#recycling styrofoam

[applelzp]

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[batallenguo]

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[liyahmackenzie]

This is Not a Foam Cup

A "short book" verbose crappost about turning a foam cup into a modern art piece.

Foreword

Job interviewers around the globe ask the same ol’ question: “How can you sell me this pen?” This book is an answer to a variant of that question. The following chapters are part comedy, part art, and part showmanship, all stemming from what can be done with a simple foam cup. Why would you want to read what is effectively a verbose meme, a play on the famous “This is not a pipe” art piece? The same reason you’d take a second glance at that painting: it’s a novel take on something you’ve seen thousands of times, and you’ll likely finish this book with a deeper understanding of art and its effects on society. Someone who failed that “sell me a pen” test could have done wonders in the position they were seeking, and conversely someone who passed it could be totally inept at everything else. Regardless of where you lie on the spectrum, keep reading to improve your odds of winning a boss’ heart. This book isn’t meant to jeer at abstract artists or decry some seemingly simple works of art. It’s made to convey how the words that explain what the art is, is art itself. Even if there are no words attached to the art piece, silence is art. It’s all art. It’s just the label and the words that make the difference between a crumpled napkin and 20 grand. Someone wanted it. Someone will have it. Thus we begin the show.

An Art Exhibit From Scratch

Making a thing! Clean up your own mess after sipping that Joe from your foam cup! Peel at the cup so you make a neat spiral thing-a-ma-jig. Congratulations: you have just created a unique art piece worth thousands of dollars! You could be enjoying a nice Bordeaux on a yacht a month from now. That is, if you can sell it to the right person. You also have to possess the right interpersonal skills. I know you can do it. If some guy can trade a paper clip all the way to a house, then you can make a living by creating something from basically nothing. I could easily end the book here and say “thank you for your eyeballs”, but that would be antithetical to my message. Instead, I want to take you on a long trip through your mindscape, time and space, to show you the power of verbosity, art, irony, and showmanship. I will give examples of combining those concepts to completely wow your audience. Here we have it: a new art piece made from our idea. And an audience of eight billion people. Before you meet those people, though, you must venture deep into your mind to see how you can best express yourself. To sell the cup, you have to gain a personal grasp of it. You may even be hesitant to sell it by then.

Why Did You Save It?

Giving life to the inanimate. Ask yourself: why did you save this particular (not-a) cup from the garbage? Why not another cup? Be honest. If it was just for the money, go ahead and say it. Your words are what sell this cup. Just don’t stop there. Never give up. Admire the cup and think of its positive attributes. Love it like a farmer loves his crops. Remember that you are a field yourself, a field that was tilled and seeded. Someone who was cultivated into a functional human. A field isn’t cultivated by itself but rather comes from farmers who tend to it. Much like a field, it is up to you to give the cup a life of its own. Don’t let it go fallow as it slowly decays. Tell yourself: “it’s meant for something greater than that”. Someone saved you from natural dangers when you were a tyke. Now you saved a piece of foam from being dumped in the landfill. You’re paying it forward by seeing the art in the trash and sharing your findings with others. It took another human to design the book you’re reading. Someone had to come up with the concept of book binding. All art. It’s up to you to recognize the art in everything, and by that point, you can easily express your appreciation for a cup you’d otherwise have no feelings about. You must convey that there is something about it that gives it life and meaning beyond sitting there and being drunk out of.

Your Art is for Good

Being ethical in the eve of disaster. You could have been a god of destruction, but you chose to stay peaceful. The cup may be inanimate, but with a person who has read the right (or wrong) books, it can be used as a component for napalm. Your mind, your conscience: it’s beautiful no matter what you’re going through. It’s art. And your conscience, channeled through your physical being, is responsible for creating a masterpiece out of a simple cup. Your creative power was made manifest as you tore away at the edges of the cup. You breathed life into a thing by making it unusable for its intended purpose. But you made it shine in doing so. This statement is for the better or worse. Just as how art can be made in construction, it is also made in destruction. Take Pablo Picasso’s famous piece Guernica for example: it depicts the bombing of a Spanish city in the midst of a civil war. It reminds us that we are not just artists. We are living art, and even the cries of a dying populace make that known. “What are you selling in that cup of yours, that ripped up piece of foam?” You are selling a life that unraveled when you molded it into a new creation. It’s not a cup. It’s not just a personified cup. It’s a life gone tragically triumphant. Its new life has the scars, scratches, and stains of its former self. But it still has a kind spirit. That’s what this not-a-cup truly is. You gave it life in its mangling. Without you, it would not be truly alive. Your surgery gave it a refreshed look on existence.

Physical Touches

Giving your piece some character. You can tinker with the cup to give it extraordinary qualities, rather than it being a plain and extra ordinary object. There’s a great array of possibilities to set the piece from the others, including scratches and bends. Choose one that you think suits the qualities of the art’s personality. Clothe it with a sheet if you must, but if you really want to go Hard Mode, do not attach anything like googly eyes to the cup. Your cup may have a hard time slipping into a dress, but I can’t stop you. I’m just a girl who’s typing away in the late hours. Come on, I know you can accomplish anything. Figure out what feelings you wish to share with others, so it could be a conversation starter. Imagine a multimillionaire buying it just because it brings them joy. That’s what we’re all aiming for, right? At least to enjoy, and not for some spooky tax fraud or something like that. You may choose to have its physical nature be similar to yours, but you may also find it interesting to make it in a way that represents an emotion, friend, or even another object. What fun! This cup has literally infinite possibilities. So go ahead and keep on keeping on. I’ll be cheering you on all the way to the bank.

Selling the Craze to the Sane

Extraordinary or extra ordinary? This cup of yours now has a mind and life of its own. What would the rest of the world think of it? To sell this cup, you’d have to sell it to yourself first. Get into the idea that your creation is a person, or at least like a pet. Think about what an “average person/pet” would do. Many people have some sort of social media. Think about what that cup would say online. And as each social media platform has its own quirks, ask yourself how your cup would navigate the sites. It’s a comforting thought experiment. Would it be one to share inspirational quotes, or would it just make its own memes and spread them in an effort to go viral? It’s all up to your mindscape. Let it all out so the cup can soak it all in. It’s vital that you understand why you molded that cup’s personality in the way you did. You can learn something about yourself by examining the way you pondered about the social media exercise. You could use that knowledge to better understand your mind and tune it to a potential buyer’s wavelength. You aren’t required to give a 50-page report on the cup’s attributes to the potential buyer, but it’s handy to remember the nitty-gritty. If you memorize it enough and feel an actual connection to your creation, that feeling would come off as appealing to anyone interested (or not interested) in your piece. Don’t feel frustrated if you can’t memorize everything, or even if you can’t make something up. Keep a journal and inspiration will strike all of a sudden. Give that cup a dose of life-giving energy. It no longer holds coffee, but it can hold all your thoughts and cares. You may think that is going too far, and you would be completely reasonable in saying so. However, you’re in it to make a life out of nothing. You are Frankenstein, and this piece of foam is your Modern Prometheus. A sprinkle of care here, a dash of love, a hint of scratch marks. That’s the character of a cup. Friend your cup on Facebook and post pictures of it everywhere. Feel free to even edit it on top of the Eiffel Tower if you’re adventurous and technically savvy enough. Give it personality to the point it’s a part of your lifestyle. Sell your time in exchange for good memories with what is essentially a poor man’s stuffed animal. The hilarious part is that you can even create multiple personas for multiple foam cups… Okay, that’s going too far. You must sell this insanely mundane object to the (usually) completely sane customer, not create an entire ecosystem out of something that ironically destroys the environment. I apologize for going this far. But I’m not sorry enough to stop writing this book, haha. The point is: the art is in your mind, and you’re projecting it through your voice and charm. You need to win the customer over through a series of tactics. Whatever fallacy is your cup of tea: the bandwagon, testimonials, fear of missing out, and so on. Every bit helps in the battle towards selling that cup of yours. Don’t sell yourself short. Sell with pizzazz.

Buying or Biting

Either way, reel them in. There will always be a potential customer looking to purchase good art, and it’s your job to make the piece, fall in love with it, and sell it to a good home. That takes cunning, tact, and good social skills. Break out of your shell and open a friendly dialog with the client. That’s half the battle for most people. The other half is actually landing the deal. Confidence in your training is key. You know everything about your companion you are going to sell. You’re their best friend. You’ve done everything together. Feel it and feel loved. Feel successful. Use everything under your belt to figure out how to strategically reel them into actually buying your stuff. Don’t let any emotional attachment get you down; there are more foam cups in the sea. Wait… that’s actually horrible. Anyways, you’ll do fine. Be masterful in your approach. Be concise and show your creativity to them. Explaining the innate details of a piece not only captivates the audience, but it also encourages them to ask more questions. The more questions answered – the more likely they will actually buy it. You’d do so well.

Closing

Congratulations!

Congratulations on completing this short book on how to sell a mundane foam cup. If upcycling were this fun, we’d all be doing it all the time. I’d definitely buy a cup from you (not really). I hope you learned a little bit on how to make things more verbose and why it’s important to sometimes personify the art you make. This was a short exercise, but I know it made me appreciate art more. I hope it did that to you too.

[foamcut]

Can EPS acoustic insulation be used in exterior walls to reduce outdoor noise?

While EPS acoustic insulation can provide some level of sound reduction, it is generally not the most effective solution for reducing outdoor noise in exterior walls. The primary purpose of EPS insulation is to provide thermal insulation and improve energy efficiency in buildings. While it can have some secondary benefits for sound insulation by foam recycling machine, it is not specifically designed or optimized for outdoor noise reduction.

Outdoor noise, such as traffic noise or loud neighbors, typically requires specialized soundproofing techniques and materials to achieve significant reductions. Here are some considerations when addressing outdoor noise in exterior walls:

Mass and Density: The most effective way to reduce outdoor noise is by increasing the mass and density of the wall assembly. Materials such as mass-loaded vinyl, concrete, or specialized acoustic panels are more suitable for this purpose. These materials are specifically designed to absorb, block, or dampen sound waves, offering better sound insulation performance.

Soundproofing Techniques: Soundproofing involves creating a barrier that reduces the transmission of sound waves. Techniques such as double stud walls, staggered stud walls, or resilient channels can help to minimize sound transmission through the wall assembly.

Air Sealing: Proper air sealing of exterior walls is essential for reducing noise infiltration. Any gaps, cracks, or openings in the wall assembly should be sealed to prevent sound leakage.

Windows and Doors: Outdoor noise can also enter through windows and doors. Upgrading to double or triple-pane windows with appropriate seals and using solid, well-insulated doors can provide additional sound reduction.

It is important to consult with professionals experienced in noise control or acoustic EPS shredder to assess the specific noise issues and recommend appropriate solutions. They can provide guidance on the most effective materials and techniques for reducing outdoor noise in exterior walls, taking into account factors such as noise frequency, intensity, and the specific characteristics of the building.

[artcalledpourbrush]

Echo Africa Saype Land Art Biodegradable Art Charcoal landscapes Saype And hiz land Art! eco Africa Styrofoam recycling Only 2% iz on the Earth Make the conglomerates recycle without adding costs to consumers only take away the bonus’ Where’s the other 98% Landfills beaches grounds moving along oceans Echo Africa 2%MaherMellencamp This was later in my day Born in mid money population No w an axis I don’t believe anything the government states Echo interrupt hear hear I am not in either side One naive one too extreme Same siders scoped in battle Where’s the weed? Art this into sum thing No one paying me any Echo Africa

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

Since MXTX said HuaLian live until the modern times, have some random headcanons:

Hua Cheng keeps being an interior decorating king so of course his and Xie Lian's home is tastefully decorated for every season and holiday. However, that doesn't stop Xie Lian from occasionally adding the fugliest item ever because he got emotionally attached to it in the store. "It was all by itself, San Lang, nobody wanted it... i know what that feels like better than anyone..." and now they're both sniffling holding an ugly styrofoam pumpkin in the middle of the fall decor isle of Ikea.

The stray animals food budget is off the charts but it's nobody's fault all strays are immediately drawn to Xie Lian and he has to feed them cause he "knows what it's like to be hungry". This does not just include cats and dogs but also rats, raccoons, several bird species and at least one coyote.

Speaking of budgets, the financial control authorities are lowkey on Hua Cheng's case because he is still stinking rich but nobody knows where the cash is coming from. They think Ghost City is the name of some shady mafia establishment and are trying to find dirt on Hua Cheng but there is literally nothing there and it eats the government alive.

Xie Lian occasionally dumpster dives in places where he knows they throw perfectly salvageable things. Hua Cheng cries every time it happens but he stands watch so the police doesn't arrest his husband for it.

In the same vein, Xie Lian insists on recycling literally everything. They have those different colored trash bins and everything, and every time Hua Cheng places an item in the wrong bin, Xie Lian gives him a disapproving look that has the ghost king crumble.

They have so many house plants. It's like a little jungle in their living room but the air is so crisp.

They keep several scrapbooks of paintings, pictures, letters etc from all the people they met to remember them even hundreds or thousands of years after those people have passed away. Even if they now have access to phones and other media for storage, they keep up the tradition of using scrapbooks and notebooks anyway.

Xie Lian is actually up to date with memes and internet slang but has embraced being a cringe Facebook grandpa and is now committed to the persona. Hua Cheng finds this hilarious (he runs a very well maintained beauty channel and a side channel on swords where Xie Lian features in every video and geeks out about their sword collection. They have a golden button and a very large following).

Hua Cheng has a 25 step skincare routine and only uses the fanciest brands of products for literally everything. Xie Lian still swears by 8 in 1 shampoo and somehow has clearer skin. Hua Cheng is both enamored and scandalized about it.

Hua Cheng is a very big fan of acryllics and lets Xie Lian pick the base color every time. Xie Lian takes this task very, very seriously and tries to coordinate it with any activities/events they have planned so Hua Cheng stays being stylish.

Hua Cheng has a portable Dyson Airwrap with him at all times because one time a kid said his hair looks like a wet dog.

Xie Lian is not allowed to get a job because every time he tried to along the decades he became a cautionary tale somehow.

[polymerclay]

made my cabinet man oc out of recycled styrofoam n other stuff i had lying around

[thewelllitweenie]

Fun fact if you get polystyrene packaging and drop it in a non reactive (glass is good) container with acetone/nail polish remover it'll melt quite dramatically. It'll bubble a lot drop into a fraction of it's original volume as all the air in it gets released. It's fun to watch meters of it just gloop away and at the end you get a lump of dense styrene plastic in a putty consistency which is neat. Don't touch it with gloves that'll react with the acetone as I learnt that pulling away melted nitrile gloves is a distinctly weird sensation, remember to wash your hands if you handle it. From there the putty can be used for making stuff, just remember to have some ventilation cause acetone fumes aren't super great to breathe in and that every part of the process is flammable as heck.

Encounter: Green Oozekin that really likes eating styrofoam

[applelzp]

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[gostyreneuae]

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[purelyfiction]

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NFL QB Jake 'Hangman' Seresin AU x Popstar F!Reader

Summary: NFL Quarterback Jacob Seresin is in hot water from a streak of bad decisions, just as you go through the worst public breakup of your life. With people slandering both of your reputations, your publicists hatch a plan to bring both of you back into favor and keep the heat off until spring - that is if you can keep up the facade.

Word Count: 5,334 words

Author Note: I know I have two other outstanding Top Gun fics and I swear I'm trying to get those going but I am writing what sparks joy and well.... this certainly does. || Also!! Reader's stage name is 'Celeste' with 'Este' as the nickname. So no one gets confuseddddd

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You'd never anticipated to start the biggest year of your life absolutely gutted, yet here you are. Your boyfriend – well, ex-boyfriend, severed what you had thought to be a loving, trusting and safe relationship, rather unexpectedly on New Year's Eve. Then he'd gone to the press to relay that you were a horrible person, a terrible girlfriend, too involved in your work to even bother paying attention to anyone else. The timing couldn't be worse, since you were about to start your first ever stadium tour in the spring. 

The result had been you hiding away in your little oasis that was your condo in California’s southern escape of San Diego. You’d stayed off the internet, binging TV shows that you’d been too busy to pay attention to and immersing yourself in anything you could, to erase the four year relationship you’d been splintered from. The garbage people probably wondered why there were a near dozen empty quarter pints of ice cream in your recycling bin, but that wasn’t for them to care about. At least you’d recycled them. 

Now, three weeks into the new year, with your favorite Chinese on the way, you sit on your couch going over tour visuals. Your lighting engineer is rambling on the line as you hear the gate buzzer go off. You’re quick to collect your dinner as one of the others on the line gasp and quickly mute their mic. “What?” You quip, walking to your expansive kitchen and dropping the large paper bag down. You’re half paying attention when the employee brushes you off, as your hand pulls container after container of food from the magical Mary Poppins-style bag. Getting to the bottom, you grasp for a pair of chopsticks, only to find several sets of them, along with a dozen fortune cookies. You take a moment to look over your four entrees and styrofoam container of sushi. The audacity of them to think you would be sharing any of this. 

Finally, you address the matter of your dramatic tech director. “What’s the deal over there Hollywood?” You chide, before your phone is ringing, leaving you to hang up the video call to answer the phone. It’s your publicist and you know better than to let her calls go unanswered.

“Check your inbox.” Her voice is frigid instead of it’s usually cheery demeanor.   

“Hello to you too?” Begrudgingly, you do as she commands, finding the email she sent to you. 

Jonah Carter agreed to sit down for an interview with UsWeekly, post-breakup to clear the air and to make sure no one else would fall for his ex-girlfriend's (Celeste) playful, girl-next-door-ish facade.

"At first, it felt like a dream come true," Carter, an up-and-coming actor within his own right, said almost sheepishly. "I thought she was talented and kind, but I should've known it was too good to be true."

But there's more to this pop-star than Jonah says meets the eye. In addition to the vanity and self-importance that seems to plague this generation's starlets, Este was a vindictive slob who routinely talked behind the back of even her closest friends. "It makes me wonder what she's saying about me, now, after everything I've heard her say about those who think are closest to her." The concern for others is written very clearly on the actor’s face as he speaks. When I question the songstress’ messages about authenticity, the man adjusts in his seat as he holds back a laugh. 

"She'd like you to believe she writes all her own music, but I'm not sure she could write a full sentence without the help of her team," Jonah chuckled nervously into his coffee. "Sorry, that was rude. I don't want to stoop to her level." Cowed brown eyes made me wonder what else he had endured behind closed doors. It struck a chord within me. 

“Why did you stay as long as you had if this was what you were facing?” I ask him. The expression of his kind features morphs into despair. 

“When we first met, Celeste was someone I admired. Her compassion, her drive and her dedication to the things she valued spoke so deeply to what I did, what I still do-” he fumbles as he attempts to source the proper words, “They just… weren’t her beliefs. They were her team’s.” Jonah lets out a pained sound, “I think when we got toward the end of it, I realized that she has this way of manipulating what she says, how she acts, to make herself look good. She puts on a show, on and off the stage and you pay for it one way or another. So, I knew what she was capable of. I knew she could be that person if she really wanted to and I wanted so badly to help her see that. I eventually learned that people see what they want to see.”

God, what a load of hot garbage this was. It was a particularly rare batch, clearly it had been baking in a dumpster in the scorching sun with the lid closed. All damp, with a horrendous mix of something rotting and old crusty seaweed. 

The tour was supposed to be announced on the first of the month and here your ex was selling stories (horribly narrated and mangled stories) to the press. You might as well have been kicking puppies at this point. 

“Isn’t he just swell? Nothing but peak wisdom from good ol’ Jonah.” Your eyes could’ve strained themselves with how far back they rolled. Probably the only time he’d ever made them do that too.

“I’ve already called a team together to brainstorm. I don't want you to respond. Stay offline, away from all of it and don't entertain any of the discourse. Not until I have something to work with.” 

“None of it is true we both know that-” You begin to laugh but she cuts you off.

“As much as I want to be on your side here, we are working to put out a fire. Your silence the last three weeks has put you at a massive disadvantage and frankly? The public eye doesn’t see you in the greatest space right now.” You know she’s right. She always is, and right now ‘Celeste’ was synonymous with ‘cynical, fake and fraudulent’. You wouldn’t be shocked if the uproar demanded you be canceled based off of this testimony. 

It wasn’t all but two days later that you were called in by your PR team. Into the office in New York for the first time since before Thanksgiving. It had been a busy end of the year and now that the new one was coming in so ferociously you weren’t looking toward any of the things you once had been. This was the first time back into the light and so you had made sure that the inevitable cameras had something to look at. You’d dressed yourself in your favorites, in an effort to boost your confidence as best as you could. Putting on a show, just like you had been when things had been on the rocks with Jonah. 

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Getting to the office, you’re nearly trampled with the amount of people that swarm you. It’s not normally this bad - hell it’s never this bad. It isn’t until you catch sight of a football jersey and an ESPN logo that your brow furrows. Odd. 

Stepping into the building, you’re pushing your sunglasses up onto your head, looking down at your ringing phone and trying to slide your coat off simultaneously. Instead, you crash right into what you think is a wall, but is instead a broad man, looking rather lost. 

“Easy there, Twinkle Toes.” You guffaw and look up at the blonde man before returning your eyes toward your feet. Of course, the bedazzled statement boots on your feet call attention to themselves before the rest of the outfit can balance itself out. 

“Alright, Prince Charming, you first.” You snicker before stepping out of his way and start to the elevator. Unfortunately for you, he’s apparently heading your way as well, needing access to the lift to the next floor. 

“Prince Charming, huh? I mean I’ve been called worse.” His shoulders roll backwards as the elevator dings to one of the other floors. You keep your head trained forward, suddenly remembering the rule you’d been given. Stay quiet, don’t engage. And here you were giving sass to a stranger and showing up in bedazzled booties. You were really digging this grave deeper than necessary. So, instead of giving him another sassy response, you keep your eyes locked to the neon numbers as the elevator passes each floor. “Oh so, now I’m getting a cold shoulder? Darn, I was really ready to ask you all about the boots on your feet, too.” You can’t help but let your eyes move back over to the broad male, just out of the corner of your eye. His face is completely locked on you, shamelessly at that. “They expensive? They got that waxy red paint on the bottoms of ‘em?” Silently, you turn one of your feet up to give him a glimpse at the blue bottom of the shoe. “Huh, blue. That’s fun. That more expensive than the LouButton or whatever they are?” Finally the elevator reaches your floor, hopefully shutting this chatterbox up for the time being. Yet the questions continue like an immature toddler as you rise up the floors - going to the same floor nonetheless. “Hey, you’re that Celeste chick aren’t ya?” 

“Yes.” You finally answer one of his questions, his face lighting up.

“Oh look at that, she cracks.” Another eye roll times well with the sound of the elevator reaching the desired floor. Instead of responding, you quickly find your way through the glass hallways and to the desired room. You are so glad to be in the presence of the familiar group, the stranger in the elevator having rattled your composure somewhat. Your manager comes in with a cup of coffee and a smile, which immediately puts one on yours. 

“You didn’t have to do that!” You cheer, reaching out for it as she sits beside you. 

“When you see what Rachel has come up with, you’re going to need it.” Oh. Reassuring. 

You see her point when Prince Charming steps into the board room, followed by a host of men in dress clothes and suits, all matching the blue soles of your boots. Charming sits directly across from you, a hand wiggling his fingers as he waves at you. Oh good. 

“Thank you everyone for coming. I know this is a very polarizing group, so before we get ahead of ourselves, I want to introduce Celeste, or Este as we all have come to call her over the years.” Awkwardly, you wave at the foreign men. They grunt and nod. You were already having doubts and not a word had been spoken on their end. “I also want to introduce Beau Simpson, public relations coordinator for the San Diego Sea Lions, Coach Natasha Trace, and Sea Lions owner, Tom Kazansky.”

Sea Lions? As in the NFL team that had been built not even three years ago but had made it to all three playoffs in their short time? The one that Jonah had ridiculed immensely when it joined the league because ‘California doesn’t need another group of inflated egos in the league’? 

“I’m really feeling the love here, Rach.” Charming speaks up and the raven haired woman on the other side of the table sighs. 

“This is Jacob Seresin, starting quarterback for the Sea Lions.” The coach speaks, the blonde man brushing off her introduction. 

“No need for full names, Trace. Clearly we only do the stage name around here.” That was a clear jab to you if you’d ever heard it. “Hangman’s what they call me.” His hand juts across the glass, toward you. Your hands stay tucked under your biceps. 

“Pleasure to meet you.” It’s passive, turning to your team leader. “Rachel. I’m not seeing a connection here.” 

“Jacob is in the same pot of hot water you’re in.” Your attention moves to the similarly broad man who stands up, towering over Rachel. “We feel as though we can spin this to both of your advantages. Jake needs to stop sleeping around–”

“Easy now, Simpson.” The eldest in the room stands up and he gives you a kind smile. It’s not a farce though. You’re not entirely sure what makes it so genuine, but you smile in return of seeing him stand, despite it taking a slight bit of effort to do so. “What he means is, Jake’s professional status has changed due to the words of someone else and we’re determined to alter that. Rachel identified this and made quite the proposal.” The young woman seems all too cheery to cut off the old man. 

“You’re both having relationship woes–” The raven haired woman on Jacob’s team speaks under her breath. 

“Wouldn’t call them relationships.”

“And by putting you two together, we feel as though we can put you into a positive light. Let’s face it, putting two very successful, and attractive people who are already in the spotlight allows people to follow the developing love story. Este attends games, plays the WAG card, has an opportunity to be seen in the public eye more frequently and dispels the ill-spoken words that were published about her this week. Jake gets the proof that he isn’t just a love-em-and-leave-em type.” Your eyes spell out the doubt you’re feeling, looking at your team who is just as skeptical. “That’s just the beginning! Celeste is going on tour this year. Stadiums all across the country have her booked and ready for the summer. We have a captive audience already following these games to see Este and Jake together, and we get brand recognition. The conversations that will come as she gets to witness her betrothed play in a stadium she would be performing in that very summer.”

Now you see where the benefit actually is. Clearing your name while simultaneously promoting your tour in the process. Seeing stadiums you’ve booked and would hopefully sell out. 

“So how are you proposing this works? We’ll need a start, an end - a story on how we met–”

“Well,” Beau settles in his seat, twisting in the desk chair as he draws in the attention of the group, “we have the major details hypothesized. Rachel and I will work with one another to get the rest of it together. For now, you two met at a New Years Eve party.” 

Oh joy. Now you get to remember that bitter break-up that led you here, every time you speak about him. 

The man looks like he walked out of a surfing magazine, as it were. Now, the scowl on his features paints him as a devil. Long hair, muscular arms on display as he leans into the table in front of him. 

“If we don’t do this?” Jake leans back in his chair, a hand coming to fiddle with the lingering 5 o’clock shadow that he has omitted in his morning routine. 

“We don’t do this and there will be a lack of support for the Sea Lions. You’ll have painted the entire team as jackasses who can’t focus to save their life, especially if you continue to party and hook up with whomever your dick has the hots for that night-” Beau has gone off the handle and Tom speaks up again. 

“The point is, public favor will stay low and it will not bode well for the team. With a lack of support, we have empty seats. Empty seats translates to less viewers, then to less money and you know the song and dance. Not to mention morale for the upcoming playoffs. We need to keep the team happy, Hangman. It’s time to do something to benefit everyone.” 

Jake’s expression deepens, as though he was a young child just scolded by his father for his poor behavior. Green eyes shift and face you, his hand jutting out toward you. 

“I’m in.” His hand hovers. Waiting for you to join him in this grand scheme. Glancing at your own team, they look rather haunted. At this point, it was this or to hope that a long string of possible good stories and fan interactions can redeem you. 

You want this to pass. And if this would make it go faster… you grab Jake’s hand firmly.

“What’s there to lose?”

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You went back onto social media. Posted some photos you’d taken with friends back at the beginning of the month, from the worst party of your life. The photos at least were cute and you loved the dress you’d gotten to wear. Luckily these photos were all taken prior to midnight. So there were no red eyes. No ruined mascara and glitter across your cheeks. No freezing car rides home and empty beds. 

Mindlessly, you scroll through the comments. 

Flameth: can still make the whole place shimmer ✨

RunTao: phony photos

Romanacent: so glad to see you’re not letting him get to you!

H_ngm_n: you’re still gonna let me borrow those boots right

It’s the last one you’d been keeping an eye out for. Boots? Looking back at the photo, you scroll through the carousel until you spot them. 

The same shiny sparkly rhinestone boots you’d worn to your meeting. 

Celeste: @h_ngm_n I’m a woman of my word, of course 🤗

Not even a week goes by before you’re ‘spontaneously’ at a bar in LA. Jake has been there for the last two hours, as he insisted you both show up alone and then end up leaving together. You eventually found him in the VIP section, drinking with his buddies. 

You made sure to keep your distance for a few minutes - after all, his friends had no idea this was going down. The only people who knew about this little arrangement were your respective PR teams. That was it. No one else from your teams, your friends and family, absolutely no one knew what your little plan was. Maybe you should just leave. It was a verbal contract, you didn’t sign anything, you were just trying to make this work for the two of you-

The bartender pulls you from your deliberations. There is now a drink that you certainly didn’t order sitting in front of you. Well there was no going back now. Jake had likely made a show of sending over the drink and now you had to go through with this. Glancing over your shoulder, you see the jock, legs spread, arms resting on the back of the booth chair. Green eyes lock in your direction and send a cocky wink as a garnish to your drink. 

You are about to win your first Oscar with this performance. Throwing on a grin, you pick up the drink and easily sashay your way over to him and his football buddies. Some flash titanium wedding bands, some platinum. Some aren’t wearing them at all, like your date, mister 83 who leans forward upon your approach. “Well, well, well, long time no see hot shot.”

“Speak for yourself, pop star.” Jake stands to greet you, his arms coming around you, carefully as to not spill either of your drinks. You catch a whiff of his cologne when he does so. It’s rich, familiar in the way it reminds you of summers camping. Bonfire smoke and smores. Yet clean, like when you came home to a clean house, citrus floor cleaner lingering in the halls. Pulling back, you almost move forward again to sit in it. Easy does it. 

“Oh come on, three weeks isn’t that long.” You chide. While most of his body has pulled away from the hug, his free hand still sits on your waist, warm against the AC of the exclusive bar. 

“Technically it was a year ago.” Jake smirks before taking a sip of his drink and you want to groan. So you do. But spin it into something more playful. 

“Observant, are we?” You nearly snarl as you take a sip of your drink, Jake’s colleagues standing up. The one who’d sat right next to him grins and extends a hand. He’s tall, lean but has a stunning smile as he steps your way.

“Not sure we’ve met. Javy Machado, running back, San Diego Sea Lions-” the blonde looks at his friend with an amused scoff. 

“I think she knows who the Sea Lions are, Jav.” The look on the captain’s face is one of skepticism and amusement. You were here to dispel rumors. So, as much as you’d like to smack Jake for being a dick to his friend, you shake his teammate’s hand instead 

“In passing. I don’t follow football closely, but I get by. Celeste.” The smile on your face is genuine as the next player stands. Kind eyes, a domestic bar of hair on his upper lip and the build of a pickup truck, he goes for a quick one armed hug. When he lets go, you have to wipe the temptation of any swooning you were compelled to do. Especially since a gold band glistens on his left hand. 

You’re here for Jake anyways. 

“Name’s Bradley Bradshaw. They call me Rooster.” Your eyebrow furrows as your head twists. Before you can ask, another man on the other side of the room laughs. 

“You should hear him on the field when he’s sacking someone.” This one, curls and meticulously groomed facial hair to boot, leans forward and shakes your hand kindly. “I’m Mickey. That back there is Bob.”  

True to his word, at the end of the bench is a long haired man, tucked into his phone and fiddling with a ring. He doesn’t seem to match the energy of the rest of the group. Curious. “Bob!” He glances up at the sound of his name, blue eyes flitting from face to face before spotting you. When he does he breaks out into a smile. 

“Celeste! Gosh, wow it’s so cool to meet you! My girls adore your music.” This catches Jake’s attention, a brow popping up. 

“Aren’t both of ‘em less than five?” He asks and Bob looks between the two of you. 

“Yeah? It’s never too early to introduce them to great music and influential women.” There’s no faking the smile on your face as you reach over and shake his hand. When you do, you look at Jake with a ‘would you look at that’ coded grin. 

“That’s amazing to hear! I’m glad they have fun with it! That’s why I do it.” You glance back at Jake as he comes behind you, hand shifting to the small of your back. 

“Pay’s in the bathroom, I’m sure you’ll meet him sometime later tonight.” The quarterback gives a nod to his group, before guiding the two of you to a high top table not too far from them. When you sit down he looks at you with a laugh. “Flirt much?” 

“Excuse me?” Jumping to the defense, you watch Jake roll his eyes and then look back at Bradley, before facing you. 

“You were practically eye-fucking him.” 

“Was not.” 

“He’s happily married, leave him be.” The blonde sips at his drink and you can’t help but laugh when you realize he’s giving you a hard time. 

“Right, right, guess I’ll bother you instead.” The tease is off your lips in two seconds. Maybe he was right, you were coming off strong. You huff and sink into yourself briefly. “I don’t know if you realized this, but I haven’t had ‘flirt’,” your fingers mark the quotation marks in the air, “with anyone in a while. Let alone fake it.” 

Jake leans back in his chair, downing the rest of his beverage a smirk making way when he sets the glass down. 

“Don’t worry, you won’t be faking it for long.” 

The two of you sat at that table for probably an hour, bickering over which of the Pirates of The Caribbean movies were the best, and why glitter was a detriment to society. Another round of drinks and the football star return to the table as he laughs when he spills a little of your overflowing drink. 

“No, no I assure you. Glitter originated in some high tech nuclear weapons factory to make the enemy go insane upon introducing it to an environment.” He pushes your drink toward you as you pull your hair back. Not only were you not anticipating for him to be this passionate about it, but you weren’t planning on the night going like this. 

You were enjoying yourself. Jake had told you about his time at UT, six years spent studying communications no less. 

It made sense when you really dissected it. Jake had the ease to hold someone’s attention: he’d held yours this long after all, and he was well spoken. Both were things that were shocking to you. He soon enough revealed the plan had always been football. Communications was for post-retirement, when he got tired out and wanted to be back in the stadiums. 

Stories of his dad commentating his high school games came fondly before he asked about your background. You were a bit hesitant to divulge too much, but what you had was pretty bare-bones. 

Music had always been a hobby but never a career choice. You’d planned to go into school for a degree in education, a masters in English. Go and teach for a bit before getting your PhD in some niche of the world of writing and then become a professor at your alma mater. 

With the rise of social media and the multitudinous connections of the internet, a little original song of yours got popular. Local radio picked it up and then your label signed you. 

“It all was pretty spontaneous, really,” you answer. “My career was in no way by design, but… I wouldn’t change it.” The smile on your face is small, but genuine as your hair falls back around your face. Tracing the rim of your glass, you keep your eyes down before a hand pushes your hair out of your face. Coming eye to eye with him, he grins. 

“Guess it was written in the stars then.” His response catches you. Jake’s eyes are much softer than when you’d approached him earlier. They were dark, focused and possibly a little mischievous. Now? They were gentle. Every shade reassured you that the boisterous man you’d seen in the office and the press was nothing like the man under the helmet. 

It made far more sense to you now. How he’d gotten women hooked on him. The abrasiveness and bold exterior was the casing to the real character. 

How many women had actually made it past the outside?

The rustling of a fabric on leather comes from in front of you, watching as the blonde pulls out a wad of cash from his pocket. 

“Please tell me this isn’t you trying to buy my affection there, Seresin.” As he stands up, pushing his wallet back, the grin carved on his face doesn’t leave when he shakes his head. 

“No, no, princess. This is for the bartender. Turns out you’re not a cheap date.” His knuckles wrap onto the table briefly before he disappears. You blame the blush on your face on the humidity inside the building. 

The two of you bid your goodbyes, before starting to the front of the bar to exit. Reaching the street, it’s expectantly empty. He takes the side closest to the street as the two of you head down the way, toward the row of restaurants and shops that were quiet for the night. 

“Are you hungry?” Jake’s voice breaks through the cold of late January air, looking at him quizzically. 

“If you’re hungry we could go back-” His hand comes to your back again as he shakes his head. 

“Oh-ho, no ma’am I promise, I’ve got something way better.” 

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Unfortunately, he was right. The two of you stand in the glow of food truck lighting, beyond messy tacos in hand. He’s watching you with a smirk on his face, obnoxiously chewing the fish taco in his hand. 

“Is that not the best taco you’ve ever had?” Again, his voice is filled with ardor as he watches you attempt to maneuver the soft corn tortilla that seems to be spilling into your napkin. 

“It’s… a taco.” You shrug, looking down at the brown beef meal in your hands. Jake shakes his head, still chewing. 

“No, no, I will not have you slander Ganso’s Tacos. Absolutely not.” He sets his red basket down on a table, hand in a vice grip around his taco. “Here, open,” he maneuvers closer and you shake your head, backing up. 

“I am not eating your taco!”

“Eat it!!” The two of you laugh. Finally, you concede and take a bite of the hand fed taco. When he finally takes it back to his plate, his expression eagerly waits for your reaction.  One hand covers your mouth as you chew, nodding as Jake looks like he just stole the Mona Lisa without getting caught. 

“You’re right.” One singular fist to the air and he’s back to scarfing down his tacos. 

“I told you. Way better than bar food. This is by far the best taqueria in all of California. And I stand by that.” 

With full stomachs and messy hands, the two of you start back toward the bar, where Jake’s parked. When you do, you finally notice a car has been tailing the two of you since you ordered your meal. 

The crowd in front of the bar proves that your teams were certainly on to something. Flashes of light start in an onslaught, your hand coming to block your eyes. Still, you keep walking toward them, only for Jake to grab your hand and guide you toward his car. 

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Voices shout, questions sail through the air, your name, his name, Jonah’s, more questions about football- it all gets crammed into the cacophony before the passenger door opens under Jake’s hand, guiding you to your escape pod. 

The driver side door causes the car to shake with an unceremonious thud. In seconds, the engine to the sports car is ignited and the two of you are underway. 

It isn’t until you get about two miles out that one of you finally speaks. 

“How long do you think it’s going to take for those to show up online?” White lines on the road disappear as you head further and further from the bars and closer to the hotel you were staying at for the weekend. 

“I give it maybe six hours. Four if we’re lucky.” He laughs, but it doesn’t match the hearty ones he shared with you earlier.

A sports broadcast plays lowly on the radio, both of you overwhelmed by the cameras that stimulating conversation was far from what either of you were concerned with. It isn’t long until you spot your hotel. Jake navigates into the lane closest to the front of the building, pressing down on the brakes. You’re just about to unbuckle when he pulls back out into the other lane, lurching forward and away from your accommodation. 

“Um. Hello?” You question. The car whips around a turn, green eyes fixated to the rear view. Shifting in your seat, you glance behind you. 

“We’re being followed.” Jake just barely makes the light before it turns red, leaving the tailing SUV behind. 

“It’s probably just paparazzi, no big deal.” It’s easy to shrug off for you, but Jake huffs. 

“Yeah. And I’m not dropping you off at a hotel alone with vultures circling.” Navigating the CarPlay in the vehicle, he quickly moves to messages and asks his phone to send someone to your hotel to gather your things. 

“Jake, I’m-”

“You’re staying with me.”

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[batallenguo]

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[leebrontide]

After two years in this house we're finally doing the DIY project I've wanted to do since before we closed.

The kitchen in Rhombus house was last updated in exactly 1990. It features knobless honey oak cabinets, a Styrofoam tile drop ceiling, florescent lights, a sad and cracked yellow and beige vinyl floor, and, my personal top pet peeve, a badly chipped warm beige laminate countertop.

But new countertops are VERY expensive and we spent all our money on insulation and windows with fancy features like being able to close all the way.

But the countertops are so sad and chipped and pathetic that it's kind of like...we can't really make them worse, you know? And there's a freedom in that.

So, last year, we got a fancy white concrete skimcoat mix, and bits of colored recycled glass to add some shimmer. It was incredibly cheap. Like $100. Now we have finally secured childcare and means of keeping cats out of the kitchen.

I wouldn't do a poured concrete countertop because my sister had one in her house and after a decade it warped so badly you could get your whole hand under the hump.

But we're gonna try this skimcoat, then sand it, then seal it.

Because, again, we can't really make the countertops any worse.

Plus, I got a bigass white enamel farmhouse sink for free on craigslist we can put in.

Will report back.

[foamcut]

How does the recycling process for EPS foam work?

The recycling process for EPS (Expanded Polystyrene) foam typically involves the following steps:

Collection: EPS foam waste is collected from various sources, such as households, businesses, or recycling drop-off points. This can include foam packaging, food containers, and other EPS foam products.

Sorting: The collected EPS foam is sorted to separate it from other waste materials. Contaminants like paper, tape, and labels are removed during this stage. Clean EPS foam is preferred for recycling.

Densification: The sorted EPS foam is then densified to reduce its volume for transportation and storage. This can be done through mechanical processes such as grinding or shredding. The foam is broken down into small pieces or beads, increasing its density.

Melting or Extrusion: The densified EPS foam is melted or extruded using heat and pressure. This process converts the foam into a molten form that can be shaped into new products. The molten foam can be extruded into continuous sheets or molded into specific shapes, depending on the desired end product.

Solidification: The molten EPS foam is cooled and solidified into the desired form, such as sheets, blocks, or pellets. Solidification can be achieved through various methods, including cooling with water or air.

Manufacturing: The solidified recycled EPS foam is then used as raw material in the manufacturing of new products. It can be processed into insulation boards, packaging materials, construction materials, and other applications.

Distribution and Use: The recycled EPS foam products are distributed to manufacturers, retailers, and end-users for various applications. These products can replace virgin EPS foam or other materials, contributing to waste reduction and resource conservation.

It's important to note that the specific recycling process for EPS foam may vary depending on the recycling facility and the available technology. Some facilities may employ more advanced techniques such as chemical recycling or specialized equipment like densifiers and extruders.

Recycling EPS foam requires dedicated recycling centers or specialized facilities equipped with the necessary machinery and expertise to handle the recycling process effectively. It's recommended to check with local recycling programs or waste management facilities to find out about the specific EPS foam recycling options available in your area,such as by EPS melting machine.