#Reallifestories

[debzcorner]

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[iimtcollege]

Raashii Khanna, an Indian actress who works predominantly in Telugu and Tamil films, is coming to IIMT Group of Colleges in Greater Noida on the 8th of November, 2024, to promote her upcoming film "Sabarmati Report." Directed by Dheeraj Sarna and produced by Shobha Kapoor, Ekta R Kapoor, Amul V Mohan and Anshul Mohan, 'The Sabarmati Report' is based on the real-life events of the burning of the Sabarmati Express in Godhra. The film will be out in cinema halls on November 15.

[joymahidul]

Starring Jerry as Himself (2023) Full Movie Review

Explore "Starring Jerry as Himself," a powerful docudrama detailing Jerry Liu's harrowing journey through a financial scam. Discover how this hybrid true-crime film offers a blend of suspense, reality, and emotion. #joymahidul

[podcastwithsheila]

All You need is an inspiring and impactful Real Life Experience to Set you Off. Have A Listen…

open.spotify.com/show/77oSGqCXF1mOQUCpxzXW5O

[mortiz888-blog]

#palenzieperp Drama Unfolds: Shocking Claims of Betrayal and Disrespect

Explore the jaw-dropping details of accusations surrounding inappropriate behavior and disrespect. Witness how personal lives clash in this intense and intriguing narrative! #CelebrityDrama #RelationshipIssues #RealLifeStories #Betrayal #NastyBehavior #FamilyTensions #Scandal #SocialMediaBuzz #ViralMoments #MustWatch

[dasher-tales]

Kickoff for Dashing

Image of our trailblazer's engine compartment displaying the jumper cables I ran for the kicker.

After wrapping up a few lunchtime dashes to fill up the tank for the dinner rush, Milo suddenly got it in his head to install a kicker—a signal amplifier for his CB (citizens band) radio. A kicker, also known as a linear amplifier, boosts the radio’s output power, allowing him to send and receive signals over longer distances. In short, it gives his CB extra range, perfect for those long dashes where he likes to “talk skip” with other drivers—essentially chatting with people from all over by bouncing radio signals off the atmosphere. Now, I’m not exactly a huge fan of the whole CB radio thing, despite going by the handle Crazy Daisy (or just Crazy for short). But I humor him. After all, I have my hobbies—like 3D modeling—and he has his CB stuff. It keeps him out of trouble, and I’m all for that.

First, we had to figure out where to put it. My first thought was to stick it right beside the CB on the dash, so I gently plopped it down and glanced at him. “No,” Milo shook his head immediately, knowing I was teasing him. I grinned, but we both started seriously looking around. I hooked up the short 3-foot jumper cable that connects the box to the radio so we could see where we could place it without straining the cables. Taking into account how loose the cable needed to be to prevent breakage, that left us with about two feet of wiggle room.

Milo suggested the glove box, but I pressed it up against the front of it and shook my head. “We need that for storing things we need to dash with,” I said, giving the cord a little wiggle. “And also, airbag.” I mimed the airbag going off and the kicker smacking me in the face. “That would not be pretty.” “Right,” Milo agreed, wincing at the thought.

He looked over at his mic holder near the radio and patted the area. Without saying a word, I quickly removed the mic and placed the kicker up against the plastic part of the dash around the radio. But all I could picture was banging my knee on it over and over. I mentally sighed—it wouldn’t be the first time.

I noticed the cables would still be in the way of the airbag, but an idea struck me immediately. The kicker is a box with long metal heat sinks on top, fins spaced wide enough to allow airflow. I could easily fit my fingertip between them. On the bottom, it had a lip on each side, and I’d already drilled screw holes in it to secure it.

I grabbed the drill from the back and drilled a smaller hole, but the zip tie wouldn’t fit. I was just about to switch to a bigger bit when Milo piped up, “I wanna do it!” I playfully hugged the drill to my chest. “Mine,” I teased. Milo grinned and grabbed for it, and soon enough, we were play-wrestling for control of the drill. Naturally, he won—because I let him, of course.

I held the kicker in place while Milo lined up the drill. A moment later, the hole was drilled, and I threaded the zip tie through it.

I placed the kicker in the spot we’d finally decided on and shifted it around, lining it up just right. Milo held it in place as I—out of pure habit—tried to drive a screw directly into the hard plastic. Naturally, it slipped away. Milo snickered. “I knew it.” I grinned as I reached for the bits and drilled the first pilot hole. Once I swapped over to the screw bit, the drywall screw went in smoothly, like a mouse slipping into its hole.

Halfway done mounting it, I stepped out of the Trailblazer and swapped bits again to do the lower hole. I had to bend over, pressing against the seat to get the right angle. "Wish I was that seat," Milo commented, grinning like a fool. I tossed my bangs out of my face and shot him a smile. “Behave.” He was quick with the comeback, full of teasing as usual. “I don’t have to behave. I’m your old man.” “Pfft, you’re younger than me,” I snorted as I kept working.

I tensed for a moment when I felt his hand gently rest on my shoulder, then forced myself to relax. Years of an abusive relationship had left me wary of unexpected touch, but Milo knew that without me having to say a word. He understood, accepted it, and never pushed. After finishing up, I gave his leg a quick squeeze as I rose, a silent gesture of appreciation.

I grabbed some mutilated jumper cables from the back. They only had one set of clips—the other end was bare wires, perfect for powering the kicker. After losing an expensive kicker in what we now call the white truck incident, we’d come up with an easy way to install and remove them for situations just like that.

In a nutshell, the white truck incident was one of Milo’s bright ideas—he trusted a friend and agreed to blindly swap vehicles with her. What she conveniently forgot to mention was that the truck actually belonged to her brother, who turned out to be a vindictive little twerp. Once he found out about the trade, he wanted the truck back, and he was determined to make our lives miserable.

First, he removed the battery, which made us miss an entire day on our route. When we responded by locking the truck, he upped the ante. While we made a quick pit stop to check on Mom between dashes, he removed the back tire, took off the brake hub, and put the tire back on. We didn’t realize what had happened until we hit the road again. The back tire flew off as we drove down Genesee Ave, leaving us stranded.

The cops got involved, the truck was towed, and while we did eventually get the Durango back, we lost everything that was in the white truck—tools, CB equipment, and worst of all, his mom’s blanket, the one she used before she passed. That’s what hurt the most. The cop wouldn’t even let us grab it.

Ah well, it’s in the past now. We’ve moved on, but ever since then, we’ve kept everything grab-and-go—nothing more than we can carry.

The zip ties were linked end to end, creating a loop about eight inches across. Unconsciously, I spread my hands, fingers looped through the ties, and began rotating my hands in a circle, keeping the loop taut. It was like I was guiding something through a track, focused on keeping the ties steady.

After a couple of motions through the loop, I let go and threaded the cable through it, trying to pull it through the hole. But it was too thick to fit that way. “Nope!” Milo, my personal peanut gallery, called out from the driver’s seat, clearly enjoying watching me work through this puzzle.

The ends of the cable came back together as I pulled it back through. That’s when the light bulb flicked on. I twisted the wires together, keeping the loop between them, and fed it through the hole. A little finger fishing later, I grabbed the wire and carefully guided it the rest of the way.

With a shimmy and a push, the cable slid through the fender and out the side, near the door. Milo’s jaw dropped. “All right, smart-ass,” he said, clearly impressed. I flashed him a grin as I dropped the cable through the door and pulled in the slack, then used the twist ties to secure the wire to the fender so the door wouldn’t catch on it.

Minutes later, I had everything wired in, the clamps hooked up to the battery. I stepped back as Milo checked my handiwork. In my head, I could hear a sports announcer shout, “And there’s the kickoff… score!” as Milo received his radio check.

I’m not a football fan, so it’s probably the wrong term, but I didn’t care. The kicker was installed, and now we could dash with a happy Milo. I won. 

-----

Coming next week: What should’ve been a simple Subway pickup turned into a wild goose chase across town, complete with a support call mishap. Welcome to the chaos of Subway Dash Smash!

[security-cameras-installation-la]

🚔 Don't Be a Victim: Real-Life Examples of How CCTV Stopped Crimes 🚔

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[mineofilms]

Drawing the Sandline

Drawing the Sandline

This is the very short story of a boy named Whilem and a girl named Lainey. The following is based on actual events… The names have been changed…

Whilem stared at the blinking cursor on his screen, contemplating the weight of the message he was about to send. "So… Can we hang out again?" Lainey's latest Facebook message buzzed on his computer as he worked on projects. Whilem sighed, knowing what he must do. He typed out his response, each keystroke feeling like a rusty nail in the coffin of whatever semblance of normalcy they had left…

"For the foreseeable future, no… I am sorry if this hurts you, but I need to be honest. I was done with all this two Fridays ago. As in, done-done…"

He paused, letting the words sink in, hit enter, and waited an hour. He checks back as he works and sees she saw the message. This wasn't easy, but necessary things rarely were. Lainey had a knack for turning every interaction into an emotional rollercoaster, and Whilem was tired of the bumpy as-fuck ride. He continued typing, laying out his frustrations and boundaries with a mix of blunt, heart-felt-honesty, politeness, and intention to do as least harm as possible. Next, he chose his words carefully.

"This is just too much for me to handle right now between the two of us, and I can't pretend I am good with it all. This isn’t just about you; it's also about me. I know my limits, we passed them. And then some…"

He knew she would read this and twist it, making herself the victim in a story of her own creation. But Whilem had reached his tolerance… He wasn't willing to sacrifice what good time he had left to make his mark on this world and his mental health for her perpetual state of crisis of being a victim.

"I am not willing to work on these things either. I told you I was content with my solitude, and I mean it. Nothing comes between it. Even without the ex-boyfriend on the couch, his bullshit, and some of the other stuff, it just would have prolonged the inevitable."

Their brief, but gentle lovemaking had started innocently enough; a shoulder to cry on, a friendly ear. But Lainey's problems were like quicksand, and Whilem had foolishly waded in, thinking he could stay on solid ground. These are clouds, not ground… He should have known better.

"Are we still friends? Yes, but I can't be that distraction for you when things get tough. I don't have anything to give right now. Time is my only resource, and I'd rather spend it on tasks that make me feel accomplished, not frustrated about that effort and time."

Whilem's thoughts turned to his new potential contract in Tampa, the personal projects he had neglected, his health, his mental health, his time, good quality time left, his soul, his sanity. He had goals, and ambitions that couldn't be put on hold for Lainey's endless drama.

"Perhaps when we both get our lives in better order, we can revisit this, but not now. I can't give you a timetable for when or if that will happen. I need to focus on my health over the summer and fall, the work I might be doing, and my personal projects will take up about all I have to give."

He imagined her reading this, tears welling up, accusations forming in her mind. She wanted a friend to have carefree fun with without feeling guilty for it. She wanted a distraction to rescue her from herself. But Whilem was no hero; he was just a guy, damaged, working hard on himself, who had finally learned to say no.

"I get it, you want a friend. You want to feel good and have fun. I really didn’t want any of that. I thought I was just helping you out. I had a soft spot that got very hard, massive, and too heavy to carry, very quickly. I walk in a desert. I had to drop the very hard, massive, heavy thing behind so I can make it through the desert."

The desert. It was a fitting metaphor for the barren wasteland of how this was playing out. He couldn't carry her burdens any longer; he had to save himself. He took both the red pill and the blue pill, gave Morpheus the finger, and jumped out the window, saying “Fuck your desert of the real,” all-the-way-down out of the simulation.

"I hope this makes sense and that you’re not too hurt. I know it's disappointing, and I am sorry it had to come from me like this. I will respond when I have time to respond. My headspace is already on other tasks. Have low expectations… That’s about all I got… Tried really hard to not say something to deliberately hurt here. That was not the intention and intention for me means everything… Signed, Whilem."

With a final sigh, Whilem hit send. The message flew off into the digital void of Facebook messenger, leaving him feeling strangely lighter. He had drawn his line in the sand, and now he had to walk away, leaving Lainey to navigate her own mess. An hour later, she blocked him for the second time in two weeks. Later, Whilem would learn from refreshing his browser page that she had blocked him before he sent off that last message. She would never know that Whilem attempted to be gentle with her and that this bugged him just as much. However, it sounds to me, the teller of this tale, that Whilem did the right thing. He did right by Lainey. Lainey just cannot deal with reality and that is why this happened to begin with. Moral of the story. Do not modify what and who you are for another. Modifying what you are is not the same thing as compromising for another. One multiplied by one does not equal two, it equals one and it always did and will. End of the story…

Drawing the Sandline by David-Angelo Mineo 6/27/2024 1,013 Words

[businessmiraclestories]

Coinbase: Crafting the Future of Finance - A Digital Revolution Unleashed

Coinbase: Crafting the Future of Finance” immerses you in the dynamic narrative of a groundbreaking company that has redefined the landscape of digital currency. From its early days as a cryptocurrency exchange to becoming a global force in the crypto space, this story unfolds the pivotal moments, challenges, and triumphs that shaped Coinbase. Discover how Coinbase’s commitment to accessibility,…

[somnolentserenade]

Hustle and Heart: Tales of a Middle-Class Dreamer

Ever wondered what it's like to live carefree, not sweating over every penny and drowning in responsibilities? Dreaming without the constant shadow of bills and obligations? Welcome to the reality of us everyday hustlers, especially the middle-class working women.

January hits, and the dream of a solo holiday sparkles in my eyes. I hover over those tempting ticket prices, only to be brought back to earth – Dad needs a new phone. Tightening that budget belt already.

February whispers promises of a hotel reservation for that solo escapade. But alas, reality intervenes – aunty needs new glasses. Budget, you sly thing, always tight.

March rolls in, and my birthday calls for a celebration. Solo trip planning resumes, but wait – family needs new clothes, friends deserve treats. Living in society, remember? Tight budget alert.

April sneaks up, and thoughts of reserving a cozy homestay flirt with my desires. Then reality kicks in – sister's aspiring lawyer dreams demand new law books. Another month, another tight budget.

May suggests, "Why not throw caution to the wind and book that trip?" Oh, but Dad's medicines, new glasses, health checkup – he's aging, and responsibilities stack up. Budget? Yep, still tight.

June dawns, and dreams of a getaway vanish. Sister's college semester fees are due. Tight budget, the perpetual companion.

July arrives, but leaves no room for leaves. Work projects loom, and health checkups demand savings. Tight budget, a familiar refrain.

Lonely August slips away like sand. Tight budget echoes in its wake.

September storms in, piling up projects and workload. The budget? You guessed it – tight.

October brings Durga Puja, and the family craves new clothes. Tight budget, the unwavering constant.

November's Diwali dazzles with the need for new gold and a looming move as the rental agreement expires. Budget? As tight as ever.

December rears its head, signaling the time to pay up sister's college fees. Another year, another dance with the tight budget routine.

And the cycle repeats, a relentless carousel of dreams, desires, and the ever-tightening budget. Welcome to the rollercoaster of middle-class reality. 🎢💸

[pepecarbs]

The Silent Departure: When Men Choose to Leave

In the quiet corners of our lives, where love and loss intertwine, there exists a phenomenon that is both heartbreaking and perplexing. It’s the moment when a man chooses to leave his partner, not because of a lack of love, but because he feels his existence has no positive effect on his spouse. This decision, often shrouded in a cloud of sadness and tragedy, can leave a lasting impact on the lives of those left behind.

The Biblical Perspective

The Bible, a source of wisdom for many, offers insights into relationships that can shed light on this phenomenon. In Proverbs 13:20, it is written: "Walk with the wise and become wise, for a companion of fools suffers harm."1 This verse suggests that our companions significantly influence our lives. If a man perceives himself as causing harm rather than providing wisdom and support to his partner, he may choose to remove himself from the equation.

In 1 Peter 4:8, we find another relevant verse: "Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins."1 Love is meant to be a healing force, a balm for our shortcomings. But what happens when a man feels his sins or failures are too great to be covered by love? The tragic answer may be that he chooses to leave.

The Reality Check: Survey Insights

Surveys and studies provide a more contemporary perspective on this issue. According to one study, only 6% of marriages end when someone becomes unwell during the marriage2. However, it’s usually men who choose to leave2. This statistic is startling and sad. It suggests that when faced with significant challenges or changes, some men feel their presence is more harmful than helpful.

Anecdotes: Stories of Silent Goodbyes

There are countless stories of men leaving their partners at critical moments. One such story involves a woman battling stage four breast cancer2. Her husband initially supported her but eventually withdrew as her health declined2. These stories are heartbreaking reminders of the silent departures that occur when men feel they can’t positively contribute to their partners’ lives.

A Focused Message: Awareness and Understanding

The crux of this issue lies in understanding and awareness. It’s crucial for individuals in a relationship to recognize if they’re making their partner’s existence feel invalid or unhelpful due to their struggles. Open communication, empathy, and understanding are vital in ensuring that both parties feel valued and positive in their relationship.

In conclusion, the silent departure of men from their partners’ lives is a complex issue rooted in perceptions of self-worth and the ability to contribute positively to their partners’ lives. By fostering open communication and understanding within relationships, we can hope to address this heartbreaking phenomenon.

Learn more:

1. biblestudytools.com2. theguardian.com3. bible.knowing-jesus.com4. biblestudytools.com5. christian

[podcastwithsheila]

Staying True to Myself - I Won’t Change for Validation

youtube.com/shorts/77FcdmrNTLs Staying True to Myself – I Won’t Change for Validation I refuse to change my personality just to gain someone’s approval. Loving me is your choice; hating me is your decision. I am who I am, unapologetically. My worth isn’t tied to anyone else’s opinion, and I won’t pretend to be someone I’m not just for validation. I’d rather be embraced for my authenticity than…

[newstattoos]

After a surgical process that went badly improper, Cindy Muhidin was left with a 'horrible' scar throughout her abdomen. She says it deeply affected her shallowness – but additionally impressed her to assist different individuals left with scars they did not like. Cindy, 36, has been working in tattoo outlets since 2010. After her expertise with...

[hermavvan-blog]

• CONGRATULATIONS • Your photo was chosen for us to repost ------------------------------------------ The best photo from IG @astography_ • • • • • • Coloring like the film scene 📸Photo By @ashrofiasyari_ My Gear : Sony DSC-H400 #HumanInterest #PeopleStories #RealLifeStories #InspiringStories #EverydayHeroes #Heartwarming #FeelGood #PositiveVibes #SpreadLove #KindnessMatters #sonyindonesia #sony #photography #photographylovers ------------------------------------------ Jangan lupa follow dan tag @_humaninterest di foto / video yang kamu upload. Gunakan hastag #_humaninterest Bila ada kritik atau saran silahkan tulis di kolom komentar atau DM mimin ------------------------------------------ https://www.instagram.com/p/CoonuNkyGUa/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=