Well, technically he did what was written on your little sign... the bus passed you. In fact maybe the Bus Pass covered the sign saying Bus Stop.
That moment when your protagonist is being a colossal pain in the ar$e and you COMPLETELY understand why bad guys always want to poke holes in him.
TMW you come back to this thread and see that it somehow autosaved [CHARGE=][/CHARGE] into the posting box...thing you type in before you click 'post reply' and you're trying to figure out why that's even there.
TMW its only Tuesday and you're already mentally exhausted from work and people but you're trying to push yourself through the work week, AND write, AND still have time for your spouse, while not having a complete mental breakdown......
TMW you post something relating to the US army talking about robotic military vehicles on a Facebook group, making a joke about how we’re secretly trying to bring about an apocalypse that sci-fi movies warn us about… and already you’ve got someone upset, as they’re saying they were triggered ‘cause US army. … Apparently context and comprehension is a thing people lack these days.
That plus everybody's being taught to be triggered. There's a massive industry built on being offended by normal things.
And if you disagree, you’re obviously a bigot or a hateful boomer. I mean, I’m all for compassion. Of course, don’t be sexist, racist, homophobic, ableist or an all-around jackass to your fellow humans. Of course not! I’m just thinking…there’s a pretty frickin’ large middle ground here that people are not seeing.
Few years ago i shared a video of a cop dancing at a cookout. Apparently it triggered a friend of mine (FORMER friend) who flipped off at me for being insensitive and spreading propaganda because "cops are pigs" and im doing nothing for my race for reposting it. ....then he blocked me. I hate people.
I'm just living knowing that I can't control how other people act or react, but I can control myself.
I'm also liking the Library Book Witch colors: this is obviously a woman who can produce obscure tomes out of thin air with a wave of her handsomely appointed shoe.
Got my imagination racing. The witch is short. Needs to reach something on the top shelf. She steps up onto thin air and a very thick book appears under her foot. 90 minutes later she's chasing a winged bad guy through the halls. He flies up to the next floor. Without breaking stride, she runs up a flight of magical book-stairs that appear under her shoes with every step and clatter to the floor a split second after her feet touch them.
TMW you see the prototype cover for your book, and the idea of it being published finally starts to sink in.
https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/factcheck/2021/04/08/fact-check-hamilton-didnt-threaten-hit-jefferson-chair/7144226002/ That Moment When: You don't want to be the party pooper and spoil the fun behind the viral image of a quote supposedly written by Hamilton describing how he had no words adequate enough to hit Jefferson with a chair. That Moment When: The history nerd inside you demands you do that anyway because fun isn't allowed, apparently. To be clear, Hamilton really hated Jefferson. A lot. So much so that I imagine if Jefferson were captured by the British and Hamilton had to do a prison swap, he'd say, 'Keep him.'
That moment when you realize all those who taunted you in school for being weird, were just as weird as you, and often not as smart.
TMW you go a full hour and a half over the allotted appointment time to help someone you are not equipped to help only to have her storm off with an angered "thanks for nothing!" Even though you found her 4 sources, taught her how to cite and format her sources and basically everything short of writing the paper for her (which i firmly drew the line and she got pissed) I literally even called her school to find her a tutor willing and capable of helping her more than i could!!!! "Thanks for nothing" "Why did i even bother with you" "Should have never even come in"
TMW my wife, the home healthcare nurse, is documenting in the next room and this exchange happens: Wife: (typing away) Fuck you, captain. Me: Captain who? Wife: My patient... he likes to be called "Captain." Me: Okay... why don't we like him? Wife: He has an elevator in his house. Me: Oh, yeah, fuck that guy.