A) Complains that there's no "answer" to drive parry when the answer is either countering with his own or grabbing
B) Complains that characters are "just mashing jab" when EVERY character can combo into specials by hit confirming light jab
C) Complains about "random wake up supers" but if an enemy uses their super on wakeup, that would make it 100% intentional and not random, especially considering it works most of the time
D) Complains that every character is safe on every move yet refuses to learn hitboxes or punish frames against his opponents
E) Somehow doesn't know that EX projectiles penetrate through normal projectiles despite it happening multiple times
F) Spams projectiles whenever he gets the chance, then puts on a shocked Pikachu face when his opponent actually learns from it and jumps in or uses a special that bypasses projectiles
This is where his long history of playing Street Fighter has brought him. The guy's a dunce and refuses to believe that maybe the problem is that he needs to get better and not the 40ms "lag".

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Looking for correct DMV forms
Hello, I have question for this group. I'm hoping someone would be able to help or at least stare me in the right direction.
I wear corrective lenses mainly for driving. I live in Tampa FL (the sunshine state) and the sun glares definitely makes it difficult to drive. I recently installed dark tint on my vehicle, figured it will help with my sight when traveling. Unfortunately the place I went to, didn't inform me on the "real" difference between tint percentage smh. Can't blame anyone but myself, I should have done some research before jumping the gun. Long story short I've been pulled over by TPD (Tampa police department) for illegal dark tints. However the police officers gave me break/help and try to explain..." In order for me and my car to be legit, my doctor needs to fill out an DVM form on my behalf stating my eyes are sensitive to sunlight".
Does anyone know the name of the particular form/form# I need to look for? Any insight or information would be greatly appreciated.

Something I’ve been thinking about lately, just curious everyone’s thoughts on this.
What do you all think about the direction Link from OoT and Majora’s Mask was taken into in Twilight Princess. Hero’s Spirit and all…kind of a bleak ending to his story.
So I don’t really dive deep into each incarnation of Link, but given that I’ve been following the “child timeline” extensively now, it kinda doesn’t sit right with me the way his story wrapped up.
Just wondering if anyone else feels the same.

So husband bought an iPhone 14 last Friday, decided to sell it as he has a work phone and we need the money to pay some bills. Thought we were pretty savvy to the scammers but this one particular dude from Clarkson said he'd lost his license from DD and could my hubby drop it off if he pays extra. Did all the checks possible, fb profile looked legit etc thought sure we can do that, give this guy a break. Didn't want hubby to go by himself obviously so me and the kids piled in the car. Told the guy we were on our way and we drive from Ellenbrook to Clarkson to address. Pretty sketchy area, hubby started feeling uneasy. We got out the car together and walked up to the front door. House looked pretty quiet and empty. We knocked, rang the bell, no answer. Hubby said let's get out of here. Walking down the driveway there was mail sticking out of the letterbox and hubby pulled out an envelope just to check to see if the name matched the guy who supposedly lived there. The envelope was addressed to The Agent for The Deceased Estate. Got to the car and we both tried ringing the guy from our separate phones, no answer, switched off etc. We thought oh well that's that then let's go. What a waste of time. Then the dude starts msging saying where are you, how far away are you?? Pull the car over and try ringing him again still not answering. Send him a msg asking what the heck is going on why doesn't he answer and we were just at his address? He msged back and said "sorry bro was on the toilet and my phone was in my room charging, come back now, I'll meet you out front"🤦‍♀️ So we foolishly gave him the benefit of the doubt and headed back. He asked how long we would be but we didn't answer that question. As we headed into the street we saw these two shady punks dressed in black walking down the street towards the house. We drove past them and did a lap around the block and sure enough when we got back they were conveniently sitting on the front wall of this house and neither of them looked like the FB profile picture. We drove slowly past them and 1 of them kept his head down and the other one eyeballed us. We were like yeh nah let's go and hiked it out of there. Thankfully dashcam got good pics of them and we got out unscathed. Lesson learnt. Feel like we could have been robbed/bashed pretty easily.

Looking at buying this from a private party.
What are the issues that I should expect at this mileage? The common issues that are cited are transmission, oil consumption and suspension related. But, I wanted to get a sense of the issues that people in this group may know first hand.
Is the maintenance cost MUCH higher than say a Subaru wagon, or are they marginally higher?
The current owner states that the car is in excellent shape. What questions should I ask about the maintenance history and/or problems that may not be obvious on a test drive?
The asking price is $12,800. Does this seem fair?

Hi guys, so I’m finally planning to dive into Daredevil comics proper after being introduced from Netflix (late to the party, I know). So after going through the subreddit wiki, this is my plan on reading the DD runs.
1) Man without Fear —> Yellow From what I’ve heard and read about these 2 books, both re-tell Murdock’s origin story. But I would want to read Yellow after MwF because the progression form the ninja suit to the yellow suit seems logical to me.
2) Frank Miller Run and Guardian Devil Well, I think it’s unanimously agreed the Miller run must be read by anyone who wants to read Daredevil. I am confused about where Guardian Devil fits into the timeline. Is it canonically set after Born Again ?
3)Born Again
4)Bendis —> Brubaker The Bendis run synopsis sounds alot like a much longer Born Again on the surface. Could someone please explain what’s the difference ? and if they could be read in conjunction.
That’s all I’ve planned for now. I hope my fellow readers could comment if/what I should re-arrange, add or subtract from my plan :). TIA and have a wonderful day, DFTBA.
Also, some questions I have. 1) how similar are the Zdarsky and Soule runs ? The synopsis and comments mention that it takes DD to places all around the Marvel universe. If they aren’t concretely set at any point in DD’s career, could they be read together ? 2)What makes the Waid run not a good jumping off point for new readers ? 3)where is Nocenti’s run set in-canon ? Since it introduces Typhoid Mary and she seems prominent in Bendis-Brubaker saga. 4)what are some good reads to see Murdock interact, bond and banter with other heroes like Spidey, besides Defenders ?

Question: If April flowers bring May showers, what do May flowers bring?
Answer: Puritans and misery.
Part 1 - May Flower Moon
I'm no expert but I'm pretty sure this is a ghost story. It all started in early May under the, "Flower Moon".
In the still of the night, I awoke from a deep sleep to witness a moonlight so spectacular it hurt my eyes.
Fumbling for my glasses, I found them, dropped them, cursed, then almost stepped on them. I finally got them where they belonged thinking I needed to use the bathroom. I glanced at the digital clock on my desk.
3:33 am. Again.
Willow weep for me
Bend your branches down along the ground and cover me
-Ann Ronell as sung by Billie Holiday
The birds were chirping loudly. I shuffled to the window. I looked up wide-eyed at the sky. There was the moon; big, round and golden like it didn't mind a big electricity bill. As I used the bathroom, I remember thinking that I didn't ever remember a full moon so bright it could light up my apartment.
I washed my hands then splashed warm water on my face. I cracked my neck. I dried my hands and face with a towel. I remember thinking if I didn't get back to sleep the day was going to suck.
Shuffling back into my bedroom I thought to look for my ski hat. I figured I could pull it over my eyes and escape the light under the blanket. Flower Moon was beautiful but so too is sleep. If I could just hide under the blanket perhaps it wasn't too late for sleep to creep up on me.
I have been renting the same sunny shoebox in old Brooklyn for more than 20 years. It's a corner apartment on the second floor of a 19th century walkup. Across the street, diagonally resides a community garden fronted by a very tall and expansive weeping willow tree that won't let me move away. I didn't know it's age until recently. But it's younger than me. Most things are these days.
I shuffled to the corner window to squeeze the blinds tight and that's when I felt grateful, grateful I had decided to use the bathroom first.
There, at the base of the hundred-foot-tall willow, behind the wrought iron fence, illuminated beneath the moon's glow, I witnessed something that froze my blood and tested my aging bladder. Standing beneath the moonlight, I saw, clear as day, a little boy in footed pajamas with a trap door. The little boy was holding a blue stuffed Grover Muppet in one hand and crying.
Trying to get a good look at the boy was like trying to look at something from behind a campfire. There was a shimmering distortion. What I could clearly see was that he was pointing down at the ground in front of his feet with the non-Grover hand. Suddenly, the little boy spun his head up and around looking directly at me. Eye contact occurred and then too, something I can't explain.
First, a truck transporting fuel broke loudly for the red light at the corner. Through the open windows I smelled what seemed like diesel. I grew light-headed. The room spun around. I remember thinking this feeling smelled both nauseating as well as timeless.
I reached down to try and pick up the floor and that's when it hit me in the face. A sharp pain across my cheek like I had been slapped in a 3 Stooges short. I felt icy fingers grab the hair I had not had in over 30 years and jerk my head back. I smelled more diesel. I grabbed the edge of the desk to keep from losing my balance.
Holding on to the desk, I noticed my mind's eye was playing the little boy's face like a movie. The camera panned in. His little boy face filled my consciousness like I was watching from the front row. He was about four or five years old with long dirty blonde hair. His face looked familiar from a dream.
Then, another slapping pain turned my last good cheek. Losing my balance, I fell ass first to the floor.
Out the window, from on my ass, I watched the traffic light turn green. I heard the truck lurch into gear, rev it's engine then drive away. As it rumbled off into the distance my equilibrium returned.
Muttering my life sucked I gently shook my head and felt for damage. Just my non-existent pride. I got myself vertical, yet once again; feeling a distinct twinge of anxiety.
I looked out the window but the little boy was gone. An FDNY ambulance took his place, it's siren jarring me back to reality. I closed the blinds and got under the blanket. I never did really get back to sleep that night. Or ever since.
Part II - Unhappily Ever Since
Sad as I can be Hear me willow and weep for me... -Billie I keep seeing a little boy under the tree... - me ...
The first thing I want to say is that I keep waking up for decades at exactly 3:33 am.
It's the exact time my decrepit birth certificate claims I was introduced to this world. Can't say why, but ever since digital clocks became a thing, I'm up more often than not to witness 3:33 am transpire. Never remember it happening before digital.
One of my friends recently told me it was an angel number. I don't know anything about angels. Never met one. But I for sure have met some demons in my day. In fact. you might say I was born of demon mother, and I might not be offended. Back to my birth certificate. I was born and yes, still live in Brooklyn, New York. There were gaps but it's my home.
I moved to this particular apartment building a few months after 9/11. I had moved in with a woman at the tail end of doing a romantic nickel, but that fell apart like Madoff, Abramoff or Fuckoff, and she married another dude a year later. So, there in 2002, I and my faithful golden retriever, Spenser, found ourselves, for the very first time, on our own. And, we liked it.
Like I mentioned, Spenser and I lived diagonal to a community garden that fronts a big and beautiful weeping willow tree. I felt an immediate kinship as my favorite book as a child had been, "The Giving Tree" and that's what she reminded me of; only more beautiful.
There will be more about the tree. Anyway, the tree and I dwell in an old part of south Brooklyn called Park Slope, infamous for being the stomping grounds of a young Al Capone, and, believe it or not, young me.
That was a long time ago. Things have changed a lot since Al and I, were separately roaming the streets of Park Slope, looking for adventure and whatever came our way. I came up in the day when if you cried your mother would give you something to cry about. And, not going to lie, I cried a lot. I don't remember my dad that much.
I remember he was a hippie. I remember he had a big beard and moustache and long hair. I remember his denim jacket was always cold, smelling like weed and cigarettes. I remember he gave me, "The Giving Tree" and taught me how to read it. And then, I remember he was; gone. Just. Gone.
I also remember my mother. I remember her never talking much. I remember her just smelling like hair spray, cigarettes and instant coffee with sour milk. I never was able to drink milk, not even as a child, and to this very day just the sight of a milk carton turns my stomach to acid.
I lived alone with the old lady about half a mile from where I live now. Yeah, in over thirty years I made it a whole thirteen blocks. Like I said, my pride was non-existent these days unless I was sitting on it. Another, weird thing besides waking up at 3:33 am is I have a lot of memory lapses. It has been getting worse the last few years. Especially, since old Spenser had a seizure in my arms back on the 9/11 of '09. He was fifteen and my best friend. I'd always loved dogs. But after losing Spenser, I couldn't quite remember things right all the time.
Sometimes, it was little things. Like did I turn off the stove or lock the front door. Other times, it was deep things, like did the telephone repair man try to do something to me when I was five and left home alone. Like did I pull a kitchen knife on him before he scampered out like a thief in the night; scared he'd be caught by my screams for Batman? Did I remember my mother having strange guests over late at night? Did I remember being locked in my room? I just couldn't remember anymore.
I had taken to obsessively keeping lists. But you can't put ghost-busting on a list, can you? And that was my real problem. Ever since, the May Flower Moon the haunting just kept rinsing and repeating. Eat edibles, Nyquil, and Advil PM and still wake up at 3:33am. Smell diesel. Wave of nausea. Little boy in garden. Little boy crying. Little boy pointing at something. Little boy looking up at me. Little boy. Little boy. Little boy.
By last Friday, I was a mess.
My work is suffering. I am too embarrassed to tell my aunt or besties I see a little boy. They already think I am weird enough and last thing I need is a wellness check.
To remain scientific, I have continued my daytime visits to the garden whenever it is open. Everything seems so lovely in the day. I even brought the new woman I am seeing. She fell in love with the tree at first sight. The flowers are gorgeous. And the roses; so mesmerizing. Even the fish in the koi pond are happy.
But at night. Something isn't right.
...Weeping willow tree Weeping sympathy Bend your branches down along the ground and cover me Listen to me plead Hear me willow and weep for me...
My new friend at work I mentioned, who told me about angel numbers, asked me recently if something was bothering me. She told me when we met, she is in the midst of a spiritual awakening.
Part of it includes awakening every morning to read the Tarot cards and commune with who, or what, she calls, "spirit".
I cracked and told her about the little boy under the tree. She didn't bat an eye. She told me spirit wants something from me. I didn't know what to say to that so I just left it alone. I guess I'm afraid what if she's right. And what if I don't like what, "spirit" wants?
Last night was Saturday. I had a dream.
That night I dreamed about a collie I had when I was a very young boy right after my dad split. Her name was Pearl. I had found her on the street on my block and for some inexplicable reason had been allowed to keep her.
Not long after, one hot summer day in Prospect Park, when my mother was going to give me something to cry about, Pearl suddenly ran down the hill she was frolicking on, making a wide sweeping arc that screamed, "ride or die, full throttle, and damn the fucking torpedoes," it's trajectory directly between my mother's legs. Fur overcame flesh just in the nick before I was given something to cry about.
Instead, I laughed.
I laughed so fucking hysterically at the sight of her on the grass, on her ass; smug look gone with the wind; replaced by an expression seething red menace that would have been McCarthy's wet dream.
And, like the little boy at 3:33 am, Pearl's eyes met mine. She seemed to nod her collie head, as if she were acknowledging that, yes, she was the best dog and don't you forget it. I didn't cry much for a while after that till I came home from school and Pearl was gone. Just gone. To some farm I was told. Where she could be happier. So, I guess I did get something to cry about after all.
And then last night I had a dream.
Part III - It weeps for me?
I dreamed of Peter Pan and buried treasure. I dreamed of Stove Stop stuffing and commercials loud enough to drown out a breech birth. I dreamed of Spider-Man letting Uncle Ben's killer go free. I dreamed of being American. I dreamed of Watergate, the fall of the Berlin wall, 9/11 and watching people jump out windows to avoid burning to death out the window of my office.
I dreamed of Iraq and Afghanistan and George Floyd and Covid and never-ending cycles of boom and bust. I dreamed of a golden carrot on what started out as a stick but soon morphed into what I realized was a branch. A long flowing beautiful branch covered in red. A branch that hung low. It swayed along the ground, swayed above my head and there I was.
I was in the garden. Under the tree. I felt drops of warm dew caressing my face. I was about to reach up to caress the tree. My tree. I noticed I was wearing pajamas. Not the black satin jammies I had been wearing for decades but old footie pajamas. They were Star Trek pajamas. With three golden rings on the cuffs and a trap door.
A drop of dew fell in my eye. I wiped it away and looked at my hand. It was red. Red with blood. My Mickey Mouse watch involuntarily color-coordinated with the blood. It appeared to be just after 3:30 am.
Suddenly, a dog appeared. It was Pearl. Then another, it was Spenser. They jammed their snouts into my flannel covered crotch. I pet them both and noticed my tears mixing with the dewy blood drops turning them a soft pink under the moonlight.
"Good boy. Good girl." I said.
"Hi," a voice I recognized but couldn't place said.
I looked around. And there, was, the little boy. And, in his hand was Grover.
"Hi," I heard myself say.
"Who's the dog?" he said.
"That's Pearl. And this is Spenser." I answered.
"I know Pearl, silly. She's my dog," then, "Hi, Spenser."
Spenser left my crotch for the little boy's. They went together like peanut butter and sandwiches.
"Where are your parents?" I heard myself ask.
"Dad left. Mom told me to stay here until she comes back."
"When was that?" I asked.
The little boy shrugged then, "Been a while I guess," and he started to cry. Spenser got agitated and started to whine. I approached. I went to put my hand on the boy's shoulder and he jumped.
"Hey, it's okay." I took my hand back.
He looked up at me. Then he said, "You want to see something?
I said, "Yes."
The little boy fished around in his pajamas and pulled out something, it looked like a piece of rolled up construction paper secured with a red ribbon that matched the bloody dew drops.
He un-scrolled it then solemnly showed it to me.
It appeared to be a child's treasure map. That ended in the garden. Only it wasn't a garden. It said, "JUNK YARD" and there was a big X next to the corner of the rectangle the words were written in. I looked down at him.
"There's no junk yard here, son," I said.
The little boy looked away from Spenser and up at me. Pearl ran to his side. I felt six eyes on me.
"That's what you think," he said
A moment later there was the loud cracking of fireworks being detonated. I awoke in my bed. Fumbling for my glasses, I found them, dropped them, cursed, then almost stepped on them. I finally got them where they belonged thinking I needed to use the bathroom. I glanced at the digital clock on my desk.
3:33 am. Again.
I ran to the window to look out. But, unlike every other time for the past month, the boy was not in residence. He was gone. Just. Gone.
Part IV - The is The End
Gone my lovely dreams To weep my tears along the stream Sad as I can be Hear me willow and weep for me
...
This was fucking ridiculous. I am sane. I am not mad. I'd been reading, "The Giving Tree," too much. Spending too much time alone working from home. Maybe I just needed to get away. Take a trip somewhere.
I realized getting back to sleep was going to be impossible. So, I went into the kitchen and made a pot of tea. No milk.
Back at my desk, my "SHIT. FUCK. DAMN." glass mug of tea firmly in hand, I took a deep breath. There was no point in giving myself a heart attack. Maybe it was just anxiety. Maybe panic attacks. I had dated lots of neurotic women. That could be it. Maybe some Lexapro and I'd be good as new. I decided to check my email.
A woman I used to date from Queens and stayed friends with had sent me a link entitled, "Birth of a community garden." It was video to my garden. Before it was a garden. Over forty years ago. It was a decrepit vacant lot filled with dead cars and refuse and apparently had been a neighborhood drug bazaar. Like I said, things have changed a lot since Al and I were young as springtime.
By the time I moved back you would have never known what things had used to look like. Spray painted signs that read, "NO DRUGS SOLD HERE!" and the like. Just like the Batman, Dark Knight, the 80s were a time when Urban Renewal was striking back. And before you could say, "corruption at City Hall," there was fecund soil where once had stood God knows what.
It gave me hope that humanity wasn't so bad. Maybe I had just been going through a tough time. Maybe I should quit while I am ahead and get a good night's rest. So, I closed the blinds and went to bed.
Why I am never sleeping again
That night I dreamed I was part of the junk yard's saviors. Hauling out decades of festering trash and replacing it with good old Mother Earth. A whole community coming together to commune with nature. I felt myself smile.
All day we hoed the rows. The fecundity of the soil filling my nostrils. There was food and laughter and soon day turned to night. One by one all the gardeners left into the dusk. Soon I stood alone next to a young woman. She held a green army duffle bag. And two shovels.
"You look like a big, strong man. They're going to be planting a weeping willow tree here soon. But first, I wanted to leave the earth a special gift to grow up with the tree. This time I think we should give to the tree. Won't you help me?"
I felt a passing twinge of disgust. I rubbed my upper lip with the back of my hand and thought I smelled the faint smell of diesel. I heard myself say, "Hand me a shovel."
An hour later I had fulfilled the lady's request to deposit the duffel bag deep within the new garden's soil. She lit a cigarette I recognized. She blew some smoke in my face and it smelled like sour milk.
"Ever read a boy and his dog?" she asked.
I nodded.
"This is the opposite," she said. I smelled the diesel again and then remembered no more.
This morning I awoke feeling none too swell. I got my glasses on without dropping them for a change then sort of hobbled to the kitchen area to make some tea. I opened the blinds and there was my weeping willow tree. Swaying gently in the Sunday early June overcast chill.
Implacable. Inscrutable. True to it's nature. The day was gray as a widow's anniversary.
Well, there's always tea, I thought, ever the optimist. And then I dropped my, "SHIT. FUCK. DAMN." mug on my foot, simultaneously battering and scalding it. I let out a yelp.
Then, mouth agape, I smelled the diesel waft in the window by the fire escape. The window, where, leaning against the fire escape's stairs I witnessed something that froze my blood and tested my aging bladder.
I spied two shovels and an empty duffle bag.
I wonder what spirit will have to say about that?
Gone my lovely dreams To weep my tears along the stream Sad as I can be Hear me willow and weep for me
Willow Weep For Me?

i was the deleted account that leaked the drive. i got anxious and deleted the account but i have decided to return. this is the last throw away type-of-account I am creating. i know a lot of information through connections and every person besides bung and Orion will stay anonymous. ask me anything related to the most-likely cancelled episodes. If I am unable to answer your question please respect that. Please be civil with me.
i would like to answer a question I saw in my leak post: 'am I or was I on the confinement team?' No. I have just found out quite a lot of information throughout my time with confinement.
I would also like to share information about the writing of episode 8 and 9; As it turns out, Orion joining the confinement team caused the development and writing of the series to completely turn upside-down. A lot from the trailer has not been shown in the drive, most-likely scenario; they replaced actually good scenes with straight up nsfw content.
And about episode 9; episode 9 was rewriten to have Orions character "Apollo" explore a romantic relationship with Connor. I believe Episode 9 was originally supposed to be about Connor exploring a different dimension or other dimensions but I cannot remember the plot 100%. It was rewriten to be about the salesman so Orion could squeeze his character "Apollo" in Confinement much more quicker
Feel free to ask questions though

Sorry this is such a long story I(M25) was molested by my cousin (M29) i was only 6 years old when this all happened to me so I'll give a little background. I have a really crappy relationship with my dads side of the family for a number of reasons primarily my three cousins M29 F26 and F22. My grandmother and grandfather always favored them when we were young. Always having them over at their house, taking them on vacations, and generally treating them better then me growing up. My grandmother was always weird with us about taking naps as kids, like we HAD to take a nap in the middle of the day even when we were old enough to not need naps anymore (this is important later). Well one day I was at my grandparents house with only my grand mother and my male cousin cash. Cash and I were outside playing and my grandmother said she wanted to take a nap and said we should too but we both refused as we wanted to keep playing and for once she finally agreed to let us play as long as we weren't loud. So we eventually came in and went into my grandfathers room(they slept in separate rooms) and began making a droid razor out of paper to pretend we were adults... that's when things took a turn. My cousin looked at me and said hey I know a game we could play that would make us look like adults it's called "boyfriend girlfriend" and me me being the innocent child hungry for attention from that side of the family agreed and that's when he made me do A Lot of stuff not much short of fully raping me. As a kid I had no clue what had happened to me and my brain buried that trauma deep in my brain. I didn't realize what had happened to me until about a year ago when I had a vivid dream that this had happened but I thought nothing of it. Then while driving one day my dog was in the back seat and stuck his head up front and began sniffing my neck which sent me into an absolute hellish panic attack that was so bad I had to pull over. Obviously then I knew something was up so I spoke to my therapist who also seemed to think I had been through this. I started remembering more and more about my childhood and realized he had done that twice to me. The second time trying to penetrate me until I managed to get away but not telling anyone out of fear that my dads side of the family would hate me even more then they already did. So my therapist and I talked through it until now that I am completely comfortable talking about what happened. I have told my mom, sister, and a number of friends. I have not told my dad yet because he has a good relationship with his family who have treated him awful his whole life(if you want to know specifics ask and I may do a story on my profile about that specifically) and I don't want to ruin the whole mirage he's got going on. Sorry this was so long but I feel so much better finally being able to say it!!!!

Reading is important and beneficial in my life. Many people love to read as kids, but a great number of them lose touch with that. There were a few YA authors that helped me bridge the gap between children's books and today. For me Christopher Pike was the most important of these authors, and so I want to say thank you to him. Is there any way to contact him? I tried looking but found nothing.
Also, one of his books really sticks in my mind. A group of friends were driving and hit a body that was later revealed to have been a corpse from a medical school placed there as a prank. Any idea what the title of the book is? I would love to reread it.

Is there a way to disable High Beam Assist without disabling auto lights? I was just driving home in the pouring rain and suddenly because the cameras couldn’t see neither could I. When the wipers are on full blast and they don’t really help, it isn’t at all helpful to not be able to see on dark country roads.

Jeysus it was a mess, I paid to rent a chainsaw so I can cut a tree limb my insurance company wanted me to take care of. The stupid thing won't start. I look up the manual online (the rental came with zero documentation, real classy) and from what I could tell it just wouldn't. I call em up, they ask me if I pressed every switch and told me just to bring the thing in.
Im angry but I was taught respect. They didn't give me a busted chainsaw on purpose, so I drive up there and they confirm it won't work(I got to keep my man card there, 😅) they give me a new one. It runs!
I take it home, get the tree limb down. I turn it off to xlimb down the ladder, go to start it again.
It wont.
I check gas and oil, press every button while tuggin on the cord, try locking and unlocking the blade...nothin.
Worst part is the limb was blocking a road leading to a different house, it was too heavy to move easily, so I had to use my hand saw to trim off the longer branches and get it out of the way. It's still just a giant tree limb sitting next to my fence so thats great. Could have been worse.
I have had a life long fear of heights and ladders, but I bought a house last year and I had to buy a ladder accept that I would have to climb it.
It's been a tough year. And Home Depot selling me crap equipment didn't help me at all today, but I got the tree limb cut and my insurer will be pleased.

A little over a year ago, I made a commitment to my health and successfully lost a staggering 155lbs, going from 355lbs to 200lbs. Now, I'm at a point where I want to build muscle mass and get stronger, but I'm grappling with intense anxiety surrounding the idea of going to a public gym.
I can't help but feel a sense of fear and self-consciousness when I think about stepping foot into a gym full of people. The fear of judgment, comparisons, and not knowing how to properly use the equipment makes it difficult for me to take that leap. I know I have the determination and drive to achieve my goals, but this anxiety is holding me back.
If anyone has experienced similar fears or has successfully overcome gym anxiety, I would greatly appreciate your advice and support. Here are some specific questions I have:

1. How did you initially cope with the fear and anxiety of going to a public gym?
2. Did you have any strategies to boost your confidence and feel more at ease in that environment?
3. What are some practical tips for navigating the gym and using the equipment effectively, especially for someone like me who is relatively new to strength training?
4. Have you found any particular gym routines or exercises that helped you build muscle mass and increase strength effectively?

Any personal stories, tips, or resources you can share would mean the world to me. I want to conquer this fear and continue my fitness journey with confidence. Your support would not only help me, but also inspire others who may be facing similar challenges.

Hi,
I have been working a minimum wage job for the past lil bit at a business that is quite far from where I live and I was luckily able to secure another job closer to home that will be starting soon. I'm definitely going to be leaving the current job for a multitude of reasons but mainly because the new job offers slightly higher wages in addition to being much closer (The drive can be upwards of 40+ minutes for minimum wage...)
I'm just curious if there are any legal consequences if I leave without giving an adequate notice. I'm hopefully going to be graduating next year and working in the field I've been going to school for, so I doubt a reference from my current employer is all that important.
Thank you for reading, any advice is much appreciated.