-shitters beyond that door. Forever haunted by the smug denial and hatred as they turn their disgust for their own base needs outward on to me, they will put me down like the animal I am and I will welcome it.

In this moment I am the most in tune with my own body as I will ever be. My muscles sing with power as I perform the shameful act. My eyes see clearly now, I do not just see a door rattling in the breeze, I see the ancient wooden soul trapped within, and it sees me. I am in its mercy, in this moment it would be so easy for it to yield to the wind that buffets it everytime another queue obsessed Anglo enters this slophouse and expose me to the world entire. I am part of the cancer that killed its kind and it would only be just in taking its revenge on me, even as I silently plead for the opposite I know this is true.

The door begins to shake violently, more than just mere wind, someone is trying to get in. I yell and scream and plead and beg with the stranger on the other side of the door not to enter, but they are deaf to my cries. Perhaps they are not a man at all, but another walking vessel for the hunger that drove me down this dark path, seeking their own escape. My only saving grace is the broken nature of the door, the very thing that caused this whole mess in this first place. Unseen forces batter that door and jiggle the handle, they even succeed at one point, the seal cracks and the world burns, but only for a moment. I slam the door shut and abandon that moment to the void, I excise that reality and form a new one where the door remained closed and I can still pretend to be human.

The ordeal has passed, I carefully rebuild my facade of decency as I wash my hands and destroy the evidence. Now that the forebrain has regained control, the oceanic fear of the judgement of strangers comes rushing back in. Surely they heard my pleas, surely they know.

But as I open the bathroom door, braced to be beaten by a mob of retched sallow cheeked Liverpudlians for my crimes, I see nothing but the barely held but tamped down rage of the average English Queue Enjoyer. All is bliss in the court of Subway, I stumble out into the cold air and rejoin my friends. Are they my friends anymore? I have aged a lifetime in that bathroom, I am a different man from when I entered, a broken man. When I enquire about the door, they look at me in puzzlement.

“No one was at the door, and we didnt hear anything”

Did I imagine the whole thing? Was it some vision of a darker world, a message to change my ways before it was too late?

I begin to eat my sandwich.

But will we ever get the mythical third pronoun slot? “All” is not the same as he/she/them and I got a lot of pushback on it back when the lemmy was new.

Successful runs of Maxed Workers and Resources should get you a city planning degree automatically

I was always looking for reasons to avoid the gender segregated stuff on the playground as a kid so one winter I just gave everyone who wanted them conkers, when you destroy someone else’s conker you get to tie their string to your own. Since all the trading cards and stuff had been banned from the school it was the only gacha-brain activation we could get as pre-cellphone kids so it actually was kind of popular for a month or so.

The first set of conkers I gave people were regular, but I made sure to rub Sudocrem into mine to make it stronger. Then the next set I gave out were soaked in vinegar. I didnt particularly care about winning I just thought it would keep it interesting to have a champion conker to try and beat. Eventually I had a thread about 1m long and we were running out of conkers so I gave another Sudocrem conker to my friend and let him beat mine so we could go out with a bang.

FIRE OF WROTH

He calls you Detective when he’s happy

Women love me, Work fears me

Last night I was talking about the base to a friend and he said they should livestream the base for when the Israelis hit it as proof, I told him they could probably flatten the whole base on camera and get away with it.

Xiaohongshu user Brother Pig, King of Fishing

Women love me, Fish fear me

They’ve started live testing server meshing and its hilarious because when it actually works you realise they didnt design any facet of the game for more than 20 players at a time. There literally arnt enough habs for people to spawn in, way to little elevators and screens. Everything is diagetic but in such limited quantities that when they did the 1000 player test (Which only got to 750 before crashing) people had to form actual queues to use the terminals to spawn ships. Unlike a lot of people I’m pretty confident they’ll eventually release a proper game I just dont think it will be any fun at all. They just keep making the game more and more tedious in the name of “realism”.

If they can reverse engineer IRN BRU then I believe they can do anything

deleted by creator

Yeah but its not like October 7th would happen in 2024 NI, Loyalist support of Israel is simply a reactionary stance brought on by Nationalist support of Palestine. I think the reason is more that he is, like many people here, incredibly adverse to paramilitary violence. It’s easy to see how a person with a Loyalist background with a “civility” mindset could be shocked into returning to their traditional Right Wing Loyalist roots when seeing the Left wing Nationalists support what they see to be a unforgivable act of violence similar to the Troubles.

Then again who the fuck knows maybe he got converted by Facebook or is just being opportunistic, maybe he recently got married or divorced or a million other personal things that lead to these kinds of changes.

Except the Anglos will be the last to suffer from this, when it comes to this sort of thing the order of getting shat on goes Northern Ireland, Wales, Scotland and then England. In NI right now the NHS has already collapsed effectively, even vital stuff like cancer treatments are now at the point where people are dying on the wait lists, all its going to take is the introduction of privatised A&E and it’ll all be gone.

#Tradle #830 1/6 🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩 https://oec.world/en/games/tradle

Me and my friend are from here and even he didn’t realise where it was, so I can see how it might trip people up

Can you really call yourself queer if you haven’t even read all 37 of the 36 sermons of Vivek and pretended to understand them to impress some ashlander at a Telvanni mushroom rave?

For the purposes of HRT, regardless of application, there are two main estrogens to consider; Estrone (E1) and Estradiol (E2).

Estrone is a weak estrogen in the body it is derived from cholesterol. However, in its most common form of medication, Premarin, it is derived from the urine of pregnant mares. As a weak estrogen that is also not bioidentical (Premarin’s chemical structure differs from organic estrone) , it is not as effective as Estradiol in the role of HRT.

Estradiol is the major female sex hormone and as such in it’s synthesised ester forms such as Estradiol Valerate it is often considered the most effective form of HRT. It can be derived from diosgenin found in yams, or stigmaserol usually from soybean oil and probably some other plant precursors Im not aware of. It should be noted that most sex hormones can be derived from these methods, stigmaserol for example converts to estrone before it is chemically altered to estradiol.

George: The war started because of the vile removed and his villainous empire-building.

Edmund: George, the American Empire at present covers a quarter of the globe, while the Chinese Empire consists of a single military base in Djibouti