#Vancouver Dumpster

[disposalqueen]

We can handle any size project, from construction sites to small residential or commercial areas. We are fast, efficient, and cost-effective, offering our clients a wide range of dumpster sizes. No matter what the weather is like outside or how large or small your area is, our fleet of trucks is equipped with plows to clear the accumulated snow out of the way for you.

[annapolisrose]

Enjoy Everything

[brochblessed]

I am unhappy ☹️

[i-try-to-write-stuff]

Stolen Wife - 6

Synopsis – Tommy Shelby is married to Grace, but he becomes obsessed with Y/N, wife of Reuben Fitch, Tommy’s business partner in the U.S. who is unaware of his actual “business”.

This blog supports Palestine. Zionists are not welcome here.

You could feel judgmental eyes of the bartender, it was not even 11 a.m. at the hotel bar downing tequila, vodka, whiskey, vermouth, and whatever bartender thought would appease you. You were drinking your weight in alcohol to numb the pain that senseless weirdo brought up so casually. The absurd and preposterous claim (totally correct & valid point) that you were running away from your husband’s memories. Thomas Shelby doesn’t know you, and the nerve of his mouth, the audacity of those haunting eyes of that man to tell you what you should do, after you barely met all those months ago, after you barely talked to him today, who does he think he is?

The pretty bartender, Patty, as her badge indicated, kept bringing you some sort of snack to absorb that alcohol, which you were thankful for, she didn’t question much, and you really didn’t have the energy to answer. You were pretty hammered and past the point of even noticing that there was a new bartender serving you what seemed like endless amounts of drinks without you even asking. Had you been a little careful, a little vigilant you would have noticed that the new bartender slipped something in your drink. Had you not been drowning in the insurmountable grief of losing the love of your life, you would have noticed Tommy Shelby and his goons spread out near the bar, keeping an eye on you. Had you not been so damn oblivious you would have noticed the bartender stealing your phone before darkness took over, and you lost consciousness.

Tommy didn’t know kidnapping was going to be added to the long list of crimes he has committed, but love makes you do crazy things, so what’s one more crime to add to that list but getting you to Birmingham, now that was going to take some serious effort, but he knows how to grease a few hands and tell them to look away when it's needed…That’s how he has been able to infiltrate North American black markets.

Flight from Vancouver to Birmingham was smooth, it had to be, the drug was effective for about 12 hours. It gave enough time for the Peaky Blinders to clean out your room, ditch your smartphone in some dumpster in other city before Rueben’s squad could even figure out what had happened.

You woke up in an unfamiliar room, your throat parched, your mind a bit disconnected, and you needed to pee badly, damn, how many drinks did you have…Wait a minute, did you sleep with someone, so many questions swirling around in your brain.

The door opened, and you saw a sweet looking woman carrying a glass of water and a glass of orange juice. She offered them both to you, and you gulped down that water in one big gulp…

“Thank you….Could you point me towards the washroom? I need to freshen up…” you mumbled

She directed you towards the door on the other side of the bed. You got up quickly, a little too quickly and felt a bit dizzy. After practically rushing towards the washroom and doing your business did you start to take the notice of things not feeling right…You did not remember anything except the mimosa you drank. Fuck…what had happened? Where the fuck were you? You needed to get the fuck out of whatever this place was, you needed your phone, you needed to call an uber…

It was then you realized you did not have your phone, your stomach dropped…Fuck fuckity fuck…You searched the bedroom but there was nothing there…You were in process of ripping off the bedsheets when you heard a familiar voice.

“Your phone is not here, Y/N”

You turned around to face the devil with vibrant blue eyes; there was something sinister about them, something that you would learn rather quickly.

[oliverreedmasterass]

Synopsis: The members of Greta Van Fleet agree to do an interview with the Human Napkin himself, Nardwuar, and find themselves ridiculously unprepared for his interview style.

Words: 2k

Warnings: language, some sexual innuendos (kinda?), mentions of stalking, the void™️

Notes: Shoutout to @skywaydrifter for the amazing fic idea, and sending me down a wild Nardwuar binge-fest

----------------------------------------------

Nardwuar theme plays with the animated intro video. The shot opens to show NARDWUAR standing in front of an impressive display of vinyl records, next to JOSH KISZKA. 

NARDWUAR: How are you?

Nardwuar shoves his microphone into Josh’s face. Josh flinches back a bit, but then leans into the microphone.

JOSH: Absolutely groovy. 

NARDWUAR: Tell me who you are. 

JOSH: That’s a bit of a loaded question. I’m a dreamer, a mere mortal, a man with a dream…

NARDWUAR: Your name. 

JOSH: Oh. Josh Kiszka. Frontman for the group, Greta Van Fleet. 

Josh curtsies to the camera.

NARDWUAR: Welcome to Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. And right off the bat, I have a gift for ya.   

JOSH puts a hand over his heart and looks at the camera in shock.

JOSH: Now I feel bad, I didn’t bring you anything. 

NARDWUAR (continued): I’ve got this 1966 album, All About Miriam. 

JOSH: (taking the album and cradling it in his arms) Oh my goodness.

NARDWUAR: I heard that you’re a fan. 

JOSH: Miriam Makeba? Oh yeah, she’s one of my favorites. My parents had a few of her albums that they would play all the time when I was younger. She’s got such a rich voice, I can only dream of sounding like that. 

NARDWUAR: But you do have a pretty distinct voice that I’m sure a lot of people are jealous of. How did you find that sound? 

JOSH: I started screaming and then I guess I kind of found my way, eventually. (chuckles) No, but actually, my vocal coach, Ron, I call him “The Master” because he genuinely saved my vocal cords. I wouldn’t be where I am today without him. 

NARDWUAR: How do you do it? Is it special vocal warmups? Some kind of mystery technique? 

JOSH: Well, you see, if I told you, I’d have to kill you. 

NARDWUAR: I’ve got another gift for you here, Josh. 

JOSH: Oh god, now I feel super bad. 

NARDWUAR: Costumes are a big part of your stage presence. Here, I’ve got a piece that might look familiar to you. 

Nardwuar holds out Josh’s infamous golden pants, and Josh reluctantly takes them.

JOSH: Oh boy, I forgot how shiny and see through these were. 

NARDWUAR: You wore these in the sweltering sun on the iHeart Radio festival stage in Las Vegas, Nevada on Saturday, September 22, 2018, didn’t you? 

JOSH: I’m not sure if these are the exact pair…

NARDWUAR: They are. 

JOSH: Huh? Did you dig them out of the dumpster or something? 

NARDWUAR: Now, Josh, can you tell me about Sean Reyes?

Josh looks at Nardwuar with intense skepticism.

JAKE: (offscreen) What the fuck? 

JOSH: Now how do you know about Sean Reyes? 

NARDWUAR: It’s Josh Kiszka trivia!

Josh squints at Nardwuar, uncertain.

JOSH: Sean Reyes was my third grade teacher. 

NARDWUAR: And he was the one who encouraged you to write poetry, right? 

JOSH: Yes…..

NARDWUAR: Like haikus? 

JOSH: Mr. Reyes would play a lot of folk stuff for us, like John Denver, Joni Mitchell, all the classics, and he could tell I really dug it. He pulled me aside after class, showed me some of his favorite lyrics, and explained how it was a form of poetry. I took that to heart and spent a lot of time outside of class writing poems after that.

NARDWUAR: Were they any good? 

JOSH: Well, some lines ended up in our songs, so you tell me. 

NARDWUAR: Well, I heard your twin brother behind the camera just now. Let’s bring him out here. Come here, Jake! 

JAKE joins Josh’s side in front of the camera, looking nervous. He’s wringing his hands, avoiding eye contact with Nardwuar.

NARDWUAR: Hello, Jake. 

JAKE: (short) Hi. 

NARDWUAR: I have a gift for you. 

JAKE: Uh, okay. 

NARDWUAR: It’s a poster from H.O.R.D.E. Festival at Deer Creek Music Center in Noblesville, Indiana featuring big names like Blues Traveler, The Black Crowes, and Taj Mahal from 1995. Something important happened at this festival, right? 

Jake pales.

JAKE: Uh. Uh. 

Josh is staring pretty hard at Nardwuar.

JAKE: (to Josh) There’s no way he knows about that. How could he know about that? 

Nardwuar sneaks the microphone closer into Jake’s mouth. 

NARDWUAR: Well? 

JAKE: Okay, uh, they might kill me for admitting this on camera, but my parents are pretty sure that’s where Josh and I were conceived. 

NARDWUAR: Do you like Taj Mahal? 

Jake struggles to rebound from that 180. 

JAKE: Um (beat) yeah. I’d list him as a big influence. 

NARDWUAR: And another gift for Jake Kiszka! 

JAKE: (whispering to Josh) This guy freaks me out. 

NARDWUAR: Here you go! 

Nardwuar tosses Jake a ziploc bag containing something brown. Jake’s reflexes get the better of him and he grabs the bag out of the air, and then blankly studies what’s in his hands. 

JAKE: What the actual fuck. 

NARDWUAR: Tell me what you’re holding there! 

JAKE: Hair. It’s my hair. 

JOSH: What??

JAKE: I’m not even joking. This is what they chopped off, like, last year before our second leg of the Dreams in Gold Tour. 

JOSH: (growing defensive of his brother) Where did you get that from?

NARDWUAR: What was the reason for the big chop? 

JAKE: I could have sworn my hairdresser said she was going to donate that. 

NARDWUAR: Oh, she did. 

JAKE: I’m sorry, what? 

SAM bounds into the scene in front of the camera, looking energetic. 

SAM: This is fun! Do me now! 

NARDWUAR: Sam Kiszka! Alright, Jake. Thanks and doot doola doot doo…

JAKE: Huh? 

NARDWUAR: (finishing for Jake) Doo doo! (turns to Sam) I have a question for you. 

Sam is hopping from foot to foot and clapping his hands with glee while Jake confusedly wanders off camera.

SAM: Fire away! 

NARDWUAR: Your aunt works at State Farm in Chicago. 

DANNY: (offscreen) That’s not a question. 

JOSH: How could you possibly know that? 

NARDWUAR: Have you ever had to file a claim with her? 

SAM: Well, actually one time…

JOSH: Ssh! Don’t tell him anything. 

NARDWUAR: (entirely unbothered) I have a gift you might like, Sam! 

SAM: Oh my god! You guys aren’t gonna believe this. It’s my birth certificate! 

JOSH: What kind of interviewer are you?? 

NARDWUAR: I’m just a fan, guys, just a fan. I love your music! 

Sam’s phone rings. 

SAM: Whoops, sorry. I know this is unprofessional but, one sec. I gotta take this. 

Instead of going off camera to answer the phone in private like a normal person, Sam answers the phone and puts it on speaker. 

SAM (continued): Y’ello? 

KAREN: (obviously shaken) Sam? 

SAM: Hey Mom, what’s up? 

KAREN: Are you boys alright? 

Josh grabs the phone from Sam. 

JOSH: Mom? What’s going on? 

KAREN: Someone broke into our house while your dad and I were on our trip. We’re worried it might have been a stalker since they took a lot of your possessions and some important documents. 

JOSH: Oh my god, are you okay? 

KAREN: Fine, just a bit shaken up. But, I’m so sorry, they stole Sammy’s birth certificate. 

Sam calls into the phone over Josh’s shoulder.

SAM: Don’t worry about it, Mom! I just got it gifted back to me! 

Josh hands Sam his phone and rushes away. 

JOSH: (screaming offscreen) RICHARD! WE NEED BACKUP!

KAREN: I’m gonna have to call my sister to file a claim. They broke a crazy amount of our windows. Like, way more than they needed to. What a headache.

DANNY: (to Nardwuar) You have a lot of explaining to do. 

NARDWUAR: I’ve got a gift for you, Daniel! 

Nardwuar pulls out a pack of old Beatles cards. 

DANNY: I don’t want it. 

NARDWUAR: It’s a pack of 1964 Beatles collector’s cards, in mint condition! 

DANNY: Wait, I do want it. 

Danny takes the cards from Nardwuar and looks at them with delight. 

NARDWUAR: You’re a big fan of the Beatles, right? 

DANNY: Oh yeah, I always have been.

JAKE: You’re not seriously continuing this interview. 

DANNY: (while opening and flipping through the pack of cards) I mean, this is a pretty cool gift. 

JAKE: (evidently at his wit’s end) This guy 100% broke into my family’s house, and he for sure did the same to your parents. 

NARDWUAR: Would you say there was a specific Beatles album that most inspired you? 

DANNY: Definitely Rubber Soul. I loved hearing them try folk. 

Jake throws up his hands in exasperation. 

DANNY: Norwegian Wood genuinely changed my life. 

NARDWUAR: In what way? 

JAKE: Nope, we’re not doing this anymore. 

Jake thrusts his finger up into Nardwuar’s face. 

JAKE (continued): What else did you take from us, you son of a bitch? 

NARDWUAR: Does it count as “taking” if I give it back to you? 

JAKE: Yes! 

NARDWUAR: I’d beg to differ. 

DANNY: (looking through his cards) Woah! I’ve never seen this photo of Ringo Starr before! 

Josh comes rushing back to the scene with their bodyguard and pal, RICHARD. 

RICHARD: (scanning around on full alert) Where is he? 

JOSH: (shrill, pointing at Nardwuar) There! 

Nardwuar simply grins at Richard. 

NARDWUAR: Can you tell me about Grubbyknot? 

Richard is obviously thrown off, and he lets down his guard. 

RICHARD: Huh? Grubbyknot? That was my metal band in high school. But we only played like two shows. One was in my parent’s garage. 

JOSH: Don’t let him get into your head, Richard! You’re our big guns, we can’t lose you! 

SAM: Do you have another gift for me, Nardwuar? 

Nardwuar stares at Sam, entirely expressionless. 

NARDWUAR: No, I don’t. Doot doola doot doo…

SAM: Doo-doo? 

Upon Sam’s words, he vanishes into thin air. Jake is so terrified, he falls to the ground and cowers on the floor. 

JAKE: Jesus Christ! 

NARDWUAR: I usually like to speak with only 1-2 people at a time on camera. It’s getting a little bit too crowded for me right now. 

Nardwuar looks at Danny, whose attention is finally away from his cards, and is gawking at the empty space where Sam was just standing. 

NARDWUAR: (continued, making eye contact with Danny) Doot doola doot doo…

Danny stares back at Nardwuar in horror, his mouth sealed shut. Nardwuar sings the little tune again, holding his microphone up to Danny to finish it. 

JAKE: (cutting in) Doo doo! (beat) Fuck! 

Jake disappears. 

JOSH: (explaining to Richard and Danny) He has this condition where he can’t handle hearing an unfinished tune. Poor guy has a curse.

NARDWUAR: Just one more to go. 

Nardwuar focuses his attention back to Danny. 

DANNY: Where did you send them? 

NARDWUAR: To another place. 

DANNY: Super helpful, thanks. 

NARDWUAR: Don’t mention it. 

DANNY: Are they still alive? 

NARDWUAR: I can’t see why not. I’m a fan! I wouldn’t hurt you guys. 

Danny sighs. 

DANNY: Okay. Send me away so I can do some damage control. 

RICHARD: No! 

NARDWUAR: Doot doola doot doo…

DANNY: (unenthused, clapping his hands on the beat) Doo doo.

Danny is gone. 

RICHARD: My boss is gonna kill me. 

JOSH: I’m pretty sure I’m your boss. 

Richard widens his eyes and holds his hands up in a defensive position, backing slowly away from Josh. 

JOSH (continued): Oh, come on. I’m not gonna hurt you, Richard. 

RICHARD: You did dump an entire bag of flour over my head that one time. And kicked that giant chocolate bar in my hands. And swung a folding chair at me backstage. 

JOSH: All tiny, insignificant hiccups.

NARDWUAR: Josh, you’re gonna love this next thing that I’ve got for you. 

JOSH: Please, no. 

Nardwuar hands Josh a Scooby Doo plushie. 

NARDWUAR: Tell me what that is. 

Josh studies the stuffed animal, trying to discern how it has any relevance to him. 

JOSH: Scooby Doo? 

NARDUWAR: What was that second word?

JOSH: Doo?

NARDWUAR: Wait. Say it again? (under his breath) Doot doola doot doo…

JOSH: Doo? 

Nardwuar taps on his ear, signaling that he didn’t hear Josh. Josh huffs and rolls his eyes. 

JOSH (continued, enunciating maybe a little bit too much): Doo! 

Josh disappears. 

NARDWUAR: Well, this has been fun. Keep on rockin’ in the free world and doot doola doot doo…

It’s silent around him since there’s no one there to finish his jingle. Nardwuar continues to grin wider and wider until he’s nearing uncomfortably close to uncanny valley. 

The scene shifts to a confusing plane seemingly everywhere and nowhere at once. A pattern reminiscent of Nardwuar’s red and green plaid Tammy cap stretches from the floor to the sky. Josh and Richard appear in the mysterious space, Josh screaming with terror. 

JAKE: Hey. 

DANNY: Nice of you to join us. 

It takes a while for Josh to collect himself but, when he does, he notices Jake and Danny standing in front of him. 

JOSH: Where’s Sammy? 

DANNY: He went to take a piss. 

RICHARD: Hey, wait, I didn’t say the doo doo thing. Why am I here? 

Josh shrugs. 

JOSH: We must be a package deal or something. 

RICHARD: That’s wildly unfair. 

SAM: (off in the distance) Woah, I had a lot more in my bladder than I thought. I wouldn’t come over here if I were you, guys. I can cross “building a manmade lake” off my bucket list.

JAKE: God, I need to get out of here. 

DANNY: And how are we gonna do that, Jake? 

Jake has no clue. He’s frankly dumbfounded. 

The scene jumps back to Nardwuar, still in front of the records. He seems unaware that the camera is still rolling. 

NARDWUAR: (to someone offscreen) Yeah, yeah. They should be gone for good. Yup. The plaid void, where I sent Dave Rowntree. We should be good to steal their identities now. God knows we’ve done enough research. 

Back in the plaid void. 

DANNY: Holy shit, is that Dave Rowntree?

RICHARD: The guy from Blur? 

DAVE ROWNTREE: CURSE YE FOUL BEAST, NARDWUAR! 

Fin.  

Note: The names/facts listed in the interview within this fic are all entirely fictitious. I'm not about to start leaking private and personal information about the guys.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

This day in history

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me WEDNESDAY (Apr 11) at UCLA, then Chicago (Apr 17), Torino (Apr 21) Marin County (Apr 27), Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!

#20yrsago Report from the spam/anti-spam summit https://web.archive.org/web/20040426071527/http://www.guardian.co.uk/online/spam/story/0,13427,1187654,00.html

#20yrsago Broadcast Treaty threatens the whole world with super-duper DMCA https://web.archive.org/web/20040427223711/http://www.corante.com/importance/archives/002925.html

#20yrsago John Gilmore on Gmail’s terms-of-service https://craphound.com/gilmoreongmail.html

#15yrsago U2’s manager wants the power to cut off your Internet connection https://memex.craphound.com/2009/04/08/u2s-manager-wants-the-power-to-cut-off-your-internet-connection/

#15yrsago Sustainable Energy Without the Hot Air: the Freakonomics of conservation, climate and energy https://memex.craphound.com/2009/04/08/sustainable-energy-without-the-hot-air-the-freakonomics-of-conservation-climate-and-energy/ #15yrsago What you should be afraid of instead of terrorists https://web.archive.org/web/20090327073459/https://www.counterpunch.org/goekler03242009.html

#15yrsago Obama DOJ invents radical authoritarian theory to defend Bush administration’s warrantless wiretapping https://www.salon.com/2007/08/01/obama/

#15yrsago London cop’s unprovoked attack on G20 bystander who then has fatal heart attack https://www.theguardian.com/uk/2009/apr/07/video-g20-police-assault

#10yrsago EU’s highest court strikes down mass surveillance under the Data Retention Directive https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2014/04/data-retention-violates-human-rights-says-eus-highest-court

#10yrsago Online test-proctoring: educational spyware that lets third parties secretly watch and listen to you through your computer https://web.archive.org/web/20140412142717/http://spartandaily.com/119401/online-proctoring-raises-privacy-concerns

#10yrsago My daughter Poesy reviews Hilda and the Black Hound https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2lVWEiMbx_E

#5yrsago The BLM’s Burning Man environmental impact statement is terrible, calls for drug searches, dumpsters, and a 19,000,000lb concrete wall https://memex.craphound.com/2019/04/07/the-blms-burning-man-environmental-impact-statement-is-terrible-calls-for-drug-searches-dumpsters-and-a-19000000lb-concrete-wall/

#5yrsago China’s toxic livestreaming culture: the vicarious lives of angry, alienated, uneducated rural gamers https://www.sixthtone.com/news/1003642

#5yrsago The two hidden intellectual moves behind the “progressive” argument against free college https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/2019/04/05/pete-buttigieg-argues-against-free-college-this-is-why-progressives-cant-agree-about-subsidizing-tuition/

#5yrsago Pledge: I will not participate in any event organized by or including institutions that employ Kirstjen Nielsen https://memex.craphound.com/2019/04/08/pledge-i-will-not-participate-in-any-event-organized-by-or-including-institutions-that-employ-kirstjen-nielsen/

#5yrsago Most browsers — except Firefox and Brave — are eliminating the option to turn off surveilling “hyperlink auditing” https://www.bleepingcomputer.com/news/software/major-browsers-to-prevent-disabling-of-click-tracking-privacy-risk/

#1yrago Everything advertised on social media is overpriced junk https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/08/late-stage-sea-monkeys/#jeremys-razors

[stereax]

What’s up with the Canucks? I know their cap situation has historically been tight - do you think it got better this offseason?

The cap situation is the LEAST of the Canucks' worries, honestly. That whole team is a dumpster fire.

More under the cut. Pardon the delay in getting this out, but this is a long one!

So first off, the cap situation is bad. It honestly looks better than it is, mostly because of the LTIR. Plus, there's a ton of players whose contracts are expiring next offseason, most notable of which are Pettersson and Beauvillier that the Nucks really need to keep. The main problem is, management keeps swinging at bad players and overpaying them, then floundering on contracts for good players.

So, uh, that Bo Horvat trade, huh? Let's start with that. You signed JT Miller, a 30 year old, to a 7 year extension that would end when he's 37, for $8m a year with NMCs for the first few years and M-NTCs for the rest, going off a career year that he regressed from (predictably). This is a guy who we know has some character issues as well (see: him screaming at Collin Delia, his goalie teammate, for being unsure whether to leave the crease). And you traded your captain away to make the cap work for him? What did you even get for Horvat anyway? Beauvillier, Raty, and a top-12 protected first? Why didn't you trade Miller instead?

Speaking of a swing and a mess, Oliver Ekman-Larsson. Got signed to an 8x8.25, got traded from Arizona to Vancouver, and... got bought out. Now they're gonna have to deal with that on their books for eight whole years. Just another Benning-era flop. I guess it's still better than paying him for that amount, though.

They did pick up some guys, though, with the cap space they acquired - Teddy Blueger, Pius Suter, Carson Soucy. Oh, and extended Kuzmenko. But none of them move the needle enough. None of those players are going to propel this frankly lost team into the playoffs.

Now let's look at the LTIR list, or should I say LTIRetirement list. We've got Tucker Poolman, who played a total of three games last year and promptly disappeared off the map (and NOBODY knows what's wrong with him - and I asked! - but it's speculated to be concussion-related and possibly career-ending, and migraines - yep, like Nolan Patrick migraines - might be a part of it too). And Tanner Pearson. Oh, Tanner Pearson. Tanner Pearson had a hand injury in November, immediately got surgery, and the Canucks said he'd be out 4 to 6 weeks. Fast forward to January 12, Pearson is undergoing his third surgery and is not expected to return for the season. When Quinn Hughes is asked about this, he says "it wasn't handled right," essentially blowing a whistle to point to some form of incompetence from either the Canucks management, their doctors, or both. The Canucks launch an internal investigation and clear themselves; the NHLPA is also reportedly looking into it. Currently, it's been reported that Pearson has undergone 6-7 surgeries on the hand in question (possibly due to infection) and is working to regain quality of life. Yikes. Here's The Hockey Guy (Shannon), a known Canucks fan, lamenting this:

Okay, let's move on from that depressing stuff with a Stereax story. See, one of my very first hockey memories was seeing Thatcher Demko clutch up for the Canucks in the 2020 playoffs against the Golden Knights. That man was ice cold. I was telling myself "no WAY he doesn't become a star tendie". And then... Vancouver broke him. Oops, I think we're back in depression territory. But the stats don't lie - he went from 64 games (33-22-7) played last year with a .915 save percentage to 32 games (14-14-4) played and a .901. Oh, and he got injured with a lower-body injury (LBI) on December 1, was out "6 weeks" apparently got reinjured in training February 17, and was out another 10 days? Yeah. I mean, the defensive structure in front of him being Quinn Hughes Playing 30 Minutes a Night doesn't help. Plus the whole botching injuries? Not a good look for the Canucks organization. Hell, players could have been knowingly playing injured or hiding injuries because they didn't want to deal with that shitshow.

Speaking of the shitshow, guess whose contract is up soon? That's right: Elias Pettersson is an RFA after 23-24! Think he's going to sign a long-term deal with this joke of a franchise? Or do you think he's going to pull a Matthew Tkachuk and essentially demand to be sign-and-traded? I wouldn't blame him if it's the latter, especially considering the lack of, well, anything the Canucks have.

First off, they have no prospects. Their farm system is nonexistent. They have one of the worst prospect pools in the NHL. And when they're not busy trading away their picks to acquire aging veterans, they're drafting badly. This is an old article, but it really, really drives the point home.

Okay, but like, the Pens and Bruins and Avs and Lightning have no prospect pools and they're still good, right? Well, yes, but actually no. See, the reason those teams have no prospects is because they're pushing all in for more Cup runs with their current cores. The Bruins traded away the future for one last Cup run in 2023. The Pens are close to doing the same for 2024. Ditto the Avs and Lightning. The Canucks are not these teams. Simply put, they're just not competitive. Even if they somehow eke out a wildcard next year (doubtful, given Vegas, Edmonton, LA, and Seattle are all also in the Pacific, but maybe it goes 5/3 and the Nucks get WC2), they lack the depth, defense, goaltending, and honestly offense too to make a deep run. That team is fundamentally flawed at its very core. It needs to rebuild, and rebuild properly this time. But the owners won't allow it.

Speaking of owners, the Canucks' owner, Francesco Aquilini, is a REAL piece of shit. Not only does he refuse to rebuild, he's as crooked of a "businessman" as you'll meet, routinely stiffing workers out of wages, raising rents to exorbitant levels (creating homeless seniors), causing the death of children due to negligence, and more. Wanna hear about the child abuse allegations?

And if none of this was bad enough, look at how they treated Bruce Boudreau. The Canucks were supposed to can him for months in favor of Rick Tocchet due to bad results, but left him to flounder like a sitting duck. Media was asking him what were his future plans for the team when he basically had the pink slip in his hands. Even if Bruce was trying to be a good sport about it, cracking jokes ("See you tomorrow - I hope"), this is no goddamn way to treat your coach. If you're going to fire the man, fire him and move on. (At least the fans understood what they were losing...) And of course this impacted the players down the final stretch of Boudreau's tenure - aware every day that your coach is going to be fired but not knowing when? That'll do a mental number on any team. Christ...

TL;DR - The Canucks are so fucked up that the cap isn't even their biggest issue. They're managing that okay enough, I guess, but they're mismanaging the team to hell and back so even good cap maneuvering means nothing.

If you want to know more, I recommend you watch the UrinatingTree videos on the Nucks. I took most of the main ideas of this from there. And ask your local Canucks fan friend if they need any support, I think they'll appreciate it. :)

[blanketforcas]

One thing about me I WILL ravenge through my bestie's blog like it's a closet and pull out the cockles pants and put them on and jump around in them in front of a big window that is the Tumblr dashboard for everyone to see. I will then make homoerotic comments about said cockles pants (jeans from the Vancouver apartment jungeon) before I pull them off, wash them, and gently put them deep back into the closet. I will also make comments @ Mr Bob Wess to get an analysis of said closet. Then I will look at the dumpster that is my own blog and carry on to reblog Destiel art. Until like. A day later

- Val

aldjsks not the vancouver apartment jungeon 😭😂😂

and i love you for this.

bob wess if you're reading this, we are still awaiting your comments

[incarnateirony]

If I had to guess Dean is learning a lot but in terms of Jensen at the convention in Vancouver my takeaway is there’s what he would have done then and there vs what IS going to/already is happening now in the winchesters (you don’t have to publish this I just needed to articulate best I can)

yeah i repeat, there's a reason he hyperfixated on segregating the Then vs Now, and everything else is antis and narcissistic bitters spinning nonsense for noise. he explained the Then, which was still evocative on how deeply he already cared and thought then. Now, we're in the Now, and he mysteriously didn't clarify on what the point of view from The Next Shot was any more than his answer about what he'd want to do for the spn finale. "Well I can tell you what we were GOING to do." because he knows what he wanted to do to end the show and that's why he's fucking making this, blazing basket of deancas included.

jensen breaking during the confession is WHY the US got ADR, WHY brazil leaked the Me Too which was still half audible on jensen's hot mic under birds, WHY latam dubbed it like that and they insisted it was the right translation because it was on the transcript even without room for it once they translated it. This shit is why. Jensen literally fuckin 404 errored and as we in the dumpster all know, you never come back from that

[empresstrash-art]

Glass Ceiling Disco

Digital Mixed Media Glitch. Original .png submitted and not accepted to Pussy Riot x SaveARTSpace billboard campaign for 2022. Glitched and modified to fit your television screen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Since it's creation, Glass Ceiling Disco has been exhibited internationally at SXSW, @TEDTalks, NFT NYC, Searchlight Atelier, multiple virtual and in person galleries and Fylthy Trash Art Exhibit in Los Angeles. The day it was at TED talks in Vancouver funnily enough, it was in LA also projected in an alley by a dumpster in LA to actualize the idea of "Empress Trash" on a international scale.

Glass Ceiling Disco is a vision of how crypto and nfts will help shatter the glass ceiling that many traditional markets and institutions have in place for women, PoC, LGBTQ and other marginalized populations. This piece I purposefully priced higher as part of the magic of it, because this piece is about my hopes of the crypto art spaces future in shattering glass ceilings of traditional art markets, not just for myself, but for other women and LGBTQ+ and trash/glitch/experimental art creators. It depicts my doc martens dancing on a bed of broken glass, which is what I see as the broken glass ceiling.

These docs I wear to every event I go to because they help me feel grounded and safe surrounded by strangers. As a survivor of childhood and domestic abuse, any tool to feel a little safer navigating the world helps, and these docs are like a safety blanket for me.

Further I chose the energy of joy to be in the piece, instead of critiquing how markets are still currently imbalanced for women artists as a whole, because it is the joy I am trying to manifest. The bright colors are the celebration and the glitch animation is the disruption which is needed of the systems for equity to happen.

While this work is still available for purchase, the message and ethos was heard and resonated instigating change for myself, the crypto art systems and focus, and beyond in ways I still can not comprehend. These two boots carried me from a relatively obscure underground artist to international recognition. I wonder where else these boots will lead me?

Some day we will dance on the glass to celebrate hearing the crunch under our feet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Media About The Piece: Fylthy Trash where it was exhibited next to ROBNESS, Max Capacity, the Perfesser, Eric Rhodes, and a multitude of other Trash Artists.

Ted Conference where it was exhibited along with Beeple, Fewocious, Foodmasku and select others at the event to showcase artists in crypto.

NFTNYC showcasing emerging talent.

SXSW showcased through KnownOrigin for a Women's art exhbition.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This work is available here on KnownOrigin:

[kissingdeadgirls]

SPIN IT UP:

LANA DEL REY, ULTRAVIOLENCE, 2014

What a F’n voice!

I'm a big Lana Del Rey fan. She's a pure talent, a beautiful woman as well . … I suspect she’d be a challenging woman to date, the kind of chick who might set all your clothes ablaze in a dumpster fire at the drop of a hat. Renée lived in Queens, an apartment in Astoria, when we first started dating, and we'd often spend our off days there. She introduced me to Del Rey's 2012 record Born to Die, which we used to listen to amidst the backdrop of beautiful New York City. Born to Die is kind of set in NYC, and anytime I hear a track from it I'm transported back to that time and place. My favorite Lana album, however, is Ultraviolence, not just because of my affinity for barbwire. This album is different from Born to Die in that its "setting" is the West Coast, as embodied by the track "West Coast" obviously. "Brooklyn Baby" a great song, might be the exception here, but this album feels distinctly West Coast to me, whatever that means. There's also a song called "Florida Kilos, so maybe my whole theory is off base. (Seriously, why did you buy this book? I clearly don't know what the hell I'm talking about.)

I first listened to this album while shooting a movie in Vancouver and when hear it now it always takes me back to that time and place, walking along the water with Renée, hiking the Grouse Grind and having a beer on the mountaintop, getting some Japadog (amazing Asian-fusion hot dog carts, if you ever see one, stop!).

Sit on your porch with some sangria, light some candles, and take a bath with a glass of wine, or take a nice walk through the park while you listen to the first five tacks of Ulraviolence. Let me know how you feel afterward. For me, this abums reling and inspiring. I don't light candies or dink wine, but I’m all about an Epsom salts bath (GET FUCKED! it’s a legitimate therapy tool! it’s not like I use bubble bath and shit).

[disposalqueen]

We would like to thank all of our partners and clients for believing in us. We promise to always provide you with excellent waste disposal services and we look forward to maintaining this strong, professional relationship in 2023, will turn out to be just as great as it was this year.

Wishing you and your family a happy, safe, and healthy 2023. Happy New Year

[annapolisrose]

Dumpsters

[kguhle]

it’s not even that i want bedard far away from vancouver because i’m a habs fan, but that organization is literally a dumpster fire and there’s no way he won’t be run out of the city lmao

[contractexo]

Gravel Sand And Soil Sales | Exocontract.com

Vancouver Gravel,Sand and Soil Sales: Are you in need? No need to search any further than Exocontract.com! In the Burnaby, Abbotsford, Chilliwack, and Richmond regions of British Columbia, we are the premier waste management company for dumpster rentals, snow removal, landfill transportation, and demolition. Immediately reserve your appointment.

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[mikfos]

I stole my best friends boyfriend

On being a bad friend, moving to America, and having a lot of sex

Growing up in Canada was wholesome. I was an innocent tween who lived in a house three minutes away from Grouse Mountain. There was a hidden path in my backyard that led directly to a forest- some scenes from New Moon were filmed there. I’d venture out after school or on weekends, and nonchalantly saunter around the woods before miraculously arriving at the place I knew I was headed towards. The tree was charred, barely standing, hollowed out on the inside from a lightning strike that had hit it years before. If I crawled into this tiny space off the side, I could sit in it and look up to the surrounding, lush, green trees, those which billowed over my near dead comfort space.

My priorities consisted of meeting up with my friends on club penguin and running a Klaine blog on tumblr. I did musical theatre and choir, I was on a competitive swim team and spent weekends snowboarding. It was that kind of childhood that kids now don’t really get to have. There was no tiktok or instagram, no pressure to dress a certain way. Those years in Vancouver were probably the most content of my childhood. Things changed when I moved to Oregon a few months after turning 13.

I was awed at as an ‘international’ student even though Vancouver was only 300 miles away. I remember my school urging me to read my blog posts to classes because I was kind of popping off on the internet at that time. I was a ‘successful child blogger’. A few months into my American teenage life, a girl from my school started a fan account for me. It was such a whirlwind. No one in Canada cared about who I was, and I frolicked around like weird, endearing child I was. Within days of starting middle school, it was all eyes on me. That, and I was exposed to things that stripped me of my innocence immediately.

My primary school in Vancouver was very tame, very granola. Before moving to America, the most extreme thing I’d done was hide behind the dumpsters at recess with my friends, whisper fuck, shit, and cunt, and then lose my mind giggling because we were cursing. At my new school in Portland, kids would walk through the halls reeking of weed. This one kid showed me a pipe on my first or second day, and it was such a shock to me. I got invited to hang with kids by the river and it would just be them doing drugs. There was ‘slap ass Fridays’, which is what it sounds like. I’d had silly little boyfriends in Canada at that point but it was more like, we would message on kik and plan to hug at recess the next day. Within 6 months of moving to Portland, I’d both had my first kiss, and had given my first blowjob.

I didn’t handle the new girl attention well. I performed as well as I could, but internally I was stubbing my toe through conversations not knowing the right thing to say, not having a filter. After school each day, I’d mull over each tiny social interaction, wondering where I was going wrong, why I felt so misplaced and misaligned with my peers. 

Social interactions became a frightening and constant game. Even though this one was entirely new and foreign, and I didn’t know the rules, I’ve never been a person to concede. I could restart my trials on the ‘right’ ways to act when developing relationships with new people once I’d turned someone off.

Of course at the time I’d blame it on the other kids for not getting me- but no one stuck around. People seemed to be off-put by me. I made a couple friends, dated some guys, but none of it was substantial and I felt constantly insecure. The fear was either that they were with me because I was an easy, desperate option, or that I had intriguing labels placed on my person, which might make them seem cool for associating with me. I didn’t feel like anyone saw me as a real person, let alone cared what I had to say.

This was the beginning of the freak years, where I was an insane person to know or interact with, beginning age 13, and finishing around age 21.

In eighth grade, there was a new girl at my school. Eliza got the me six months prior treatment. She was pretty and got a lot of attention and we became fast friends. Our humor was entirely compatible. I’d spill the wackiest things in my brain and she seemed to understand entirely. She would say the weirdest shit too and it made perfect sense. We were made of the same stuff- pretty and popular on the outside, strange and turbulent on the inside.

For all the self doubt and shame I had from knowing I was a difficult pill to swallow, she made me feel seen and important. It’s like our brains were operating at the exact same frequency, our emotions about the world in perfect sync. She was the first real best friend I’ve ever had. Thirteen years of feeling like I had to say the right thing so that people would like me- I could say the wrong thing, and she’d still love me anyways. That’s the kind of soul stuff I wasn’t getting with peers, I wasn’t getting at home.

She taught me for the first time what it meant to find life more enjoyable when you experience it with someone. One time we found a pack of cigarettes on the ground and chain smoked them- then immediately rode the screaming eagle at Oaks park two times in a row just because we were 13 and we could. We wore each other’s clothes, we ate dinner with each other’s families, we prank called people, we thought all the same guys were cute, we loved listening to Ariana Grande and Kacey Musgraves and watching Dance Moms together. We sang together and recorded covers of Bon Iver songs and put them on Youtube. I hadn’t really sang at all since moving to the states.

Eliza had come to my middle school because of an incident that happened at her smaller, private Catholic school. Her involvement in that world introduced me to a whole new set of kids- I was only familiar with the public middle school population from my school, but once I became friends with Eliza, I met the more posh, more rich, more catholic-guilt ridden kids in my neighborhood. I ended up going to the catholic all girls private high school and Eliza went our neighborhoods public high school, so in a way we switched places. 

She represented who I wanted to be, who I hoped I was. I was in an entirely unfamiliar landscape, had a new persona attached to me as some clouted up Canadian girl, even though that felt fraudulent and misplaced. She had to switch schools and still kept her head up. I knew what she was struggling with, but at school she was just likable and a cool girl. Beautiful and talented, strong. So fun to be around, finding the humor in everything.

So when high school came around and she began doing things like smoking weed, hanging with ‘weird girls’, I began to judge her. And then we stopped hanging as much. It’s funny I was being so critical of her smoking weed, while I was being outrageously promiscuous, because those things are in similar camps of things kids do which are intended for adults.

I’d look at her social media posts and experience tremendous loss, though at the time it felt something like pity and confusion. When did that stop, that need to be together? There was no ending or fight, there was simply one day we were best friends, and the next day we weren’t. Could circumstances really be so irrevocable- we went to different schools and made different friends, so our friendship wasn’t compatible anymore? Perhaps she never felt as connected as I did, and she was glad to be rid of me. Perhaps I was too afraid to maintain something real because it would prevent me from distracting from the swelling frenzy inside. 

You know when someone asks you what’s your biggest regret in life? 

There was this guy. He was in that rich kid catholic school world that Eliza had always been in, so she introduced us at some point. Andrew lived two blocks away from me and was cute and funny and popular. He wore Golf Wang and rode around on a skateboard. As far as I was concerned, he was the most dripped out boy in all of Southeast Portland.

Andrew had a will they won’t they with Eliza. He was always a guy she spoke about with a reverence. There were the guys she didn’t like, and the guys she liked. Andrew was the main one. 

So I respected it. I talked to her about him throughout our friendship, even though it was harder once I’d met the guy. I completely understood why she was so down bad. He was the best my neighborhood had to offer for potential crushes. He was that guy. My two blocks away neighbor, and I ended up going to an all girls school. Similarly to my friendship with Eliza, I developed a friendship with Andrew that just made sense. We shared that nonsensical, unsettling sense of humor and quirkiness that you really only find in other neurodivergent people.

Will they won’t they- they did. Eliza loved Andrew, like really loved him. He was her first love. They didn’t just casually date. I knew this, and I was supportive of them. But I don’t remember being around it that much because it happened and ended by the time we were at different high schools.

I was still friendly with Eliza. We saw each other around, we’d spend afternoons together in our neighborhood with other kids, but my social world had expanded greatly into my freshman year. The two of us never had some inexplicable ending to our friendship, we just weren’t in the same spaces anymore. That once undeniable, 24/7 bond we had at all times had been severed.

In the last month of my freshman year, I visited my old friends in Vancouver. We all went to a party and got drunk and I was transported back in time, though this time with my newly acquired American rebelliousness. Hilariously, much of the trip was spent going to second base with one of my own will they wont theys. I’d briefly dated him in grade seven, after he played Grampa Joe opposite my Charlie Bucket in our school’s production of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. Less hilariously, he had also dated my best friend from Canada, whom I was staying with. I was such a mess.

I walked through my old neighborhood when I visited, but I didn’t go to my backyard forest. When I was a kid, sitting in that tree, most of the time inside it was spent picking at the pieces of bark inside it. I’d rub the wood between my fingers and they’d be dyed by the soot from the charred wood. I soiled a lot of my clothes that way.. wiping my fingers on my pants or my shirt.

The day I was meant to leave, I got lunch at White Spot with aforementioned Canadian best friend, Sexy Grampa Joe, and another one of our friends. Then we all hung out in a playground while I waited for my step dad to pick me up. Grampa Joe and I peeled off from the others, unable to keep our hands off each other. We’d be making out and hiding in one of those slides or platforms, and this pounding, painful reminder of time kept hitting me. I was kissing him to stop myself from crying. I didn’t want to go back to Portland. I liked Vancouver better, I wanted to be there with my old friends. I was hypothesizing how possible it would be to date Grampa Joe long distance, when I could visit again, or if I could convince my parents to move back. I cried on the way home.

Then it was summer, and it was back to my life in Portland. I was going to be a sophomore in the fall.

At the time I’d attributed my promiscuity to being hyper-sexual, which was true, but I was also filling my space with boys to distract from my daddy issues. My family issues in general, my confusion about who I was supposed to be. At night I’d feel so empty, so I’d watch Gossip Girl until I fell asleep to prevent myself from processing too much of it.

I made friends with groups from other schools and homie hopped in every one of them. I lost my virginity and made out with guys I knew other girls liked. There were a dozen unopened snapchats from different boys at any given moment. One in particular thought we were dating even though I was doing all these other shenanigans. I remember him telling me he was heartbroken because of my behavior (re: finding out about all the other boys). It was confusing because I couldn’t understand why he didn’t see life as fun as I did, and we barely even hung out. I couldn’t really keep track of the amount of boys I was talking to, crushing on, or hanging out with. There was a new #1 every week.

It was summer 2014, and that was the vibe I was on. I was a tornado of chaos, I flirted with everyone, and had zero fucks to give about anything. I was listening to Flume, Lorde, and Childish Gambino. I was going out and drinking all the time, sleeping on football fields, smoking cigarettes and taking sexy pictures. I’d leave my iPad at the friends house I lied I was staying at, so my parents could track me and see I was where I said I was going to be. Then spend the night at some boys house instead, after going to a party with juniors and seniors.

Life and relationships were my playground, and I was high on playing. I saw the opportunity to flirt and dance and live in every person, in every plan, every party. Experiencing everything possible out in the world was the only way I could outweigh the hatred I felt at home.

If my behavior that summer was any indication, I wasn’t really in a place to treat myself with respect, let alone the people around me. I was wearing American Apparel babydoll dresses, smoking cigarettes and drinking bubble tea before parties at some rich kids house. Eliza was hanging with people I deemed ‘lame’, because I had become popular and self-righteous, too caught up in my own idea of what was cool, and judging her for her lifestyle choices. For all I knew, she was smoking weed and doing drugs in the forest with the randoms from her public school. I was weirded out by what I heard about her, I thought she had changed. I wasn’t a good friend anymore, too caught up in my own tornado to check in with her and connect. 

Andrew was adjacent to the things I felt I represented- he went to another catholic private school, and he embodied a truly Kyle from Ladybird vibe with a cool instagram. I’d always admired his aesthetic and how I felt I looked when we walked through our neighborhood together.

We were just friends that summer, it was entirely innocent. As we became closer, the crush was there, but I had crushes on tons of guys. I didn’t mean for it to happen. Andrew and his friends and I would walk to the store and get sodas. We’d set off sparklers in front of the mansions in our neighborhood and they’d skate away while I chased them, phone out, recording everything for Vine. I laughed so much when I was with him, and it wasn’t even about how deeply I crushed on him. I loved the convenience. We’d text to make plans, and since he lived 2 minutes away we could hang within minutes.

One day I went to Andrews house, around the end of that summer, and we watched a movie in his basement. We were lying on our stomachs, looking up at the TV. That anticipatory tension filled the air, and my body was heavy and light at the same time. I knew it was coming.

He turned his head towards me and I turned my head towards him, and we inched towards each other. Kissed. It was sweet, soft.. and then it picked up, and turned into something more passionate. A new level of kissing for me, like there was an explosion in my chest and I clung to him in the aftershock. Pure electricity hitting me in my core. Maybe it was because all summer I was hooking up with random guys because I could, and then there was this guy who I’d fantasized about for so long and genuinely liked who was kissing me like he meant it. And it was wrong.

Was Eliza my best friend at that moment in time? Not really. I still cared about her but we’d fallen out of orbit, barely seeing each other towards the end of that summer. Eliza and Andrew weren’t together anymore. I knew she thought I stole him, from things other kids said to me. We never discussed it though. I could’ve argued that wasn’t technically true, but it was the principle. I was doing something unforgivable.

He was that guy for her, I knew it. That sort of thing doesn’t change- I would know, because he was it for me too. I was actively doing something wrong, which made it that much more exciting. Doing something forbidden, and the guilt and horror mixed with the thrill and excitement. The sizzling superiority in being chosen, it was an overdose of energy.

Andrew and I had a conversation about Eliza early on. I think it was something about how she’s gone off the deep end, we can’t help her now, and we’re in such a better place in life. Lol. I remember us discussing cocaine and the possibility of her doing it, because she was friends with someone who had done cocaine. Which is why our betrayal of her was valid? I don’t remember. Something foolish like that, a copout to compensate for how forbidden it felt.

It’s absurd to reflect on this, that we were speculating and giving reasons that would justify doing it. As if it was okay to date him because she was on some sort of moral decline, despite the fact that Andrew and I were both the problem children of our respective households, and doing things that 15 year olds definitely should not have been doing.

Andrew and I were together for most of our sophomore year. I had lost my virginity to another guy earlier that summer but it was more of a half-virginity, we didn’t have complete, satisfying sex. Andrew and I were fucking. All the time. It was kinky, porn inspired, all over the place. Not a month into my relationship with him I went on birth control, and then it was a free for all. Sex with him consumed my mind, and when we weren’t physically together, I was itching to get back to him. This is probably where my sex addiction started.

I spent a good amount of time at his school watching him play basketball. He spent a good amount of time in my basement fucking me on the couch my family sat and watched TV at. His family was ultra Catholic, and when him and his church friends went to mass, I’d wait for him to get back. One time, his mother came to my house to inquire my mother about our sex life. One time, we snuck into his best friends house when no one was home to have sex in his living room because it would be funny. Everything about us was risky because we could, because we were the same brand of impulsive and deranged.

Andrew introduced me to the concept that boys could be interesting. Before him, I perceived boys my age as, at best, attractive objects I could kiss that say nothing of value. He had one of those intense personalities, someone with a million things to say, unpredictable, hilarious, raunchy and edgy, and I could be as weird as I wanted and he didn’t care. It worked for a few months, and then as it does when two unstable people are together, it turned into a clusterfuck of fighting and clinging onto a previous feeling. I couldn’t focus in class because of the ridiculous text fights we were getting into. 

When we broke up, I cried and begged him to not break up with me. I’m pretty sure I broke up with him as an impulsive, desperate test to see if he would fight for us, and then he agreed we should break up, and I backpedaled and begged him to take it back. It was so devastating for like 2 weeks. And then I heard he went and hooked up with Eliza immediately after, which I guess I deserved. 

A few months ago, I was sitting around with some friends at one of their apartments. Someone asked the room what’s your biggest regret, and the Eliza Andrew situation popped into my head, without a second thought. These friends have only known me in my adult life. I’ll tell them stories of how I used to be, but I don’t think it fully registers. I was so wildly different from how I am now, that maybe it sounds exaggerated. Now 25, I spend a majority of my nights at home in my pajamas writing, or watching TV with my friends. I’m guarded and jaded. I avoid clubs and bars, and when I go to parties, I tend to find a couch or a corner of the room and stay there.

It happened a decade ago, but it still comes up at random. It was my answer to that question months ago. Do I think it’s the most evil thing a teenage girl could’ve done? Not really, it’s the exact kind of thing that stupid kids do to each other. Yet… it’s this massive hole in my lore, a time where I did something super cruel to the one person who deserved it least. The guilt has been slowly growing since it happened and it continues to creep up on me to this day.

Why did I do to do that? Why didn’t I stop myself? These are massive question marks in my brain. It doesn’t matter that time’s gone by or that Eliza and I are still friends. I did it and I can’t shake it. It left something in me, raw and dried up. Some might say it’s my canon event.

I wish I say I’ve had such an effortless friendship since, but I haven’t. I love my friends, I feel so lucky to be surrounded by the people I am these days. Eliza, though, was the only time where it was like, 100% of everything in life was with her. Nothing has felt quite like that, quite so beautiful and fun. It could be adulthood and responsibilities getting in the way, but there was something so once in a lifetime about that kind of friendship where everything was together- getting on the bus for school, snickering in class, hanging out after school, going to outings and discussing after, sleepovers, consuming the same media, recording Youtube videos, giving each other those looks in groups, texting constantly when we weren’t together, wearing each others clothes. Singing together took such a vulnerability from me especially. There’s one song by Ariana Grande I still can’t listen to because we used to sing it all the time together, me on the guitar and her on the ukulele.

She was hurt by what I did, though she never directly confronted me. When it happened, she posted a photo on her private instagram of her and Andrew, the caption about how he was stolen from her. Years later, when she allowed me to follow it again and I stalked the old post, I found that one and sobbed my eyes out. One of those moments where you’re saying stupid stupid stupid over and over in your head.

I apologized at some point after, but we were changed. It was stilted and awkward. I still feel the urge to say I’m sorry a thousand more times. That song is still muted on spotify and seeing photos of us still hurts me. It’s a living breathing reminder of how empty and destructive I was, and what my first real friendship felt like. That was the beginning of the end of me, being a wholesome child. My uncontrollable, sexual depravity took the front seat, and joy and connection thrown out the window. I lived like that for eight years.

The emotional economy of that situation is what left me broke in the end. Real, authentic friendships are rare. Sexual relationships can be fulfilling within minutes of introduction. As an imprudent child with emotional issues, there is much less to be desired in having a long term, slowly building friendship than an instantly gratifying romance with a guy that’s proving wrong your insecurity that you’re unworthy. 

Eliza will always hold an important place in the story of my childhood. I’ll always be one of those people for her too, though in her story I’m one that hurt her, and that’s so devastating to me. I had such a good thing and ruined it. I can write this essay and talk to her about the situation years later with wisdom and maturity, but it’s not going to undo what was done, so I’ve had to accept that. I literally still tell myself, no, you were a kid, you couldn’t have known better. Something inside me is still dissapointed in myself for doing that. The fleeting months I spent with Andrew vs. with Eliza are unquantifiable, but there was no way I was going to know that as a child. That’s what I tell myself when I remember I've met interesting men since, men that are passionate and fulfilling since, but still haven’t found a friend I feel comfortable singing with.

I’d tell a younger version of myself not to have done it, to stay away from him in general, but I don’t think she would have listened. When you’re a kid, nothing is going to stop you. There is no older version of yourself inside you to show you what will happen. You have to make the mistake. And then you have to sit with it years later.