If I had a dollar for every message about “is there any more to this poem? Is it really only four lines?” I’d probably be a millionaire. Well, perhaps not a millionaire, but I’d easily have over a hundred dollars.
I’ve long envied the beautiful tapestry that some poets weave: the lengthy words, the seamless lines, finished with thick knots of perfectly placed punctuation. Some writers just write sexy. I stare in awe at their multi-page prose.
Then, I return to my style. While it’s changed over the past decade or so, I’ve come to find my sweet spot in the short and abrupt lines of my thoughts. Rough. Emotional. Raw. I’ve always made a point to keep my editing to a minimum. What I post is what I thought, dreamed, or felt in that moment.
Valentine day couldn’t necessarily be called one of Marinette’s favorite holidays. No, there was no bitterness or hate, but, to have a holiday dedicated for couples? Please. A ploy was all it was. Men would spend hundreds of thousands of dollars for cheap, little trinkets which would lay forgotten only days after. Roses, among every type of flower would skyrocket in price, only to lie, unappreciated in a lonely vase.
Okay, so maybe she was a little bitter. Who wouldn’t after attempting to confess to the love of her life for what seemed like the millionth time, only to watch it spoiled right in front of hysteric blue hues.
Two days, she had slaved away with her father’s aid in order to produce a small, heart shaped cake, adorned with intricate piped crimson roses on the upper right hand corner along with his name in detailed cursive. There was no mistaking who it came from. Not this time around. Not only that, but she had baked chocolate chip cookies to accompany the dessert. After all, they seemed to be his favorite.
If only it had made it to school. Kim and Alix had been at it again, daring each other into doing crazy, stupid things. One of those being the first to reach the school first in another race. What a terrible twist of irony it would be Alix who crashed into the baker’s daughter, sending the box to the ground with a horrifying splat.
Apology after apology Marinette assured the skater nothing could be done. So, with a broken heart and Kim’s aid (who wasn’t shy about trying a shattered piece) the pastry was tossed into the trash bin. Not that it mattered, anyway. It seemed the entire school’s female population had gifted him love letters, teddy bears, roses, chocolates and pastries (some coming from her very own shop). What could have made hers any different? With a heavy heart, the designer shared the cookies amongst her friends. Again, valentines day would be spent alone. Figured.
At least, such had been the plan until a certain stray entered through her skylight. Definitely not the first visit, or the last. With her best friend now enjoying the lover’s holiday with her own boyfriend, Marinette decided to make best of the situation and invite him to join her in watching a movie.
“Just…no funny business. Okay? You stay on your side of the bed and I stay on mine. I shouldn't even have boys in my room, let alone share a bed!”
Not to mention the certain male in her room happened to be the Black Cat of Paris who had seen her in her pajamas in multiple occasions.
Help me on my great adventure away from emotional abuse
Hi! So, let’s play a game of “good news, bad news.”
Good news! I moved out of my apartment, where for the last year I’ve dealt with consistent emotional abuse and aggression from my roommates and landlord. As of 2/4/2016 I am out of that place forever! And right now, I’m on a Great American Road Trip across the country, from Los Angeles to Philadelphia, accompanied by my little sister and my cat. We’re driving towards freedom and a new life, baby.
Bad news! Because of repairs needed on my car, shipping costs for my books and clothes, and some epic Bank Fuckery, I have a few hundred dollars less money to make this road trip with than I’d been counting on. Adding to that, I’ve been on disability since September, so my income has been significantly reduced for some time. I’m still on the road, but at the moment I’m kind of broke and technically homeless (cue Jean Ralphio voice). I could really, really use a helping hand, if you’re in a position to do so and think my goober self and my future is a worthy thing to invest in. I very much understand if it is not!
But, if you have $5 you don’t need, and you’re feeling generous, maybe consider sending that my way via PayPal at firstname.lastname@example.org? It’d be a truly huge help for me, and when the road trip is complete I’ll have a new lease on life and hopefully a LOT more spoons for doing stuff like writing Dragon Age and Fallout fics. And I have some Merribela and Josie x f!Inquisitor in the pipeline for Femslash February! Helping out a mostly-faceless internet friend so she can smother you in wlw fluff – isn’t that what this website’s all about?
I work as a cashier in a supermarket and I was wondering how much cash you would give the front end attendant if you need pennies, nickels, dimes, quarters, ones, fives, tens, twenties, fifties or hundred dollar bills for your drawer.
For each register every cashier has slips of paper and a pen. If you need more cash in your drawer you have to fill out a slip. The slip of paper has all the coins and bills I just listed on it and a line next to each of them. On the slip you have to put a check next to the cash that you need.
After you fill out the slip of paper, you give the front end attendant cash and then he or she gives you what you need. That would be whatever you checked off.
Do you know how much cash you would have to give for what you need in your draw ? Thanks for all the helpful advice! I truly appreciate it
MANCHESTER, NEW HAMPSHIRE (The Borowitz Report)—Scandal
rocked Bernie Sanders’s Presidential campaign on Friday as the
candidate was forced to admit that he received free checking from
several big banks.
In a press
conference in Manchester, New Hampshire, a chastened Sanders
acknowledged that, over the past two decades, he received free checking
from Bank of America, Citibank, and JPMorgan Chase in exchange for
maintaining a five-hundred-dollar minimum balance.
“I should have acknowledged my relationship with these banks earlier,” a subdued Sanders told reporters. “For that, I am sorry.”
Clinton campaign immediately seized on the revelation, with one senior
Clinton aide alleging that Sanders’s cozy relationship with the banks
“effectively strips him of the label ‘progressive.’ ”
frankly, I don’t know of too many progressives who make
five-hundred-dollar payoffs to the big banks,” the aide said. “This
doesn’t pass the smell test.”
news of Sanders’s ties to the banking industry comes just days after
damaging reports that he leveraged his relationship with the American
Automobile Association to obtain a discount on renting a Nissan Sentra.
This is an Op-Ed piece by Hillary Clinton. Do I believe her? Do you? I have to, because otherwise I think I would go crazy thinking that politicians really don’t give a shit.
Flint isn’t alone. There are a lot more Flints out there — overwhelmingly low-income communities of color where pollution, toxic chemicals and staggering neglect adds to families’ burdens.
What’s happening in Flint today happened 10 years ago in predominantly low-income, African-American and Latino areas of Washington, D.C. Lead leached into the water there for four years. In high-risk neighborhoods, the number of toddlers and infants with lead poisoning more than doubled.
In Baltimore, families have received settlements for the lifelong health effects of childhood lead poisoning. And now private companies are going around getting people, many of whom are permanently disabled, to sign away hundreds of thousands of dollars in future payments in exchange for a few thousand dollars right away. It’s an outright abuse of vulnerable people who have been hurt too many times already.
Low-income white communities are by no means immune. In 2008, 525 million gallons of toxic coal ash, which contains lead and thallium, among other toxins, spilled in Tennessee, covering 3,000 acres of land, destroying 12 homes and flowing into the Tennessee River, which provides drinking water. The long legacy of coal mining has left Appalachia and other coal regions pockmarked with toxic sites in need of cleanup.
Environmental justice can’t just be a slogan — it has to be a central goal. Cities are full of lead paint in low-income housing, lead embedded in the very soil from the days of leaded gasoline. Already, African-American children are twice as likely to suffer from asthma as white children — and climate change will put vulnerable populations at even greater risk.
me, covered in blankets crafted from beasts once thought to be mythical by mortal minds, lazing upon three california king sized beds with precious jewels scattered about and stuffed entirely with hundred dollar bills while a full staff of besuited servants take inventory of my three story tall wine cellar stocked exclusively with bottles that are each worth in excess of what the average full time worker makes in three years' time:I'm bored