A lot of the kids in my neighborhood are Muslim and it seems the girls aren’t allowed to wear costumes if they are hijabis. I’m not excluding them because of a stupid religious thing.

If you have epilepsy or Parkinson’s or MS, you’re just going to likely get worse forever.

I’m a practicing Christian that goes to church every Sunday, and yet I believe in abortion and birth control like I invented them. I love babies and hold one most Sundays during the sermon and think they’re a miracle, but also if you don’t want to be pregnant don’t for one second hesitate to have the abortion. Your life matters way way more than some cells.

So very good!

Now that I’m vegan these articles are so bizarre to me. Oh the price of corpse has gone up? And the industry that produces said corpse is price gouging? That’s nice I’ll have these lovely inexpensive chick peas for dinner and not participate in death and abuse and rape, and my health will be better for it. It’s pretty easy to do.

We have an incredible local park with a great greenhouse that has tables you can sit at and read and have coffee.

Monday.

Well they are long deceased, since the 1990s at least. My paternal grandparents were shy people who didn’t have much use for children, they took me as a toddler to the mall once, and because I seldom had their attention I was full of beans trying to make them laugh and like me, and they found that too much. It was like they were old before I was born really, not like these younger grandparents people have now. They were both gone by the time I was a teenager. My maternal grandparents; my grandfather was an alcoholic for most of his life, your typical Irish leprechaun type of drunk, and only quit because his doctor told him it would kill him, and my memories of him are him shuffling around the house in leather slippers listening to the radio or reading the news. My grandmother was a miserable manipulative ring-tailed bitch with no friends who lay on the couch moaning about how sick she was, which she was not, and spending most of her time trying to pit her daughters against one another, which ultimately worked as they are basically all estranged. They had few interests and did not get along and slept in separate rooms. The only time she was interesting was after she had a stroke and became hilariously demented and said some absolutely outrageous things. None of them ever attended any of my activities or did anything to help raise me or anything like other grandparents seem to do now, and seemed to expect that they were to be taken care of now that they had retired. I can’t say I missed any of them when they died because they were such a vague presence in my life. They were not particularly successful and had almost no interests.

Dang that sounds good, this vegan is grateful to you.

Marry me chickpeas! https://www.noracooks.com/marry-me-chickpeas/

I worked in an ER for three years and health care for twenty, and I have yet to see anyone die waiting.

I worked in an ER. If you were rabies exposed they moved a lot faster than that.

I did always see sports flags pre Trump, but they were small and not obnoxious, just like a Bills fan type of thing. Since COVID hit I now see them sometimes in Canada for antivax stuff, and the Fuck Trudeau ones that dumb people favour.

Lemmy, Bluesky, Catodon, and sadly Facebook as that’s where I stay in touch with all my Livejournal friends. I would like very much to delete Instagram as it’s stupid and endlessly gives me anxiety as there’s always some restaurant or business I like announcing their closure, but some people I would miss being able to stay in touch with. I very seldom go on though.

The Blair Witch Project. Terrifying.

The flags on the cars.

My mother has BPD and is pretty vicious, but I think the worst moment was when she told me it was my fault my brother is gay. She HATES the fact he is gay despite really not hating gay people at all and we were raised to love and accept them, and since she hates me she thinks it’s my fault. BPD leads to a lot of disordered thinking.

That’s psychotic.

Vituperative. Means vicious.

I actually knew a dog whose owner taught him how to smile. He’d come running up to you to greet you at the park with his teeth bared in a friendly way.