#toilet paper sale

[cheekynet]

Buy Toilet Paper Online | Australia

Cheeky Toilet Paper is 100% Australian owned and Australian manufactured. We deliver Australia wide. Our products include wrapped, unwrapped, recycled, and seeded toilet rolls. Our toilet rolls are great value for money and are environmentally friendly.

[shawcl]

going to the drugstore (my parents house)

[iowabills]

Iowa House Bill 964: A bill for an act exempting the sale of toilet paper from the sales tax.

[yokelfelonking]

Post 9/11 Trivia

Most folks on this site were either children on September 11, 2001, or weren’t even born yet.  But America went crazy for about a year afterwards.  Here’s some highlights that I remember that might not be in your history books:

There was national discussion on whether or not Halloween should be canceled because…fuck if I know why.  After planes crashed into buildings in NYC it follows that 6-year-olds in Iowa shouldn’t be allowed to dress up like Batman and ask their neighbors for candy, I guess.  (Halloween wasn’t canceled, by the way.)

On a similar note, people asked if comedy - any sort of comedy - was appropriate anymore, ever.

People sold shitty parachutes to suckers “in case your building gets attacked and you have to jump out the window.” There were honest-to-God news reports warning people not to jump out of the window with shitty mail-order parachutes because they wouldn't work.

As a follow-up to the attacks, someone mailed anthrax to some prominent politicians and news anchors - you know, famous people - along with some badly-written notes about “you cannot stop us, death to America, Allah is good” and after that every time some random dumbass found a package in the mail they didn’t recognize they thought that the terrorists were targeting them, too.

Everyone was similarly convinced that their town was going to be the next target, even if they were a little town in the middle of nowhere. "Our town of Bumblefuck, South Dakota (population 690) has the largest styrofoam pig statue west of the Mississippi! Terrorists might fly planes into that too! It's a prime target!"

People started taping up their windows and trying to make their houses or apartments airtight out of fear of chemical and biological attacks. There were news reports warning people that turning your house into an airtight box was a bad idea because, y'know, you need air to breathe.

"[X] supports terrorism!" and “if we do [X], the terrorists win!” were used as arguments for everything.  "Some rich Arab you never heard of donated to his organization that backs Hamas which backs al-Queda, and also owns stock in a holding company that has partial ownership of the Pringles company, so if you eat Pringles you're supporting terrorism!" "The terrorists want to tear down our freedoms and our way of life and rule us through fear! Eating what you want is one of our freedoms as Americans! If you're afraid to eat Pringles, the terrorists win!" (I promise you that this sort of argument is in no way hyperbole.) (This argument is how Halloween was saved, by the way.  “If we cancel Halloween, the terrorists win!”)

People worked 9/11 into everything, and I mean everything, whether it was appropriate or not.  If you went to the grocery store the tortilla chips would remind you to support the troops on the packaging. Used car sales would be dedicated to our brave first responders. You couldn't wipe your ass without the toilet paper rolls reminding you to never forget the fallen of 9/11, and again, this is not hyperbole. My uncle, who lived in Ohio and had never been to New York except to visit once in the 70′s, died of a stroke about 8 months after 9/11, and the priest brought up the attacks at the eulogy.

On a similar local note, on the day of 9/11, after the towers went down, gas stations in my home town immediately jacked up gas prices.  The mayor had the cops go around and force them to take them back down.  I doubt any of that was legal.

Before 9/11, Christianity in America - and religion in general - was on a downward swing, with reddit-tier atheism on the upswing. Religion was outdated superstition from a bygone age. The day after 9/11? Every single church was PACKED. (This wasn't a bad thing, but the power-hungry on the Evangelical Right saw this as a golden opportunity to grab power and influence.)

EDIT: By Popular Demand - Freedom Fries. I initially left these off because they came a couple years after the initial panic and most people thought they were kind of absurd (and I don't recall anyone really going along with it other than maybe some local diners here and there). France didn't want to get involved in our world policing so some folks were like "TRAITORS!" and wanted to call french fries "Freedom Fries" instead, so as to stick it to the French.

Besides dumb shit like that…it’s really hard to overstate how completely the national mood and character changed in the span of a day, or how much of the current culture war is a result of the aftermath. (9/11 was the impetus for the sharp rise in power of the Evangelical Right, who made themselves utterly odious and the following backlash helped the rise of the current Progressive Left, for instance.)

And if all of this seems batshit...well, it was. But I want you to think for a moment how people react today over even trivial shit. People send death threats over children's cartoons. They call for blood if the maker of a video game had an opinion they don't like. If someone made a racist joke a decade ago when they were a teenage edgelord, folks will go after people who even associate with them. "DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND ALL THE HARM THEY'RE DOING!?"

Now take that same level of over-the-top histrionics and apply it to the unprecedented event of passenger planes crashing into crowded buildings in America's most populous city and killing thousands of people all at once. "DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT WE WERE ATTACKED!?"

[seat-safety-switch]

My job? Piss cop. I make sure that nobody stands next to you at the urinal and tries to make conversation. When I told my dad what I was doing, he was upset. Sixties radical, hated every cop. Didn't trust them. Came to work with me one day to see if I was a fascist. Tears in his eyes the first time I smashed a truncheon filled with lead shot across a Bay Street banker's face for ignoring my third warning. I was wrong, son, he cried. This is so beautiful.

Now, don't get confused about why I'm there. I don't care who uses the urinal, so long as you don't use it right next to someone else. Stalls are a bit of a grey area, admittedly. Most of my beat only has two stalls, and sometimes both of those are just gonna fill up. You better not try to sell someone on a timeshare while you're there, though. Polite requests for additional toilet paper can go through me.

You might also wonder about sinks. The media's been real confused about sink etiquette lately, probably because one of the officers in 7th Precinct – it's always Seventh – beat up a state senator's aide for trying to talk about the weather. He actually got his ass whupped for not washing his hands at all, and trying to leave. You really want some guy with pee hands wandering around out there?

Rest assured, sink rules are very loose indeed, not like in Germany. You can chat about whatever you want at the sink, but you can only make incidental eye contact through the mirror, and the conversation is ten seconds max. Having a whole conversation about modem sales? Save that kind of business talk for the hallway, where way fewer people are trying to pee.

Critics should keep in mind that we're protecting you from the real scum of the earth: insurance salesmen. Once, in a more primitive era, they would lurk inside every bathroom, ready to entrap you during your most vulnerable periods of urination to talk about how cool it would be if your widow got five thousand dollars when you died. That dark time is long past. Sure, the system isn't perfect, but it also lets me pee in comfort. Now wash your hands and get out.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Affordable little 2018 adobe house in Live Oak, FL is adorable. 1bd, 1ba, 462sqft, $125k. Of course, it's sold already. (A cash sale, unless the buyer found a bank for a small loan.) It was permitted and inspected by the Suwannee County Building Dept., so the electric, plumbing, etc., was approved.

It has a tankless water heater on the outside (I had one in my house- it was great- hot water is instantaneous). The home is made of SuperAdobe - 18" thick. The roof is tin.

Look at how cute it is- a tree trunk in the middle and a little wood stove. The rounded room is the bath. This could be much cuter, too.

It's cheery, too. I like the red accents

Little kitchy area. It just has a hotplate, but I think that a small stove would fit in there.

The sink looks like it's on a tree stump. Look at the branch holding the toilet paper roll. It has a regular septic system.

The shower has a little bench.

The shower curtain rod is a branch.

It has a couple of safety sockets. It's near a for boating, etc., a lake w/lots of activities and a Music Park.

There's a little shed on the property with a small porch and a/c unit, so it must be for guests or an office.

And, here's a larger building. The listing doesn't mention these outbuildings.

The property is loaded with fruit trees: Pears, blackberries, figs, plums, sugar cane, an olive tree, and bananas. 0.28 acre lot.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/1459-181st-Rd-Live-Oak-FL-32060/97296111_zpid/

[occamstfs]

Ni Hao!NYC

Morally conflicted journalist puts off questions of ethics until it's just too late. Finally assigned to put his name next inflammatory content Sam finds himself more than appreciating Chinese culture.

Various white to Asian Muscle growth and racial change ahead!

Like many, I saw the final pictures on twitter and had to do something with them haha! Ended up with a piece just a tad different than usual! Hope you all enjoy! -Occam

Samuel Johnston knew he worked for a rag but as long as the checks cashed he could afford to mute his conscience. They made money not from sales so much as some rightwing think tank who wants their views affirmed in any way they can get it. So he lays low and pens little puff pieces, avoiding anything too controversial and introduces himself as an accountant to anyone he cares enough to lie to.

He’s quite adept at staying out of sight and mind when it comes to the doling out of any especially charged or problematic issues. Making sure to bury his own work any chance he gets, even using a pen name in case someone accidentally stumbles on his writing. It’s gone well enough so far he thinks! Sam tells himself that really working for NY:Red isn’t that bad, surely it’s even good that he’s got the job rather than anyone who believes the shit they write. Right?

No job is without its problems, he tells himself. So far he’s done a commendable job keeping his nose down with an almost supernatural ability to duck away from bigwigs or management. That is until now as he’s summoned by name to his boss’ side. His proficiency at staying off the radar of management has kept him from a one on one with the man in charge for some time, but now he is sitting on the top floor outside of Mr. Howard’s office, surely waiting to be assigned some horrible project.

“Come in!” Sam hears the surly man shout before promptly stepping into the gaudy office. He’s immediately taken aback as somehow the editor looks almost younger than he does in the many pictures Sam has seen. Sam hides his shock at the man’s jet black hair as well as he hides the general fear and disdain that begins to send adrenaline pumping towards his mind. Mr. Howard doesn't notice at least, getting straight to business, “I can tell from yer writing that ya like the city Sam, can I call ya Sam?”

Samuel opens his mouth to reply but the chief just continues on, “Anyway I love all yer little toilet paper stories but how do ya wanna write with the big leagues?” This time Samuel stays strong and gets a word in before being steamrolled again, “Actually I-” “I’m puttin’ you on the most important case we have Sam. Surely ya’ve noticed all this, what's da word, influx? Invasion? Bah. All the Asian shit that’s startin’ ta creep in on our city’s culture!” Samuel makes an awkward face as despite knowingly working for the racist, it’s different to hear the words out loud.

He holds his tongue out of shock or fear and his boss continues on his diatribe, “The last couple a schmucks I had on the beat just up’n left me high and dry can ya believe it! Old friends I thought!” He grumbles as he scratches his chin, moving away his hand it seems his beard thinned? He shakes his head in irritation and Sam would swear he saw his jowls tighten and wrinkles smooth over. “Anyway kid. Go out and do some prelim research. Have something on my desk by Friday or yer out just like those galoots!” Samuel stands for a second unsure if he’s allowed to leave before his boss looks up to glare with eyes Sam would’ve sworn were blue when he walked in.

Sam rushes out the door and to the elevator, riding it back to his floor, debating between writing a preemptive resignation or keeping mum and keeping on payroll for one last week. Profiteering from a culture war he may be but he’s not about to regurgitate genuinely racist talking points. He taps his foot impatiently as he thinks about just how cushy this gig is though. “Fuck!” He decides to call the only other confirmed decent human being he knows here, his friend Nick who works in the fashion dept.

The two go to grab coffee at a chain next door, Sam tries not to notice how they’ve started selling Vietnamese iced coffee. “Fuck man I can’t do it! Literally just one conversation alone with Howard was a wake up call.” Nick smiles like he has no problems with working for the dirtiest rag in the city, “Chill out Sam. Huward had my manager on the same beat and he, uh, Hidaka said that is said to just look busy for a bit and we won’t need to worry about all this racist shit anymore.” Sam squints his eyes at his friend, he’s not usually so easy breezy about work. He also racks his brain trying to figure out who Hidaka could possibly be. That can’t be his boss. No way Howard would let someone not white lead a department.

Seeing Sam lost in thought Nick reaches out and grabs his hand in a way Sam couldn’t imagine him doing before this second. In fact as the second drags on he stares down in the hand in shock, feeling the warm hand squeeze his forearm. He looks up to his friend’s face searching for any clue to the cause of this odd behavior. Sam smiles awkwardly and half-jokes “Hah hah, uh- Who are you and what’d you do with Nick… Hah.” Nick bursts out laughing, patting him on the arm jovially and leaving a hand larger than Sam remembers resting on his own. “Hidaka-san just showed me how to worry less about this job un?”

Sam inspects him closely for anything amiss, it looks like he’s picked up a bit of a tan? His hair is messier than usual and definitely a little darker, his skin is alluringly smooth and Sam can feel the heat his body is generating despite sitting across from him. Looking at his clothes Sam finds another surprise, his shirt almost looks strained! As if Nick has been hitting the gym for sometime, maybe it’s just been a while since he’s seen his friend in person? 

Assuaged in the slightest, Sam ignores the glowering red flags and follows this lede, “Woah Nick have you been working out?” Nick blushes and Sam at the very least sees his friend is as shy as ever. He goes to scratch the back of his head straining his shirt almost to its ripping point as he responds, “Ah a little haha! どうぞ(please) don’t you worry about me. Since you have no desire to write the article, why don’t you go ahead and check out the little Asian market down the street for fun? It was quite a good time when Hidaka-san brought me earlier this week!”

Sam awkwardly smiles as he wonders why on Earth Sam is suddenly referring to his boss like this, it’s almost like he’s performatively speaking Japanese. Taking a second to pause Sam looks at the haircut as hands unseen style it into something fashionable he puts two and two together. Thinking to himself, ah! Nick must just be a weeb! Tension disappears from his body with a sigh of relief as he wonders how he didn’t notice before now. He gets up to follow his friend’s advice, what better way to stick it to the man than support the people he aims to malign right?

He bucks up and grabs a Vietnamese iced coffee for the road, tossing a “Sayonara,” at Nick with a wink to which he perks up and slightly bows. Man, how did he not notice before Sam thinks yet again. Blissfully unaware, leaving just as kanji symbols appear on Nick’s keyboard and his friend responds to an email in a language he didn’t know this morning. Blue eyes growing coal dark as his tanned, increasingly muscular arms tap away at the keyboard.

Sam spends the bulk of his day at the little Asian street fair and has an absolute blast. Any residual stains on his mind from his unpleasant morning absolutely fade away as he goes from booth to booth sampling cuisine and chatting with diasporic cultures the world over. Time flies as he goes into journalist mode and basically interviews first gen Chinese immigrants about their time in the city. He finds himself beyond immersed in the conversation, continuing to learn from the couple as the tables around them begin to pack up for the day. 

He offers to help the older couple pack up and they happily take the aid, striking him bashful as they talk of what a sweet young man he is. “Wa! 哇强 (strong) Too!” The wife chuckles as she jokingly feels his less than impressive arms. He was having a better time at this little fair than he ever could’ve imagined, enough so that he thinks about going to stick it to Huaward then and there. Huaward? Whatever. His mind slightly off put by whatever that was, in an uncharacteristic act of transparency, Sam lets it slip that he works for NY:Red. The expressions on the kind couple’s faces immediately sour and Sam is quite shocked that they even know what the paper is.

There is a glint in the husband’s eyes as he starts to motion Sam away from any further aid, “谢谢 (Thank you) for your help, Sam. There have been a few, hm, bad men wandering around from that paper and I uh-” He looks around his table and grabs some miijiu they hadn’t put away yet. His wife nods, her face somewhere between rueful and hopeful as she watches her husband offer Sam the glass. “Again, 谢谢, er thank you for your help young man, enjoy this for the road 好的? (Yeah?)” The two turn to each other and begin talking to each other in mandarin alone and Sam takes the hint.

Kicking himself that he fumbled the capstone on such a pleasant afternoon, though finding solace in the rice wine he’s walking away with. He is blissfully unaware as the couple watch him drink and head down the street debating if everyone from that paper really is an asshole. Grimacing as they think about the vitriol spewed at them by NY:Red readers they decide they had no other recourse. Pleasant as he seemed Sam was consciously working on the side of hate and that could not be simply overlooked.

Sam quite enjoyed the rice wine the couple left him with, it immediately smooths over any lasting regret or concern about his interaction with the couple. They don’t know anything about him! He’s nothing like his other coworkers. It feels as if he’s had far more to drink than the small container they left him with should allow, but every time he looks down there always seems to be more mijiu to entice him. It would be impolite not to finish their gift he thinks; his confident stride quickly shifting to a stumble as he wanders home. 

His phone goes off as he gets an email from his boss, Mr. Huang?  Can’t be right. He squints at the email, deciding he must really have overdone it on the mijiu and stuffing his phone back in his pocket. Beyond the obvious difficulties in ambulation being drunk, Sam is unable to notice as his proportions slowly begin to shift. His ever-so lanky body begins to feel dull and heavy as the warmth of the wine fills his chest to capacity and then some as he leans against his apartment door, wiping his feet on an unfamiliar doormat. 

He kicks his shoes off by the door on some new instinct and immediately goes to collapse on the couch. His small sofa creaking as he puts more than his usual dead weight on it. His legs that usually hang off the end lengthen even further as his thighs grow meatier. Pecs press into the cushions as he snores. He is swiftly ushered into an unfamiliar dreamscape, the jubilee of the fair and the bewildering amount of wine he drank produce a vivid carnival of culture in his subconscious.

He sees the old couple at their stand and begins to speak with them in their mother tongue, seeing the delight as a load is taken off their shoulders. His dreamself seamlessly conversing with a fluency unearned. Sam stirs in the waking world as his mind existentially changes to match his morphing body. His blond hair grows thin and longer as its tint stains darker. Twitching in REM the green eyes that he prides himself on speckle with brown before they are entirely overtaken, becoming a rich cacao like the thick eyebrows framing them.

The discomfort of a new language forcing itself into this memory begins to wane as he prides himself on how fluent he is in both Chinese and English. His hand goes to scratch his pecs and he smirks in his sleep as they pulse larger, knowing pride is not the only thing surging within him. At the edges of his mind he feels the memory of learning a language, words written on a blackboard in chalk, English and Chinese both. For the life of him he cannot recall which of the two he’s learning second. An alarm set on his phone blares and he jolts awake to get ready for work.

Throwing on a shirt, Sam freezes as he sees his reflection. Hundreds of little questions seize his mind, those aren’t his eyes are they? Did he dye his hair last night? Are those abs? God his arms look good don’t they!? As they race through his mind and grow rampant they fixate on how attractive he suddenly feels. Rubbing his pecs and feeling them bounce he cries out to himself, “该死！Uhhh, Damn I look good!” He poses in the mirror and takes in every new angle of his powerful body. Taking note as his body hair seems thinner, and decidedly darker wherever it remains. He looks close at his pit seeing his once dense bush of curly hair thin out and straighten, before the memory of even having dense body hair is washed from his mind.

His phone goes off again and his work is immediately brought to the forefront of his mind. “Fuck I didn’t read Huang’s message!” He finds email after email from his boss, only the first few mention the wretched assignment they last talked about. Sam’s eyes widen as he continues to skim through the emails as the topic lines quickly show some drastic re-prioritization from his boss. Only then does he realize that he’s been reading his boss’ name as Huang. His boss is white. Rather his boss’ whole identity is based around being white! Huang isn’t, right? Incredibly he clicks the last email, subject line Vacation, and is immediately greeted with a mouth watering picture of a powerful man. Everything comes to a stop as he can’t help but gawk at this man’s body.

Ni Hao Sanuel- take the day off shi de? Still only half dressed Sam balks at just how bizarre this is, rereading the name Sanuel he is thrown for a loop as his mind reconfigures this. Tearing his eyes from the man’s torso he finally looks at the cocky face and sees a thread he recognizes,  “天啊! (Holy Shit!) That’s Mr. Huang!” He shuts his mouth before he drools like a dog at his boss’ arms. God, this is unlike him though right? He tries to dig through his memories of the editor in chief as the caustic racist he was yesterday, but with each uncovered the image of Huang changes as this dreamboat playboy overrides more of what was.

Sanuel readies to just stay in for this day of assigned vacation before he gets another notification, this time from his friend, Nobu? An image of Nick flashes through his mind, a handprint burns on his arm, and the taste of Vietnamese coffee dances on his lips. “Meet me on the boardwalk うん？” Sanuel rolls his eyes at his friend tacking on Japanese like that, willing his mind not to think about how his friend’s contact ID now says Nobu. Must be one of those, uh, his own thoughts trail off as he successfully abandons concern to head to meet his friend.

Nearing the meeting spot he looks for his usually cleancut friend, the only body present however is a massive Japanese man awkwardly flexing at himself in a reflective surface. Sanuel shyly speaks up, “Ni Ha-, uh Hey? Have you seen a guy named Nick around here?” The apparent bodybuilder beams and goes to engulf Sanuel in a hug shouting, “Oi! Shan! took ya long enough!” His eye twitches hearing the name, as this man effortlessly lifts him off his feet in a hug far too intimate for colleagues, and certainly from whoever this stranger is!

Shan pushes against the massive man, his body heat broiling him on this already warm day. He strains his eyes looking at the man grabbing him and suddenly it hits him, “Nobu?” The man promptly lets him go and pats him on the back with a laugh he would’ve never expected to come from his sheepish friend in the fashion department. “Wanna go have some ice cream or something Shan?” He feels the need to push back against his friend calling him Shan but as he hears it a second time he can’t recognize the names as anything but his own.

Shan pauses as he sees Nobu stop to chat with some Japanese tourists and something about the picture doesn’t sit right. God it’s that talk with Huang getting him all worked up again that,uh, racist? He clutches his head as contradictions between his past and present collide in his head and he slams his eyes shut as he cannot determine what is true about his current reality. Shan falls to the ground with a deep thud, slightly hyperventilating, his body grows larger as he takes deep breaths from the stress.

Hearing him collapse Nobu runs over to help him up, this time with more effort as his friend’s comatose body continues to put on muscle and grow heavier. Still, having the impressive figure he does, Nobu rather easily gets him on a bench and sits next to him, “クソ野郎？(Fuck dude?) You alright?” Shan slowly nods as his friend throws an arm around him. Looking down at his own arms as they pulse with muscle, he feels his eyes strain as the structure of his face begins to change.

Shan's jawline sharpens and his skin smooths. Stubble that has been a cornerstone of hiding his facial blemishes vacates as his hair stains black and flops longer. He feels clarity grace his mind as he stares at large hands on the ends of pale, hairless, muscular arms and he wonders if he is even himself.

He voices these concerns to Nobu who just laughs them off. “Hah! Of course dude, same Shan I’ve always known!” “那- that’s not my name Nobu.” His friend grins shyly in concern for his friend's mind. “It can't be my name. I’m-” grimacing before he continues as it takes everything in his power to speak against the realities in front of him. Memories of a world quite far away, moving to New York long ago, the youngest in a family of Chinese immigrants, “I’m white aren’t I Nobu?” 

Nobu can’t help but laugh again at the beyond bizarre statement. He jokes about Shan hitting his head when he fell. “You’re the most 2nd Gen Chinese わるがき(brat) I know bro! Imma go get us some ice cream while you chill out.” Shan stares at his friend as he abandons him, feeling his eyes tighten as they shift into the monolid eyes that his memories swear he’s always had.

Shan retreats into his mind racing against his changing memories to find a pillar of truth to grasp on. He sees himself at the gym with Nobu, his black mop of hair flicking sweat into the air as he poses with his bro. He sees just yesterday at the Asian fair, helping an elderly couple pack up their table, twitching as he would’ve sworn that went differently. He remembers sitting at the office getting no work done as he plays on his phone, 是的！that’s it! His job. There’s something there, if only he can remember what the problem was there.

He sees Nobu begin walking back with sweet treats, Nobu works at the paper too. Oh 呃/Duh! He smirks as he goes for his wallet to grab a business card. His eyes see the obnoxious red logo he knows before they read text that will send him irrevocably forward, Shun Jiang - Ni Hao!NYC. His body fills with warmth like a machine overworking as his mind races with information about his new reality. Sweat drips from his hair as he can no longer even struggle to recall his claimed existence as a bystander at the vile paper they produced. His brown eyes steep to a dark black as they glaze over.

“Shan-baka! Here’s a popsicle!” Nobu shouts as he returns to his overheated friend who immediately bursts from his stupor. “混蛋!(Asshole!) It’s Shun- thought we were close!” Nobe smirks as he starts to eat his own ice cream. Unable to recall anything too in depth he feels a pause as he wonders what his Japanese friend is doing working for a Chinese newspaper, before he answers it himself. Clearly his subconscious is more at place in whatever new reality he faces. Their paper is for all NYC’s Asian immigrants. Nobu works writing, or more often modeling, for Konnichiwa!NYC! Huang really was a genius for the idea.

Shun smiles, thinking fondly of his boss as he enjoys the short break from the summer heat that Nobu brought him. Back at the headquarters of their paper everything shifts from the rag it was and into a paper connecting the disparate Asian immigrants of the city, printed in any language they can find translators for, Ni Hao, Konnichiwa, Annyeonghaseyo, Namaste!NYC. Each day striving for a better, more inclusive New York City. Shun beams with his new face, no longer burdened with the just concern of his peddling vitriol, instead possessed with a desire to spread his culture far and wide.

———————————————————————————

As I was writing I remembered a similar series by the now gone Dumb-and-Jocked!

If interested do check out Horizon Zero: One, Two, and Three for quite a different take on a journalism themed Racial Change!

[cheekynet]

Buy Toilet Paper Online | Australia

Cheeky Toilet Paper is 100% Australian owned and Australian manufactured. We deliver Australia wide. Our products include wrapped, unwrapped, recycled, and seeded toilet rolls. Our toilet rolls are great value for money and are environmentally friendly. We manufacture 360 sheet 3ply toilet paper, and 400 sheet 2ply toilet paper and deliver them in 24 roll and 48 roll boxes. Great for the environment and great for your hip pocket! Buy online and save.

[greedkinggreaser]

I NEED FOOD AND TOILET PAPER

I have adopts up for sale.

Venmo | CashApp | PayPal | Ko-fi

So! The company I applied for, hired me BUT, kicker, they hired too many people and are making me reapply to a different position and go through more interviews and I am not promised to even get the job! :) So I got hired and then basically let go on the same week I got hired.

I thought that was super weird but apparently, companies do it all the time and it's happened to my friends and a few others. So, right now I'm back in the trenches of saving for food and groceries :u.

I am reapplying to the company, shooting getting my old job back, and working off a friend's recommendation for another job.

Please share my post if you can! I'd appreciate the help! Don't feel as if you need to donate of course, but any help you send my way is appreciated!.

Some doodles I think look very cute.

[doctorbunny]

More serious summary of the livestream

Unfortunately I can't provide a full translation because the entire time I was watching in autistic excitement like 😊🥰🤩 whilst my brain melted out my ears and didn't pick up on a lot

Luckily, I have a feeling someone will get around to translating this stream eventually since they finally had the BGM on a lower volume so everyone was audible the whole time Without further ado:

We started with introductions seating order is Yamanaka, Yurina (Es' VA), Minami (Amane's VA), Ryouta (Kazui's VA) and DECO (who dyed his hair blonde) They each have one of the 4th anniversary acrylic stands in front of them The actors have their characters but Yamanaka has Haruka and DECO has Muu

Yamanaka admitted to being a Haruka oshi/fan

Then Minami talks about being a Fuuta fan (she calls him cool) and she's handed the Fuuta stand and she pushes the Fuuta and Amane stand next to each other (and jokes about their height difference then imitates Fuuta going zenbu zenbu zenbu!)

But then Yurina sticks her Es stand in between them to separate them

And then they move the Amane stand next to the Kazui one and everyone coos

Before moving Amane and Fuuta back together in front of Minami Then they basically just lift all of the stands up on to the table and continue on

They discuss their thoughts on the trial

Looking at who got voted inno and guilty Minami is happy Amane got inno but has no idea how Mikoto wasn't guilty They note that the audience wasn't very happy with Kotoko for beating up the other prisoners Then they give some thoughts on the MVs from Daisuki to Deep cover They get most excited talking about Cat and Purge March Kazui says that he was able to put the right emotions into Cat because he recorded the voice drama first Yurina and Minami actually caused the microphone to peak with their excited shrieks at one point (ow)

They answer some audience submitted questions One question was answered along the lines of "Be prepared" One was submitted in English and they tried to but couldn't read it Then they got a question (in Japanese) from someone from 韓国/South Korea [side note: I feel like the south korean milgram fandom has gotten more prominent recently, its always been there but it feels bigger than ever and that's pretty cool]

After audience questions they made a few announcements Some things we already knew, the gratte cafe crossover, the Kotoko line stickers, Earbuds are still on sale (and they're making badges and stuff based on the earbud promo art) the 4th anniversary art/acrylici stands literally in front of them Then some new things: Minigram LINE stamps (everyone was especially pleased for the Kazui XP stamp) There's going to be a part 2 to the Karaoke collab (no details yet other than its coming)

They also announce this year's perk for annual members [the pain of being an annual member but living outside of Japan so you can't get these 😭] Blank lamenated cards of the prisoner's interrogations and a whiteboard pen so you can write your own interro questions and answers They bring out the cards for Kazui and Amane and do some examples

"Do you like cake?" "I don't eat it."

"What did you have for lunch today?" "Gyudon." [a beef and rice dish]

Then Minami just writes "Toilet paper" in katakana and everyone laughs (Then she writes Toilet paper rap/lap/wrap and I'm not sure what she means)

Most exciting is script books for the Hallucenation liveshow (scripts of the voice dramas and songs) The live show uses condensed versions of the voice dramas but this is the first time we'll have official transcripts of key moments to help check translations with

Then they start saying that T2 was hellish, but T3 is going to go beyond hell: They're going to send everyone to Super Hell And at this point my brain fries and overloads on eeby deeby memes as they all go back and forth talking about Super Hell

They all start doing their outros/saying goodbye

Yurina talks about upcoming challenges we have as guards meanwhile Yamanaka ominously holds the Haruka stand up in frame

Then that's basically it, not much going on because a lot of stuff (like Hallucenation, the plushes, earbuds) came out right before the 4th anniversary

[libraford]

More medical under the cut, I am using humor as a coping mechanism and I'm not terribly funny.

I'm having trouble getting over the size of it. Like I'd never had an ultrasound before so I wasn't sure what I was looking at. So when she did the exterior reading I thought maybe the big black hole I was looking at was my uterus and maybe it was just at a weird angle.

So when she pointed to the little white smudge at the bottom and said 'that's what we can see of your uterus' and measured out the 9cm of the big black hole and said 'that's the fibroid' I was like...

...I've picked up baseballs at the park of that size.

That's a newborn's head.

That's a christmas ornament.

That's a goose egg.

That's one of those little bottles of soy sauce they have at fancy chinese restaurants.

I have picked mushrooms smaller than that.

There's a wad of toilet paper stuck to the ceiling of my high school bathroom that size.

An orange. Like a navel orange, not those little clementines.

Trial size coffee samples.

I can go to a Michael's, rummage through the wooden balls they have there and find an appropriately sized one for somewhere between 6.99 and 10.99 and then use a 30% off coupon on it because those things never go on sale so it would be eligible for the single item discount.

Someone said it takes these things 4-5 years to get to 2cm.

... so times 4.

....so 20ish years.

...so I would have been 17.

I complained about heavy, painful periods as early as 13 and people told me that it was normal, that my body would grow into it.

"No guys, seriously. It hurts a lot and I don't think I'm supposed to bleed this much."

I'd get used to it. My hormones would even out. I was being dramatic. This was a beautiful time in my life.

Wow. 9 whole centimeters. I have a camera lens that size. Balls of yarn. Cosmetic sponges. That geode I found at my grandmama's house. Shot put balls. The roots on one of my monstera plants is forming a ball about that size.

That's kind of what it feels like, actually. It feels like digging roots into me and filling up the space.

I'm thinking about all the pairs of pants that I've ruined in 20 years. This is why I don't wear khakis.

[mavensupplies]

Hotels Supplies for Sale Online: Finding Quality Maven Supplies 

Looking for hotel supplies for sale online? Maven Supplies offers a comprehensive range of high-quality hospitality essentials to cater to your hotel's needs. From luxurious bedding and elegant room amenities to durable housekeeping supplies, our online store has everything you require to elevate your guests' experience. Browse through our user-friendly website to discover a diverse selection of products designed specifically for the hotel industry. Whether you need fresh linens, premium toiletries, or efficient cleaning equipment, Maven Supplies has you covered. We prioritize quality, affordability, and timely delivery to ensure your hotel operations run smoothly. Simplify your procurement process and enhance guest satisfaction with our trusted hotels supplies for sale online. Explore Maven Supplies today for all your hospitality essentials! 

[slaymitchabernathy]

Time of the Month

There comes a dreaded day in every woman’s life when she gets her period. It’s always on a busy day, at a time where she cannot predict it nor stop it.

Today is that day for Soarynn.

She scowls as she stares down at her white panties, a red stain in the center of them. Of course, it comes now, not two hours ago when she was at home, still in bed. Her periods always have the worst timing in human history and right now, it’s ruined her shopping trip.

There is a small, minuscule part of her that’s happy for the visit though. It means no unwanted, unplanned pregnancies and as an unmarried woman who has sex with her boyfriend on a regular basis, this is always a relief.

She wads up some toilet paper, deciding that she’ll buy the shoes she was just trying on and then hightail it back home to her boyfriend’s apartment.

She can do this.

Of course, now that she’s aware of her period it makes it real. And the pain starts seeping in, the nausea, the spinning head, the cramps.

Oh, goodness.

Soarynn whimpers, standing in her heels and bracing her hand against the wall, “Maybe forget the shoes,” she whispers to herself. She manages to get back out to the store where several sales associates and her driver are all waiting for her.

She must look paler than when she left, “Are you alright Ms. Nightingale?” One of the associates asks worriedly. Soarynn manages a polite smile, “I’m quite alright, I actually feel a bit lightheaded and think it would be good if I just headed home for the day.”

She’s met with nods, these people would agree to let her set the store on fire if it means getting Soarynn Nightingale’s business.

Her driver helps her out into the street and into the backseat where everything feels ten times more painful now. She whimpers as the car beings to move, it’s not a far drive to the Corso but every minute is a painful one.

Soarynn rests her head against the car window, telling herself that soon, she’ll be in her warm bed, safe and sound with nowhere to go and…they have plans for tonight.

Soarynn didn’t remember until right now but Coriolanus mentioned a dinner the other week, a company dinner and she can’t let him go alone. She knows how much he values her company, and how important it is for him to make good impressions on his colleagues.

Soarynn sighs through her nose, she can push through, she’ll be fine.

She’ll be fine.

꧁ ꧂

Soarynn wakes in a cold sweat. Someone’s hands are on her, rubbing up and down her back.

She groans, the feeling of her insides contracting have never been pleasant and painkillers can only dull the sensation for so long. She rolls to her side and peers up at her boyfriend, fully dressed from work, curls tussled after pulling at them all day and smelling like roses.

He looks so handsome right now.

Soarynn doubts she looks like a beauty queen at the moment, the second she got home she got undressed, put on some pajamas and fell into bed. She’s slept the whole day away.

She expects him to say something about being lazy, wasting the day away and how they need to be out of the door in less than an hour. But instead, he smiles softly at her, bending so he can place a gentle kiss on her forehead, “That time of the month, hmm?”

Soarynn merely sighs, he’s always been so perceptive. That and he probably saw that she tossed her stained panties into the waste bin. Some things aren’t worth saving in her opinion.

“Is there anything I can do for you darling? Do you need something to eat or drink? Do you want your heating pad? Should I go get Petunia?”

So many questions and not one of them has to do with the dinner they’re going to miss if she doesn’t get her act together. “The company dinner,” she mumbles, rubbing her face with the heel of her hand, “I thought, I thought we had to go to the company dinn-“

“Shh,” he gently cuts her off, brushing some hair out from her eyes, “I already told them we wouldn’t be able to make it. It’s alright darling, I don’t want you being put in uncomfortable situations if it can be helped.”

Maybe it’s the hormones, but Soarynn’s eyes quickly fill up with tears. She’s always been the emotional one in their relationship, wearing her heart on her sleeve while Coriolanus appears cold to the touch, showing nothing on the surface.

Unless he’s with her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, tears roll down her cheeks, “I hate that we have to cancel things because of me and my stupid, my stupid…” Her voice trails off as the tears come faster, causing her to hiccup and lose her steady breathing.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s alright darling. No more tears, no more tears,” he says softly, gathering her into his arms, “oh my sweet darling girl, you deserve the world, you know that right? Missing one dinner won’t get me fired, I told them you were sick and they said they hope you feel better soon. No harm done, see?”

Soarynn shakes her head, burying her face in his white shirt, “I hate it,” she whines, “I hate getting my period.”

Coriolanus sighs, there’s only so much he can do to help her. They’ve gone to the doctor about this before, only to be given a handful of answers or solutions. Such as birth control or removing her uterus completely. Out of the question for Soarynn who desperately wants children of her own someday, preferably with Coriolanus.

So for now, she pays the small price each and every month.

He gently rubs up and down her back, just the way she likes it, paying special attention to her lower back which always seems to take on a brunt of her pain.

“I’m sorry darling, you know I’d make it go away if I could,” he tells her, meaning every word of it.

Every single time Soarynn comes across a problem, he fixes it. Sometimes she can’t wrap her head around how wonderful he is, how well he treats her. Soarynn moved into his apartment almost two years ago and she honestly doesn’t know why she didn’t do it sooner.

Living with Coriolanus has been the best decision she’s ever made.

“Can you just lie with me?” She mumbles into his shirt, just wanting to be held and near him. Coriolanus always smells so good, even after a long day of work. He chuckles, deep and throaty, she’s going to have a hard time keeping her hands to herself next week.

The week after Soarynn’s period is a week that Coriolanus jokingly calls her “marathon week” because all she can genuinely think about is him, and putting him inside of her and not stopping once she gets what she wants.

She’s not even picky. His cock, his fingers, his tongue…his nose.

She just wants him.

It’s like her hormones flip a switch and she goes from horrible to horny within a matter of hours.

But for now, cuddles will suffice.

He’s offered to do things while on her period but she always gets too shy. Maybe one day she’ll change her mind though. He’d be up for it.

“Of course my angel,” he answers, “I’m sorry you had to cut your day of shopping short.” Soarynn sighs, thinking about those shoes she was going to buy, before her red tidal wave of disappointment hit her. “There were these shoes,” she tells him, “so pretty, so perfect.”

“What store?”

“Hiking in Heels, right off the Plaza.”

“I’ll get them for you tomorrow darling.”

Just like that, the problem is solved.

Soarynn allows him to lay her down under the sheets so he can join her after shedding off his clothes. Dressed now in only his boxers, Soarynn gladly welcomes the feeling of a shirtless Coriolanus Snow pressed against her back.

“You smell so good,” he mumbles into the back of her hair, wrapping both arms around her waist, “like vanilla and sunshine and happiness.” Soarynn giggles, he always acts so big and bad in front of everyone else, but in private, he’s like a big lap dog.

Always needing scratches and kisses on the nose.

“How was work?”

His grip on her waist tightens, and his leg slips between hers, entangling them even further than before, “Good, good. Just thought about you the whole time, nothing new.”

Soarynn smiles to herself, she’s been to his office countless times and there are always photos of her. Coriolanus claims that everyone should know how beautiful she is.

How did she get so lucky?

But as they drift off to sleep, and the pain slowly ebbs away, little does she know that he’s thinking the exact same thing.

How did he get so lucky?

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

| taglist: @lovelylove268 @kickmybark @iswearicanfixhim @wonderlandbound111 @melodyoflovee @thevoicesinmyprettylittlehead @erensrealgf @evilmenarehot @cervvsq @snowgirl12 @matcha-muses @anisangeldust @snowsgames |

[aristotlencheese]

tldr: stop being fucking assholes to Joann’s employees. If you’re sale shopping refrain from making that super funny (it’s not funny) joke about how loosing my job is convenient for you. And know that I hate rich people. Someday when we’re hungry I have the last name of the first people I will want on my plate.

As a Joann’s employee I am pleading with the public. STOP TRASHING MY GODDAMN STORE AND THEN GETTING MAD THAT ITS MESSY. WE KNOW. We have 3 people working at any given time, MAYBE 4 on a special occasion. STOP grabbing overstock bins and using them as your carts. 9/10 times you empty them into random parts of our store and then when we go to find them for a customer or to put them out if we have any time WE CANT FIND IT. It’s not cute, quirky or funny. I fucking hate you so much will call my poor assistant manager to back me up when I tell you to not do it ever again, and I’m not going to be nice about it.

My queue is a mess, you think you’re cute for putting your tag on my shelf but in reality it’s just something I will be written up for. My aisles are a mess, it’s not funny when you take the appliqués and hang them up to make an inappropriate word because I will be yelled at by some grown woman for letting it happen. My cut counter is a mess because you invade my coworkers space to take a look in our carts of go backs and just throw things wherever you want. My bathroom is a mess because you throw toilet paper everywhere and plug our sinks with it and leave the faucet running.

Even working at 100 percent running through the store I can’t get everything done. And to top it all off I have to stay even later because people don’t understand that closing time means people need to be out of the store, not it’s the last minute to shove yourself in the door and promise you’ll only be a minute (it’s never a minute).

So please I’m on my hands and knees groveling and begging for everyone to just shut up for 10 fucking seconds while I’m helping you so that I can tell you you are swiping your gift card wrong and that my computer is slow instead of running your mouth complaining about how “this is why you’re losing your job” (actual quote)

It’s not. I’m loosing my job because Rich people got together and decided playing poker with thousands of Americans jobs was fun enough the first time to do it again. It’s because there’s an entire company (looking at you Gordon brothers) who just buys and liquidates stores to turn a profit. It’s because Rich people who don’t have REAL jobs can’t be bothered or trusted with what the public want for the life of them. It was never about your money, only their money. It was never about people not wanting to work only cutting corners to give the people at the top bonuses.

So if you do any of these things or get upset when I let a couple of the thousands of homeless people in our city sleep under the old now unused cart return under the awning I will get upset I will tell you to mind your business I will put you in time out and make you wait for my manager to ring you out.

You’re Adults and you need to start acting like it.

Cosplayers, Furries and other crafters and artists of Tumblr, I love you so much. I will miss you and so will most at our store (except for our judgey old lady clique but tbh they only work mornings so it’s okay)

[maxwell-mtv]

Maxwell_MTV's Store Swap AU for SDV!

[I've been working a lot as always, so it's been hard to write. But... I guess the stars are aligning because one of my fave artists and mutuals ( @vilochkaaa ) posted their own Store Swap AU art today (WHICH IS SUPER COOL YOU SHOULD CHECK IT IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN IT ALREADY!!!) and I was also planning on posting my own Store Swap AU stuff today that I've been working on...

I hope everyone enjoys! I've put my extra braincells into spicing this up. Written stuff is below the cut... I was allowed to cook and I made the best meal I could for all you wonderful folks out there lol]

Morris: You ever feel like you're doing better in another life?

The general idea:

In this universe, Pierre finds success after a long career as a professional boxer and manages to somehow use his fame to open a chain of convenience stores after he retires. This, of course, competes directly with Joja and while it’s not enough to drive them completely out of business, it manages to split business fairly evenly between the two.

While Pierre reaps the daily grind of those beneath him as the CEO of what is simplified to being called “Pierre’s”, someone else finds himself settling into a small town to try and live out his own dreams of running a store.

Morris:

While Pierre is living the dream, Morris has been put through the wringer. 

With the success of “Pierre’s”, many JojaMarts were forced to shut down as a result.

Morris was on a fast track to his first promotion to be a manager when his store had to shut down no thanks to “Pierre’s” success in that part of the city.

With the store shutting down, many were laid off (only current management got to relocate to other stores) so Morris became ✨unemployed✨.

While Morris began with quite the rising confidence as he gained notoriety in his store, him being laid off brought all that to a crashing halt.

So, with a new sense of humility given his circumstances, he gathers what he can and searches for a new path in life.

He finds himself in a small town by the seaside, a village, really, with how small the populace was. 

But during his time soaking in the calming charm of Pelican Town, he notices an issue with the locals.

All of them needed to take a day’s trip to the city to purchase their groceries for the week. A huge inconvenience for those who needed small, simple necessities like bread or toilet paper. And when it came to purchasing from the locals, many farmers were out of seasonal stock by the time the locals needed them.

So Morris takes the initiative and opens up what he calls “Morris’s Market” in the semi-vacant building next to the clinic.

Semi-vacant, only because of the public access to Yoba’s altar.

Morris runs a successful business, feeling himself renewed as he gains a positive reputation amongst the locals. 

But still there’s this feeling deep inside of him as though something had gone astray in his story. Like something in his fate had been tampered with to have stolen his dreams from him.

But thanks to time, he finds himself proud and content with his small success as a small businessman.

That is, until someone decides to break ground in his small town, which leads him to a dizzying disparaging of his confidence once again.

Morris, in a desperate plea to keep what he has, often finds himself praying in front of the altar beneath his home. Although he’s never been religious, he doesn’t think he can take another blow to his ego. At the end of the day, when numbers are crunched and sales are charted, he doesn’t see himself doing anything but this.

It is evident that in this universe, unlike canon, Morris is more humble and anxious. Where his insecurities were buried deep beneath the corporate mask JojaMart had given him in canon, he has nothing but his more organic self to offer to a fairly organic town. Polite, tired all the time, and just doing his best…  

Pierre:

After his famous career as a boxer comes to an honorable end, he retires and uses his fortune to start a business. With the charms of what is reminiscent of a small business, Pierre’s General Store (later simplified to “Pierre’s” for better mass marketing) goes toe-to-toe with Joja’s long time success as the better box store.

Competing with a conglomerate like Joja isn’t easy, but “Pierre’s” values that are taken straight from the founder himself aid in toppling them to a mere equal competitor.

"A family business from humble beginnings with the drive to give back to the farmers who give them their produce to sell."

It feels like a more country version of a Trader Joe’s. And (not to intentionally out my current geography) competes against Joja like Meijers does with a Kroger. 

On vaster scale, it’s like Walmart/Sam's Club against Costco…

Hard to explain but that’s the general vibes of “Pierre’s.”

After a little vacation to Pelican Town with his wife and daughter, he decides to take on a capital expenditure which challenges the very competence of his title as a CEO.

Seeing that the only store these people in the middle of the Valley were confined to were either his stores in the city or a “pathetic excuse of a general store” (his words, not mine), he has a little talk with the Mayor.

Breaking ground in Pelican Town was easy, a convenient plot of land was just over the bridge from where "Morris’s Market" was and so customers would be a breeze to snatch up.

Despite what his advisors warned him against, Pierre ignores all odds and sets his eyes on the prize. Not even JojaMart could do what he was about to do, and that would catapult him from just an equal competitor to the top dog. 

It was easy enough to draw a crowd, but there was a growing issue with his store just barely breaking even each week. It seemed that though the town flocked to him for most things, the majority tended to stick with “Morris’s Market” in the name of loyalty. I mean, it wasn’t like his prices were much better than Morris’s store anyways since he aimed for both profit and quality. 

As he contemplated it each morning as he hit the gym, the problem became all too clear to him. It wasn’t his prices or the quality of products, rather it was the sense of community amongst the town.

I mean, just look how they all gathered every month (sometimes more!) in that old, barely functional Community Center to hold meetings, plan festivities, hold celebrations, and just socialize and bond!

If only there was someway he could break that and shatter that sense of loyalty they had in the name of supporting their fellow townie.

It would be a shame, really… if someone were to report that sad, beaten building to the proper authorities for an inspection. Without the Mayor knowing of it, he might be able to convince them that the building wasn't just “well loved” as the Mayor put it and was hardly still up to code, if at all.

If only he could prove it wasn’t up to code…

Damn his advisors, damn his wife, and damn everyone in this "hick town". He will succeed at all costs… even if he loses his charms along the way. 

Pierre uses his charms as an admittedly still good looking man. If you ignore the small crook in his nose from it being broken too many times before, you’d see why his wife still stayed with him despite her seeming too sweet and meek for his own good. 

It would be easy, if he laid it on thick, to sway the town amongst a tragedy to lean on him in some regard. Just a little wink, an offer of setting up events every month outside his store. Hey, maybe if he could drive Morris’s store out of business he could buy that storefront from him and use it as the new gathering place. It seemed fitting seeing as half the town gathered there every Sunday for Yoba’s altar anyways.

It’s too bad his daughter puts a dent in his plans though… She never did outgrow that rebellious phase…

Pierre works out often in this universe, having the time and freedom to make his own schedule as CEO. He treats his family well enough, although he’s never home long enough to let them see the monster he’s let himself become. But his daughter can see glimpses in the way he talks to her and her mother that he’s not the same father he had once been. It’s like something changed in him along the way to make him worse than he’d been before…

Having never lost a match in his career, only when it was planned for ticket sales, Pierre has an inflated ego which blinds him to his own faults. In his eyes, this is the life he’s always been destined for. To be on the top of the world and determined to never fall from grace.

His daughter, on the other hand, would say otherwise. She often has a similar epiphany as Morris. Where an existential feeling of dread consumes her and deep down, despite her fairly privileged life, she knows this was not what she was destined for.

(I'd like to think Pierre just doesn't bother with the "no-homo" stuff and constantly flirts with Morris in this AU just to rile him up and throw him off his game. Especially when they get into fights about ethics and business and blah blah typical enemies to still enemies but also lovers stuff.)