No Pinkie Pie so it’s only a regular nightmare, not a night terror.

Won’t be long before flour companies start packaging with fabric so people can make clothes.

What I wouldn’t give to be somewhere where stores don’t close down while the sun is still up. This is a capital city, even.

6am friends could have also brought about world peace, but no, they had to wake up the 11am friend.

Shower the horse, ya bum.

(Ciao adios - Anne Marie)

I’ve done this. Don’t recommend it, but it’s great to point at when telling people not to wake me.

I want to punch whoever thinks being a shifted sleeper (4am-noon or 6am-2pm in my case) is a bad thing. I had a job that loved me for taking all the late shifts that my age cohort didn’t want so they could have a social life. I just didn’t want to have to wake before noon. :D

If I try (and fail) to keep social hours, aka business hours, I have to contend with severe insomnia (in bed by midnight, awake til sunup), or I just don’t sleep. Either is bad for me, my health, and the sanity for those around me.

Where I live, most things are finished by noon, and stores close at 4 on the weekend. Late night shopping means open til maybe 7pm on a Friday. (I miss my home city/country. Weekend hours til 6pm, late night (open til 9pm) three nights a week. Moving here was like going back in time forty years.)

Grr Argh and stuff.

I cleaned a shelf in my studio for the glory of the empire?

… Oh well. At least one shelf of three dozen is tidy.

A few. Most recent is my neighbour.

245948 - buhbye!

Brilliant! Thanks for adding this. :) My youngest has been dabbling in stop motion, and we’ve been going down the rabbit hole of stuff I remember from the old times.

I absolutely adore your profile pic - I’ve seen it around and it always makes me giggle.

So jelly about the soundtrack! I had a VHS - but it’s long gone. (I did shoot the machine that chewed it up, don’t worry!)

I don’t actually want to be nomadic, I’d love nothing more than to have a group of gaming friends that lasts. Inevitably, each time finding a new group gets harder.

I have no support network, No real social group either. I am for all intent and purpose a ghost. My opinions don’t matter, my presence isn’t wanted. No one notices when I leave.

To be a woman online means to feel unwelcome. Leaving a new community is pretty much inevitable unless you are willing to swim in toxicity.

I’ve lost count of how many ‘welcoming’ communities for game/hobby/interest that I have left because of the inevitable creep of (male) toxicity and harassment.

And it sucks to watch so many people not speak up, and to be targeted for further harassment simply because I said rape jokes weren’t funny. (Or tying and drugging up a woman so T could have a girlfriend, if the group I play online games with are stalking my account read this. You guys are part of the problem.)

I just want liked minded people to share my interests and play games with.

I, and other women shouldn’t have to navigate or ignore toxicity to simply exist in public spaces.

[Downvotes prove my statement. I’m not welcome or wanted, I get it. See you after my funeral.]

Wait for the sequel:

“I live in an iron lung and that’s ok!”

I don’t get it.

My big bowl broke in a move. Still have the plates and smaller bowls. Not sure where the mugs ended up. [Edit to add: Got them in Canada. Haven’t seen any in Australia.]

I think he got his mom’s color palettes mixed in with his derp.

(Mostly older) People have been claiming they were a summer or autumn for decades.

Don’t stress about it. There are plenty of professionals unclear of the concept of smooth.

I’ve just finished repairing the professional drywall plastering around our house, you could see the seams from every angle. I spent longer than I like to admit fixing those seams so they weren’t visible when we painted.

Worked every second or third day on any given wall, so I knew things were dry. Also life wouldn’t let me speed run the mudding and painting.

Happy with my newly painted wall, I’d laid tape out so I could paint the window trim and when I took off the tape, the original paint and plaster job that ran along the drywall seam came with it.

Took the putty knife and was able to flake off most of the seam.

I had to do the plastering and painting again, and by the time I’d finished redoing my work, I was ready to hunt down the tradies who did the work when the house was built and have a polite chat with them.