Hal - 23 lol- Virgo-
No terfs and homophobes
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The funniest homophobia I ever experienced was a Mormon lady at my work telling me she would accept me being gay because we have to get along as coworkers but I really should consider not being gay because gay people have sex like animals (especially gay men) and she just couldn't stop thinking about it and how gross we are. She started really getting distressed, near tears, and saying 'I can't stop thinking about it. I can't stop." over and over and miming some kind of sex acts with her hands and I was like ?????? What is happening???? One of the other Mormon ladies had to come over and pat her on the back and help her sit down to help her calm down and our boss gave her the afternoon off due to being too upset to work.
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Please help me rebulid my Bakery
I'm Ismail Almughanni an entrepreneur from devastated Gaza trying his best to rebuild his Bakery 🍞🥐🥖
On a quiet morning, the aroma of freshly baked bread filled the street, signaling the start of a new day at your small bakery, a place you took immense pride in. For years, this bakery had been a haven where people from all around would gather to enjoy the warm, delicious pastries and bread that you carefully crafted. It was a symbol of hard work, a beacon of hope, and a destination for anyone seeking a taste of comfort amidst life's challenges.
But one day, in the blink of an eye, everything changed. The sounds of bombing began to shake the city, and it wasn’t long before the fires of war reached your neighborhood. There was no warning, no chance to escape or save what you could. Shells rained down on the district that housed your beloved bakery. You watched helplessly from a distance, unable to do anything.
Minutes passed like hours. When the noise finally subsided, and the thick smoke that blocked out the sun began to clear, you looked towards your cherished place. It was destroyed.
The walls that once protected you and brought you closer to your customers had collapsed, and the oven where you had kindled the flames of hope had turned to ash. Everything was shattered, broken, as if that place had never been a sanctuary of peace and comfort.
But the destruction wasn’t just physical. The pain in your heart was far greater than any material loss, a place filled with beautiful memories now reduced to rubble. The moments when you saw smiles on people’s faces as they savored your bread, the laughter that echoed through the bakery—those were now just memories, dissolving in the ashes of devastation.
As days went by, you tried to piece together the fragments, not just of the bakery but of yourself as well. You knew rebuilding wouldn’t be easy, and the wounds left by the war wouldn’t heal quickly. But you also knew that the hope you had infused into your bread would remain alive in your heart, even if the tables and chairs were destroyed, even if the bakery itself was gone.
The bakery may have been destroyed by war, but its spirit lives on in you, in everyone who tasted your bread, and in everyone who walked into that small place and found a slice of happiness.
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You can identify a fake redneck by their passionate support of “blue lives matter.” Real rednecks have been in at least one physical fight and/or high-speed chase with police officers and would do it again
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"there better not be an almost massless particle fucking up our sensors"
the notorious neutrino:
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