#well screw that overgrown lump of mold!

[redacted-doodle]

WHAT THE FUCK!! YOUTUBE IS STARTING TO GIVE SELF HARM WARNINGS ABOUT TRANS HEALTH AND PSYCHOLOGY!!

I HAVE WATCHED THIS VIDEO!! IT IS LITERALLY WHAT IT SAYS ON THE TITLE!! SCREW THOSE FOOLS AT YOUTUBE ACTUALLY!!

[deepinmummymatters]

How to Boost Your Home's Curb Appeal With Professional Pressure Washing

Increasing your home's curb appeal can help you sell it for more money. It also enables you to feel prouder of your property. Curb appeal is important for commercial properties as well. It's been shown that people are more likely to shop at a clean-looking building. Regular professional pressure washing can help you keep your facility looking great. Remove Dirt and Debris Dirt and grime can build up on your home's exterior over time, giving it a dull, worn-down appearance. A thorough pressure washing with a professional power washer can remove this buildup and restore your home's curb appeal. Aside from looking unsightly, dirt can also damage your home's exterior. Over time, it can cause the paint on your house to chip or crack. A buildup of land can also lead to the formation of mold and mildew. These problems can be dangerous for your family's health, especially if anyone in your household has allergies. If you're considering selling your home, regularly pressure washing your exterior can help boost its value. Buyers will be less likely to view a dirty home as an investment and more likely to offer top dollar for your property. Whether it's oil or wax buildup from vehicles or other substances that stain your driveway, sidewalk, or patio, the blasts of water from a professional pressure washing service provider can break them down and restore your surfaces to their original color and sheen. A thorough cleaning is also necessary before applying a new paint, sealant, or stain coat. The labels on these products typically warn against applying them to dirty surfaces, so a proper pressure wash is needed first. Using a power washer to clean your exterior can save you the time and hassle of hauling out a ladder to scrub hard-to-reach areas. Repair or Replace Broken Fence Slats The lawn and landscaping are the first things visitors notice when visiting your home. Keeping your lawn trimmed, mowed, and aerated and removing overgrown bushes and trees is a great way to boost curb appeal. Adding a fresh coat of paint to the front door or shutters is another easy way to make your home look newer and increase your perceived value. Fence slats, if damaged or in disrepair, will also distract from the overall aesthetic of your home. Replacing a few slats or even the entire panel can help keep your fence in good condition and prevent it from becoming a safety hazard. Over time, wood fence panels may start to sag due to weathering, or the fasteners that secure them to the posts can loosen. Fixing a sagging fence is easy with some simple tools and materials. Place wood blocks next to the post on both sides of the damaged panel and remove the screws holding it in place. Use a level to ensure the panel is level, and hammer galvanized nails into the holes on both sides to secure the board. Use a drill to create pilot holes for the pins before drilling so they do not split the wood. Once the slat is attached, use a putty knife to smooth it and remove any lumps, using medium grit sandpaper if necessary. Replace Light Fixtures Many people think that boosting their home's curb appeal is too time-consuming or expensive, but the truth is, it's easier and cheaper than you might think. Adding a fresh coat of paint or stain to your fence, planting flowers in your garden, and even giving your house a thorough pressure washing are all simple ways to make it look newer and more appealing. Improving your home's exterior is a smart investment if you plan to sell your home. Potential buyers are more likely to be impressed by a well-maintained home and will be willing to pay more for it. Adding a light fixture to your porch, deck, or garage can brighten the area and improve your home's overall appearance. Choose an institution that matches the style of your home and is energy-efficient to reduce your electricity bill. Most modern light fixtures come with the mounting bracket and wire nuts you'll need for installation, but it's a good idea to pick up a pack of metal ones, too, as these tend to bite into the wiring more securely. Also, pick up a few packs of electrical tape and a non-contact voltage detector. Start by removing any detachable parts, then remove the canopy (the rounded, broad covering that lies flush with the ceiling) to expose the wiring and fixture hardware. Once the wires are exposed, you can use the non-contact voltage detector to ensure that no one or anything is still connected to them before undoing the wiring caps and removing the fixture. Paint or Stain Over time, outdoor surfaces accumulate dirt, grime and stains from weather, pet accidents, bird droppings and other sources. Regular pressure washing makes this caked-on mess look good and can protect the surface. Pressure washing is effective on various exterior surfaces, including wood and vinyl fences, decks, metal patio furniture and concrete driveways. It can also be used to clean brick, stucco and cement surfaces. However, it's important to note that not all surfaces can withstand a power washer's heat, friction and pressure. Professional pressure washing is trained to recognize which surfaces can and cannot withstand high-pressure cleaning and will only use the appropriate pressure levels for your home's needs. Regular pressure washing can ensure a smooth and even application of new paint for homeowners planning to repaint. Without proper cleaning, surface residue can prevent the fresh paint from adhering, leaving unsightly drips and lap marks. In addition to preparing surfaces for repainting, pressure washing can also remove cobwebs, wasp nests and other debris that may be stuck in the cracks of your house. However, it's important to note that the tool can strip old paint from surfaces if the right amount of pressure is applied. Typically, it's best to hire a professional for this task to avoid damaging the integrity of your home. Read the full article

[fortey]

The King of the Wasps

There are some days in the heart of summer that seem to almost stop, stuck like a tire in mud, stalled out and sweltering while the world ceases its spinning, and everything just is.  The sun beats down and everything is still and quiet except for the insects in their frenzy to live their short lives. Even the shade is oppressive, and the breeze doesn’t dare to blow.

On a day like this, you could find the love of your life as you share a glance.  On a day like this you could walk a hundred miles and just lose yourself in your own thoughts.  On a day like this you could die screaming and not a soul will hear it.

Billy Baumgartner is a man who’s going places. True, he’s only seventeen, but he has plans.  Big plans. Plans you don’t even know, man.  Billy is saving up his money from his job stocking shelves at the Kroger.  He’s already got over one thousand dollars. And this time next summer, he’s going to be in Los Angeles.  Screw this town.  Screw this town and everyone in it with their boring lives that go nowhere and do nothing. How can 6,000 people agree to get together and just rot in place for the rest of their lives?  

Billy Baumgartneris not going to rot here with everyone else.  Once he’s done school, he’ll hit the west coast and start his band.  Everyone agrees he’s the best guitar player in town, and probably as good as anyone you hear on the radio.  It’s true, he’s been playing since he was six years old.  He could drop a riff right now and you’d swear Hendrix had just entered the room.  Billy Baumgartner is that good.  

For too long nothing has gone on in this town. A Wal Mart opening three towns over a decade ago was the biggest thing that happened here in Billy’s entire life. Yesterday, the front page of the local paper had a story about the library changing its hours, so it closed at six instead of seven. This town has been on life support since the first house was built.

It’s not that Billy hates this place and everyone in it, he just doesn’t get it.  Why is everyone just settling?  Maybe 100 years ago this made sense, but good God, doesn’t everyone have cable TV and the internet?  Can’t they see the world they’re missing?  It just doesn’t make sense.

Billy Baumgartner has argued with his parents about leaving about a million times.  They don’t understand why he’d want to leave.  It’s quiet and safe here.  It’s a great place to raise a family.  He has a job, and he has friends.  LA is big and dangerous and expensive.  What could possibly happen in LA that’s worth leaving.  Billy just shakes his head.  What couldn’t happen in LA?

Billy Baumgartner wipes the sweat from his brow. It’s got to be at least 110 degrees out here today.  Because he’s been saving so much money, Billy never bothered getting a car like his friends. The Kroger is literally a 20-minute walk from his house.  Why not get the exercise?  Better to be in good shape when he gets to LA anyway.  Lots of ladies to impress. Lots of beaches to hit. Lots of photoshoots to do.

The field past Welch street is like an outdoor sauna.  The tall grass and weeds are just standing still, crunching in Billy’s wake as he passes, swatting gnats and mosquitos and black flies away from his face.  He should have invested in some bug repellant.

Welch field is one of those spots the world forgot about. It's just empty land. Who owns it? The government? The bank? No one really knows. Overgrown for acres. That grass that scratches and cuts your bare legs if you brush against it the wrong way. The skeletal frames of rickety, gnarled old crab apple trees all abuzz with hungry insects eating the mealy fruit.

The sound of a lone cicada is all that dares break the silence here.  Not for the first time, Billy finds himself stopping to look around.  The world feels so damn big sometimes.  This vastness that just needs to be explored.  Why does everyone want to sit still all the time?

On a cloudless day the sky is a blank slate. But some days, when the clouds are just right, you get that depth and the sky looks so big. The world looks so goddamn big, it practically begs you to spread your wings and experience it. Why can't Billy Baumgartner be a part of that?

The cicada’s trilling dies off.  Silence rolls in like the tide. That crushing sense of nothing that has been the bane of Billy's existence for years. Across the field, the old Marsh barn catches his eye.  The rickety, faded red structure has been here much longer than Billy has. As far as he knows, the Marsh family have been gone for at least 20 years.  It’s just no one bothered to use the land for anything.  As a kid, he used to play in the old barn, until his parents found out and had a fit.  It’s dangerous, you know.  What if the roof caved in?  What if he got trapped and no one knew where he was?  What if what if what if.  

Billy Baumgartner thinks “screw it” and changes direction, heading through weeds that haven't seen a human in years.  The cans at work will survive without him for a half hour.  If he has to be stuck here on a day like today, may as well have some fun. The world is built on the promise of adventures. He needs this. A nostalgic trip to something almost dreamlike. Something from a time when he still felt hopeful and alive.

Thick grasses grip at his bare legs as he trudges across the uneven field.  That rough, sandpapery feel scraps against his shins and he curses to himself. Still, better than having all of this mowed under and turned into more housing for boring, do-nothing people to fester in.  In a weird way, this field of nothing was the most alive thing in town.

A tangle of roots snare his foot and Billy stumbles.  He swears out loud as his hands hit dry, rough earth and some flesh scrapes off. As he tries to regain his footing, a sudden pain under his palm causes him to pull away sharply.  The sting is like a tiny stab of fire, digging into his nerves.  He cradles his hand instinctively and lurches backwards as a wasp twists in a frenzy before righting itself and turning a circle on the ground.  

“Goddamn it,” Billy mutters, looking at the insect. It paces, facing him a moment, before testing out its wings, seemingly as annoyed with Billy as he is with it. The insect flies off, no worse for the wear after its run in with Billy Baumgartner.  As for Billy, he checks the fiery sting on his palm.  It throbs, and is already turning red.  He doesn’t think he’s allergic, but he also can barely remember the last time he was stung by a wasp. When was it? Doesn't matter.

Billy gets to his feet, dusts himself off.  He heads out again after a quick look around to make sure no one else saw his misfortune.  Just the grass and the bugs, and the barn.  No harm, no foul.

The old Marsh barn looks like it was made from driftwood that someone sent adrift about four or five times.  Planks aren’t flush, the little paint remaining is flaking, and the roof sags at the far end.  Inside, the support beams look like they’re made of solidified dust, and the loft has caved in.  There are small relics of a bygone era; a rake with no handle, some rusted chains, an old barrel, trash from years of kids making it their clubhouse, but not much else.  Billy and his friends used to hang out here and play, read comic books and eat candy. It seemed fun at the time.

In the corner is a flaccid and filthy mattress and some dusty bottles, the remnants of a party spot from some teens, or maybe a drifter who set up shop for a time. The heat in the barn is no different than the heat outside the barn.  The only difference is the air seems more stagnant.  The smell is like a guinea pig cage in need of cleaning. Dust and rotten hay, the smell of old earth and a hint of mold. It is the smell of a yesterday no one can remember anymore. A storybook kingdom that has lost its magic.

Billy Baumgartner enters with confidence. There are piles of refuse in the corners here and there.  On the far side, below the sagging roof, is an old tarp.  His face lights up when he sees it.  He and the guys had found a rundown old motorcycle in the field and brought it back here with plan to fix it up.  None of them had the first clue how to fix it, and it was missing any number of parts, but when you’re 10 you think anything is possible. They’d hidden it under the tarp.  There was no way it was still here.

Striding over o the mildew-encrusted and rotting tarp, another wasp makes a beeline for Billy’s face.  He feels the hard, little body hit like a pea shot from a straw, and latch onto his cheek. He swats it away, more panicked than he’d like to admit, and curses again.  In the dimness of the barn he can’t see where it went or where it came from.

The throb in his hand keeps him rooted in the moment. The last time he was stung by a wasp was when he was a boy. He had gone into the old shed at the back of their yard and seen what looked like a ball of paper stuck to the corner of the ceiling. A single wasp paced back and forth around a hole near the base of it and, being a stupid kid, he did what stupid kids do. He took a stick and broke it open.

There must have been a thousand wasps in that nest. They rushed I a swarm, furious at little Billy Baumgartner for destroying their home, for declaring war o the hive. The stings were like fire on his arms, his face, his neck. He ran screaming and they gave chase. How could he have forgotten that?

A quick circle on his heels in the barn, looking for his winged attacked, and Billy Baumgartner sees nothing.  The pain in his hand has lessened, but there’s a definite lump there now.  Last thing he needs is one of those on his face, people will think he has crazy acne.

Another wasp buzzes past his ear and Billy flinches, ducking dramatically.  He moves forward quickly, wary now, and grabs the tarp.  The old material feels crusty in his hand, flakes of ancient blue plastic come away in his grip.  He yanks quickly.  For the briefest of moments, he is unsure of how to react.  

The barn erupts. The buzzing is a chorus, a symphony of angry activity.  A thousand wasps, a thousand thousand, burst from the darkness beyond the tarp.  Billy screams and recoils.  The handleless rake catches his heel and he falls back.  The insects swarm and Billy tries to cover his face crawling backwards in a panic.  And as he tries to protect himself, as the swarm of insects detect their target and dive to attack, Billy Baumgartner sees it.  

In the center of the storm, writhing with the bodies of countless wasps, a massive thing. Black, hollow eyes regard Billy Baumgartner, wasps crawling in and out of the papery coating.  A slit below, lips made of mud-brown parchment, slowly expands, widens.  A mouth. It returns Billy’s scream and the wasps pour outward.  The sound, a buzzing, hollow roar of rage.

Billy Baumgartner screams as he has never screamed before.  As each wasp deposits its venom into his exposed flesh, a pinpoint of fire burns inside of him.  And it happens over and over, under the unflinching, hollow gaze of the hive king.

Paper flesh rustles.  The vague shape of a man pulls away from the wall of the barn. Flaky remnants like phyllo dough cling to the wood.  The wasps still pour from its face, even as Billy Baumgartner’s vain attempts to beat away the assault grow weaker. His screams are muffled by writhing little bodies as they fill his mouth, stinging his gums, his lips, his tongue.  In moments, he can no longer even hold his arms up to protect himself. He lays on the floor, his body seizing as his eyes roll back in his head, the toxin overloading his system, the pain engulfing him. His flesh swells and bloats, angry and red.

Billy Baumgartner does not even register the presence of the hive.  He does not see as it lowers itself to a crawl, straddling his body.  He does not feel the paper of its dry, dead lips on his own.  Does not feel the army of wasps as they crawl down his throat.  He senses nothing as they begin their work, mixing saliva and wood fibers, covering his body, entombing him and the hive man together. There is no life left in Billy Baumgartner as he joins the hive.