Given name. Totally human. Please be nice to me. I'm Lrrr's roommate. Or, he lives with me. Whatever. I'm 38. I'm married with children in Alaska. I'll need open-heart surgery soon (they say it's not serious, but it's heart surgery). I listen to music constantly. I like good humor and good art. I have good politics but they could probably be better.
Public Key
npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Profile Code
nprofile1qqs24v8jreund7uzv449fc26m6gr776c5pravdm6awerg292suxeg9spz3mhxue69uhhyetvv9ujuerpd46hxtnfduqs6amnwvaz7tmwdaejumr0dsx0sf3d
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Published at
2026-11-05T16:22:25Z Event JSON
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Last Notes npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: "bUt He'Ll VeTo OuR LeGiSlAtIoN!" Yeah, yeah he will. Make him veto popular stuff. Put every R on record opposing the Medicare For All But Fuck the Ballroom Act. Turn the next two years into a non-stop vetofest. Make them afraid to say no. Make them say no and suffer for it. If you don't want to legislate because of vetos, I have some news for you: your view is that democrats cannot try to make law without veto-proof majorities in both houses. That is a useless governing philosophy. We have a generational mandate to overturn and punish years of Republican boobery because the public fucking hates it. Give the people what they want. Make the other side give the people what they *don't* want. Be good at politics for once. *sigh* and I know I won't get what I want. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: I still feel like I've got a great emo record in me, which reminds me I need to call a doctor. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: I am an open-borders maximalist and it is insane to me that this is a fringe position. https://media.beige.party/media_attachments/files/117/454/484/850/696/850/original/73e2cee4e68ba5bd.jpg npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: I'm trying to guess at how likely it is my life will get better. I casually tossed out an 80% likelihood last week, but now I'm not so sure. It seems that there are a number of underlying issues at my firm that may make becoming a partner harder and maybe not even desirable. So if that doesn't work, then my wife can't quit her job. We all remain overworked and miserable. My kids will have a bad childhood. My wife will steadily increase how much she drinks. I will have an unhappy life. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: What the fuck: https://www.latimes.com/california/story/2026-10-05/trump-suggests-letting-iran-take-out-los-angeles-san-diego-at-campaign-rally npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: Just got my COVID and flu shots, and I'm just waiting to feel like I got hit by an asteroid. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: Did you know your blood pressure will spike if you watch videos of people asking Americans basic geography questions? npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: One of my favorite things about The Onion buying InfoWars at auction and doing the exact same schtick but with a wink is that it happened at the exact right moment in American history. The right-wing populist ouroboros of the last 25 years gobbled up every conceivable lever of power through deception, coercion, procedural fuckery, and overt violence, and then they ran the country like a drunken child who stole a tank. Now, these smug shitasses are looking at the world they have created, and they cannot possibly be happy. The tank has crashed into a ditch. Their spiritual leader is a hateful ancient incontinent steak salesman. Their foremost cultural representatives are Kid Rock and Rob Schneider. They are mad that cheese doesn't hate Muslims enough (source: https://www.ibtimes.co.uk/tillamook-boycott-halal-certification-label-cheese-1820591). They are full of anger and they cannot point it in any direction that doesn't rattle their fillings with cognitive dissonance. Against this backdrop, The Onion is taking the exact same bullshit culture war fixations, repeating them with a wild surmise and the appropriate watermark, and achieving perfect, total mockery. It's barely more than a mirror, and it is lethally effective: https://media.beige.party/media_attachments/files/117/323/239/957/549/647/original/b7169d1e14f46a67.jpg npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: "I'm a fart machine." --My son, on a journey of discovery. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: As I shuffle closer to the House of Dust and prepare to part forever with the questionable gift of consciousness, it strikes me that everyone who made those eye-rolling platitudes about every day being a gift and life being what you make of it and seizing the day was actually 100% undeniably completely right and it fucking kills me to say that. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: I don't think it's that weird that Google et al. are playing along with incontinent tantrum baby's renaming of Lake Ontario. Everyone knows it's the dumbest thing imaginable, and when he leaves office or dies they can change it right back without having to invoke the spiteful vindictive ire of the stupidest most powerful power-filled stupid people in history. I cannot see any world where the fourth-best Great Lake is the hill Google dies on. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: I'm choosing to be wonderful, you sacks of shit. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: As a rule, I don't cry over celebrity deaths. I didn't know them. They aren't my friends or family. And then there's Dolly. It's not the music, it's not the films, it's not the esthetic. It's not even the contributions to the research that led to a COVID vaccine. It's the Imagination Library. My house is full of those books. My kids grew up on these books, often moreso than the ones we shelled out for. They loved getting books from Ms. Dolly. I'm not ready to tell my 3yo she's not with us anymore. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: Just got rated 3/10 on a recent post and I didn't realize that was an option. I'll be shutting the fuck up for a while. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: Cops used Flock cameras to prosecute a guy who found $30 on the ground and didn't turn it in. The world has become a hellish panopticon. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: Finally some good news for once in the last fucking decade I-- Oh, they meant literally. https://media.beige.party/media_attachments/files/117/114/723/971/911/514/original/a9970cbb1e8a6a80.jpg npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: Wizard's duel time! I cast soggy sandwich bread! #WizardDuel npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: We have a jar we put money in when we screw up a nonbinary friend's pronouns (we all knew them under their old name for many years first and it has been a perpetual struggle to do it right). We buy them good cheese when the jar allows. It's not perfect, but they have said the system suits them wonderfully. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: This is one of those days where I would happily trade my ADHD chaosbrain for some Business Autism. Even just, like, an exchange program for a few days. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: The possibility of dying young has caused me to revisit Ke$ha's catalog. Her response to the omnipresent risk of mortality is way more fun than mine. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: @nprofile…ewjd Relevant: https://media.beige.party/media_attachments/files/116/973/415/463/668/739/original/b21695a56e36c755.jpg npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: I called my kids silly geese and my 3yo daughter screamed "WE ARE NOT GEESE!!!" npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: Found one of my sister's originals from back when making pictures with computers required work and imagination: EDIT: she tells me it is titled "Carpless Whisper." https://media.beige.party/media_attachments/files/116/899/030/396/245/693/original/250a169217ff2742.jpg npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: My daughter (age 3) and my wife are talking about gender: Daughter: MOM AM I A GIRL? Wife: I don't know. Do you feel like a girl? D: YEAAAAHH! W: Well, there you go! D: ACTUALLY I AM YOUR MAJESTY. AND DON'T TALK TO ME. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: "You're gonna be LEFT BEHIND unless you surrender ALL of your agency to a machine that agrees with you until you go crazy." Fuck you. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: Staring numbly into the middle distance and letting despair invade and destroy every last scintilla of hope when my son runs up and kicks me in the balls. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: Day 10. I slept in lieu of exercise. It's fine. Apparently, the biggest gains in cardiovascular health only come if you get at least TEN whole hours of moderate to strenuous exercise a week, and there is no way I have time for that. Plus, I easily got an hour and a half of goofaround outside time with my kids last night, which ain't nothin. I wasn't ravenous, although I did eat a fair amount of fish and probably got a little over the daily recommended sodium intake. I am feeling like this is a doable course of action right now. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: "The pigeons are dead. We're the pigeons now." https://media.beige.party/media_attachments/files/116/589/725/629/007/911/original/a594b603ecf36463.jpg npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: On Monday, a doctor told me to lose weight and lower my systolic blood pressure by 16 points. I am taking this challenge extremely seriously because I like pleasing authority figures and also because I'm not as hopelessly broken as I feared. I gave up and got fat this winter. I'm 6'4" and currently weigh 260lbs, which is a personal record. I'm normally about 235-240 and when I'm in ideal shape more like 215. So I'm really fucked up. I also ate like a campground raccoon all winter and replaced exercise with sitting in front of a computer. There is a lot of low-hanging fruit. This week, I have cooked everything I've eaten (and it's the stuff they say you should eat: whole grains, beans, vegetables, fruit, lean meats, yogurt, minimal salt, etc.). I'm also eating less. I have gotten up early to exercise AND THEN actually exercised. I'm drinking water instead of coffee (although I'm still drinking coffee). I slept for 8 hours last night, which never happens to me unless I pass out while putting my kids to bed. Even though I hate it, I will grudgingly do strength training. Maybe tomorrow. I don't want to go on medicine. I think I can fix myself without any outside intervention. Now that I actually have a doctor, I can get sad boy meds in the winter, and that's probably as much as I want to mess with my body unless it's trying to kill me. I have a lot of pent up enthusiasm for fixing myself that I'm sure will eventually peter out, so I've started a chart for giving myself points when I do the things I'm supposed to do. Brushing, flossing, eating fruits and vegetables, taking a multivitamin, exercising, sleeping enough, meditating, etc. I doubt I'll get maximum points most days, but it's something for charting growth and progress. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: @nprofile…dyu0 It was awful. But my wife promised herself Korean barbecue. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: I inadvertently made plans to have dinner at a restaurant that decided to take a calculated stand against anti-smoking laws. It was like stepping into a very stinky time machine. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: @nprofile…awd8 @nprofile…redn Understood and thank you! npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: Hey Fedizens, I work with a lot of old people, and as you can imagine, many of them have vision issues and/or difficulty reading. What screen readers do you recommend for ease of use? Think: if you were going to ask your grandma to set up a screen reader without walking her through every step, is there a decent tool you'd recommend? Thank you! And please boost liberally unless there's, like, one definitive answer and I'm just ignorant of it. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: I work for and with rich people because they pay me lots to rent my brain. I have learned some things: 1. "Rich" is normally some combination of time, talent, luck, and fear. Luck is always one of the components. Rarely do my clients credit luck. 2. It does not take much money (relative) to become insulated from most consequences of daily life. That insulation rapidly severs people from people who work for a living. 3. People who inherit their wealth are contemptible. So are a lot of people who have worked for their money, but trust fund babies (who I am in the business of creating) have a strong tendency to be entitled, imperious, incompetent shits. 4. I'm really smart and really good at what I do. This is absolutely not a prerequisite for becoming rich and can even be counter-productive. Many of the people I work with are not particularly smart or talented, and that doesn't matter if you find a good racket and can sock away the money. 5. Back to people who inherit their money: as someone who will inherit basically a steak dinner and a heightened risk of Alzheimer's, I know nobody is coming to save me. I save as much as I can understanding that it may be a fool's errand. I resent people who have the luxury of knowing they cannot die from poverty because one day a mountain of dough is going to fall on them. 6. The estate tax should apply to as many people as possible and it should be confiscatory. Without it, we end up with these neo-feudalist enclaves of the corpulent rich, the grandchildren of ruthless/fortunate/gifted men, check-cashers who live off exploitation alone. 7. We do not need rich people. Sorry, I'm in a mood. Endrant. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: Patiently explaining to the canvasser who watched me and my entire family pull into our driveway that we cannot speak to him because we are all, tragically, dead. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: "Political violence is never acceptable," said the people who killed all of Iran's leaders and kidnapped the Venezuelan president. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: [Plunking quarters into the parking meter] we rent these streets. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: My "deaths I'll celebrate" list is getting too long. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: I would rather sit on a dirty nail than listen to AI sounds. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: Seeing people singing with genuine enthusiasm in their cars keeps me from losing hope. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: I have not been happy or felt like I have control much over the last few years. It has become unbearable. I want that feeling to end. There's a certain type of Silicon Valley quarter-zip LinkedIn consultantspeak person who uses the word "optimize" in mindless service of hyperacquisitive profitzombiism, and so I am not using that word with all of its radioactive baggage to describe my current project. So instead, I am becoming wonderful. I have had enough good moments in my life lately that I know I can be happy, that I want to be happy. I can be good. I can be whole. I'm not a seeker. All the holes in my life can be filled. I'm gonna regret wording it like that. But I consistently get sucked back into despair. Why? Some things are structural. The world is ending, everyone in power did sex crimes on Epstein's island and will never pay for it, the darkness is ascendant. I can't fix that. But there are so many things in my control that I have not fixed, that I can fix, that it feels like I owe it to myself to fix them. My life is cluttered. Distractions are everywhere. I am disorganized, and there is too much stuff. At work, at home, I am buried in crap. I have too many little addictions (food, phone, video games) that clutter my mind. I want to be uncluttered. I think this will help me become wonderful. I have some drastic notions about how to unclutter myself, but some are less astonishing and seem downright achievable: 1. Clearing my desk at work. Ever since my assistant died, and sometimes before then, I have had too much work and not enough time to do it. I am fed up to the point where I have been working the equivalent of two full extra days a week for the last three weeks to unfuck the backlog and get ahead. It is working. Order will be restored, my desk will be clean, I will stop needing to apologize to people. 2. My clothes make no sense. I need to organize my closet and give away clothes I will never wear again. 3. My kids have a zillion toys. Some of them could disappear into storage or parts unknown and my kids would never know. 4. My house is cluttered. Everywhere. The kitchen cabinets, the fridge, the gym, my study, the bedroom. It all needs to change. 5. My diet is cluttered. I cook more often than I eat. I cannot pretend that it is a balanced or healthful diet. I need to eat boring food more, with fewer treats and snacks and rewards and desserts. I'm not saying bulgur wheat all the time, but I'm also not not saying that. 6. I am cluttering my life with videogames. I play them when my kids go to sleep most nights. It's stupid. It riles me up before bed. I need to knock it off. I get having a break and a release, but I can only get so much our of conquering Eurasia or riding around on horseback poking npcs with a stick. 7. I need to clean my garage. I want to clean my garage. I have always wanted a garage as a useful space, and mine is a dump disguised as a solution to a stacking efficiency problem. 8. I want to unclutter my schedule. I think this means getting a second car. Just having a few days where I can come and go as needed for work, and where my wife can do the same, would make for so much more sanity. 9. I want to unclutter my sleep routine. I should not be writing this in bed on my phone. I think good sleep hygiene would be a colossal gift to myself. I want to use my phone So Much Less, both at bedtime but also all the time. 10. This is the hardest one and the one I'm least likely to actually follow through on: I need to use less social media. As in, maybe none. I am so undeniably great, so effortlessly magnetic, that I too many notifications. I love the notifications. They break my focus and keep my head cluttered with reminders of how much I amuse myself. I know this stuff is bad for me, and I do it anyway. I should say goodbye to all of this, to @nprofile…2pl2 and @nprofile…x6cd, to my mostly abandoned FB account, to Discord, and to just chat with my neighbors and meatspace people. I don't want to: I like the dopamine drip! I am basically journaling here. I have a community! But I also know that it's crowding into my life. I should have been asleep an hour ago. I think I would gain much from any of these ambitions. None of them will be easy, they all take tons of work. But if I am going to become wonderful, I think I need to make as many changes as I can to extend my moments of peace, joy, and satisfaction. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: Finally, a place to store all my skin: https://media.beige.party/media_attachments/files/116/191/376/908/160/806/original/c01dea77fdde6a77.jpg npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: In the US, the president can post a video of klansmen hunting Black people for sport and literally millions of people will not believe that *that* counts as racism. We are just that lost, dishonest, and morally bankrupt. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: I am not mad at him or making it his problem, I'm just venting: My son had a snow day and my wife stuck him in front of a computer screen for 7 hours so she could work. This turned him into king of the shitheads. He slapped me across the face, said it was a funny joke, and cried for 45 minutes because I told him what he did was wrong. He cried separately for half an hour because I told him hammerhead sharks don't use their heads like hammers in real life (I wouldn't drop this knowledge for no reason: he was slamming his head repeatedly into the floor after taking his "shark medicine," which is him pretending to swallow plastic shark figurines like pills). He is shouting everything at maximum volume. He is fragile, like a bomb. He is, to be frank, being a bitch. He seems to be neutralized for now, with my wife putting him to bed and reading him Captain Underpants. I'm putting my more run-of-the-mill monster daughter to bed. She hates me and has been screaming for mom for the last 30 minutes. She yells "OWIE OUCH IT HURTS!!!!" when she is sad or inconvenienced. She'll peter out within the next hour or so. But it's a lot. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: Weapons-grade banger about the Late Unpleasantness and an anthem for telling ICE to collectively jump off a bridge: #HGMusic2026 27/365 https://emperorx.bandcamp.com/album/renee-nicole-nicole-renee I'm not sure if this counts as body shaming, but also fuck ICE. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: The artist is v.cook and I cannot find a link to buy this one (teepublic spiked the link because they hate your freedom) but she's on the internet. https://media.beige.party/media_attachments/files/115/971/002/998/371/294/original/2d5bda4f527bf78c.jpg npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: Hey so those Democrat reforms for ICE are complete and utter bullshit. "Prevent them from wearing masks and require them to have warrants." No! They don't even want to wear masks anymore and they shouldn't be arresting anyone in the first place. New unthinkable degrees of worthlessness from the party of worthlessness. Abolition or bust. #AbolishICE npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: I didn't understand and in fact kinda hated Mark Rothko's paintings. But now that I'm fried to a crisp by life, I get it: https://media.beige.party/media_attachments/files/115/869/509/383/438/071/original/2c009f6628a8d25a.jpg npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: Something died in my fridge and I cannot figure out what it is. My kitchen smells like death and I have no idea what the fuck is causing it. I'm going on a search-and-destroy mission when I get home tonight. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: I bought a retail therapy guitar today and all three of the Christmas ghosts were like "fuckin sick, bro." npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: *screaming and pounding my fists on the ground in a prone position* But I don't WANT to be 38! npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: R.I.P. John Brown you would hate almost everything about the 21st century but we mostly kinda stopped doing slavery so that's good. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: In Alaska, you can be part of something bigger than yourself (bear). npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: If you live your life well, you'll find like six Mastodon aunts who ask you if you're staying hydrated. I love my Mastodon aunts. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: It's a shame Mike Johnson is never going to hear about today's election results. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: Are nachos salad? The answer could have major implications for the Discourse. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: I need good sign ideas for tomorrow. I have run out of creative juice. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: I hauled my broken body to a hot chicken place and asked them to hurt me. They succeeded. The edges of reality are vibrating. I can see the future and it is a bad place. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: I'm a death lawyer. It's nice. But what surprises me is how rarely people do cool stuff with their money (or their bodies) when they die. "UhHhH tAkE cArE oF mY wIfE wHeN I DiE," "i LoVe My ChIlDrEn EqUaLlY." Grow up. Where are the bequests of fortunes to shirtsleeve relatives in exchange for spending a night in a haunted house? What about having your remains loaded into a cannon and fired into rush hour traffic? Where are the scholarships for bagpipers and other undesirables? npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: #uspol Having taken stock about the state of the country, I don't think it's a stretch to say that the dictatorship is here. Secret police, internment camps, army-driven law enforcement, an unchecked and uncheckable executive, crumbling due process, grievance politics, violent rhetoric from people who hold power about invasion and enemies within, a so-called opposition party that still thinks writing letters will solve the problem... it's real bad. I know a lot of you will make different choices, but I am gonna stop writing about politics. I have plans to clear out my back catalog of toots. Will it matter? Probably not. Should I be brave? Look, you can be brave. I'm gonna try to live through whatever is happening. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: @nprofile…03hd This is a very real phenomenon that I think lots of people fail to, or don't even try to, understand. The old courtship norms did not suit shy or neurodiverse people. I am not very neurodiverse and would probably have ended up making do if I grew up in the 1950s, but it was so much better for me to be Sadie Hawkins-ed for my entire dating life. Also, I feel like there was all around less rejection this way. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: "Oh no, my phone number, schedule, underpants, and list of favorite sexual positions fell on the ground! Should I bend over right in front of you to pick them up?" Me: "No, it's OK, i'll get it. Happens to the best of us. Here you go, ma'am! Have a great weekend!" npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: Sex is great, but back when I was available, I relied exclusively on waiting for women to point at me and say "THAT ONE." npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: Lrrr is wandering around the state fair going "WOW, THAT IS ONE FUCKABLE COW! THAT GUY IN THE HAT IS WITH ME! I DEMAND TO KNOW WHAT YOUR T SHIRT MEANS!" npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: What's your favorite kind of fruit and why? npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: There's something broken with my coffee. It's empty. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: There's a room in hell where the ad dudes who put "Powered by A.I.!" on body wash and energy drinks sit around high-fiving each other and saying "it was so worth it, bro!" between pitchfork jabs forever. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: Do you have any TV show phrases that have crept into everyday life? I mean, I assume most of us do, but what are your favorites? npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: Loving those dead little marble eyes: https://media.beige.party/media_attachments/files/114/543/201/613/349/494/original/0fec512f851bf09c.jpg npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: Lessons from Grandmageddon: I do some things when my mom is around that I don't do in other settings. Like, I normally make eye contact with people and respond directly and dynamically. But my mom, who stresses the fuck out of me and makes me wince with an onslaught of unanswerable questions, drives me straight to polite defensive non-engagement mode. As someone who doesn't really line up with autism symptoms in my everyday life, this is a really weird feeling. It feels like an inversion of what I have typically understood masking to be. I interact openly and conventionally with the outside world, but I become Abed Nadir when my mom visits and packs our fridge with perishable food we won't be able to finish and asks a hundred questions I don't know how to answer. Is this a common phenomenon? Is it just another form of masking? Is this more of a "wish you weren't so fahkin awkward bud" response than a neurodiversity response? npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: Bought five tubs of protein powder for the price of one. I might grow an extra toe, but I'm gonna get fuckin swole. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: Oh, fuck leg day. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: Just did the "I'm a little teapot" song and dance for my daughter, who is two, and when I finished she looked at me, smiled, shook her head and said "no." npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: Not to bum everybody out, but Marx wrote that "[t]he less you eat, drink, buy books, go to the theatre or to balls, or to the pub, and the less you think, love, theorize, sing, paint, fence, etc., the more you will be able to save and the greater will become your treasure which neither moth nor rust will corrupt—your capital. The less you are, the less you express your life, the more you have, the greater is your alienated life and the greater is the saving of your alienated being." This rings so true. I think of all that I have given up in the name of even a whiff of material prosperity. My life is so small, y'all. I am clawing for anything resembling a hobby and am unable to do more than rant in all caps to strangers. And I am not sure I could imagine it any other way. The machine that manufactures hopelessness and helplessness works. I hate the machine, but I depend on it. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: I am watching my wife fully hand wash dishes with soap before putting them in the dishwasher. I don't know what to do. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: I don't usually weigh in on the genocide because it always seems to lead to terrifying and bad interactions with the worst people on the internet, but every so often I have one of those panicked visions that it's my own beloved children (and not innocent children on the far fringe of the globe) getting beheaded or starved or blasted to smithereens by people who would celebrate their pain. And I have to say something. My kids are good, silly, mischievous, sweet, curious little people who deserve every joy and human frustration that life can offer; they are just like the children who are getting charred, mangled, murdered, and exterminated in Gaza, only they were born in a safe suburb thousands of miles away. My kids have never missed a meal. My son bawls if he bumps his head on a door; my daughter screams "owie!!" if she feels sad. They know nothing at all about suffering, and I hope they never do. Kids just like mine, born under less auspicious stars, will eat pain and drink suffering. They will suffer all the way out of existence at the hands of an occupying army. They will be shattered and obliterated and killed, like thousands of children before them. And there will be cheering. I'm crying at my desk just thinking about the senseless, unforgivable cruelty. It's unbearable. I wish hell existed for the people who carry out acts of barbarous violence against children. Instead, I think that hell only exists for the children of genocide and the people who love them. There is no absolution for the murderers of children, no rebalancing of the scale. Every whisper of complicity is a millstone that crushes down the spirit until there is no room left for breath. Never again means not now, not ever. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: I think I'm a pretty smart guy, but I haven't used my big dumb brain to lead a better, happier life. So, this year, I'm improving myself. Physical fitness, diet, media habits, oral hygiene, routine maintenance, therapy, self-care, the works. What I want to know is, how are y'all nice to yourselves? It's the hardest thing for me to do. At all times, there's more than one voice in my head (see earlier post re: therapeutic exercise that's basically Inside Out for 37-year-old guys - I'm not literally hearing voices) lining up to call me a failure for any reason. But I don't have a voice that says "good job," "you deserve to feel loved," "breathe," or "feel good about yourself." This makes it really hard to get better in a healthy way. I'm not a dudebro redditor, but I'll be damned if my approach isn't similar to any fucko's terminally online approach to self-improvement: I'm not getting healthy out of an intense desire to be present in the lives of my grandchildren or because it feels good: I'm doing it because my body is a solvable problem and I want to chronicle rebuilding myself. I want to do hard things that you can't fake so that I can amaze people. And that's sad, I think. Why is it hard to nurture myself when training and shaping myself is so relatively easy? npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: @nprofile…4asf I'm not mad at you or anything. We are cool. It's just an internally bad idea. If that's actually the plan, it's a bad plan worthy of contempt and ridicule. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: @nprofile…4asf Respectfully, that is an insanely fucking stupid plan. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: "In 2025, the President, in an effort to alleviate the effects of a... Anyone? Anyone?... a prolonged period of economic growth, enacted the... Anyone? Anyone? The tariff order? The liberation day tariff order? Which, anyone? Raised or lowered?... raised tariffs, in an effort to collect more revenue for the federal government. Did it work? Anyone? Anyone know the effects? It did not work. https://media.beige.party/media_attachments/files/114/270/542/025/476/087/original/9484fc4ee0c082db.png npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: Man at the airport: "hey man... oh, I thought you were an engineer I used to work with." Me: "it's ok. My parents are disappointed, too." npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: I'm trying to do two days vegan a week, and so far it's going great. The chickpea is a magical thing. @nprofile…kttg is screaming "YOU HAVE LEARNED *NOTHING*" and "I HAVE NO ROOMMATE." npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: @nprofile…kvnh I agreed to be my roommate's designated driver one night. I met my wife that night. Grad school, two kids, mortgage, everything traces back to me trading my Saturday night for a free burrito. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: Today, my son (4) told me about the sprinkleman, who is nine feet tall, has no eyes, and goes around on rainy days eating people. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: You can tell a lot about someone by the kind of restaurant they would open if someone forced them to drop everything and open a restaurant. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: My last couple posts have been pretty obvious about this, but I'm not OK. I alternate between feeling completely numb and beyond despair. I hate my life. I am overworked, super stressed, and disrespected at work. I don't get to have hobbies or see friends anymore. It's winter 7 months a year in this godforsaken wasteland. Every time my kids and I try to do something fun, it involves one of them shrieking and crying because something isn't perfect. My kids almost never sleep through the night, so I average about 4-5 hours of sleep. I hate my house. My wife is always disappointed. Her mom, who we depend on for incidental childcare, often talks to me like I'm the help ("you're going to ______") or like I'm utterly incompetent ("if you can move the laundry." End of sentence). I seldom get a word in edgewise these days. I probably won't get to retire if I even live that long. I feel like a personal and professional failure. I don't like myself. I certainly don't love myself. Every time I have tried therapy it has cost a fortune and helped me with nothing more than crying in front of a stranger. And this is all happening in a world that is at least as bad as you've read it is. I don't know what, if anything, to do with that information. I got in better shape because I thought it would help, but if I go on antidepressants that seems really likely to go away. My wife loves our house and living in Alaska such that we will never move. I can't really change jobs or careers without throwing away everything. I'm tired of every day being full of screaming, crying children (who will one day realize that their lives should have been so much better and stop talking to me). I'm a bad parent - I let them do fun but dangerous stuff sometimes, like jumping off a pile of cushions into a pile of blankets, and it makes my wife sad. I hope things get better one day. I don't know how or when, but maybe something will change. I don't see it, though. I'm 37. My best years are behind me, and I don't remember them being all that great after maybe 24. I'm real tired, y'all. I feel so selfish for even putting this out in the universe: I know I am supposed to pay a stranger $200 an hour to vent this stuff and it is not your job to hear it. I'm sorry. That's why the CW is there. The fediverse is the only place I feel comfortable anymore. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: I disappoint people all day and get screamed at all night. I worked the hardest I have ever worked in my life and I am not getting ahead. I'm sick all the time. I can't take leave because it will derail my career. I've canceled all my holiday leave and will be in the office even when the building is closed. I have asked my family to not get me anything for Christmas because I don't have time for recreation. My kids are always upset. My wife is always a little disappointed. My last friend is moving out of state. Things aren't supposed to feel like this. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: Honest reflection: political violence is bad. It opens doors that don't easily close. Political violence doesn't stop when you want it to. It veers off in directions you probably won't anticipate. It gobbles up fuel until it burns itself out. Kyle Kinane once celebrated the power that some villains have to unite unlikely groups of people. He was talking about Fred Phelps of the Westboro Baptist Church, but private health insurers fit the bill, too. It is wild to see someone who you've probably never heard of get murdered and the internet, apart from some think pieces in prestige publications, basically says "hell yeah!" Not just hell yeah, but "we will collectively suck the killer's penis clean off his body and torment the fast food worker who turned him in, here's a pamphlet on jury nullification." [And hey, you should know about jury nullification!] It is hard to imagine this being the last targeted killing; there will probably be copycats looking for similar hero worship. Heck, I never heard of the CEO before. He was the fearless leader of an organization that profits by creating unnecessary human misery. I'm not about to mourn the guy. In a sane, fair world, the killer would go to jail for a long time and the health care industry would beg to regulate for the safety of its leaders. We're probably gonna get just one of those, the one you don't like. Someone else will get paid enough to run UHC. Maybe I'm wrong and we will get a major popular uprising to reform health care in America. But we've got an incoming government of real French aristocrat types who have barely even begun to repress the hell out of the rabble, and I think it's really going to show because now these paranoid powerful types have a rational basis for their fear. If this is the start of prolonged social upheaval, may God help us all. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: I have spent the last twenty minutes dancing at my wife while hum-singing the lyrics I can remember to "Funkytown." npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: Fourteen years ago, I met my wife. This was during that brief, shining window when I was hot and Four Loko still had caffeine in it, before online dating became *the* way to meet people. It was November 13, 2010. Anchorage, Alaska. I was fully prepared to spend my Saturday night eating Totino's pizza rolls in my underpants and playing Oblivion when my freshly bathed roommate asked me if I would designated drive his knee-walking ass all over town. He offered me a burrito. I am easy. Mere minutes into our evening, the burrito is gone, and I have clearly made a mistake. The first post-burrito stop was to see a live band I'd never heard of before. Self-serious swampy southern rock with an unfortunately very 2010 indie clap-and-say-whoa sensibility. I can't hear anybody. Strike 1. I do not like this. For no good reason, my roommate ropes me into conversation with an ex girlfriend of mine. I despise this woman--I spent four agonizing months not understanding what borderline personality disorder is and getting mercilessly abused (mostly emotionally - I don't wanna talk about it in any detail because it'll just make me mad) by someone who fully embodied the "I hate you you worthless piece of shit I'll kill myself if you leave me" approach to having a boyfriend. She jokes about getting back together with me and makes a sexual pun with my name. I would rather get eaten alive by ants. This is my hell. Strike 2. My roommate, sensing that he could be drunker, insists that the night is still young. It is 11 p.m. and I hate it here. He prevails on me to take him to a house party with some people he unconvincingly insists are actually very cool. He bought me the damn burrito, OK? Fine. Anything to get out of here. We arrive at Location B, where we immediately encounter: another ex girlfriend! And not just that, but the boyfriend of yet a third ex girlfriend! Strike 3, I'm outta here. "Dude, just hang out for a few minutes, and if you're really not into it, we can leave." Time out: I'm sorry, but I'm not particularly slutty. I don't have a lot of ex girlfriends. I just live in a small city where the gifted kids my age all sorta tried to screw each other. I've dated like seven people in my entire life, and three and a half of them show up in this story. First, the unctuous and extremely intense girlfriend whose memory still hurts my self-esteem to this day, the one who managed to strike a toxic blend of over-the-top sexuality, emotional dependency, and seething contempt for me (damn it, I'm getting mad; gotta move off that one). Second, a compelling and bitterly funny artist who I dated for the blink of an eye, but who brought me my first taste of teenage heartbreak with no real warning; I harbor no animosity about any of it, but seeing her at that time still felt like a sharp reminder that I could not take crushes for granted. It's just not fun to see people you used to kiss and who hurt your feelings. Third (or I guess the one-half?), well, this is a weird one. When I was a senior in high school, a very beautiful person tapped me on the shoulder, asked me if I was single (yes) and if I wanted to stay that way (no). It was four months of pure felicity. We were both wicked smart and ambitious, we both had a way with words, and we were both outrageously into each other. And then, I got an ick. I don't know why. She never turned off her high beams when she drove me, which I thought was so maddeningly inconsiderate. I also started to think, hey, if this exceptional person just showed up, I bet there are lots of other exceptional people out there, too. We were gonna go to college on different coasts anyways, so I may as well rip the bandaid off early without any communication and without really examining feelings that today I might call love. From the moment I broke up with this girl, I felt like I had made a terrible Gob-like mistake. First and foremost, by destroying what had been the start of a very sweet and earnest friendship; I don't want to be the kind of person who discards friends, romantic or otherwise. Second, nobody I was aware of had ever wanted to have sex with me before, and I broke it off in part because I was scared of sex and the attachment it symbolized (I grew up around a lot of fuckheaded ideas about sex and purity and wasn't really sure how to express how much I disliked those concepts, but I also didn't have a clear alternative way of understanding sex's symbolic and emotional importance to me). Third, by quickly learning that there aren't many people who I form easy connections with. People don't laugh at my jokes very often in meatspace. In any case, I had spent years beating myself up about being shabby to a lovely person, and I got to meet and play charades with her next boyfriend, and *he was awesome*! Just a really cool, smart, affable, kind human being who made you feel instantly comfortable. And it wasn't like I was walking around thinking about this all the time, but I had a fairly conceited sense that I had undermined a good person's self-confidence. Meeting her boyfriend was the source of a lot of uneasy, uncomfortable, invaluable feelings. I did not think I would ever have been grateful to have had that encounter, and that night my main thought was "I need this guy to think I'm awesome and I will go to superhuman lengths to get his approval." But days and weeks later, I would come to feel very grateful. I ended up having one of those low-grade epiphanies that time only moves forward, that you cannot beat yourself up into having been a better partner, and that things sometimes do work out. I've still written a fuck ton of music about how rotten I feel about *checks notes* being romantically flaky as a teenager, but that's a story for another day. My point is, I am feeling pretty raw on this fateful Saturday. The whole night feels cursed, like I'm some kind of Ebenezer Scrooge getting road-hauled through the ghosts of emotional attachments past. I'm sad that I saw one ex, anxious and bashful about seeing another, and overwhelmingly motivated to impress a figurative stand in for a third. I mentioned charades. This is not a cool party. These are dorks who are taking a gap year before grad school. They are my people. And I decide, like I have so often done, that my true goal is to amuse myself. I go full send. My charades partners are a guy I automatically want to impress, my roommate, the host, and a woman I've never seen before in my life. I am supremely over the top. These are not clean or polite charades prompts, either. Think "cum dumpster" or "systemic racism." Fediverse, I don't know if this is obvious, but I am unbearably competitive. I have zero chill and will fight like a cornered animal to win a silly game. I *became* "cum dumpster." Raucous laughter. Social capital. That guy I want to impress laughs, maybe a little too much. But my other partner, this tall booksy woman with big eyes and an explosion of auburn hair, is nailing every single charade I do. She's getting a heated as me. She calls my roommate 'haircut" as a nod to his lack of focus on the task of dominating the other team. I get all of her charades. She gets all of mine. She tells the other team to suck her figurative penis after we annihilate them. She takes beers away from the other side and says "these are for winners!" I love this woman like only my system-shocked, nothing- left-to-lose, just go for it self can. But I'm also trying to impress my ex girlfriend's boyfriend and look like I'm living well as subtle revenge to another ex girlfriend, so I'm telling jokes. I'm being real fucking charming. I have great anecdotes and perfect timing and witty banner out the yang. It's going as well as I think it can. I mentioned full-caff Four Loko. It's late. Nobody has tried this beverage that has killed other, similarly situated young people. I am perfectly sober. Everyone piles into my roommate's car and I drag them to the one open liquor store. We return with a selection. If you know anything about Four Loko, you know it sucks. It's like liquid poison Jolly Ranchers. Everybody but me had already been drunk for a while, and most are done after a few sips. But this lady is adamant that you can't waste this booze. She drinks way too much of the stuff. I think she's gonna die. My roommate is a pretty arrogant debater. He's good at it. He's got the gift of gab, and when he's drunk enough he just starts arguing with the wall about whatever bullshit he's into at the time. On this night, it's the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. I've seen this movie before. Only, this really intense, very drunk woman whoops the dogshit out of him. She argues his punk ass into the dirt. She falls out of her chair and onto the floor, and she keeps humiliating the shit out of him. It is glorious. I really hope she doesn't die. The other remaining partiers are discussing cunnilingus in the other room. I am (just very slightly) more qualified to discuss eating pussy, so I migrate over there. One of these partiers asks if I can drive her and her roommate home. Sure, NBD. Well, her roommate, the animated, competitive, drunken debate-winner, picks herself off the floor and wobbles over toward us and slides her arm around my back. They only live a few blocks away from me, so we drop them off. And as they're getting out of the car, the very, very drunk woman says, and I am paraphrasing because I didn't realize that this was the most important night of my life, "this isn't how drunk I am all the time. And I really need to put my number in your phone because I don't like a lot of people and I think I have to see you again a lot." And her roommate double-checked to make sure she entered the number right. She had missed an 8. For 14 years, we've been inseparable. It hasn't always been easy or fun (menial jobs, grad school, kids). And we've changed a lot--I'm smarter, she hardly drinks at all anymore, we've gotten fatter and then skinnier, we have real big-person jobs now, we're fairly domesticated--but it has always been good. Nobody makes me laugh harder. Nobody manages my bullshit better. Nobody hates the things I hate as much. Nobody reads more or looks as good doing it. We don't celebrate our wedding anniversary because it always felt like an administrative formality and inevitability. But we do celebrate the improbable night we met. Physically, intellectually, emotionally, comedically, competitively, we feel dangerously well matched. She irritates me some times (why do some people need lotion? It's GROSS!), and I return the favor. But her abiding and fundamental goodness makes those little things feel so trivial. I love Human Ghostwife to pieces. Tl;dr: I like my wife a lot. She's great. Edited to fix a few typos. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: @nprofile…gk57 This game introduced me to (and satisfied) primal urges I didn't even know I had: Ride horse. Impale man. Sell butter. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: I feel like an enlightened, progressive, modern guy, but then I also periodically get the urge to blow a week playing Mount & Blade. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: Who else is having a pretty bad time? npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: I don't like referring to guys as kings. If you admire someone, you should want them to keep their head. npub142c0y8nexmacyet22ns44h5s8aa43gz86cmh46ajxs524pcdjstqc264pg Human Ghostwriter :bc: I thought I would be prepared me for my four- year- old to call me a skinwalker, but I was not.