#apparently the full interview is out on monday!!

[l8tof1]

the new york mayor specifically said not to do donuts? 😅

[adverbally]

Take Me Where My Future’s Lyin’

Written for the @steddieangstyaugust prompt “Future” | wc: 731 | rated: T | cw: none | tags: job rejection, hurt/comfort, heavy author projection | title from “St. Elmo’s Fire (Man in Motion)” by John Parr

———

Steve hangs up the phone in a daze. Muscle memory takes over to lay the receiver back in its cradle. His gaze catches on the worn plastic, the kinks disrupting the cord’s neat coil.

“Hey, was that them? What’d they say?” Eddie sticks his head into the kitchen, a smile stretching his mouth wide with excitement.

The exact details of the conversation are already falling out of Steve’s memory, like water through a sieve. Are they even important, as long as the message was clear? “I didn’t get it,” Steve croaks.

Eddie freezes in the doorway. “What?”

He doesn’t think he can get any more words out, not with his throat squeezing like this, but he has to try. Eddie’s looking at him with so much worry, reaching out to comfort Steve without even knowing what happened, and it’s making Steve’s vision swim with tears. “I didn’t get the job. They’re going with someone else.”

“What the hell?!” Eddie protests. “You’ve been teaching there longer than anyone else who applied. You’re practically already the acting department head!”

“I know.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. They’ve been saying that all week, convincing themselves that Steve was the best candidate and he was sure to get the promotion. He had even believed it, after his last interview had gone so well. “I, um. They wanted someone with more leadership experience.”

Eddie’s growl of frustration isn’t directed at him, the logical side of Steve’s brain knows, but it still feels like it is. Probably because Steve is so frustrated with himself. His principal had personally encouraged him to throw his hat in the ring, telling him how proud he was of Steve for taking on extra responsibilities for the department and staying on top of everything despite the chaos of testing season. Apparently, that hadn’t been enough.

“You’re the best teacher in that whole damn school, they’re idiots if they think Linda Smith is going to do a better job than you,” Eddie is ranting indignantly.

Steve barely hears him. He can’t stop replaying the phone call in his mind, how Principal Lane had wanted to tell Steve about his rejection personally, before he could hear it through the grapevine. How he had promised Steve that he would find another way to help him advance, send him to training or some other bullshit professional development to put on his resume. How impressed the whole interview committee had been with his answers and his performance.

Just not impressed enough.

The disappointment sits like a rock in Steve’s gut. He‘ll have to go back to work on Monday, where every other second grade teacher will know that he applied and wasn’t good enough, and he’ll smile and shake Linda’s hand and congratulate her on getting the job he wanted. Hell, he’ll probably even have to help train her.

“Stevie?”

Eddie is blurry when Steve looks up at him, but he can make out enough to see his outstretched arms, waiting to pull Steve into his embrace. When Steve’s face crumples, Eddie is already hugging him close, kissing his temple.

“I know it’s just a job but I really wanted it,” Steve tells Eddie’s collarbone. His shirt smells so good, and he doesn’t want to move away to talk or breathe or let Eddie see him cry.

“I know, baby,” Eddie agrees. He does know; he’s been there for all the excited planning, helping Steve brainstorm ideas for how to spend his impending pay raise, looking at houses for sale and thinking about home improvement projects and creating an itinerary for a trip to visit Robin.

Steve shouldn’t have gotten so invested, no matter how optimistic he’d been about his chances. He had seen their future, with a big house full of kids and a job he was really good at and Eddie, loving him and believing in him, and he’d been ready for it. Now that door has closed and it hurts all the more since he’d gotten his hopes up.

“There will be other jobs,” Eddie murmurs to him. “We’ll get there eventually.”

“Yeah,” Steve sniffs against Eddie’s chest.

“In the meantime, we can have ice cream for dinner and talk shit about Linda.”

Steve’s laugh is wet but sincere. Whatever their future holds, he thinks he can handle it as long as Eddie is still there to figure it out with him.

[autistpride]

Autism Acceptance

Prompt 11: Coffee shop AU

Wordcount: 1000

@wolfstarmicrofic

Remus had trouble finding work. He put in applications everywhere, for any position, because he was desperate. Despite passing all his courses and gaining the required GCSE’s, he bombed his interviews. So he had told his parents that he would take a gap year instead and get some work experience. Only no one called him for an interview and the few that had, turned him away within minutes.

After nearly two months, Remus finally came clean to his parents about his lack of employment. His mum had to hold his dad back from giving a few of the places he applied a piece of his mind. Never one to allow Remus to give up, Lyall decided he would open up his own coffee shop and hire Remus as an employee.

Everything moved quickly and soon The Full Moon Cafe opened its doors. A small quaint little hole in the wall shop that mixed coffee, library, and children’s playground together. One corner of the shop held a little indoor climbing structure, slide, and foam floors for children. The other two walls were covered floor to ceiling in books that people donated. The last wall housed the single unisex toilet and the tiny kitchenette space. It also had the counter and display case that showed off the day’s delicious baked goods that his mum made fresh every morning. 

It took Remus some time to get used to the position and how to make all the different drinks, but everyone was patient with him. By the time his gap year was over, Remus was a pro and asked to stay on instead of trying for university again. He had learned all the regulars names, memorised their orders, and even went so far as to have them ready for when they walked in. Remus hadn’t encountered a rude customer or a confusing order once, that could also have to do with the fact that it was a fairly small town and everyone knew everyone. No one came into the cafe that didn’t know Remus was autistic, at least not until Sirius Black. 

The bell dinged over the cafe door and the prettiest guy Remus had ever seen walked in one after the other. Remus had never seen anyone like them before. They were total opposites yet so oddly the same.

“I’ll have an iced Ristretto, ten shot, venti with breve. five pumps vanilla, seven pumps caramel, and four Splenda poured not shaken, but placed into a trenta cup so it doesn’t splash out the top.”

The look on Remus’ face must have betrayed him because the man looked at Remus and immediately changed his order. “On second thought, I’ll just have a tea.”

Remus nodded and rang the man up, asking for his name. 

“Sirius. Yes I am serious. Sirius, like the star,” the man said while pulling his hair back into a scrunchie he apparently kept in his pocket.

Remus wrote the name on the cup and poured the hot water into it, placing the loose leaf tea into a disposable tea bag and setting it into the cup to steep before handing it to Sirius, the star. 

Sirius nodded his thanks and set up at a small table near the entrance. 

For the following four days later Sirius came back, once again ordering a tea and nothing more. Remus didn’t work weekends, instead his friend James took those shifts. James played football with the local club and attended courses at university during the week, so he took all the weekend shifts.

Remus couldn’t get Sirius out of his head all weekend and when he showed up for work on Monday, Sirius was there right at opening. 

Another week went by and Remus and Sirius had started to talk more, just general pleasantries and small talk. Sirius never ordered anything more than tea and sometimes a pastry. Remus knew he could make complicated orders and he knew Sirius knew after two weeks sitting in the cafe and listening to some of the complex requests from customers that came in, but Sirius never asked for his original order again. 

That third week, Remus had Sirius’ tea ready by the time he walked in every morning, not unlike the other regulars. Yet what Remus never said was that Remus practised at night after the shop closed up. He was determined to get Sirius’ original order right. It took him another week to manage it, and when he did he cheered and danced around the shop.

Monday of the fourth week, Remus handed  Sirius his order when he showed up. Sirius looked at the cup confused. 

“Remus this isn’t a tea” he said with his brows furrowed and his nose scrunched up.

Remus shook his head no with a grin, “no its not.”

Sirius took a tentative sip of the drink and his eyes widened in surprise, stormy grey meeting golden.

“You made my order.” 

Remus nodded, proud of himself.

Sirius took another drink and moaned as if he was drinking the best thing he had ever tasted.

The noise was absolutely obscene in Remus’ ears and his ears turned dark red and his cheeks flushed. 

“Remus this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. You remembered something I told you like a month ago and you, you practised this didn’t you?”

Remus simply shrugged like it was no big deal. 

Sirius set the cup down on the counter before leaning over the counter and wrapping his arms around Remus in the most awkward hug Remus had ever experienced, and he experienced a lot of awkward hugs. 

When Remus didn’t return the hug Sirius dropped his arms and stuttered through another thank you and practically ran to his usual table, forgetting his drink on the counter. 

Remus looked down, seeing the cup, and bit back a laugh before walking it across the cafe to him. 

“Oh fuck thanks,” Sirius mumbled. 

“Hey SIrius?” Remus asked, “can we try that again?”

 Sirius smiled and nodded.

[intothedysphoria]

If most people were to be believed, nobody liked the poor fucks who peaked in high school. Unfortunately for Steve, he was one of that number.

Being rejected from college was embarrassing enough. Then there was losing his minimum wage job. Getting married too young. Rehab. Realising he was gay. Divorce. Rehab again. Only seeing the kids once a month. And of course finding out the morning before yet another job interview that there was more hair growing out his ass.

A too bitter coffee that tasted like laundry detergent didn’t help as he ran from the subway because his licence had been suspended. Neither did the bottom of the barrel cigarettes he’d had before walking into the building.

William Hargrove, head of a nation wide charity outreach programme for abused children. He needed some low level admin support and apparently Steve fit the bill perfectly. It was fine, Steve told himself. He’d just be another fat balding white guy who was only in it for the money. Steve knew his own generation well.

Billy was not like that. He was incredibly sweet and patient during the job interview, which apparently he always did himself, picked up on Steve’s dyslexia almost immediately and offered in office support and was unequivocally the most beautiful man Steve had ever seen.

Steve got hired. He started Monday. That would have been fantastic if not for the fact that Steve knew his only good suit had a tomato sauce stain on which refused to budge. Fuck his life.

Decades of porn had put Steve under the impression that crushes on a boss were fun, sexy affairs that led to coitus on the office table. Whoever came up with that fucking lie owed him a sincere handwritten apology. Crushes on a boss were not fun and were never reciprocated.

Billy was a very hands on boss. He’d go around to everyone’s desk, asking if they needed anything, organised staff basketball outings every week and was just genuinely the sweetest guy ever. Steve had read somewhere that Billy could have been a millionaire but refused to compromise on staff wages or any of his programmes. He tried not to get warm fuzzy feelings about that.

Shame smoking was not helping matters, especially not when Steve found out that a certain other person frequented his spot. He gave up smoking at work after that. Steve couldn’t come across as a complete disaster.

Miraculously, Steve was actually very good at his job. It was straightforward and repetitive and the special font on the computer meant that he could read it better. His co workers were all nice, well adjusted 20 somethings and they were surprisingly happy to involve a 58 year old in their shenanigans.

On the Billy front, Steve had finally managed to get out a full sentence without sounding like a teenage girl at a WHAM concert (the equivalent was One Direction now??????? Steve couldn’t keep up with teenagers) and generally Billy seemed to think he was competent. Not a particularly special employee but enough to talk about the game with over crappy office coffee.

Billy was also gay. Which was very cool and should not have given him as much completely unfounded hope as it would. It wasn’t the 80s anymore and they were very much not the only gays in the village. Practically every man who walked into his office started immediately drooling. Not that Steve could judge.

An official invitation to “basketball Fridays” was new. Steve had mostly waved it off in the past, because it would just be him against much younger men and his ego couldn’t handle that. Still, he decided to take it up. Just because Billy’s hair smelled like lavender.

It was just Billy when he got there. Basketball shorts were criminally good on his figure. Again, Steve couldn’t help but hope he’d suddenly be transported into a porn.

“Don’t mind a one on one game, just us old men?”

How could Steve pass that offer up? It was really too good to refuse.

One game turned into two into five and suddenly Steve was back to playing a game once a week. Sometimes it had practically the entire building, sometimes it was just the two of them. They’d exchanged numbers, just to discuss Steve’s love of Sixteen Candles. It was nice, having a friend who wasn’t Robin or Carol for once. Another guy. Another queer guy.

The next week Anthony told him to resign. He was kind of like a mini Jason Carver from back in high school, bar the religious trauma. Resign he’d said. For Billy’s sake. That had to be some sort of hr violation. Steve didn’t tell on him though. Billy cared too much about his employees for that.

Slowly, more and more people started saying it. Resign. For Billy. It felt like bordering on bullying. Some type of ageism. Still, Steve resolutely ignored it until it came from Gemma.

Gemma was Steve’s favourite. They had outrageously green hair, thrived off shitty horror movies and was the first person to not laugh at Steve for not knowing what Instagram was. They were a saint. But then they told him to resign too.

“Please Steve.” Their voice was as soft and gentle as ever, like waves cascading over the rocks. “You’ve got to quit. For Billy. Trust me.”

Bottom lip trembling but refusing to cry in front of anyone, Steve marched to Billy’s office and rapped sharply on the door. He stuck to the script, announced he was quitting “for Billy” and turned to walk out the door until Billy gently caught his hand.

“Steve”

Steve was going to miss hearing that voice every day.

“Do you even know why you’re resigning?”

This was even worse than the recurring nightmare of taking an exam naked.

“No?” He tried, voice sounding about as confident as a five year olds.

Billy cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Look I don’t know exactly what the team has been doing but I think why you’re resigning is because I can’t exactly ask you on a date as an employee?”

Ah. That was unexpected.

Thankfully Billy didn’t mind the stubborn tomato sauce stain when they got to the restaurant. Or Steve’s garlic breath when they kissed. And Steve found himself for the first time in a while, thinking that maybe being him wasn’t all that bad after all.

[2tcs]

Back on my Danny/Skylark thing I've done a few times

Danny: If I had a nickel for every time I've been chained up in the presence of a redhead named Vicky and a neglected kid named Timmy, I'd have 2 nickels. Which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice

Vicki Vale: Do tell, this sounds like a scoop

Tim Drake: Yes, I'd also like to know why a singer is chained up before and why this is the first I've heard of it

“Well, it all started out when I went to this town called Dimmsdale. This was when we had just released ‘My Shiny Teeth and Me’.” Danny said as the kid, Tim, nodded as he listened closely. “One minute I was driving and the next thing I know a tree sprouted right in the middle of the road. Imagine driving and then a full-grown tree poofs into existence. Suffice it to say I crashed.”

“You know you shouldn't drink and drive right?” Tim said with the most deadpan expression.

“I was as sober as it gets. But anyway, I walked up to the house I crashed in front of and the person who answered the door was this teen named Vicky. Turns out she was crazy. She tied me to a bed with chains kinda crazy. Anyways, she was apparently babysitting this kid Timmy. It was the poor dude's birthday but apparently everyone forgot.”

“Where were his parents? And how did you escape?” Vicki asked. Looking like she was memorizing everything Danny was saying.

“The kid’s parents were at my concert. I don't know how but somehow the kid got ahold of my record handler. Saved my bacon. That situation was the basis of my song ‘Icky Vicky’.” Danny said. Just then one of the goons who kidnapped them came flying through the door followed my Night wing.

“Mr. Skylark, Mr. Wayne, Miss Vale. Are you all okay?” Nightwing asked as he finished tying up the goon and came over to free everyone.

“It's a Monday.” Tim said with a glare causing Danny to laugh.

“I don't know Timmy. I think it was quite captivating.” Danny laughed as Tim groaned at the pun and Nightwing chuckled.

“Well, I'm sorry for the wait. I was a little tied up.” Nightwing replied.

“Hay. You cut my rope so I'll give you some slack.” Danny grinned as he stood up.

“Well. As interesting as this was I for one am ready to get out of here. Mr. Skylark? Here's my card. If at all I would like to set up a proper interview with you.” Vicki said before walking out.

That night Chip Skylark debuted his new song. ‘Interview in Chains’. And the next morning Danny's record agency received a call from one Vicki Vale.

[monsieuroverlord]

This week's X-Men Monday features NYX writers Collin Kelly and Jackson Lanzing!

We got some early preview pages for issue #1 (above) plus the cover for #4 (below)

source here

This interview does do a lot to explain the inspirations for this series, how the characters were chosen, plus some general plot points to look forward to (I hope).

This series does seem like it will have a heavy focus on interpersonal relationships -- anole's dating life is specifically mentioned, whereas during the Krakoa era, he was "trapped behind a bar." so, they're looking to explore that.

Tommy and David are broken up :(

(apparently "amicably" but still)

And David has a new love interest in this series.

This interview also does absolutely nothing to assuage my fears regarding Laura:

I just -- really? A love triangle for Laura? I'm trying really hard to think positively and stay hopeful, but right now it seems like they'll shove Laura into a Logan-esque triangle, akin to Jean Grey/Scott/Logan.

Especially since they're hinting (basically confirmed) that the Krakoan is Hellion. (Officially, it's "no comment" but c'mon.)

And we also have this regarding the choice for Laura:

We haven't even seen Laura's dialogue yet, so I'm waiting to see how they actually characterize her, but I'm still being a huge worrywart about this. Character growth is good, and it could be interesting, but I don't think I'm really a fan of the details I've seen so far.

But we'll see! I'll reserve full judgement until it actually comes out!

It's a good interview though, I think it explains quite a bit of the dynamics we can expect.

[aurora-daily]

AURORA in GAFFA by Sigurd Hollen Elgenes (January 21st, 2024)

After some back and forth on DM's, the artist agreed to meet for a chat with GAFFA. At least as long as there was cake. Carrot cake. This despite the fact that she has never liked cake and other sweet things.

A relatively small artist from Bergen, and a relatively large journalist from Oslo, find themselves in a cozy little room a stone's throw away from Karl Johan, while the afternoon darkness is falling cold outside the windows. The walls are decorated with summery floral motifs. In the background you can hear bossa nova playing softly. We are at Kongens Gate 10, AKA The Cakery. A place the journalist's mother has warmly recommended.

“Oh, how sweet you are! Thank you very much!", - exclaims Aurora Aksnes in a burst of fireworks when the owner of the café patisserie comes strolling over with a not-too-mini mini-carrot cake cut into four large pieces. On top, they have sparingly sprinkled walnut kernels. Immediately she begins to feed herself with her hands. It is Monday, and after a long weekend this is the first meal of the day, she says. She wears a stolen sequined jacket adorned with two clip-on medallions she "bought from an old lady".

I try to talk a little about the cake.

The human being above me makes contented grunts. Smacks glaze off fingers.

"mmmm daddy," she exclaims in a "foodgasm" as I'm trying to pull myself together and go into serious interviewer-mode.

A dazed little "wow!" falls out of me.

It embarrasses me a bit.

We both start laughing.

If anyone wonders whether the high-flying "persona" of Aksnes is a character, I can assure you that whatever her thing is, is a genuine full-time show. I might have to give up high hopes of journalistic integrity and professionalism. The mood is set.

Happy New Year! Did you have a nice Christmas and all that?

“I'm not very happy about Christmas Eve. But I am very happy in the run-up to Christmas. I love the first of December when there is a lot of Christmas atmosphere. It's a new season of Snøfall (a norwegian childrens show) this year, and I really enjoyed it."

We discuss children and cancer (a central theme in the new season of "Snøfall"), and together come to the conclusion that 1. - it is important to talk about difficult things, and 2. that all tax money should go to sick children.

"Sick children are beautiful." Aurora says warmly.

I point out that not all sick children are necessarily beautiful, and that children are basically as different from each other as adults. We agree that some kids are cool and that others are assholes. Fine and clever photographer Ole tries discreetly to snap pictures while we chat, and we laughingly try to ignore the intense flash.

How is the carrot cake?

"Delightful." she answers quickly.

“It's just this icing that I have to constantly lick off my fingers. It requires dedication.”

As I am about to point out that she has a fork right in front of her, she locks her gaze on an invisible point in mid-air. With squinting and thoughtful eyes, she chooses her words carefully.

"I've always.. felt like a person who should like cake... It's kind of been in my cards.. but.. I hate cake."

The gaze drops and she laughs a little. Apparently by itself.

"Sweet things usually make me sick. But I would really like to like cake. And this is, after all, a perfect cake."

The time has come to fulfill Aurora's second premise for the interview. From my jacket pocket I fish out a small pink net with a bow on it. There is nothing inside. Something grown from my own body, actually.

"Ooooooo!!!!"

Again she bubbles over with enthusiasm and happiness. How do anyone manage to find so much joy in strange things?

"I'm considering making a piece of jewelry. When I have enough of them.”

“It all started when I walked across a field in Canada. Then I came across something absolutely amazing! It was so big that I didn't understand what it could have come from, but eventually I came to the conclusion that it must be a cow molar!"

A cow molar.

"A cow molar! For real! It was so huge and beautiful. One of the dearest things I own. Now I've got a thing for teeth."

Here the interview reaches a point where it becomes "challenging" to transcribe, to put it mildly.

To briefly recap some digressions from the sea of digression-digressions: She mentions that she recently told a barista that she wanted human milk in her coffee, and that he didn't think it was funny. That she has made a habit out of putting people out for talking about something very strange, and then dismissively pointing out that it is strange to talk about when the person herself says something about the strange thing she herself brought up. We come back to children, and how much fun it would have been to teach a baby to say "PAHPHA" and "MAHMA" in a monster voice and that in theory you can teach children the alphabet incorrectly for fun.

"Do you want cake in your mouth?"

She looks dead into the eyes of photographer Ole. He hesitates a bit, nervously.

"BrrrrrRrRrmm"

She has forked off a piece of her piece of cake which is now on its way through the air like a crashing plane heading for the mouth of Ole who, somewhat reluctantly, leans forward and receives the plane crash orally.

This is spinning completely out of control. I carefully look down at the yellow post-it note with factual questions I haven't asked.

What are the plans for 2024? Any new music?

She looks directly into my eyes as she is patiently tasting the question. Wrinkles her nose a little.

“Hmmm. I can say as much as there will be music. It will come sooner than you think, but later than you want.”

Ole and I start to guess a little about months, but she just smiles mysteriously. This is hush-hush. Since she doesn't want to say anything about when, what or who, I do some question acrobatics and ask something else.

You recently released the music video for "Your Blood" with Canadian-Iranian Kaveh Nabatia. Really dig the song and the video. eeeh, would you like to tell me a little about it?

"oh Kaveh is so cool. Did he meet completely randomly at a Japanese whiskey bar in Canada (ed. the same trip she found the cow's tooth?) where we sat and chatted for hours. We got along so terribly well that I decided then and there. "You're going to make all my music videos from now on!". A decision I stand by. Almost all the collaborations I do are a result of me finding people I love. I love people! And - human chemistry is so important when making things together!"

We chat a little further. She says that she will next meet a guy who claims that he is a 5-time world champion (?!) in billiards. He works at the billiards bar "Que" next to Jysk below Sannergata. She had met him there at Girl in Red's Christmas party a few weeks prior. The same evening/night where we agreed to do this interview over DMs actually!

We realize three or four digressions later that the place has actually closed 20 minutes ago, but that the kind owner didn't want to disturb. We thank each other before exchanging hugs and saying our goodbyes. A new friend richer, I would recommend everyone to eat cake at The Cakery. They offer home-made cakes and proper coffee served on vintage Alice in Wonderland-like crockery.

[i-got-bad-knees]

Some notable moments from the show (an evening with Bob Odenkirk, guest hosted by David Baddiel) on Monday:

Mike was created because Bob couldn’t shoot a fourth ep due to HIMYM conflicting, he commented that it ended up making a lot more sense because “Saul would never move a body”

Said Saul’s only real “human” (Jimmy) moments in BrBa in his opinion were 1. When he tries to encourage Jesse to go talk to Andrea and Brock rather than waiting in the car, he said “there’s no incentive or benefit for Saul, he won’t make any money and it’s a risk for Jesse to be seen” (imo Jimmy more than Saul speaks to Brock and Andrea anyway) and 2. When he’s telling Walt to just quit while he’s ahead, because “Saul doesn’t care, he doesn’t care if this guy dies or if he’s family dies, why should he?”

Said the Saul hair (“combover on top, mullet in the back”) was his idea after reading the script

His agent apparently told him “please do not say no” to breaking bad and his response was “well I’m gonna” and he turned to us and continued “because that’s how I am, I’m difficult”

The first scene he shot was the Walt and Jesse in the desert scene, he said it was during a sandstorm which didn’t pick up on camera but every time they opened their mouths they were full of sand.

The desert scene with Mike took 14 “gruelling” days to shoot, out in the ABQ desert.

They had a snake wrangler on to clear any areas they were filming in (and obtain a snake if one was needed) but during the desert trek they didn’t come across a single snake in the entire 14 days and the wrangler said it was because it was too hot. For the desert snakes.

His heart attack occurred during the Lalo/mcwexler confrontation scene in the final season, and parts of it are from after his recovery months later. It’s been said a lot, but hearing Bob personally say out loud that he was “out” for 15 minutes and that his training for Nobody saved his life (which he explained how and why in detail) was Wild. I lost my dad due to heart complications, I’m really glad he was able to pull through.

David didn’t know about the heart attack, he was taken aback and stated Bob looked “damn good” and we all applauded

He essentially confirmed that Kim likes Jimmy because she’s also insane. He said it in a very roundabout way (“they’re both damaged, weird loners” and “she hides it better but she was more into it than him at times” lmao) but that was the gist.

Credits Giancarlo Esposito as perhaps the best actor he’s ever worked with and spoke about the wine bar scene for a good 5 minutes. The women behind me whispered “Gus is gay” during this.

Said the first time he met David Cross the man turned up to his home holding a basketball (at around 27 years old) asking if Bob wanted to play. He replied that he’d just made a sandwich.

He’s a huge Monty Python nerd and kept speaking about it at lengths during random intervals. Someone in the audience shouted that he was saying “Python” wrong (because he’s, ya know, American and says it with an American accent) and he attempted to say it “properly”. He could say Python, he could not say Monty. He thought Python was spelt Pythun, though.

He then did the same when David said Ree-ah instead of Ray for Rhea’s name lmao

He said “I might be slow but I’m not stupid” and briefly chanted “slow is not stupid!”

Apparently hates parody comedy (doesn’t care enough about popular culture. Relatable)

Didn’t expand on it much (because Baddiel hadn’t finished the series before literally interviewing the main actor) but said one of his favourite scenes is the breakup scene, and that he loved when Saul was thrown in the trash, saying “he deserves it”

Told Vince to “beat the shit out of this guy” (JimmySaul) in bcs

Enjoys shooting in difficult locations or circumstances (man likes to suffer for his art ig lmao)

When asked about the piss drinking scene, stated “I refused to drink my own piss, I’m fed up of the taste, so I had the whole crew mix a little of their piss into the bottle so it was a complete mystery” did not explain what was actually in the piss jugs

His wife was just offstage the whole time which was very sweet

Called the Trumps the worst family in America

Didn’t think we have Marmite in the UK. It’s literally British aksjdhekdjf

David Baddiel doesn’t know about Dr Suess. Not relevant to Bob but wth.

Bob said he’s nothing like Saul/Jimmy many times and the central reason he said so is because “Saul needs everybody to like him, Jimmy just wants the respect and admiration of his brother, and I don’t care, I just wanna make myself happy”

His favourite show is BBCs Royle Family

We could submit questions during interval and he answered a couple, one was “do you eat at Cinnabon” to which he replied “no, I had a heart attack” lmao. Baddiel was surprised Cinnabon was a real place.

We all got a free copy of his book (tho apparently he didn’t know?) with our tickets so that’s cool. Will be reading in the next 5-60 months

He got 3 people up on stage to read him questions he’d written and one woman, Claire, was absolutely amazing and actually successfully matched Bob’s stage presence and energy when reading this (hilarious) script he gave her. The others did great too but Claire is the MVP of the evening

Right near the start he said the word cunt. I was thrilled.

[mandomover]

Leaving presents

(Dieter Bravo x reader)

Warnings: smuttttt, let’s just say he’s giving Frankie a run for his money.

So apparently I do know how to write… just a smutty lil one shot for a shitty Monday.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my eyes on my feet as Dieter moved around me, throwing things into his case which sat open behind me. There were shirts spilling out of it, still nearly full from his last trip away which he only got back from late last night. Barely able to keep his eyes open, he had fallen into bed beside me and I lay awake, watching the silhouette of his broad chest rising and falling as he snored softly, soaking up his handsome features.

"Where's my cell charger?" he asked, startling me out of my daydream.

I shrugged lazily, still looking at my feet. He stopped dead still, then I felt a warm hand cupping and lifting my chin, my eyes inadvertently lifting to find his chocolatey brown eyes staring into mine.

"Babe, you know I have to go, it's part of my job" he sighed softly.

"I know," I whined, my voice threatening to crack. "I just miss you when you're gone and when you are here it's never for long because you always have another project or another interview, It's just not fair..." I trailed off, a tear spilling down my cheek.

Dieter lifted his thumb and gently grazed it away, leaving it on my wet cheek, so both his hands now cupped my face.

"I always come back though don't I, I couldn't leave my number one girl alone for too long could I?" he grinned sheepishly.

I snorted, and rolled my eyes, a smile breaking out across my face.

"There's that beautiful smile," he grinned back at me, and let his hands drop, as he moved back to put more things into the open case.

I slid backwards on the bed, shifting my body until I could sit comfortably at the head, and I sat in content silence while Dieter told me about his last trip, a press conference for his latest endeavour.

I let him talk on, watching him, as he frowned occasionally at his phone as he read the list his assistant had sent him and search for the items he needed.

"OK, I just need to grab my script from the kitchen, find that damn cell charger and get a quick shower before the driver gets here," he said, checking the time on his watch before leaving the bedroom and heading down the hall.

He came back moments later, clutching a dog-eared script and tossing it into the case. He bent over the top and leaned in to kiss me softly, his mustache scratching at my upper lip. I lent forward and flung my arms round his neck, pulling him into me. He landed one knee on the bed so he could balance better and put his hands on each side of my waist. His kiss intensified, and I breathed in heavily, soaking up his smell, his taste, something to remember when he was gone.

He teased his tounge into my mouth and I inhaled sharply, a fireball beginning to smoulder in the pit of my stomach. He lifted his other knee up to the bed so he was hovering over me, his hands moving round bahind me to land on my ass, and he slapped it playfully. I let go of his neck and trailed one hand down over his shirt, landing on his belt buckle. We kissed hungrily as I undid the belt. When I moved to his button, he pulled away and up off the bed, grinning at me. I stared at him open mouthed, frowning slightly as he skipped into the bathroom, still grinning mischievously over his shoulder at me, leaving me with much more than a smoulder in my stomach.

I heard the shower start in the ensuite and I settled myself back on the bed, shaking my head at what a tease my beautiful boyfriend was. The bathroom door flung open and Dieter’s head popped out. "Doll if my phone goes, answer it." I looked up and saw Dieter’s broad shoulders and chiselled torso leaning out; damn he was so hot, all that extra working out for this latest project was really, really making it hard for me to let him go anywhere.

"Mmm hmm" was all I could say and he headed back in and let the door close behind him again. I listened carefully for a moment as I heard the sound of the water change slightly as I imagined his body interrupting the flow. I pictured the beads of water dripping down his face and through his beard, down over his tight chest, slowly down, down, down, sliding over his belly and trailing over his v and into his thick hair, dropping onto his girthy shaft...

That was it. I jumped up and crept over to the bathroom door, clicking it open slowly and deliberately.

I pushed the door open and it squeaked slightly, just enough for Dieter to hear and he turned round, wiping the glass panel in front of him so he could see me through the dense steam already snaking through the bathroom.

I took a step forward and began to unbutton my shirt slowly, Dieter watching me carefully, a slow smile creeping over his lips, before letting the shirt fall to the floor. He took a glance down at my perky nipples before back up to my eyes, my own totally focused on his. I took another step forward and unbuttoned my jeans, shaking my hips and letting them fall to the floor too. Dieter’s gaze fell down to my nearly non-existent thong and he licked his lips appreciatively as I pushed the lace down. They fell to the floor too and I stepped round the glass panel so I was on the same side as him, the water running over his body just as I imagined.

His cock twitched and I stepped into the warm water, placing my hand on him, feeling the blood rushing. He groaned and let his head fall back, the water pouring over his face as I stroked his now throbbing dick. I started slow, then got faster and faster as it got harder, and as he groaned again, his stomach tight up against my body.

I let go, taking a step past him to grab the shampoo.

I cocked my head and smiled at him cheekily and he looked down into my face, pained, his frown line more noticeable and I flicked the lid of the bottle open.

"Not nice is it" I purred as I turned to face him and he threw his head back again, laughing hard. He grabbed the bottle from my hand and threw it behind me into the corner, moving closer to me.

"Not nice at all," he said, his voice husky.

"Oh yeah I'm real naughty, aren't I? " I teased. He pushed me back to the wall of the shower, out of the way of the cascading water and kissed me, hungry, pushing his tounge against mine as his hands dropped to my waist, holding me tight to him.

His hard dick rubbed against my belly as we moved against each other, my hands up around him pulling through his wet curls.

"Naughty girls don't get leaving presents do they?" he rasped, breaking our hungry kisses. I pouted and fluttered my eyelashes up at him. He grinned wide, and planted warm, wet kisses onto my neck, and agonisingly slowly he kissed my chest, kissed my nipples, sending zings down my body.

He dropped his kisses, down past my bellybutton and I closed my eyes, still holding onto his wet hair as he moved down my body. His hands were on my ass now, squeezing it, as his kisses moved onto my thighs. I spread my legs eagerly, willing him on, showing him where I wanted him to go by moving his head with my hands.

He indulged, flicking his tongue over my pulsing clit and into my folds, moisture building. I groaned, and opened my eyes, looking down at him. His own eyes were closed, and I couldn't see his tounge, but I could feel it as it sent little bolts of electricity through me. I closed my eyes again and felt him moving his face in and out, in and out, his tongue flicking hard over me.

Next I felt a slick finger slide into my center, curling up to touch my moist wall. His tounge moved harder, and my knee jerked, knocking into his chest lightly. He removed his finger, and I gasped, immediately missing his touch, only for two fingers to slide back into my folds.

"Yes," I hissed slowly, grating my hips against his mouth.

Dieter swiped his fingers through my wetness, flicking his tongue in rhythm for what seemed like hours and seconds all at the same time.

My walls tensed and released, and he took his fingers out again. I opened my eyes and he was looking up at me intensely, fire roaring in them. He moved his mouth away and spat into his fingers, still watching me watch him.

He pumped his fingers back into my slippery folds and I felt a third now. I gasped as I stretched around his thick fingers and he pumped hard and fast, licking his lips. My knees bucked and his free hand kept me upright, grpping into my thigh.

I could barely breathe, his three fingers sliding in and out, ramming against me hard, the friction sending spasms through me.

"Fuck," I breathed, and my walls clenched tight around his slippery fingers.

"Yeah that's it, cum for me baby" he whispered pulling out his fingers. I whimpered at the instant loss of skin on skin, but it was short lived as his mouth crashed back into me. I felt my wetness seep out as his tounge flitted in to where his fingers had just been, and he sucked hard against me.

I gushed again as heat built up and burst like a damn. He stroked his tounge over my nerves once again and I felt sticky, hot juices slide out and dribble down my thigh.

My knees completely gave way and I slid down the wall, my legs splayed wide open either side of his knees.

I stared into his eyes, dilated and big, and he panted, beard dripping with my hot cum.

"Don't say I don't give you anything," he smirked at me and grabbed my hands, pulling me upright. My legs felt like jelly and I stood against the wall, holding on as though I might slide down it again, watching him as he turned away from me to grab the shampoo bottle and finish his shower before he had to go again.

***

"Yeah yeah, come for me at eight, I'll be ready, I'll just dump my stuff in the room and chill before we meet," Dieter said to his assistant as she handed him his room key and bustled off hurriedly down the corridor, lifting her phone to her ear again to continue organising his time on this trip. He liked her, but god she could talk.

He flashed the key at the fob and pushed the heavy door open, pulling his case through behind him. The door closed with a loud thunk and he lent against it, hearing only the AC. He closed his eyes and stayed lent against the door for a moment, appreciating the quiet of the room.

He would need to check in with home, and let her know he had arrived safe, but his cell had died about an hour ago so he walked his bag over to the spare bed and threw the case up onto it, unzipping the main compartment and flipping the lid open to look for his charger cable, which miraculously, he had found just in time.

He chuckled, and a grin spread over his face as his eyes landed on the first thing he had spotted lying on top of his assortment of clothes: your thong from earlier this morning, a note tagged onto them. He flipped the note over so he could read it and groaned, shaking his head with his smile still on his lips, wishing he could have skipped this trip and stayed at home with you instead.

'Leaving presents.'

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Matt Gertz at MMFA:

Maria Bartiromo repeatedly used her Fox Business show to peddle an election fraud conspiracy theory that she claimed originated with the wife of a friend of a friend in Texas and that she made no apparent effort to confirm. But when the Texas Department of Public Safety and the local Republican Party investigated her reckless allegation, they discovered that none of it was true. On Sunday morning, Bartiromo posted an item to X alleging that “a massive line of immigrants” had been obtaining driver’s licenses and registering to vote at three Department of Motor Vehicles offices in Texas:

[From a friend ... Friend of mine’s wife had to take her 16 yr old son to the DMV this week for a new license. Couldn’t get an online appointment(all full) so went in person and had to go to 3 DMV’s to get something done. First DMV was in Weatherford. Had a massive line of immigrants getting licenses and had a tent and table outside the front door of the DMV registering them to vote! Second one was in Fort Worth with same lines and same Dems out front. Third one was in North Fort Worth had no lines but had same voter registration drive.]

Bartiromo brought the wildly flimsy allegation to Fox’s airwaves the following day, having apparently done no independent reporting to confirm claims that she said originated with the wife of a friend of her friend.  She brought up the story in at least three segments on the Monday and Tuesday editions of her Fox program — including in interviews with two Republican U.S. senators. 

[...]

Bartiromo’s history of promoting absurd election conspiracy theories

Bartiromo’s ludicrously thin claims of Democrats trying to register undocumented immigrants to vote in the 2024 presidential election fit neatly within her recent career. Bartiromo promoted a series of wild claims about election fraud following the 2020 election. Her deeds included hosting Trumpist lawyer Sidney Powell to baselessly allege that Dominion Voting Systems had rigged the vote against Donald Trump. She brought Powell on after Powell forwarded her an email from a woman who claimed that Dominion’s software flipped votes from Trump to Joe Biden — and also that “the Wind tells me I’m a ghost, but I don’t believe it.” Her Dominion segments were featured in the company’s defamation lawsuit against Fox, which resulted in her network paying a record settlement. But they had no apparent impact on her standing at Fox: She retains a weekly Fox News show and a three-hour weekday show on Fox Business, giving her platforms where she can ask U.S. senators about unverified thirdhand claims. That leaves her well-positioned to help Trump if he once again tries to subvert a presidential election.

FBN host Maria Bartiromo in hot water for spreading batcray conspiracies.

[thegreenmeridian]

Amazing fucking week:

Friday: Driving to the city and having such intense anxiety about the impending visit from my horrible boss on Wednesday that my vision keeps pinpricking

Saturday: Holiday in Amsterdam for my birthday with the intention of going to a gay sex club for gay sex on Sunday, enjoying vibing with nice old gay men in a very old gay pub on the Saturday. Someone gives me a bump of coke from a little envelope with Dutch blue porcelain patterns

Sunday: See a message from my awful boss at 1.32 am. I am full of alcohol and drugs. I am raging that he is once again hassling me while on vacation/sick leave, and over an issue that I have continuously tried to fix despite him turning down every possible solution I offer because for him, the only acceptable solution is me staying within 15km of the shop and never having evening or weekend plans. Wake up with hangover and hellish anxiety. Too shaky to even consider going to the gay sex party.

Monday-Tuesday: More anxiety, basically doing fuck all with my holiday. Message from bossman on Monday saying we will have a *serious talk* on Wednesday. Frantically messaging my group chat like “ok gang can I sell a car while it still has a loan? Anyone got a sofa I can live on when I get fired?”. Ask therapist for emergency appointment on Thursday.

Wednesday part 1: basically running on pure adrenaline and oscillating between borderline panic attacks and fuck you I quit. The head office people arrive. Bossman is not among them. CEO is. He walks around the shop and says I’m doing a great job. The recycling project lady (who I *love*) whispers to me that bossman isn’t coming so I can relax, I say “yeah I think he’s gonna fire me anyway” and she very vehemently says this won’t happen.

Wednesday part 2: I check my phone at 11.30. Bossman is not coming. Something has come up. He will see me next Wednesday. A reprieve! I’m more jittery than when I was on the Dutch cocaine, my fight-or-flight system is going mental. I hyperactively stock shelves for the next few hours. An email arrives at 14.30, while I’m on the phone to the union trying to work out if I can set fire to some things before I quit because fuck me I am DONE. The email is from my boss, announcing in two stilted sentences that he no longer works for the company, shortly followed by an awkward HR email like “he has ended his journey with the company, we wish him well”.

Wednesday part 3: ngl I have no memory of the next few hours, I think my brain chemistry entered strange new territories. When I come to, I’m walking into the “key meeting” which has been moved from the fancy hotel to a local sports bar in a sort of large shed. There are many, many football scarfs. The manager of the netto pounced on me looking for gossip about my boss. Bitch I don’t know the fuck dot gif. The presentation is in Icelandic. I zone out while staring into the machine knitted eyes of Eric Cantona. Dinner is spent sat next to the brand manager for one of the other supermarket chains in the company, mostly chatting about British football violence as befits the setting.

Thursday: as the great Ronnie O’Sullivan once said, I am up and down like a whore’s drawers. Stroppy email from accounting sends me into a panic spiral. Bouncing between hysterical laughter and pinprick vision. I am Coping. I am also doing an interview with an airport handling agent company for a job as a ramp agent. I think it goes ok? Most of the day a blur until emergency therapy, which is spent rambling like a mad bitch while squishing clay because art therapy slaps. Later, as I’m delivering shite to a boat an hour after I’m supposed to finish, the HR lady calls me. I am, apparently, still mental, because I tell her I thought I was being fired yesterday and when she reassures me I am NOT being fired, I snort and go “well *he* fucking is!”. I also tell her “yay I can stop taking the anxiety pills” and “full disclosure, the prevailing theory in the <boss’s name> support group is that he said let a slut slip while ranting about me in a meeting”. She assures me he would never and he’s just very Honest and Forthright. Ma’am maybe cycle back to the whole “several employees have a support group about this man” and “several employees very easily believe he’s been barely holding back the slurs”. Point of the conversation turns out to be she is *desperate* for me to take another management job out east that I maybe sorta hinted at being willing to do. She vaguely implies that if I don’t agree soon she will have to look elsewhere but they’ve been looking for someone for this job since August so nah ima take this slow.

Friday: adrenaline high is wearing off. I am tired. I hate this job. I have to work tomorrow. One of my apparently three new bosses phones. Man is apparently decent according to people I know who’ve worked with him and my own limited experience but he is clearly trying to Be Assertive now and is talking to me a liiiiitttle too much like ex-bossman used to. Long story short I bought a large tank of helium out of spite today. Phone call from HR Lady as I was leaving work (about half an hour after I was supposed to) and she is seriously desperate for me to take the job out east. They couldn’t get someone up to help me while I was unable to lift shit after surgery with two months notice but they can apparently find someone to cover me for a visit to this shop out east after I said multiple times I wouldn’t say yes until I’d seen the place.

[nebsstories]

The Birthday Bash

—

Authors note:

I’ve conceptualized this scenario I think about a year ago, but hadn’t found the time or inspiration to write it down until now.

This story was inspired off of @cupcakeshakesnake’s Harbor Town AU, and the contents of this story is loosely based off another story I’ve read, please DM me for more details.

—

Be me, I’m just right out of college and I have no idea what to do with my life; degree is utterly useless so I look at local businesses, wanted to find somewhere I can stay until I can get a better job. I happened to live 10 minutes away from the local rat casino known as, “Chuck-E-Cheese”. It’s better than nothing, I guess. Go in, do interview, really basic stuff; guy interviewing me asks, “When can you start?”

On that day I sold my soul to the Chuck-E-Cheese company. That day began one of the worst experiences of my life.

I started that following Monday, making $10 on the hour, so it’s okay, I guess. I spent most of my week up until Friday getting acquainted with my fellow coworkers. Free food’s also a plus, pizza’s alright but I’ll take it. I clock in that fateful Saturday morning, my manager greets me at the door, she tells me that Saturday’s are usually when it’s at its peak so we’ll be swamped today. Oh and, there’s a big birthday scheduled tonight, and all I can hear from the poor guy wearing the costume is a low, yet audible, “Fuck my life.”

I cannot even begin to imagine how awful it’d be to be surrounded by fifty or so grease coated crotch goblins all at once, all the while dying of heatstroke in a furry costume. At least the building was air conditioned, because I heard that the suit doesn’t have ventilation, meaning it’s hot as the devil’s asshole at times. I was tasked with setting up the party area, the decorations were already provided to us and the theme was apparent from the skull and crossbones.

Around 4 in the afternoon, the rush starts to die down and we get a momentary feeling of euphoric silence, relief washed over us, though we were fools to think it’d last forever. We watched as tired parents dragged out their sugar high children, as the kingdom they’d lorded over was lost to them. In the wake of their foul dominion, the arcade games became sticky and greasy to the touch, they’d stained the carpets with spilled sodas and slices of mediocre pizza, in that moment I foolishly thought, “This can’t get any worse than the hell on earth I’d just witnessed.”

4:30pm on the dot, a man steps in. He looks like the sort of boho rockstar you’d see thrown up from the peak of 80’s rock and roll, with as much swagger in his step and a cool demeanor as he greeted the girl that gives all the kids the ink stamps (which are “invisible” until shown under a blacklight).

“‘Ello, I’ve a birthday reservation for Jackie, party of 40.” He follows up.

My heart stopped, my blood ran cold as the number echoed in my mind. He did not just say 40, I thought he was bluffing so I poked my head out to get a glance. Standing behind him was an army. An army of fun sized pirates. This man brought in an entire grade level to this Chuck-E-Cheese and we were at the brunt of it all.

Before I could dip my head into my manager’s office to fake sick, the kids flood the place. Cry havoc! And let slip the dogs of war, as instantaneously, children storm the restaurant; they take to the playhouse, the arcade, the party area. The place is nearly full and bursting at the seams with them, and as we pushed on, our manager cowardly hid within the confines of the office. Meanwhile, the rest of us are panicking, chefs are stressing - their nerves pulsating and brows glistening with sweat from the amount of pizza they have to keep pumping out. It’s a madhouse, it’s anarchy!

Rockstar here isn’t doing jack shit, he’s just leaning against the wall playing guitar and waiting for it to be over. Another adult - a biker looking man, just got jumped by 20 or so children. Proudly, one boy, with a wide brimmed hat adorned by a single plumed feather and a toy monkey around his torso, holds up the poor man’s wallet. “Gents! Our hope is restored!” The other members of his crew cheer loudly, leaving the man they’d just mugged on the floor to abuse his poor aching debit card in exchange for tokens.

Outside the restaurant, I spotted Mayor Swann with his daughter in tow and a birthday present in her hand, then him taking one look at the chaos and deciding in that moment to turn around and leave. No doubt lying to his child that the restaurant had closed. Forever. No wait, take me with you, Mr. Mayor!

My train of thought was interrupted when one of the children, a boy with his hair pulled back into a ponytail asks me, “Excuse me sir, when is the show?”

Another chimes in, this one must be the birthday boy, Jack. I’d never seen a kid look this smug my entire life, “Oi, we’ve invoked the right of Parlay, we demand to see Charles Entertainment Cheese.”

I stuttered for a brief moment to regain my composure. What have I just gotten myself into? “It’s coming soon, kiddos!” Luckily, that was enough to suffice, as they’d rush back to the arcade.

Eventually the animatronic show from hell begins, the band begins playing kids songs. I don’t know what these kids were expecting, but it’s clear that the works of Scott Cawthon had done a number on their minds, as one of the children in attendance - probably the one with the slicked back ponytail, begins freaking out. One of my coworkers has to swoop in to make the kid happy. Others that were paying attention kept asking, “Where’s Freddy Fazbear?” The kids are now chanting, “Freddy! Freddy! Freddy!” I’m surprised with the pirate theme they’re not clamoring for Foxy. One chubby kid, miraculously gets up to the Chuck E animatronic, begins shaking him whilst interrogating him on the whereabouts of Freddy and his gang. He’s shaken the robot enough times where it’s god damn head FALLS OFF. Screaming ensues. I’m amazed this kid didn’t put Chuck E”s head on a pike a la Lord of the Flies, though even then I’m sure half of them will need therapy after seeing their fellow pirate brethren decapitate their beloved, cheese eating deity.

While most of the party was distracted, two of them have managed to SNEAK INTO THE KITCHEN and are stealing toppings off the pizzas. Not off the prep stations, but straight off the pizzas, I’m pretty sure half of them don’t even wash their hands. We had to remake them because we didn’t want the health department on our asses.

One of them managed to steal a whole pizza for himself and scarf it down near the ballpit. I think it was one with the wide-brimmed hat.

The birthday boy was easily the worst of the bunch; within two hours, he’d managed to hop behind the prize counter while the guy working there escaped for a bathroom break, took every miniature tote bag off the rack and used them to stuff as much prizes as he could carry. His little arms made him look like a coat rack as he waddled out from behind the corner with his treasure.

And I’ll bet you’re wondering, where was I in the chaos? Being tormented by a duo, the kid who decapitated Chuck E and another who wore an eyepatch, asking me question after question. You know, things a kid would ask like, “Whatcha doing?” Or, “What’s the air speed velocity of an unladen swallow?” Actually, the one with the eyepatch kept throwing those curve balls and it made me wonder what this kid was doing in his spare time.

Then the dinner bell rang, or rather, the rockstar parent called, “Pizza’s ready!” Finally, a moment of calm as slices are distributed amongst the group. But all hell breaks loose when the sodas are passed around. Oh god no, god please no, literally give them anything but soda. It’s too late now, that bastard knew what he was doing. It was like watching the fireworks at a Fourth of July celebration, as these kids practically exploded with sugar-induced adrenaline pumping through their little bodies.

Then the final blow: the cake. Ah yes, what a cake, I remember it fondly. No expense was spared for this occasion, when most parents provided a sheet cake from their local grocery store, rockstar here provided an elaborate cake worthy of 40 or so screaming children. A treasure chest; with chocolate gold coins, the strings of pearls made from modeling chocolate and candied necklaces, precious gems made from rock candy for that nice pop of color, and a delicate map made from marzipan that read, “Happy Birthday Captain Sparrow!”

It was carried in by a man who looked to be about my age, his hair pulled back into a ponytail like that kid from earlier - though I assure you, his was messier than in comparison to the kid, and he’d be wearing a dark blue shirt. Ah, now I recognize him; James Norrington, he was an elementary school teacher but he also worked the Tortuga Arcade during Winter Break. Really nice guy. A moment of silence fell once the door opened, all the children nearly gave themselves whiplash to stare at the newcomer.

“Oh look,” they’d think, “another adult we’ve yet to wear out.”

I’m just mentally screaming at this man, “Run! Run while you still can!!”

It was in vain, as the screech of, “Cake!” Coming from the birthday boy signaled the others to descend upon him. The man struggled to keep the cake out of their grasps, holding it high up and calling, “Mr. Teague, would you please provide me with some assistance? And where is Mr. Teach?”

Mugged and still laying facedown on the floor. That cannot look comfortable, but I suppose playing dead was miles better than the alternative, which was staying awake for this mess.

Finally, rockstar does something, casually getting past the crowd to retrieve the cake with a simple, “Thanks.” Manager asks me to do a headcount, make sure the kids were all still here and not somehow sneaking out into the rooftop or something.

37…38…39…oh shit. Where’s the birthday boy?

I couldn’t just make my panic known, so I started poking around the restaurant for him, I’d even asked one of my coworkers to check the roof for the birthday boy. And Mr. Teague was beginning to notice. God, I didn’t want to tell him I’d somehow lost his kid. But, then I realized that, he wasn’t looking at me; he was looking straight at the play area. And as luck would have it, there in the ball pit, I see the kid’s head poking out with a smug grin. Thank god.

After cake and presents was when the real damage kicks in, chairs are now flying, one of our front windows gets smashed into a million pieces, and now requires repairs. I don’t even know HOW they can even find the strength to accomplish that, so I’m mildly impressed. The manager’s office is then stormed and papers flew everywhere and into the party area. Of course Mr. Sparrow nor Mr. Teach don’t end up paying for damages, not like we’d want their money anyway. We want compensation for the emotional damage we had to endure that evening. Norrington fled not long after the cake was delivered, not like I’d blame him.

Eventually, parents and guardians come around to come collect their kids, even Norrington shows back up to pick up one of them, the one with the ponytail apparently. At least Teague tips us generously, seems he knows the sort of chaos this kid and his posse can unleash.

It’s 11, closing time. During cleanup, we take survey of the property damage that had occurred in the wake of that birthday party; your usual stained carpet, but also now featuring turned over furniture, ruined play area, arcade games now so stuck, I’m pretty sure they’d have to call someone in to clean them, raided prize corner, damaged animatronics. It was as if a bomb had gone off in here. It was over, the siege of port Chuck-E-Cheese had leaned in favor of Captain Jack Sparrow and his band of miscreants.

I left, but never came back for my next shift. I spend Sunday and Monday job hunting, and luckily I was able to land a job with the East India Trading Company.

I’d thought I’d seen the last of Jack, and his vast pirate army. Life as an underling in EITC was as mundane yet stable as one could imagine an office job to be, money flow is steady with a 9 to 5, paid vacation time, they’ve even got dental. I’d moved out of my crappy apartment and moved somewhere I could enjoy the peace and quiet; I vowed to never have kids. Life was good.

Until one Monday, I saw Jack again, he was pestering my boss, Beckett, asking him question after question. One of his little friends is aggressively flossing in another room, Jack has now gotten ahold of one of the company computers. Somehow he unleashes a virus. All the of work I’d poured in the past few hours gone the drain and now I’m openly mocked by a video of badly played recorder music. The bass is boosting hard, my ears are bleeding.

I’m going to put in my request for a transfer tomorrow.

[sa7abnews]

Jordan remains ‘last holdout’ as Iran looks to create new ‘terror front' on Israeli border

New Post has been published on https://sa7ab.info/2024/08/16/jordan-remains-last-holdout-as-iran-looks-to-create-new-terror-front-on-israeli-border/

Jordan remains ‘last holdout’ as Iran looks to create new ‘terror front' on Israeli border

As Israel continues to brace itself under the threat of an imminent attack from Iran or its proxy forces, including Hamas and Hezbollah, security experts are sounding the alarm that Tehran has its sights set on Jordan as its next great “terror front.””Jordan is the last holdout,” Behnam Ben Taleblu, Iran expert and senior fellow with the Foundation for Defense of Democracies (FDD) told Fox News Digital. “It’s the last bastion of the pro-Western or status quo order in the heartland of the northern part of the Middle East.”The security expert pointed to Iran’s growing influence and support for proxy fighters not only in Gaza, Syria, Iraq and Lebanon but further out across the Arabian Peninsula, including Yemen and Oman, where anti-Israel sentiment is on the rise. “Increasingly, the regime has benefited from the rise in anti-Israel sentiment to cause instability in Jordan,” Ben Taleblu said.IRAN WILL ATTACK ISRAEL IF GAZA CEASEFIRE TALKS COLLAPSE: REPORTGrowing concern over how Tehran will use anti-Israeli sentiment in the Middle East coincided with a warning issued Monday by Israeli Foreign Minister Israel Katz, who said Iran was working “to establish a new eastern terror front against Israel’s major population centers.”The Israeli official said the Iranian Revolutionary Guard is coordinating with “Hamas operatives in Lebanon to smuggle weapons and funds into Jordan” with the apparent aim of destabilizing the Israeli neighbor. Katz said smuggled arms are transported across Jordan’s western border into the West Banks’ Judea and Samaria with a particular focus on refugee camps and the goal of establishing pro-Iranian sentiment as it has done in areas like Gaza and southern Lebanon. “The Iranian axis of evil today effectively controls refugee camps in Judea and Samaria through its proxies, leaving the Palestinian Authority powerless to act,” Katz added. Jordan’s shared border with Israel is the Jewish state’s longest shared border, reportedly stretching some 300 miles from the contested Golan Heights in the north, through the Palestinian West Bank and the Dead Sea, before ending at the Gulf of Aqaba.ISRAEL STARES DOWN ‘RING OF FIRE’ AS IRAN PLEDGES RETALIATIONThough Katz’s warnings come as tensions between Israel and Iran have reached a historic peak, local reporting shows that Iranian-led smuggling efforts have plagued Jordanian security efforts for years.The Jordanian regime over the last half a decade has increasingly been working to stop smuggling operations to help prevent the formation of anti-Israel terrorist cells in the West Bank. “Ultimately [that would] be a benefit to the Islamic Republic, because it could allow for a full encirclement of Israel,” Ben Taleblu said.  “The one thing that stands in the way of all of this is the Jordanian monarchy and the strength of the Jordanian security services.”Jordanian officials have been working to ease tensions in the region by meeting with U.S., Israeli and Iranian officials over recent weeks following Tehran’s threat to hit the Jewish state directly.Though even as Jordan works to maintain the status quo in the region and prevent an all-out war, it has also warned it will not become a battleground state for either nation to utilize. “We will not be a battlefield for Iran or Israel. We informed the Iranians and the Israelis that we will not allow anyone to violate our airspace and risk the safety of our citizens,” the Jordanian Foreign Minister Ayman Safadi said in a Saturday interview according to a Reuters report. “We will intercept anything that passes through our airspace or think that it constitutes a threat to us or our citizens,” he added.

[mariacallous]

The Constitutional Court has long aided and abetted Orban’s nationalist-conservative government, with Tamas Sulyok as its president taking the lead in decisions that helped it greatly.

On Monday, Tamas Sulyok, previously president of the Constitutional Court, was elected as the new president of the state by the Hungarian parliament, after his predecessor, Katalin Novak, had to resign when it emerged that she had pardoned a man who helped cover up child abuse at a children’s home.

Compared to Novak, formerly a minister and a member of the ruling Fidesz party, Sulyok might be seen as a more independent pick for the position of head of state, as he is a lawyer and academic who has never been involved in party politics. However, when examining his record as a constitutional judge, it becomes clear that Sulyok has, over the years, acted as a useful agent for the governing party in several matters of great political importance.

Since 2010, Viktor Orban’s governments have gradually eliminated institutional checks on their power. As part of this process, the competences of the Constitutional Court were partially restricted, and the court filled with loyal judges. This was straightforward, as Orban’s nationalist-conservative Fidesz party enjoyed a two-thirds majority in parliament for most of that time. Such a majority is required for making changes to the constitution and so-called cardinal laws regarding constitutional institutions, as well as for electing officials, including constitutional judges, to nominally independent institutions.

In the process, the new Fidesz-loyalist Constitutional Court ceased to be a counterbalance to the government. In politically relevant cases, it usually favoured the government, or it avoided or delayed substantial decision-making instead of taking on the parliamentary supermajority.

Sulyok was elected as a constitutional judge in 2014. In 2015 he became the court’s vice-president, and in 2016 was elected as its president. In this capacity, he was responsible for designating the rapporteur judge in each case before the court. The rapporteur judge writes the draft of the judgment, which is finally subject to a vote at a full session or five-member panel of the Constitutional Court.

Interestingly, Sulyok kept many politically sensitive cases for himself. Although he claimed in an interview that he had never been interested in politics, there are at least a dozen decisions where Sulyok, as the rapporteur judge, greatly helped out the government.

In matters of elections and referenda

It has become common practice in Hungary of late that the government campaigns for the ruling Fidesz party ahead of elections, which is contrary to the respective laws. Accordingly, Hungary’s supreme court, the Curia, has condemned the government several times. However, the government has tended to seek a way to challenge such decisions before the Constitutional Court, which, inevitably, found the government to be in the right.

The latest case ahead of the 2022 general election was especially egregious. The government sent out email ‘newsletters’ to citizens who had registered for COVID-19 vaccinations. However, these had nothing to do with their vaccinations, but were campaign letters stating that if the opposition won the election, they would send soldiers and weapons to Ukraine. Yet the apparent violation of data protection standards did not trouble the Constitutional Court; instead, it (or more precisely the rapporteur judge in the case, Tamas Sulyok) reasoned the emails were not a form of illegal campaigning because the government has an explicit responsibility to inform citizens, especially when there is a war happening in a neighbouring country.

The Constitutional Court has displayed double standards in matters of referenda as well. Before any referendum – be that initiated either by citizens or the government – it must be examined whether the questions involve prohibited subjects for referenda (such as the central budget, constitutional matters and so on). This examination is conducted by the National Election Office, and, on the second instance, the Curia. But in certain cases, the decision of the Curia can be challenged before the Constitutional Court. Sulyok was the rapporteur judge in several decisions regarding referenda and a clear tendency can be observed: questions initiated by opposition voices somehow always concerned a prohibited subject; the government’s questions were always in order.

The case involving the government’s so-called “child protection referendum” in 2021 particularly stood out. Orban wanted to mobilise his supporters for the 2022 general election, so he announced a concurrent referendum with five questions, each of them about protecting children from the “transgender lobby” and from gender reassignment surgeries, which he claimed were being pushed by “Brussels”.

Out of the five questions, four were passed by the Curia, which is a notably higher success rate than opposition initiatives have typically enjoyed. The Constitutional Court (again, rapporteur judge Tamas Sulyok) appeared so eager to prove its loyalty that it declared the Curia’s decision to reject the fifth question as unconstitutional and annulled it. Ultimately, the government decided to waive the fifth question and the referendum went ahead with the remaining four questions.

Making life difficult for opposition towns and universities

Although the government has practically untrammelled power due to its two-thirds majority in parliament, it often comes up with cynical measures against the few remaining actors not yet under its control. Most recently, these have included local administrations led by the opposition and universities.

Under a law adopted in June 2020, the government is empowered to establish so-called “special economic zones” for certain investments above 5 billion forints (about 13 million euros) if they have significance for a “large part of the county” and if they serve to create new workplaces. These special economic zones are taken out of the jurisdiction of local governments and instead are governed by county municipalities, all of which happen to be under Fidesz control. The business tax is also collected by the county, which means a huge loss for the budgets of affected towns and cities.

Two opposition-led municipalities launched lawsuits and constitutional complaints on the matter, but both applications were refused (at the suggestion of rapporteur judge Tamas Sulyok). Even though in one of the cases the Constitutional Court underlined that sufficient sources must be provided for local governments to fulfil their obligatory tasks – which aren’t much, as the powers of local governments have been drastically reduced since 2012 – it did not prevent the applicant town, God, from losing an amount worth about two-thirds of its annual budget.

In order to control state-run universities, in 2021 the government outsourced their management to so-called “public interest asset management foundations”, which are overwhelmingly headed by allies of Fidesz (later, under pressure from the EU, active ministers resigned from the boards of trustees, but this has not resulted in any substantial changes).

Students and teachers of Budapest’s University of Theatre and Film Arts started lengthy protests and launched proceedings at the Constitutional Court, but all of their applications were rejected: no violation of academic freedom was found by the court (in each case, by rapporteur judge Tamas Sulyok).

The law about the general framework for those “public interest asset management foundations” was also challenged before the Constitutional Court by opposition MPs, but this has been completely ignored. Even after two and a half years, not even the rapporteur judge has been assigned – a task of the president of the court, namely Tamas Sulyok.

Fight for national sovereignty

There has been a long-running clash with the EU over Orban’s government undermining the rule of law and eliminating checks and balances. The government has consistently linked this issue to migration and has depicted this debate as one where “Brussels is punishing us for rejecting the settlement of migrants”.

To create a legal basis for avoiding EU legislation in the field of immigration and asylum, the government wanted to insert a reference to “constitutional identity” to the Basic Law in the autumn of 2016. This concept refers to core principles of a constitution that must not be changed or overridden. The idea is strongly present in the German constitutional order, but is alien to Hungarian constitutional law. As the government temporarily lacked the two-thirds majority in parliament at the time, the constitutional amendment did not pass.

Yet a few weeks later, the Constitutional Court (freshly presided over by Sulyok, who was rapporteur judge on the case) delivered a judgement declaring that the court can review EU law if Hungary’s constitutional identity, sovereignty or fundamental rights are violated. However, the court did not specify what this “constitutional identity” entails.

Orban was so delighted with the decision that he told an interviewer he “threw his hat up in the air”, because the court had provided “an enormous amount of help in the battle” with Brussels – even if the court did not say anything concrete and did not deny the application of any piece of EU legislation.

Following that, the government initiated more constitutional interpretations from the court to provoke harsher statements on migration, constitutional identity and EU law. Finally, in December 2021, the Constitutional Court (rapporteur judge again Sulyok) delivered a reasoning akin to far-right ideologies. According to the ruling, settling immigrant populations in Hungary at the command of the EU would violate the human dignity of Hungarians because the social environment would change without an opportunity for citizens to influence this via a democratic vote.

2024 is going to be a supercharged election year in Hungary: on the day of the European Parliament elections in June, the election of local governments and mayors will also take place. In 2016, Tamas Sulyok had been president of the Constitutional Court for only about two weeks, but already made the prime minister so happy that he threw his hat up in the air. What can we expect now he’s president of the Hungarian state?

[markmonlux]

Weekly Dose of Mark

Sunday, December 17, 2023

Monday was a crazy, long day of social activities I can break down into three parts.

Part One: On Monday, we had a white elephant gift exchange during Freelance Fandango at the Red Elm Café. In attendance were Anique, Penny, Stan, Keith, Haley, Nori and myself. Some gifts were crayons, paints, colored pencils, sketchbooks, stickers, cards, prints, canvases, and books. There was a lot of thievery, bartering, and trading going on. It was a hilarious time. I brought full-sized Churro-flavored KitKats to share with the group. 

Part Two: Doug Makey showed up during Freelance Fandango. He interviewed me for an upcoming issue of the Volcano. The Volcano used to be a free weekly newspaper, but it’s currently a monthly newspaper. Angelina Jossy is managing to keep it running. It’s proving to be quite the challenge for her. As with any newspaper, her main concern is getting ad revenue to pay for everything. Doug is an old friend, and I was very comfortable being interviewed by him.

Part Three: It was Christmas Dinner at the Pythian Temple. It was a small crowd of about twenty. This time, it was the men’s turn to bring the main course and set things up. Krista baked some cranberry cake for me to take. The roast Godo prepared was delicious, with every scrap of it being eaten. There were also lots of sides. I had to control my portions. I did end up taking home some buffalo hot legs. I would have them for lunch during the rest of the week. Allen and my mutual friend Kat were there; she brought a side dish. We grouched about Allen not coming like he promised when we were out watching Frankenhooker the month before. Apparently, he was at the gym rather than feasting with us. 

I went to a couple of medical appointments during the week. One on Tuesday and one on Wednesday. It was all routine stuff. An echo of my heart and a device check. Everything looks great. The exercise and light dieting has really paid off. I’m keeping off all the weight I lost, and I’m averaging 2-3 miles a day of walking. I feel great.

Friday night, I had fun going to the Blue Mouse Theater to watch “Krampus.” I had a chance to talk with some of my friends. Travis and his wife were there. She was selling gingerbread men, snickerdoodles, and Lemon Cake. James Stowe was there with his son Barret. Stowe created the artwork for the poster. He was selling it along with all of his other prints, including the work he’d done for the Weird Elephant series. I enjoy being in a theater with a crowd that’s there to laugh and enjoy a favorite movie. I took a slice of Lemon Cake home for Krista and Stowe’s poster for myself. 

Alley News

The work on the corner continues. The day before they poured the main sidewalks, a car accident occurred on the corner. Part of the curb was damaged. Krista and I investigated when we went for a walk and examined the repair work. Now that the first corner has been repaired and the sidewalk has been poured, the crew has moved across the street to the second corner. Krista is thrilled. The work crew drastically cut back the overgrowth from a poorly maintained yard. The result is increased visibility when driving or walking across the street.

I remembered a few of my dreams from this week:

Dec 10th #IDreamt I was a cop sitting with three others at a pancake restaurant. A call for assistance came in. Did we A: Leave, or B: Order chocolate pancakes.

Dec 11th #IDreamt, an older, pudgy actor with thin hair, received a request from his agents to grow his hair longer so that he’d look more manly. As he did so, he talked to several other actors about this advice.

Dec 12th #Idreamt I was an anthropomorphic car on a kid's television show. The director was attempting to fire me through his direction. But I reminded him my contract stipulated I wasn’t to perform such an unapproved scene.

Dec 13th #IDreamt I saw a black lizard with red markings in my friend’s yard and avoided stepping on it. Then, a black fish with red markings swam through the air around me. That seemed odd, so I took hold of it. A hatch opened on its back, revealing it was…

Dec 14th #IDreamt, a classroom of design students, began working around the clock when it was announced the curriculum had changed. Grades would now be based on quantity as well as quality.

Dec 15th #IDreamt I was leaving a large room on the top floor of an old rotting house. A hole in the center of the room began to expand as the floor crumbled away. Boxes and things fell through as it rapidly grew.

I logged a few movies this week:

112. Dec 12th Ghosts of the Ozarks (2021) Rating: 4

I'm always intrigued by Western horror movies. I watched this on Tubi. While intrigued by the premise, I found the movie's texture could have been more gritty than I hoped. So, my suspension of disbelief carried less than I'd expected. 

113. Dec 14th Air Doll (2016) Rating: 7

The meaning of awakening to an existence is a world filled with humans, and confronting their foibles is explored in this film. I watched this movie on Tubi.

114. Dec 15th Krampus (2016) Rating: 7

I watched this movie at Friday Night Frights, held the third Friday of the month at the Blue Mouse Theater in Tacoma. My friend James Stowe was selling movie posters he created for the event. The Krampus design has an interesting take. The story itself has you wondering where it's going. It was a crowd-pleaser for the audience of cheesy horror fans. It gets an extra point for having a dog with a name in it.

115. Dec 16th Barbie (2023) Rating: 8

I watched this on Max with my wife. My wife's comment was, "Meh." I personally loved all the social commentary the film was having fun with. It was very clever. I certainly enjoyed it. I gave it an extra point for having a dog with a name in it, even if that dog was plastic and ate and shat brown plastic blobs.

More next week,

Mark

[narutomaki]

would it be possible for you to apply and interview and then make a decision if they offer you the job? that way maybe during the interview you can find out a little bit more about the job and then decide once you actually know if its a possibility? i struggle with long shifts too and talking to the interviewer a little bit and getting to know the role always helped me decide if the pay was worth the physical strain

I applied 😭

I did talk it through with my career coach first too and we went through it and shockingly my frustration at her not getting it (it is, from what I have seen, mostly helping people fill out and submit forms and ensuring identity and accuracy on them) (she was asking me "Tell me what you can see" which to me means "Answer me in theory" and I was answering her in theory from my existing knowledge base and she was going back like "Well its going to be more involved than that and it wont be judt that and you're going to need to do more research about all these things" and I'm like I Know I Thought We Were Doing Scenarios. but I digress) and then I did spend another 2 hours doing research and interview prep after submitting it.

Despite. Yknow. It being guaranteed I won't hear from them IF I EVEN GOT AN INTERVIEW for another 8-10 weeks (4-8 weeks from posting closure). But again. I digress.

This is. Unfortunately. The kind of job I want and am good at (providing information, helping people find information, processing and filling information, and processing transactions).

Except the options for employment are "full time Monday to Friday with weekends as needed lol lmao teehee" and "our company is making this posting so we can hire Greg's kid shhh for after school a couple times a week" and this one which is. a union job that is DEFINED. AS A COMPETITION. MAN....

I just want a job that is this but they think I'm a silly little guy and hire me on the spot for 5 hrs a day 3 times a week. Is that so hard to ask? (Apparently yes.)

Any way I think they have chairs and high desks with the option to stand so I'm gonna go whimper and whine at their door near closing so they hire me.