#80 DOLLARS.................................................................

[mukkiethekip]

scheduled exams following the gyne appointment and they totalize roughly 80 dollars (R$ 500) i am kinda broke after the monthly bills so any help is good rn 🥺

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[seat-safety-switch]

There can be no secret made of the fact that I didn't do well in shop class. All of my teachers looked at my work, and said something to the effect of "nice, but a bit slow." Perhaps it was because I was intimidated by power tools. I will tell you now about power tools, by telling you something else entirely.

Power is the one thing our civilization craves more than anything. You can leave your money, you can abandon your fame, but once you've got that power, you won't give it up. Without getting too political about it, this phenomenon is why you can buy a four-hundred-and-thirty horsepower SUV. Then your neighbour will ask you why you didn't get the 600hp version instead. That might, even if you don't use it while driving thirty under directly in front of me as I'm trying to get places, is comforting to have under your control.

Of course, as the classic fables will tell you, too much power is a bad thing. Back in shop class, we had all kinds of kids fuck up their duck-shaped napkin holders with an inadvertent jiggle on the bandsaw or spending a second too long on the sanding wheel. These malformed, tear-stained ducks would get thrown in the bin, and then they'd have to go even faster to make a replacement duck in time for grading. I, on the other hand, would simply hand in a duck that's 80% decent but not super polished. Ran out of time to do it, because I was too busy watching the other kids destroy their hard work in a moment of frustration.

Even today, I'm not a huge fan of power tools, or engines with too much horsepower. The Slant Six has enough, even after several decades of building up caramelized oil on all of its combustion passages. And you've got enough power already, too. As long as everyone suspects you're "nice, but a bit slow," you can steal like four hundred dollars in solvents when the teacher's not looking.

[oxidi]

if you haven't heard, Meta admitted they literally torrented more than 80 terabytes of PDFs (studies and ebooks, basically full library genesis and others) to train their LLMs.

it's hard to imagine the amount of text we're talking about.

I did some calculations and just for the copyright infringement they could be fined for 20 billion dollars (using the minimum 750 usd / work).

I don't believe they'll be fined at all, because people don't have any power in the U.S. anymore vs big corp.

do you still remember when Aaron Swartz faced up to 35 years in prison for downloading 80gb of academic articles (0.1% of what Meta did), but then he took his own life in 2013 before the trial?

don't get me wrong, LLMs are amazing and this tech could benefit society broadly if access and development remain open, but currently it's concentrated in the hands of a few major corporations.

they literally steal the knowledge of humanity to turn a profit on it.

[lunaava9]

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[fox-bright]

Distracting myself from the world outside my yard, as much as I can, by planning out the seed-starting which will begin this weekend.

Usually my garden planning doesn't feel as grim as this. But there's still some joy in it, even if I'm plotting out just how much of our food is going to have to come from the garden this year, and maybe for the next half-decade or so.

I keep trying to write cheerful beginning-of-the-season garden posts, and they come out of my fingers like this:

Forty percent of our nation's homegrown produce is harvested by undocumented immigrants. Another fifteen or so percent is harvested by documented immigrants with work visas, not that ICE is treating them any differently in their raids (nor citizens, for that matter, scooped up indiscriminately as long as they're brown). During the last Trump administration, crops rotted in the fields because there was no one to harvest them; this time around, it's going to be worse. That is true regardless of whether or not RFK gets to institute the "wellness drug rehabilitation farms" that he's talked about in interviews (which, to be clear, would be concentration camps full of Undesirables such as people who use drugs, protestors, and queers). I do not attempt to put my need to eat over the humanity of the people who provide my food. This is a double-fisted problem, here--the Republicans took something that wasn't a problem and made it into their voters' boogeyman, and now it's going to become an actual nightmare for anyone involved, and *everyone* is involved. Hunger is the most singleminded need there is. A starving person can only think about food.

Sixty percent of the fresh fruit eaten in the States, and forty or so percent of the vegetables, are imported, largely from Mexico and Canada, though we get plenty from SE Asia and other places. Tariffs and our generally being increasingly xenophobic, racist assholes is going to take a measurable toll on agricultural imports.

And we've already spent the last couple of years in a Trump-mediated Age of Listeria; that's sure to get considerably worse as even more regulations (and regulators, and inspectors) are eliminated. A person who can't even trust their food won't trust anything else.

I get this far and then I put the pen down, and I return my gaze to the sheets and sheets of handwritten seed inventory lists with their columns of variety types and days-to-maturity, 55 days, 65 days, 80 days from planting out to fruit, and I take a couple of breaths, and I start writing again.

I'm increasing the size of the garden. I had a whole series of posts planned about it, about building the new beds and setting up trellises and beanpoles, fixing the fence as best I can, building new steps off of the low back porch so that I don't have to carry every baby plant out the kitchen door. I need to find about seven or eight hundred dollars for trucked-in soil for raised beds; I'd really thought in the Autumn that I would have a full year to sort this out, and I don't, so I'm trying to figure out a way to fund-raise. Sell some handmade semiprecious gem jewelry? Open a garden blog Patreon? I dunno. Everything is tight for everyone, and that is not shortly to improve. Leave it to the side. Not important tonight.

Eyes back on the blue-lined page. Amish Paste, Black Krim, Black Plum, Brandywine. So many varieties. Enough to share, if I plan my plantings carefully. Beans, grown for green eating and pickling, even now it doesn't make sense to grow dry beans, not with how many pounds a year this household consumes. Sweet potatoes, this year, slips ordered online for the first time, and I find I'm a little nervous about them. I've never grown a sweet potato before, but people say they're easy, and they're high in a lot of nutrients, and they keep.

Next page. Flowers. Marigolds, nasturtiums, violas.

I try to put a flower in the ground every time I transplant a vegetable. Doing so increases the vegetable yield, since it improves pollinator coverage, but also it's just nice for my soul to be able to clip flowers and bring them in to present to my husband, to have on the counter when I'm frying eggs for breakfast, to stick haphazardly behind my ear and wear on my daily walk. So tonight I'm sitting here with a pen and paper, deciding what I want to grow for food this year, deciding how much energy I can devote to flowers. Nasturtiums, marigolds, bachelor's buttons and borage and cosmos are all edible, and common in my vegetable garden; I'm doing a bunch of zinnias this year as usual, but I'll probably be direct-sowing those this year. Won't have room in the seedling closet when I've got to start so much more food than before. But I can devote *some* energy to the flowers, and I know they'll give me back what I give to them.

There's a clatter off the roof, ice sliding down to collide with whatever it can hit. We've got a wintry mix happening outside right now, little pats of slush falling from the sky to freeze hard on my trellises, and summer now seems far away, but it isn't. It's a very brief time before Last Frost and things will need to get into the ground, and I know that no matter how bleak I feel right now, and how much harder things are likely to be by then, bright-faced zinnias will be a joy when they bloom. Every source of energy is a source of energy. No one can function entirely on rage.

One foot ahead of the other. Seedling mix into my seed trays, tomorrow, and water; the day after I'll sow seeds, and put the trays under the lights. Step by step and in the summer there will be tomatoes and chard, asparagus beans and watermelons and nasturtiums. One foot ahead of the other.

[captainsquare]

@worldweaverofmediocrity He's from the uncivilized nation of Canada, where dollars are worth less so everything has a higher number in pricing. $100 Canadian is about $80 US.

I'd buy Baldur's Gate 3, if it didn't cost nearly $100, not worth it when I can buy 3 good modern games, or 10 great old games for the same price.

[transgaysex]

finally had to give in and make a school purchase (<- sick to its fucking stomach)

[littlechivalry]

Threshold

Post-UD, everybody lives. Established Steddie

-

Eddie couldn't do it. He turned, ready to run, but Steve's hand clamped down on his arm like an iron manacle.

"Fuck you, let me go," Eddie hissed.

"Like hell I will," Steve replied, just as harshly. "You have to do this, you're the only one who can."

"I'd rather die."

The sales clerk cleared her throat and Eddie snapped his mouth shut.

"Are you-- can I help you find anything else," she said softly, her hands open in front of her.

"No," Steve replied. "Just this."

'This' was a vacuum cleaner. An upright vacuum cleaner with hose attachment and a retractable cord. A one hundred dollar vacuum cleaner.

Eddie felt sick. He pulled his hand away and Steve let it go awkwardly. Eddie cleared his throat and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, just this." He pulled out his wallet and passed over the money. Signing the warranty card in a messy scrawl.

They walked out of the store and loaded the vacuum into the back of Steve's truck.

Steve and Eddie had gotten to the car in silence but once the doors were closed it started.

"Babe," Steve said, his voice soft but firm. "What was that about? We agreed we need a new vacuum. Wayne's old one gave up the ghost and the carpet sweeper does nothing. I thought this was cool."

Eddie groaned and rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes. "It's not-- it's just..."

He couldn't find the words and Steve didn't press him. The interior of the truck's cab was quiet, windows muffling the noise of other shoppers moving through the parking lot, the occasional sound of their radios drifting on the air.

Eddie took a few breaths, heard Steve do the same beside him - in - out - in - out

"Can I check in," Steve says after a few breaths.

"Almost," Eddie replies and they go back to breathing.

This time Eddie breaks the silence. "It's real, right?"

"Real," Steve echoes. "The vacuum? Yeah?"

"It's -- the vacuum we have now? Wayne got it from the Johnsons before they moved to go live with their kids in Des Moines. It was a really good vacuum. Lasted, like. Seven years. The one before that Wayne found in the trash. It needed some fixing up and the hose had to be taped together but it ran for two years."

Steve hums, just a considering noise to show he's listening but leaving Eddie some spacw to talk. Eddie cannot explain how much he appreciates that.

"The stove was a store display they were gonna toss out because the wiring was bad. The couch was abandoned on a curb up in Loch Nora. Most of my clothes come from the Goodwill; Wayne's too, even his work boots. My guitar, my sweetheart, is a hand-me-down to I don't know how many degrees."

Eddie sighs and tips his head back against the headrest. The ceiling of the cab is upholstered in dark blue fabric. Eddie drags his fingers over it.

"Munsons don't get new things, Steve. Not nice ones, anyway." He blew out a rough breath. "I know this is stupid. It's just a vacuum cleaner, but--"

"Don't say that," Steve interrupted. "If I don't get to say stupid neither do you."

Eddie reached over the gear shift and clasped the hand Steve offered.

"Okay," Steve said. "Do you... should we return the vacuum?"

"No," Eddie said. "No, that's not the answer. We-- I have the money. I can afford a new vacuum, a nice one."

"A really nice one."

"And it's okay to buy new things."

"It really is," Steve said.

Eddie nodded. "We're grown ups now, Stevie. Got good jobs, a nice apartment, a fancy new vacuum cleaner. What's next, a picket fence? 2.5 kids and a dog?"

Steve smiled and pulled Eddie's hand up to his face, pressed a kiss against his knuckles before letting go and reaching for the ignition. "I'm allergic to dogs but let's get home and we can start working on kids."

Eddie reached out for Steve, pulling him across the armrest into a fierce kiss.

Steve fell back into his seat, a bright flush in his cheeks. "Wow," Steve said, starting the car. "What are you gonna do when we buy a house?"

The radio came to life but Eddie could barely hear it over his own laughter.

[tvneon]

[mipexch]

v1 comfortable moments

[shiftythrifting]

sarcophagus….

[fjordfolk]

"only the best for her" i sob as i click purchase on an 80 dollar winter jacket for my double coated dog

[rocketqueen1989x]

if he looked at me like that … istg I would get on my knees immediately

[marciliedonato]

i’m fucking crying.... not the duet 😭 💀 💀nickisnotgreen was right, this truly is history in the making

[guzhufuren]

need a rich spouse so they could buy me all english translations of danmei and baihe novels my heart desires and all ql dvd boxsets my soul craves

[albatris]

why tales from the gas station so expensive