Bimql chhetry.

I bought these THC gummies at a dispensary, and figured I’d use them on the weekends. When I first got them, I took 1mg, and just felt like my limbs were heavy and not much else. So this time, I decided to double the dose, and take 2mg. I thought “I’ll probably just feel even more relaxed.” After about 2 hours, I was laying on one end of the couch, my sister was sitting on the other end telling a story. As she’s telling the story I realize I can’t remember the last sentence she was saying. I didn’t know what was happening, I thought my brain was shutting off and I could be dying. My sister said she looked at my face and I stared blankly at her, she asked “what’s wrong?” And I just started crying hysterically. I could get no words out. She called my dad in, I’m just laying there sobbing. My dad said “it’s just side effects of the THC, you’ll be fine.” My sister said at that time, my heart was pounding so hard she could audibly hear it. My heart was slamming against my ribs. I was convi...

So you know how Thai restaurants usually have a scale of heat for when you order? Usually ranging from “mild” to “Thai-hot.” Years ago after getting COVID and losing my sense of taste I turned to excessively spicy foods. I built up my tolerance to the point I usually have to ask someone to taste my cooking before I serve it or else I’ll be at the table happily eating while my dinner guests are gasping for breath. So going to a Thai place I always ask for my food “extra Thai hot.” Well one night when trying a new place I asked my server how hot they could make my meal and the server says to me as his face shifts to empathetically dreadful concern “We have a secret spice level named after our owner, Susan. It’s ‘Susan hot.’’’ So ask for my phat phrik khing “Susan hot.” My sever reminds me that there will be no refund if I do not like it and walks to the kitchen to put in my order. I anxiously wait for my meal. At some point the ventilation hoods in the kitchen can no longer contain the ...

They literally spent 20 million dollars of taxpayer money to turn a regular street cat into a living, breathing cybernetic spy. The project was called "Acoustic Kitty." and honestly, it’s the most hilariously expensive fail ever. The plan was just wild. cia techs took a cat and did a brutal five-hour surgery on it. they shoved a tiny microphone inside its ear canal, hid a battery and a transmitter under the skin along its spine, and literally wove a long antenna into its fur all the way down the tail. the cat was supposed to walk into parks, sit near some russians on a bench, and beam their secret talks back to a surveillance van. But they hit a pretty obvious biological problem during testing. cats just don't give a damn about american national security. instead of spying, the cat kept walking away because it wanted to sleep, chase a mouse, or find food. Did the cia give up? nah. they just threw more millions at it. they put the cat through another surgery and literally...

I work as a telecom field engineer and often do physical-layer line audits. So half of my week is spent in dull basements that haven’t seen daylight since the fall of the Berlin Wall. What to do there? I tone cables, sometimes trying to figure out which unlabelled jumper wire is keeping an oldass elevator intercom alive. Last Thursday had a task to survey a wing of a municipal clinic built in 1976. The building is scheduled for gut renovation next spring, but the admin block next door kept experiencing intermittent ground hum on their PBX trunk. Down behind the main 100-pair distribution frame in that narrow deadspace between the asbestos paneling and the galvanized cable riser, I felt something stiff. I pulled out a cloth-bound A4 ledger with marbled covers. The spine was held together with dried electrical friction tape. It was an unofficial station log kept between October 1987 and November 1991 by an on-duty technician named V. H. I know staff in this district had a half-joking le...

my girlfriend was over and we were doing some things that definitely shouldn’t involve grandma. suddenly, grandma calls down to us from upstairs saying that she has food. panicked, and without taking the condom off, i put on pants and run upstairs while my girlfriend gets her bearings. i meet my grandma at the top of the stairs and take the food and as im walking away she calls to me and tells me to come back after i put the food down. so i put the food down and come back only to be met with a condom laying on the top step. she asks me what it is and i play dumb saying something along the lines of “i must have tracked it in from outside” and my grandma then proceeds to tell me a story all the while a condom lays between the two of us. later, my girlfriend got into an argument with her parents and they went through her phone and found out that me and her were having sex. my girlfriend’s mom said she was going to talk to my grandma so i decided to talk to my grandma first. my girlfriend...

I’ve wasted a lot of time trying to figure out a good way to approach this, so I’ve decided that I should just start typing. Just get a bunch of words onto the page and maybe when I read them back, something will finally click and I’ll be able to begin making sense of things. Might be wishful thinking but it’s still worth trying. I’m not sure what else I can do. So my husband, Oliver, went missing last week. Of course, it’s been a really difficult thing to try and process. Especially given how bizarre the details are. Details that seem to get more bizarre the more I think about them. On some level, it doesn’t even feel real. Best way I can describe it is like I’ve become trapped inside some fucked up television show and I’m just desperately waiting for everybody around me to drop the act so that I can snap back to reality. Waiting for Oliver to appear at our front door again and tell me that he’s fine and that everything’s alright. That this had all just been some elaborate prank. But...

Everything started three weeks ago when I received an email from a man named Thomas. I had a portfolio website set up with my contact information, so getting cold emails was not entirely unusual. The subject line simply read "Private Animation Commission." I opened the email while I was drinking my morning coffee. Thomas wrote that he needed a very specific, photorealistic walking loop of a human character. He did not want a stylized cartoon, and clearly demanded absolute realism. He wanted the skin textures, the clothing folds, and the walking gait to look exactly like a real human being. The email stated that he would provide extensive reference photos. I replied and asked for his budget. My jaw dropped when his response came through a few minutes later. Thomas offered an upfront payment of five thousand dollars to build the character model and the animation rig. After the animation was completed, he offered to pay me a daily retainer of five hundred dollars. There was a v...

My little sister (18F) is dating this 18M boy and they are toxic as hell together. They’re constantly fighting and arguing, and apparently they’ve both left bruises on each other. The boyfriend takes my sister’s phone from her all the time and refuses to give it back until she does whatever he wants. He’s also been told multiple times by both my mom and me to stop leaving hickeys on her and sucking/licking her neck in front of everyone. He doesn’t listen. Since they started dating about 6 months ago, I’ve probably hung out with my sister maybe 20 times because she’s constantly with him. My mom has repeatedly told him to go home and has told him he isn’t allowed to stay over, but he just ignores her and stays because my sister says it’s okay. Recently, they got into an argument and he tried taking a computer monitor away from her. She ended up calling my husband and asking him to make the boyfriend give it back. My husband went over there, told him to leave, and basically made it clear...

A Village Sensation When your humble servant returned from Russia and arrived in the village by taxi, I was greeted by some extraordinary news. Our eighty-year-old neighbor, after being a widower for a year, had married a seventy-year-old woman. “Is that really a sensation?” You may criticize me. I will answer: “You are one hundred percent right. That is not a sensation.” But when a seventy-year-old woman becomes pregnant by an eighty-year-old man with a walking stick and false teeth—that is a sensation! Science tells us that most women give birth before the age of thirty. And here was a seventy-year-old woman who, against all expectations, was about to become a mother. Nobody could digest the news. The old man’s grown-up children thought that their father and his elderly wife would soon leave this world one after the other. But then something drove them crazy. A new heir had appeared on the horizon. The matter concerned a property consisting of sixteen sotkas of land, seven houses, t...

How the polio vaccine almost killed me. So background is that I am in nurse practitioner school and about to start my clinicals, of note I work as an ER nurse in a relatively small town area. While uploading my vaccine record to the portal thing, I realized I can’t prove that I had the whole polio series as a kid, even though I probably did have them. And because I was waiting until the last minute the only option I had was to get the adult dose like that week. Important note for the story is while I was in nursing school I worked full time as an EMT on an ambulance in the same city. That’s a detail we will revisit later lol. So I made an appointment at the health department, took my dog to go get his vaccines at the vet, ran into the health department to get my vaccine real quick and I was going to be on my way. Get the dose, walk out, right past the sign (that I remember actually looking at) that says wait 15 minutes to make sure you don’t have a reaction. If that isn’t foreshado...

So, I (M28) and my fiancé (F26) bought a house recently and we have an older neighbor directly across the street who is 76. She’s VERY friendly with us ever since we moved in earlier this year— maybe even a little too friendly. Like, she has a glass door that she sits in front of everyday, so every single time we walk out the front door she comes over to immediately engage us in a 30min conversation. I know what everyone’s thinking— she’s just elderly and lonely and wants someone to talk to. Although, keep in mind she has two “boy-toys” between the ages of 50 and 70 who frequently come over for booty calls and weed smoking, along with other family and friends, so she’s not that lonely. She’s a sweet older lady who just likes to share stories and give us gifts (fruit, pictures, mugs, etc). Often times she’ll call me over to help her with different things (fixing her printer, knocking down wasp nests, etc etc) and I’m polite so I always go over to help her when she calls. One day, she...

I needed a quiet job. After a bad breakup and losing my apartment, I just wanted to sit in a room by myself and earn a steady paycheck, so I spent weeks scanning online boards for data entry positions, and eventually found a listing for an archival technician at the local public access station in Crestwood. The station operates out of a squat concrete building near the edge of the county lines, and broadcasts local news and community events. I walked into the main lobby for my interview on a Tuesday morning. I met the station manager at the front desk. His name is Ken. Ken is a balding guy who wears oversized sweaters and talks with a slight wheeze when he breathes. He shook my hand firmly and immediately led me toward a dark stairwell at the back of the building. "We got a massive state grant to digitize the municipal archives," Ken explained as we walked down the steps. "The town has fifty years of town hall meetings and local parades sitting on magnetic tape in the ...

I struggled with food for a long time. It was my everything. My lifeline. I couldn’t stop myself. I just kept eating. And eating. Then I’d eat some more. One day, I had to look in the mirror, though. I had to ask myself: is any of this really worth it? I mean, look at me. I look disgusting. I put on a shirt that used to fit like a glove in high school and end up looking like Brent from Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs. But even still, I didn’t stop. Cake. Candy. Burgers, fries, pizza, ice cream. My daily rotation looked like a 6-year-old’s dream. Only I was 27. Still living with my mom. Still sleeping in the same sweat-stained bed from years of night terrors. I couldn’t even come up with a valid reason as to why things got this bad. I was in the middle of it. When you’re in the middle of something, it’s hard to see the starting line, and even harder to see the finish. I tried the normal shit. Caloric deficits. Exercise. I’d walk at least 2 miles a day, but then I’d be raiding my pant...

Most people think my job is insane. Honestly, they're probably right. When people talk about dangerous professions, they usually mention logging, commercial fishing, or construction. Those jobs earn their reputation. One mistake, one moment of bad luck, and you're fucked. Or hell, dead. Me? I always found myself drawn to danger. Maybe it's the adrenaline. Maybe it's because some part of me enjoys standing in places most people would never willingly go. You can learn a lot about a person from the work they choose to do. For me, that work is commercial diving. Most folks hear that and assume it's terrifying. Being dropped into cold, dark water hundreds of feet from the surface while surrounded by machinery that could crush you without warning doesn't exactly sound appealing to the average person. The funny thing is, I find it relaxing. Down there, the world becomes quiet. The noise of everyday life (the wife complaining) disappears beneath the water. It's jus...