traffic and parking

Mom Deals With Local Traffic

When I was a wee thing, my parents moved out the the Highly dubious condo in East Palo Alto and into a relatively nice suburban neighborhood, into a house immediately across the street from my new elementary school.  Immediate, as in, less than 40 feet from the traffic circle.   Mom would wave at me from the driveway sometimes while I was in class.  This should have made getting me to and from school easy, but there was an issue:

I still had to cross the street, and because I was living in the over-caffeinated heart of silicon valley at the time, that meant dodging the local commuters barreling through the school zone at upwards of 40 miles per hour with no regard for the stop signs.

The flashing “School Zone” signs were ignored.  
The city refused to put in speed bumps or devote extra patrol cars.
One of my classmates grandmother’s volunteered as crossing guard, and some jackass in a BMW ran over her foot on the first day.

Now, mom declared as we drove Mrs. Manchez to the hospital her foot in a beer cooler full of ice, Would be a good time to take the law into my own hands.

So after dropping Mrs. Manchez off at the hospital, we drove to the thrift store, where my mom found a navy blazer, aviator sunglasses, a pilot’s cap and an old, clunky-looking hair dryer.  

The next morning, mom went out to the sidewalk in her new “uniform”, with the hair dryer and a legal pad so she could write down the grocery list.  Every time a car would come roaring down the road, Mom would look up, point the hairdryer at them, and, and write something down.  

I remember listening to brakes squeal all day the first time she tried it, Mercedes and BMWs screeching to a crawl as they passed the school, glaring at her.   By that afternoon, cars were creeping along at an over-cautious 10mph, and I was able to get home without taking my life into my hands.

After that, Mom went out “in uniform” every couple of days, because intermittent re-enforcement is what REALLY gets a change in behavior going, and point the hair dryer at anyone speeding through the school zone, usually while writing down grocery lists or short stories, or drawing unflattering caricatures of the other PTA moms.

Eventually, however, one of the cars that came through was a patrol car, and he slowly pulled to a halt in front of mom, glaring at her though his own reflective glasses.

She smiled an waved the hair dryer.  “Good afternoon!”

“…What’re you doing?”  he groaned, 3 in the afternoon entirely too early for this shit.

“Writin’ a grocery list.”  She beamed, and when that failed to satisfy him, she explained about the speeding problem and that if they couldn’t send a partol car out here to ticket people regularly, she figured that a hair dryer would be the next best thing.  Working like a charm so far.  They didn’t even notice the little airplanes on the Pilot’s hat.

The officer stared at her for a moment longer before his face broke out into a slow grin.  “Y’know, when we’re out of a car, we usually wear visibility vests.  So more people see you and your… Phaser.”

And that’s the story of how Mom and Officer Brown met and started the neighborhood watch program.

Some cleared roads in Yellowstone National Park opened for bicyclists this week. Work continues to open major routes to cars by April 21. Soon, millions of people will visit the park to enjoy its amazing natural wonders. Just remember, bison always have the right of way. Photo by National Park Service.


take a vacation - the young veins


SN: From the Economist comes “Parkageddon”. The concept seems so simple but so few cities in North America seem to be onboard. Size is not a distinguishing factor here, all population centers should be aware of the impact that parking has on their environment from both a health and aesthetic standpoint. Cities should be designed for communities to gather not as Walmart parking lots.

How not to create traffic jams, pollution and urban sprawl; Don’t let people park for free

…parking influences the way cities look, and how people travel around them, more powerfully than almost anything else. Many cities try to make themselves more appealing by building cycle paths and tram lines or by erecting swaggering buildings by famous architects. If they do not also change their parking policies, such efforts amount to little more than window-dressing. There is a one-word answer to why the streets of Los Angeles look so different from those of London, and why neither city resembles Tokyo: parking.

For as long as there have been cars, there has been a need to store them when they are not moving—which, these days, is about 95% of the time. The parking problem in the US can be loosely traced to 1923, when Columbus, Ohio began to insist that builders of flats create parking spaces for the people who would live in them. “Parking minimums”, as these are known, gradually spread across America. Now, as the number of cars on the world’s roads continues to grow, they are spreading around the world.

The harm caused begins with the obvious fact that parking takes up a lot of room. A typical space is 12-15 square metres; add the necessary access lanes and the space per car roughly doubles.

The more spread out and car-oriented a city, as a result of enormous car parks, the less appealing walking and cycling become. Besides, if you know you can park free wherever you go, why not drive? The ever-growing supply of free parking in America is one reason why investments in public transport have coaxed so few people out of cars, says David King of Arizona State University. In 1990, 73% of Americans got to work by driving alone, according to the census. In 2014, after a ballyhooed urban revival and many expensive tram and rapid-bus projects, 76% drove.

Free parking is not, of course, really free. The costs of building the car parks, as well as cleaning, lighting, repairing and securing them, are passed on to the people who use the buildings to which they are attached. Restaurant meals and cinema tickets are more pricey; flats are more expensive; office workers are presumably paid less. Everybody pays, whether or not they drive. And that has an unfortunate distributional effect, because young people drive a little less than the middle-aged and the poor drive less than the rich. In America, 17% of blacks and 12% of Hispanics who lived in big cities usually took public transport to work in 2013, whereas 7% of whites did. Free parking represents a subsidy for older people that is paid disproportionately by the young and a subsidy for the wealthy that is paid by the poor.

A few crowded American cities, including San Francisco, have watered down their parking minimums. One shrinking city (Buffalo, in New York state) has abolished them entirely. But most of the country seems to be stuck with a hugely costly and damaging solution to the parking problem. And the American approach to parking is spreading to some of the world’s fastest-growing cities.

SN: Click through to the article for more examples and proposed solutions. It’s worth the read.

How To Handle Being Late  - The Fashionable Way

To say that poor time keeping can hurt your dating game is an understatement!

But… some of us are more prone to tardiness than others and while its acceptable to be a little late (fashionable at times), it can be perceived as bad mannered, unattractive and inconsiderate to be very late. Yikes!

Generally, being very late is reserved for African social gatherings and your sugar daddy’s funeral (after all, you must check with the executor to make sure he compensated you generously in the will before turning up) ;) but even those have their cut off points. So how do you handle the situations where you just can’t help running a little … or a lotta late?

On Time : Woah there, slow your horses. You are on time? Well done, now linger in your car/ car park a bit longer. Let him anticipate your arrival. I’m sure you can find something to occupy your time for the next 3-5 minutes. Another coat of lipstick perhaps. A little powder on the nose, and a brief look in the mirror. Why wait I hear you ask? You want to make sure he is seated and comfortable as you strut your stuff to grace him your presence.

Less than 10mins late: No need to apologise lady, you’ve arrived. He should be grateful you even showed up. Enjoy your date, he will!

15-35 mins late: Quickly pacify any annoyance on his part with a warm smile, sparkling eye contact and follow with a flirty compliment. Casually dismiss your lateness with something trivial and out of your control. For example, “ _ _ _ _ _ _  I’m so glad to see you. Wow! *pause* that tie/shirt/toupee looks amazing on you! Gosh, the traffic/ parking/ delayed trains are such a nuisance aren’t they”?


40 mins – 1 hr late: Hint at a day of stress and drama as you apologise … but don’t go into too much detail. Then quickly distract your date with engaging conversation. Such as “ _ _ _ _ _ I’m so terribly sorry I’m late, you don’t want to begin to imagine the day I’ve had. I’m just happy I’m here! Can you believe the district/ circle/ jubilee line was suspended?! But enough about me, _ _ _ _ what have you been getting up to today”? etc.


Over an hour: GIIIRRLLLL, this is the time to slay like you have never slayed before. If your date is even still waiting for you, it’s time for an awe inspiring entrance. Work a sexy strut right over to that man, pout your lips, serious eye contact in your arsenal and embrace him in a long(ish) hug. Now that you have hopefully surprised and allured your dashing date, he’ll have his guard down for a brief moment. Like a leopard capturing it’s prey, use a sweet or sultry voice (the choice is yours) to say the following. “ _ _ _ _, I’m sorry I’m just arriving. I don’t even want to dampen the mood by trying to explain what happened. But I’ll bribe you with an ice cream the next time we meet so you can forgive me. I nearly didn’t even make it though, but I knew how disappointed you would be if I cancelled so I just had to try my hardest to get here for you” … ensue adorable *today has been so hard for me* puppy dog pout.

And that’s how to handle being late in style!


Notice how in all instances , you do not dwell too much on being late. It’s better to just get on with enjoying each other’s company that to have an apology session about lateness. You’ve arrived now make the wait worth his while.

Always try your best to inform your date before they leave for the venue, if you are going to be late. They will appreciate it.



FP’s Kid (Part 2) - Jughead x Reader

Heres a Part Two guys! involved another anon request in here too so I do hope that this is okay!

Masterlist   Part 1

Originally posted by kylogue

“(y/n)….” he almost whispered, a tear blooming in his eye as he gripped her hand tighter. The smile from the photos lit up her face once again and so did his,

“Please say you remember?” he didn’t reply but simply leaned forward, resting his hand on her cheek and pushing his lips to hers. She smiled into the kiss before he pulled away his hand staying in her hair,

“that was new.” she mumbled,

“Did you mind?”
“Not at all.” he smiled at her, “we should go back in, before lunch finishes. She stood up offering him her hand before fixing her jacket again and the tough exterior was back.

They walked into the cafeteria once again smiling at one another, hands brushing against one another’s only to find an almost uproar. "HEY!” she screamed, getting everyone’s attention immediately, “What the HELL is going on here?” her authority shone through again as some random kid in a serpents jackets answered,

“These River kids are looking for Jughead, we said he wasn’t here.” she nodded thinking as Jughead looked up from her to find Betty and the others confused,

“What do you want?” she asked almost viciously, “This is Southside, you have no right to come here and start demanding shit.” He was shocked a little at her attitude but was also a little turned on by her dominant side,

“We’re here for Jughead.” Betty spoke up trying to match her ferociousness but failed,

“Why would…” Jughead placed a hand on her shoulder and held her back a little,

“It’s fine. I’ll be back in a minute.” he spoke quietly and left with them being watched cautiously by the others.

He never came back after that moment. He hadn’t returned to her again and once again Joaquin had to help her pick up the pieces. It wasn’t until she was leaving the bar one evening that she saw him again. Leaning against a lamppost on the opposite side of the street, looking down away from you with his hands in his pockets and the fine rain dampening his hair and making it shine a little in the lamp light. She remained still when she saw him. Watching as he occasionally looked down at his feet before back down the street until finally he looked up at her, catching her eye as you looked at each other for a moment. Jughead pushed away from the lamppost and continued to look at her removing his hands from his pockets and clenching his fists at his side. She noticed he had not made any move in which to come over to her so, swallowing her pride and biting her cheek she approached him.  "What are you doing here.“ she shouted as she got nearer,

"I’m here to see you.” he replied just as loudly as she stopped halfway there. The road was empty as the only traffic was the rows of parked bikes,

“You have no right!” she spat, once again showing her infamous attitude from school, “You have no right to come back here, to me, after you disappeared.” her façade was breaking as she became that defenseless girl she had been out on the grass that day. She couldn’t help but walk towards him as she continued, even through she wanted to be repulsed by him, by the way he lied and didn’t even seemed bothered about anyone’s feelings accept his and his Riverdale bitch, “That was one bloody long minute, Jones.” he towered  over her again, under the light everything stood out about him and she hated it,

“I’m sorry…”
“No you’re not.” she hit her fists against his chest interrupting him and he let you, “You remembered me, Jughead. You kissed me, then you left again but this time it was on you.” he took her wrists in his hands stopping her easily,

“I had to sort some things out but…”
“but what, Jones?” she asked looking up at him and meeting his eyes again,

“but I’m back now. For good, okay? I’m up here with this foster family, I have my place at Southside, the others? They’re back at Riverdale where they belong and I’m here, where I belong.” His grip on her wrists loosened and he lowered them to his sides, moving so that his fingers were entwined with hers, “come with me? Please?” he begged slightly, and with a small tear in her eye and no real protest she allowed him to pull her away.

The inside of the caravan had been cleaned up from when she was last there, after FP had been taken wrongly,

“(y/n),” he spoke softly as she looked around noticing how everything had been placed back exactly how it had been, but without the empty beer bottles before taking out her phone and fiddling with it for a moment, “I’m not leaving again, I promise you.” she noticed pictures on the table, spilling out of an open box and, picking a few up, she flicked through. Each one was one of her and Jughead, or her and his family and then, just her.

He touched her shoulder which caused the girl to look at him again. He caressed her cheek and moved towards, taking the photos from her hands and placing them down again and turned her face to his gently to kiss her. She kissed back a little tentatively at first but he smiled into the kiss, his hands running down the sides of her body and picking her up carrying her to the kitchen and pushing her up against the cupboard her head banging against it lightly as he pulled her top from her body his lips making it further and further down, taking his top off just as a bang came from the door.

“Who the hell.” Jughead looked behind him confused as she groaned a little but smirked,

“you’ll see.” pulling his jumper back over his head he opened the door as she pulled only her jacket around her. A group stood at the door and Jughead looked back to her,

“We heard your dad could have named names but didn’t.”
“We’re your family, Jughead” she said from the doorway looking at his confused face, “I text them.”

“That’s yours, if you want it,” the guy said gesturing to a leather jacket clutched in his hand before handing it over. She admired how Jughead smirked, throwing the jacket over is shoulders, “One condition. You hurt (y/n) again, your gone.” Joaquin appeared from the back, warning him and looking at his sister and her lack of attire annoyingly.

Jughead stared simply at her, stepping close once again and slipping his arm around her pulling the jacket tighter around her looking at her and their matching jackets almost admiringly. 

His gaze returned to her as he stepped closer, brushing her hair back from her face.

“She’s safe, with me. Now, excuse us gentlemen.” Jugheads confidence rocketed as his eyes got darker as she pulled at his leather collar jokingly back into the caravan as the men left, Joaquin leaving last.

“Now, serpent boy. Where were we?”

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anonymous asked:

If you're Christian, that's all fine and cool man, that's your business. Yes, I am a cashier, and no, I don't want your pamphlets about your church and no, I am not interested in converting to your religion!

Had a coworker make me give one to my husband as he was driving me off at work… We were blocking traffic for the valet parking because of this. Hubby threw it away as soon as he got home. I think the coworker saw my expression because he hasn’t talked to me since. I am so totally not religious because of this exact same behavior. If you want people to be interested then stop harassing them with your leaflets and lectures. -Abby

Enough (M)

Requested by anonymous

“Simon, you know what we should do today,” you say walking into the living where he sat on his phone. “What?” He asks setting his phone down and smiling. “We should have a picnic at the park!” You say excitedly. The weather was finally starting to warm up and you couldn’t wait to be out in the sun. “Sounds like a plan.“ You go to your room to get dressed while Simon packs the lunches. You decide on a short, white, flowy dress with yellow flowers on it and thin straps. You spin in the mirror watching the dress spin along when you hear Simon call your name. “What’s taking so long?” He yells, “Let’s go before the sun goes down” Why is he rushing you you think to yourself.

You walk into the living once again carrying your sandals you’re gonna wear and sigh dramatically. “I guess I’m ready.” He chuckles, “Baby, you look great.” He says putting his shoes on at the door and picking up the picnic basket.

On the car ride there you two sit in a comfortable silence holding hands while Simon drives. While you’re sitting there you think of a plan. Since he wants to rush me…I’ll just get a little revenge. You finally get to the park and it’s a little crowded. You can tell there’s going to be a lot of traffic on the way home.

Once you’ve finished eating you decide it’s time to start the plan. You want start off lightly. “Oh, my gosh. I’m going to get awful tan lines,” you say more to yourself, but loud enough for Simon to hear. You see him look up and at you from your peripheral as you start pulling your arms out of your sleeves and lean back on your hands. You catch him staring down at your chest as your dress starts to move down slowly since your arms aren’t holding it up by the sleeves anymore. He moves his eyes up your neck slowly reaching your eyes eventually and looks away embarrassed to have been caught.

You take a sip from your cool lemonade and moan from how refreshing it is. You take another sip and “accidentally” spill it on your chest. “Baby, could you clean this for me?” You ask innocently. He reaches for a napkin and dabs the drops of lemonade off your chest without ever breaking eye contact. Suddenly you got an even better idea. You remembered seeing an ice cream truck sitting near the entrance for the park. “I’m going to get some ice cream or something, do you want anything?” You ask. He looks up at you, “I’ll take a chocolate ice cream.”

You actually got a popsicle instead of ice cream for yourself. When you got back to your spot Simon was on his phone waiting for you so put some of his ice cream on the back of his spoon and wiped it on his cheek from behind him. He yelped from the sudden coldness while you’re dying of laughter because of his feminine like yell. “Now who’s going to clean this?” He asked trying to keep a straight face but failing. You leaned into his face and licked the ice cream off his cheek. You may have started licking lower than necessary, but oh well.

“Oh, my goodness. What are you trying to do to me?” He leans his head back sighing. “Umm..what are you talking about?” You ask with your best poker face handing him his ice cream and opening your popsicle. “Never mind. Just forget it.” He says taking a bite of his ice cream. You smile to yourself, the plan is working. Moving on to the final part: eating the popsicle.

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high school horrors

i actually love that suburban high school aesthetic. brimming with reveries & teenage dreams. 

  • those elegant-vampiric redbrick school buildings, three-hundred-years old with shielded pasts, sophisticated gates that squeak and creak like old floorboards or wounded warblers when wrenched open, a vast lawn for spilling blood & dirty secrets after class.
  • school libraries and how they always smell like steam-cleaned carpet, old paper and anxiety, getting lost in a particularly dense section, being hushed by the stern-eyed librarian, lullaby-inducing & packed with centuries of burning knowledge it is the most comforting room in the entire school building (as long as you avoid one certain section). 
  • the nostalgia of a hundred sneakers squeaking against the recently polished floors, lockers slamming open and closed, the indistinct chatter of jittery voices all buzzed up on something or the other, sheets ruffling, bodies slamming into one another, the prideful chorus of a school anthem pouring out of the throats of overexcited cheerleaders.
  • passing notes to your friends in class, pens tapping against wooden desks, the way the girl sitting behind you’s laughter runs downstream and the boy who talks to no-one, always looking like he’s hiding something.
  • disembodied voices coming from the bathroom, various bright and persuasive posters encouraging you to join various clubs tacked up everywhere, the theatre a ramp of glitter & deception, post-it notes stuck to skin & gum clinging to the soles of your shoes.
  • the malicious rumors that flitter at lightspeed frequencies and build up like bed bugs, slip into every nook & cranny like dust, how the janitor once found a body in the broom closet and the history teacher’s into the dark arts, how all the staff gather after-school hours in the gym to perform satanic rituals, how someone once broke into the principal’s office only to find it covered in caution tape.
  • breaking into the school at night, hearing soft chanting like the distant mewling of traffic, a parking lot as sullen as the deteriorating gleam in every student’s eyes, the ghost of a little boy rounding the corner, a prophecy engraved into stone and the hellhouse graffiti lining some of the walls. 
  • the clausterphobic feeling of a thousand trapped teenage souls, melancholy and raging anger sprawling from the ceilings and leaking out through the taps, setting off the fire-alarm accidentally, attending an exam you thought you’d taken a bunch of times already, staring out the window because you thought you caught a shadow flicker by during detention, the man on the speaker announcing yet another prom or pep rally bloodbath.
Stupid Cold (Dean X Reader)


Relationship : Dean Winchester X Reader

Warnings : demons, spanking,consensual sex , death,mentions of violence, graphic scenes.

Rating : Mature + (Please do not read if you are under-aged)

Summary : You’re a hunter, living with the boys in the bunker for some time now. Although you started as friends, soon enough friends with benefits, you and Dean finally decided to admit your feelings and became an item. The feeling is strong so you both get scared and react in different manners : you became overly attached and Dean feels suffocated. It should be one of your typical days but Dean has a cold , feels bad and snaps.
Lots of fluff and some makeup sex. Enjoy

CopyRight: I do not own Dean Winchester, Supernatural nor any of the other characters mentioned in this story.  No copyright infringement is intended .

Originally posted by littlehobbit13

Life hasn’t been that kind to you. A hunter your whole life and not by choice. Your parents were killed by an avenging spirit when you were only six. You don’t recall that day entirely, and nothing much from before actually… what you do remember is the wrinkled old man who got you out of the closet where you were hiding and said: ‘It’s alright kid, I’m here now’.

 He soon became your family and hunting with him your way of living. 

Losing him to werewolves broke your heart but you moved on burning his remains and drowning your sorrow in whiskey, at his favorite bar. If there’s one thing that he taught you besides being a skilled killer, that is to be strong and cold. 

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[Chanyeol] It’s a Little Perfect

genre: fluff

word count: 879

edited: yes!

summary: Chanyeol picks his girlfriend up from the airport. Fluff ensues.

Chanyeol shook his hands, then wrung them, then shook them again. His eyes wandered to the clock’s ticking hand and he puffed out his cheeks, exhaling loudly. How long these two weeks had been!

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Imagine the absolute joy on Leslie Knopes face when she realizes her parks are getting more foot traffic

Now imagine the look of absolute confusion when she finds out it’s for video game

Now finally imagine Leslie Knope organizing Pokémon tournament in order to increase the foot traffic at her parks

hm030900  asked:

Idk if this is kind of a stupid question haha, but I genuinely can't find an answer. We are getting another dog soon, a puppy, and I know until they've had their complete set of shots they aren't supposed to be set down on the ground and the like, but I've also heard that that's pretty much the critical window for socialization and I don't want to stunt her lol. I take my other dog with my pretty much everywhere, so I was planning on doing the same and just carrying the puppy so she could 1/2

get used to lots of sights and sounds and such (especially because we live right near downtown). My question is, would it be bad to set her down to go to the bathroom? Obviously not in any dog heavy areas, but like in general? Or is there a risk that she could catch something? Or should we not even take her out? She’s already enrolled into a puppy kindergarten class so it wouldn’t be like her only socialization experience.

The main thing you’re going to be worried about your puppy avoiding is parvo - a really nasty virus with a super-low survival rate. Your puppy will get three stages of shots to inoculate against it, which is why they tell you to not take her out until they’re done. Parvo is shed by dogs who have it for a couple weeks after symptoms disappear, takes a while to die (sunlight can kill it in a few months but indoors it can live up to a year), and is easily tracked around. 

So you don’t want to avoid socialization but you do need to be careful where your puppy goes - no pet stores, high-traffic areas, or dog parks. Carrying her is a good idea, but also setting up socialization experiences in safe places, like playdates in a backyard where they can guarantee no parvo dogs have gone recently. 

Also, be careful about taking your puppy everywhere - you don’t want to overwhelm it during the socialization period, either. 

RichJake, Jake's Place

Today Rich was finally getting out of hospital and Jake was taking him out to eat to celebrate.
“So Jake, when did you get the new car?”
“After I got out of the hospital, little run down but hey can’t spend all your insurance money on the car. Still need a place to stay.”
“Sorry about that…”
“Nah man it’s alright. Actually the fire’s probably the best thing that could of happened to me. Now I have enough money for food and a place to stay.”
“But what about the house?”
“The heating, electricity and water bills were killing me. I was lucky enough to have any money left over for food.”
“So you your doing alright?”
“Yeah, I mean I’m not waking up to cockroaches in my bed or anything. That’s always a plus. But what about you man? You ready to see him?” Jake knew about Rich’s relationship with his dad and it wasn’t good. “If you want you can attend the night.”
“Jake it’s okay, I’m going to have to go home eventually​. He’ll just get angrier if I make him wait.” They sat in silence as Jake pulled into the parking lot before he turned to Rich.
“What if, and you can say no, but what if you don’t have to go home?”
“I mean, why don’t you stay with me? It’s not like your dad will care.”
“Jake, I can’t ask you to do that. You said it yourself, you need so the money you can get.”
“So you can get a job out something!”
“Even if I did, I’m not worth it!” Rich was surprised by Jake leaning across the seat to hug him.
“Don’t say that bro, no matter what your dad’s said your worth it. Your worth so much to me.” Rich tried holding back tears as he kept holding Jake.
“Dude, we better stop soon or people might think we’re gay.”
“I don’t care.” Rich closed his eyes for a moment when he felt something strange. Opening them he saw the car slowly rolling back into traffic. “Jake, you didn’t park the car…Jake!”