Wow. I’ve never seen this before and I really liked it.

I don’t fall asleep listening to anything but my fan, but reading knocks me the fuck out most nights. Sometimes I can’t make it through a paragraph before catching myself with my eyes completely closed.

Honestly, that’s on her for not liking the smell of cumin.

I still like Xonar cards, like the Xonar DG (though it isn’t compatible with my new PC). I always liked their interface more than the competitors, and it puts out excellent volume on my Logitech headset that is otherwise way too quiet for me. Never been a big fan of the simulated 3D environments on any of these cards, though. The only game it ever sounded decent in was No Man’s Sky, but even that still had a distant tinny sound to it.

I think most people just use external amplifiers these days, but I’m still using a third-party sound card.

Bruh…

I really struggle to enjoy crafting in Subnautica. Something about it just feels clunky and/or a step removed from me, and I don’t engage with it very well.

I love long open-world games, but I also reached a certain point in TW3 where I just burned out. It was weird too, because up until that point I was getting anxious over how little map I had left to explore. Then boom, I just lost my drive. Maybe I subconsciously sabotaged it so that I wouldn’t run out of game. I’d really like to try again sometime.

Well, that does sound better than the horseshit I’ve been served in the past.

Hard disagree. Gourmet mac just tastes like noodles and bland cheese gravy.

THE CRAWLING CHAOS NYARLATHOTEP IS UPON US!

No, but I miss the days of smaller forums with user recognition. The last time I really recognized a user that wasn’t a mass repost bot was a user on the r/stalker (game) sub-reddit by the name of CeliceTheGreat. Every interaction and opinion we ever had were seemingly in solidarity with one another, and it was always a pleasure to encounter him on other subs occasionally. I doubt he was any more Russian than I am (American/Canadian), but I miss you, comrade, and think of you often.

I have managed a produce department for six years and watched it happen myself. The price increases aren’t being decided at the store level, though you’d be hard pressed to convince most crotchety old ladies that the managers don’t gather every week in crimson robes by candlelight and chant the latest price hikes. They are absolutely happening via the warehouses and the middlemen, though.

Everyone seeks to maintain or increase their margins, beginning with the farmers (who are likely adjusting for costs), and hiked greatly by the middlemen to make a larger profit. By the time the oranges are in the store’s hands, that 30% margin the store needs to maintain a profit is now calculated off a much higher number to begin with. All I can really do (and I’m lucky, as not every owner/operator allows this kind of autonomy) is shop around various third-parties and local businesses to try to secure the best price I possibly can, and in turn offer the best sale I possibly can at the store level. This gets a lot harder during the winter months, though.

As a shopper myself, however, I don’t really see this at many other stores. Especially those operating under corporate rules, like Sobeys, Safeway and Superstore. I sell apples at 1.69 to 1.99 /lb., while my competitors sell them at 2.49 to 2.99 /lb. year round. Why people continue to buy their produce there I couldn’t say.

Facebook.com

It’s so great, you guys… You would love it.

Thank you!

With or without the Google services, I bought my first Pixel years ago and have never looked back.

My wife and I just bought my first home this week. The market is fucking brutal. You think you’re getting in early to view a new listing and there are ten other realtors’ cards already on the kitchen table. Made the highest offer? Fuck you. This guy out of Vancouver offered market price with zero conditions. House is old as hell and really should have had an inspection. OH WELL! SUCK A DICK! 🤷

We wound up getting exactly what we had been waiting for. House was on the market for 13 hours, we were the first to make an offer, sellers accepted almost immediately. Inspection went well. Detached home in a cozy little cul-de-sac. Lush back yard with a high, solid fence. Dude, I can’t fucking wait. I’ve been in a townhouse with a back 40 that looks like the dormatories of a Russian mining complex.

You should probably replace your detector.

There is nothing more pleasurable than swinging hard at a wasp and slapping that piece of shit. I also enjoy it when it doesn’t die immediately and has to think about it’s life and it’s choices.

Rockstar (2.25), 4pk of Snickers (4.40), Burger King Double Cheeseburger (3.50)… Shit, I went over. I don’t know how I could make any compromises here.

While I don’t have it anymore, for years I had a recurring nightmare about the house I grew up in. There had always been unusual occurrences within, mostly auditory but sometimes visual. Looking back, I was never that spooked about it while living there. I honestly loved that property and have fond memories of growing up among all those old apple trees. But for years after moving out I would dream that I had returned to it, and it was very, very different.

In the dreams the house was dark and full of shadows. Completely devoid of furniture and decor. It was gray, empty, and wholly abandoned. While inside I could feel an overwhelming and foreboding precense. It was this feeling of fear and panic. Pure dread. There was something disturbing there with me as I traveled from room to room, nervously anticipating every new corner as the sun sank low and the shadows grew deeper inside. As the years progressed, I would find the house to be filled with spectral cats that accompanied me throughout, or darted around the rooms inexplicably, sometimes out of the corner of my eye and other times as clear as day. Though I couldn’t quite focus on them, I had the feeling these were all the cats I had owned growing up. Some of them cats I had owned and lost since originally living there. It was as though they were trapped in the purgatory of that haunting, empty dream house, and even though the cats seemed to be full of spunk, there was an immense sadness about them being there.

The dreams occurred with greater frequency into my late 20s-early 30s, until one night I simply stepped inside and realized there was nothing left to fear. Suddenly the house no longer bothered me. It stood still and silent. Cleansed somehow. There were no more shadows, ghostly cats or smothering prescences within. It was as though the both me and the house had been freed.

I haven’t dreamt about that house since, other than a snippet from another unrelated dream, where I found myself briefly gathered with a co-workers family on the back deck, but I didn’t realize where I had been until waking.