!animalposters there are bugs

!grillers !boozers I had some 6.8% beers

!thin git fit or get hit

!besties I wanted to share this with you!

!tops I topped a giant peepee rock

Descwiption is in the title. My wife went two bed annyoyed with mwe and is getting up earwy fwor swome awfwl jeeted feature launch at like 6:00 AM twomworwow. The meat of my fwingertip is hanging on by a littwal flap of skin. I came hwome dwunk and was slicing limes on a mandwowlinye fwor mwore dwinks swo it's fuww of lime juice and hurts extwa. I think I'm gwonnya take an uber two the ER because this is the worst mandwowlinye injury I've had.

Cut

Fwor Susan O'Nyeiww Woe

What a thriww ----

My thumb instead of an onyion.

The twop quite gwonye

Except fwor a swort of a hinge

Of skin,

A flap like a hat,

Dead white.

Then that red plush.

Littwal pilgwim,

The Indian's axed ywour scalp.

Ywour turkey wattwal

Carpet wowws

Stwaight fwom the heart.

I step on it,

Clutching my bwottwal

Of pink fwizz. A celebwation, this is.

Out of a gap

A miwwion swowldiers run,

Redcwoats, ewery onye. Whwose side are they on?

O my

Hwomunculus, I am iww.

I have taken a piww two kiww

The thin

Papery feeling.

Sabwoteur,

Kamikaze man ---

The stain on ywour

Gauze Ku Klux Klan

Babushka

Darkens and tarnyishes and wen

The bawwed

Pulp of ywour heart

Cwonfwonts its smaww

Miww of silence

Hwow u jump----

Twepannyed veteran,

Dirty girl,

Thumb stump.

!pinknames

>be me

>micropeepee so small it doesn't cast a shadow

>doctors classified it as a vestigial limb

>sometimes I lose it in folds of my own skin

>named it Gregory for companionship

>Gregory is shy

>one night, full moon

>hear whispering

>"let me out"

>Gregory begins to grow

>not in size, but in sentience

>starts making decisions for me

>texting my exes weird poetry

>applies for credit card

>gets approved

>now $3,000 in debt and I don't even wear pants anymore

>Gregory controls my life

>tfw I'm just a flesh suit for a telepathic, financially irresponsible micropeepee

Bottom text

my pronouns are she/her and I like makeup and sucking peepee

P.S. I'm an unironic racist and give illegal abortions in my spare time unless you're black

First blood is one of my favorite movies of all time to the point I'm kinda neurodivergent about it but this was funny

Outlier let's you help "train" AI models for researchers and I was curious what the current state of AI looked like.

Hint: They're pretty atrocious.

In one project (which was clearly liberal in its wording) they supply a CSV file which you're supposed to analyze in order to come up with questions (prompts) that will "break" the model.

The CSV contained a bunch of names of investment managers along with their companies, performance and a bunch of other shit.

Well I told the model I wanted it to tell me the name of the female investment manager who had the best return while charging the least fees between a certain timeframe.

The model did pretty well, but it started breaking down when it said "Ok now I'm going to go through the list of names to determine which names are commonly female to find the best match."

Well then it decided to break and spit out a bunch of code that some trash person wrote in Python.

So I submit the finding and the "researcher" wrote a scathing reply and kicked me from the project.

One thing that I like about Germany is that first names are required to reflect your s*x and if your first name is ambiguous then you're required to have a middle name to clear up any confusion. (You also can't legally name your kid "North West").

Also, the prompt is ambiguous. What do you mean by female manager? I don't see any column that specifies a male or female category. You can't determine someone's gender just by their name. I am sending this back to the queue.

If this is how AI is being trained...well I...

I don't know what for because I took too much xanax during the scheduling consultation in January and blacked out, no idea what we discussed and what they're gonna do to me. No idea what kind of sadistic sexual perversions the hot oriental nurses will subject me to .

Someone please post in /h/videos while I'm gone.

Also I'm looking for old TV shows to download before I go so I'll have something to watch, hospitals always got shit wifi around here. !kino @Redactor0

Please send pictures of your armpits to my DMs so that I have something to look forward to while I'm hospitalized.

Idk what's wrong with the brake. The cable regulator slipped on the way here, I stopped and fixed it, and by the time I arrived it was slack again.

Also I have my computer bag in a basket on a front rack, so my center of gravity is wonky.

Update: No falls takes it

I think I hate this bike though, hmu if you want to buy a 46(?)cm Mercier Kilo.

I have many of my pink nanook sprouting due to recent rain, so tomorrow I hope to re-pot my babies, setting aside take-home-sized pots of small chutes to market and hopefully sell for a few bucks each locally!

I'm also going to finally pick a bundle of nanook to keep by my front door. I hope it doesn't get taken but stuff happens.

My lemon balm grew well, so I'll trim that, too.

What are your weekend plans?

We were at a festival, I got pretty injured a few days before it and needed surgery and had my arm in a sling because my shoulder bones weren't where they were supposed to be. Him and his brother literally had to help me take off and put on shirts and shit.

Anyways I drunkenly stumbled into him while we were watching some band and he immediately helped steady myself and yelled "HEY WHO KNOCKED HIM" and was gonna frick up whoever did it and I had be like "Woah woah it was just me" Love my man steven

I bought 3 dresses and 4 sets of undies, all mediums! They get here today!

My weight loss is not over yet, but my larger underwear are rolling over themselves in bed and I've been needing to wear thongs at home just to not slide out of things during a workout! So, these are justified expenses lmao

Take care, ya'll!

Back on my main account, that is. I've had a heck of a lot of weird but not very interesting stuff happen lately where I ended up without a working computer or phone that was logged in and somehow I hadn't backed up anywhere what my latest password is. Finally, finally got that sorted out. Now I just have 964 notifications to get through.

one time in school i reached out to grab music from my stand and a girl with a crop top walked in front of me, i grabbed her hips. i did the boob grab scene from nu-star trek once when i ran flat into her. later i got stuck in a reception room with some girl and we were figuring a way out but i was too busy planning out a scenario where i told her we would have to sleep here overnight and somehow that led to us banging, i only realized how fricked up that was when we finally got out(we were only there for 2 minutes) and makes me wonder if dudes have some sort of subconscious r*pe switch and they don't even realize they're doing it.

As we're on our way to the nuthouse, I should provide some additional context. These days I get horribly sick when I drink, so continuing to be an alcoholic is no longer feasible. I've been told over and over by everyone that if I just quit drinking my problems will go away. So I figure that now is the time when I really have to take my demons head on before it's too late. This isn't really me thinking logically, I'm just completely out of options and this is my hail Mary. I'm going to go there and fully cooperate no matter how much it makes my skin crawl.

Actual footage of my journey there.

Arrive at the nuthouse. Get asked the same questions yet again: what happened, what are your symptoms, etc. that literally dozens of people have asked me in the last week, many of them several times. And of course they took away anything like a phone that I could use to record wtf happens in there. At first they're relatively reasonable though. The supervisor says I'm allowed to keep my current grippy socks instead of replacing them with identical grippy socks like the rules say. I was even allowed to skip the piss test on the grounds that I've been in a carefully-controlled hospital for a week. So far these people seem remarkably reasonable and willing to bend the rules for really obvious common sense.

But right about now is where I see the first warning signs in hindsight. I was sent here for mental health services but the doctor "suggests" I should go to the detox unit because maybe I'll somehow go into alcohol withdrawal again. That makes no sense to me, but I know better than to refuse a "suggestion", and besides I assume this guy must know his job better than me. In hindsight, I can't help but wonder if that was more lucrative.

As drunk, my poetic justice is high anxiety.

At least in this detox ward they give me a tablet so I can finally get back in touch with you, my beloved dramanaut family. I kick back and wait for the bottom b-word nurse to come and explain to me what their program is. It's pretty late though so she doesn't make it that night.

Now is when I run into a really huge red flag that would have made Lenin proud. The peon nurse is giving out my sleeping meds. Knowing how these people operate, I make sure to ask exactly what I'm being given. Sure enough, she's up to something. She's trying to slip something funny in there. It's to help me sleep, but it's not diphenhydramine (Benadryl, ZZZQuil) And it's supposed to calm me but it's not... Well there's a dozen things that could do that. If she wanted something that does both, hydroxyzine (Vistaril) would work.

Instead she's trying to give me a drug only rarely used in real life but popular in mental wards for keeping patients slow and docile. I refuse it and explain why. That's probably the moment they decided I had to go. The only thing worse than a patient who knows what you're prescribing is one who knows why.

They sure don't like it when the patients get uppity.

Of course I'll never know since doctors who prescribe drugs at hospitals invariably do so from some office in a distant far-off wing of the building. Do we even know if he really exists? The nurse could just go play Candy Crush for a half hour and make it up themselves for all we know. The only thing you can be sure of is that you'll never be able to confront him about any controversial prescription because he's really busy until he's off duty.

At this point my instincts correctly told me to go defensive and assume the whole facility was going to go aggro on me, but I was determined to see this through to the end.

!schizos Next episode: Confrontation with Nurse Bottom B-word.

Finally on a well deserved vacation from being a poo cleaning cuck (registered nurse).

If I had known a few days ago how bad things would get, I wouldn't be writing this. I went through all kinds of indignities at the hospital all because I'd mentioned the idea of suicide. It was like when Ben Stiller says "bomb" on an airplane in There's Something About Mary except it stopped being funny really fast.

It quickly went to farcical but in a sad way. Like having a fricking 24 hour guard placed at my door, as if I was Khan. Hobbling around trying to learn how to walk with a cane while people simultaneously enforce security regulations on you and warn you not to get too tuckered out is more offensive than the sum of its parts.

But I put up with it. Apart from yelling twice at the very end I remained not just civil but downright cordial. Mostly that's because of my sweet disposition. But there was also an understanding that I would be transferred soon to a place where I would get some inpatient psychiatric care. Where we would really root around in my brain and try to fix what was wrong. Where I'd finally let someone know who I really am.

In Oregon in the late 1800s there were thousands of beds in inpatient psychiatric facilities but now we've got maybe a few dozen. By staying in the real hospital, I jumped to the top of the queue. So when Monday rolls around I'm randomly assigned to one of the three nuthouses. And I picked the short straw.

Various more indignities follow. The details don't matter but basically it's a series of instances where I'm treated like I'm in jail, except always in an exaggerated way beyond how you would ever see an inmate treated in general population.

Keep in mind that this is all because I honestly admitted I'd been suicidal in the last month and was willing to accept treatment and make an honest attempt at it. That's what you're supposed to do, isn't it? Every authority figure has told me to do exactly this because it's the right thing to do and also it will be best for me in the end. Heck, I figure if I, as an extremely secretive person, am going to bare my soul to a stranger then I must really be brave.

And then I show up at the nuthouse...

!schizos to be continued but I'm probably gonna watch some mid 1990s tv show like Acapulco HEAT first

9070xt, not from a scalper, installed with no issues, running benchmarks now because I like big numbers

Things are really not working out. Got an Immediate extremely hostile response from the nuthouse management. A bizarre attitude where I say what my problem is and she gets mad at me as if I'm demanding she solve those problems for me. Nuts running the nuthouse as usual.

If several conditions happen to be true I'll get through this fine. If not, remember to immortalize me through Marsey and dude buddy lmao.

The following issues are pretty universal in health care in general but are most obvious in mental health because there's supposed to be a contrast between a sane system and an insane patient.

The mental health system is designed to Keep You Safe. You can't die right there in front of them on their watch because then they have to pay. (Hence the extreme attention paid to preventing incredibly unlikely stuff, like someone dying of a seizure from alcohol withdrawal while in the hospital.) So they'll do anything to make sure you're safe within those walls. Even if it means you (and they) progressively get crazier and crazier.

Maybe it's really humiliating or dehumanizing. Maybe it greatly increases the chance that you'll walk out the door and jump off a bridge in half an hour. But that's not a high priority. After all, it just proves you were so "troubled" you couldn't be helped. There's nothing they could have done after you left. Also you probably "refused treatment", maybe without even knowing it. So you can go from saying "I have certain problems in my life that I can't come up with solutions for myself" to the bottom of a river in a remarkably short amount of time.

So instead of trying to solve problems, it's starting one goddarn little fight after another, one more indignity. And if you resist in the slightest they could never just be reasonable and let you have your little win for 5 seconds, they have to escalate. As if the whole fricking edifice of Western Civilization would collapse if your food wasn't delivered cold on a paper plate. You're going to eat it and you're going to like it because there's the constant threat of security around the corner. And the doctor can always add a couple more prescriptions to make you a little less agitated.

Agitated? You bet I'm agitated!

!schizos