Bimql chhetry.

I live on the east coast of the US and one of my oldest friends, "Ella" lives on the west coast. When Ella's 30th birthday was coming up, her boyfriend of 18 months, "Felix"--who I'd never met--called me and said he wanted to surprise Ella for her birthday by flying me out there to stay with them for a few days. I thought it was really sweet and thoughtful. When Felix picked me up at the airport, he immediately started saying how he didn't know if he and Ella were going to be together long term and just generally saying some not very nice things about her. It was really weird and inappropriate considering he knows we're good friends and I had never talked to this guy in my life. It made me wonder if he was trying to get me to pass this info along to her somehow? It also made me sad for my friend, because she thought they were really serious (they lived together) and were headed toward marriage. I want to add here that Felix, while he had a lot of go...

I was browsing a used bookstore in Seattle last Tuesday—the kind that smells like dust and vanilla—when I picked up a paperback copy of *Dune*. It was beat up, the spine was cracked, and it cost $4. I almost put it back because I wanted a hardcover, but something about the worn edges made me feel like it had been loved, so I bought it. When I got home and cracked it open to page 142, a folded piece of yellow legal pad paper fell out. It wasn’t a bookmark. It was a letter. Dated **October 14, 2004**. The handwriting was frantic, scribbled in blue ink. It read: *"David, I hid the bonds in the hollow leg of the old workbench in the garage. I don't trust Elena. If anything happens to me, check the leg. Do not sell the house until you check. Love, Dad."* I froze. This felt like I was intruding, but also like I was holding a grenade. I looked at the inside cover of the book. There was a name stamped in faint red ink: **Ex Libris: Arthur P. Halloway.** I know the internet can b...

I’ve hesitated to write this because it feels surreal, but with the recent resurgence of the maxwellhill discussions, I can’t shake a few personal memories. In 2010, when I was younger, I was in New Hampshire with my grandmother, who was battling cancer at the time. Through circumstances I won’t go into here, we briefly met Ghislaine Maxwell in a public area, while she was taking pictures with some people. She was unexpectedly warm, hugged my grandmother after a brief convo about cancer, and even commented positively on my alternative style. At the time, it felt like a small, human moment with a celebrity, nothing more. In 2015, years later, I saw her again from a distance at a TerraMar-related presentation. I was there with my ex. We didn’t speak to her, but I clearly remember recognizing her and feeling that odd sense of familiarity. Later on i realised that this was indeed THE Ghislaine we met all the way back then. Then in 2020, I joined Reddit. On an old account, I ended up in a ...

Yo reddit, pure chaos incoming. My bestie (25) has been drooling over dwarf dick for years: “I need to get railed by a little person, it’s my nastiest fantasy”. We laughed, until her bday — she gets wasted and begs: “Find me a dwarf escort or we’re not friends”. We did. Pro gigolo, 4'5", cocky as fuck, great reviews. Hotel room, we bounce, leave them to it for 3 hours. She comes back limping, grinning like she won the lottery: “Best dick ever. He rearranged my guts. 12/10”. Two weeks later — 3am meltdown text: “I’m late. Tits exploding, puking. We raw-dogged… he said little guys shoot blanks lol”. Tests: double lines. Gyno: preggo af. Now she’s spiraling: “50% chance the kid’s a dwarf too! How do I explain my son’s 4'2" at prom? I’ll look like I’m babysitting my own baby!!” Then 10 sec later: “But imagine… tiny toes, tiny hands, I could stuff him in my purse. Cute as fuck tho 👶🍆” She’s waiting on genetic test like it’s a lottery ticket. Options: abort or raise the ...

James and I both started working at Keystone Data Analytics in 2019, right before the pandemic. We were pretty good friends. Every Friday, we went out for drinks with a few of the other software engineers. But like most tech companies, Keystone went fully remote in 2020, and James and I lost touch. James always kept his camera off in meetings. For four years, I didn’t see his face. Then one morning, he turned his camera on by mistake. What I saw was so horrible, I’ll never forget it. “Does anyone have any blocks?” Aisha asked, during our morning standup. “The time-series graphs don’t look right,” James said. “I think there’s something going on with the date logs.” I was the one who’d written the logging code, so I told James I’d look into it. Keystone developed data analytics platforms for government organizations. We’d recently signed a billion-dollar contract to build a new platform for a CIA research project. Everything about the project was very hush-hush. We were all forced to ob...

I've worked as a bank teller for about three years now and I've had some wild interactions but this one from last week takes the cake. Guy walks in around 2pm on a Tuesday. No appointment, no phone call ahead, nothing. He walks straight up to my window and says he needs to withdraw $10,000 in cash. Right now. I smile and ask if he called ahead to arrange the withdrawal. He looks at me like I just asked him to solve a calculus problem. "Why would I need to call ahead? It's my money." I explain, as politely as possible, that we're a smaller branch and we don't keep that much cash in our drawers or even in the vault most days. For large cash withdrawals, we ask customers to give us 24-48 hours notice so we can make sure we have the funds available. Standard banking stuff. Every bank does this. He is not having it. "So you're telling me I can't access my money that I deposited in your bank?" I try to explain that he absolutely can access his...