I didnt know she has a bf... or maybe I didnt pay much attention when we were exchanging snaps?

I just found out today, she's telling her bf is OK with me fricking her .

IDK if it's true tho it could just be classic foid behavior of saying whatever shit gets them what they want.

The guy appears frequently on her insta pics, but there's no lovey dovey pics or mention of being in a relationship

What does rdrama think?

I am a US citizen and i frankly hate it here. I have useful qualifications and work(ed) as an electrical engineer. Im planning on either germany or austria and im black if it matters

I've tried like 10 times now and I keep getting locked out for the stated reasons

I got one of these just to dip my toes back in again https://www.logitech.com/en-us/products/combos/mk295-keyboard-mouse-combo.920-009782.html

I'm actually enjoying the no clickity clackity. I'm still rocking the G502 mouse from ages ago, but once I find a comparable wireless mouse, I'm off wires for good.

!codecels what do you use as your daily driver?

I didn't know I was depressed.

Not until I had my head resting on the night-chilled surface of the window pane, staring down on the cars, taxis, motorcycles and trucks several feet below did I realize that something was seriously wrong. A stream of silent tears ran down my face, unaccompanied by any sobbing or wailing whatsoever. Just thin, pure tears. They ran down, blurring my vision until the cars below became but colourful orbs of light streaming on a black-tarred grid. The lights on the streets smudged together in beautiful chaos until the night became psychedelic in form, with the moon hanging in the starless sky like a pagan lunar deity. Trippy – that's how I felt.

The glass felt cool on my forehead. Cool like the florescent desk lamp that lit my otherwise dark bedroom of my apartment. Half fledged, vague shadows stuck on the four walls, mockingly projecting distorted versions of their parents. It felt eerie, noticing it and absorbing it like the hyperaware being that I wasn't. I felt the shaggy carpet on the bare soles of my feet. I felt the white carpet reflecting back my warmth. It was significant to me, the feeling of having heat reflected back, but I had no one to relay this moment of enlightenment to, no one to appreciate it with. Lonely – that's how I felt.

Darkness raced through my veins and I needed a place to displace it. Through my blurry vision I reached for the razor.. I wanted my emotions to burst out like geysers of spring water. I had had enough of being me. I wanted to leak my entire self out into the night air until I was empty. Just empty. I wanted this bizarre pain to gush out forcefully and the thought wouldn't leave my mind. It was an agonizing obsession. Harder, thicker, stronger. Quicker, faster, speedier. Bloodier, sicker, vulgar. Maniacal – that's how I felt.

Feeling as vulnerable as a newly hatched turtle toddling to the ebbing sea, I gazed down upon my razor-inflicted wounds - fleshy openings that ferociously split apart the skin. Raw emotion flowed out in thick, red, semi-viscous streams that stained the floor. I beckoned it to flow. Harder, faster, thicker, stronger until all that troubled me escaped into the night air, leaving an empty husk behind. Then maybe it'd be painless enough to continue. But it's never enough. The deepest cuts don't remove the evil within (great game). So I savored those few fleeting moments as blood ran hot down my flesh, forcing me to admit that I was the furthest thing from stable, sane, and satisfied. The compulsion was fed.

I liked it a lot.

Let's get personal.

So I have one sister. She's four years older than me, and we share a close bond. My father worked in a law-related job and my mother was in the medical industry (I word it that way not to give away too many details about me. I would not like to be doxxed). Happy family for the most part, but not without its problem like any family. I was a greedy kid, my dad was angry, and my mother was exceptionally passive.

When I was in the second grade, my father was highjacked for his car. It was a beautiful baby blue BMW with a sunroof. My father loved the car and BMWs in general. He took us to the Kruger National Park as a holiday in it, and he let me stick my head out to see all the animals. Not only was it a gorgeous car; it had sentimental value.

My father, being a strong, muscled man with a mind as stubborn, did not want to give up the car to the crooks. Hence, he was shot three times and the car was taken My father crawled to the nearest house for help which he received while he lost a staggering amount of blood. By the time paramedics arrived, he had passed out. He was in a coma for a very long time. Months, if I recall correctly. Details get blurry when trauma enters the picture.

I remember the day. My aunt came to my house early in the morning and they were discussing something. It was obvious they were preparing to go somewhere, and I wanted to go to so I ran to the shower, but my mother insisted I stay, and I didn't understand why, although they tried to keep cheery faces. The morning ensued as normal. Probably watched Dragonball Z and spoke to my sister. In the afternoon my aunt and mother returned and said they have unfortunate news to tell us. My father had been shot three times and he is in a coma. My mother started crying like I've never seen her weep. The inconsolable woman cried to God but no divine voice soothed her.

Life goes on. My father was in a coma in hospital. My mom had a job, but she worked night shift. Consequently, my sister and I learned to survive South African nights on our own. A reminder I was in the second grade. It was just her and I. When it got dark we'd close all the curtains and cuddle up in one room, somewhat terrified. We were scared of the dangers out, true, but we were also scared of cockroaches that occasionally made their presence known in the evening.

My sister, being the older one, usually took the lead and I followed. She would make food for us, she would choose what room we'd sleep in, and if a roach was spotted, she learned to swallow her fear and deal with it using bug spray. Yeah, in the 6th grade my sister taught herself exposure therapy. In the mornings, she would wake me up, make sure I bathed and helped me put on my school uniform. I remember her lotioning my skin because I did it badly on my own. She would then walk us to school. It should be clear at this point that she was my surrogate mother in a house run by kids.

When I returned from school, my mother would be asleep from working night shift. She didn't get much sleep because she would visit my father before going to work. My sister and I couldn't see him. No kids in the ICU was the rule. One memory that sticks out was once we were sleeping in her room. We kept hearing this scratching sound. It scared her, and definitely scared me. My sister eventually figured out it was a roach trying to escape an ajar cupboard. She moved us to the next room where we slept safely.

My father eventually convalesced, but as you'd imagine it took years. He needed physiotherapy to learn how to walk again and perform basic tasks. This angered him. He just wanted to leave, he wanted revenge, he felt victimized and craved retributive justice. He had a legal firearm of his own and was ready to hunt down his assailants. It was my mother's kind words that helped him let go of all of those unhelpful feelings. She is a saintly woman.

The car was retrieved, but he sold it soon after for a Rover (not a Land Rover, just a Rover, they were extremely luxury cars at the time, but the British poshness wore off so you don't see them anymore).

When I returned from school, I would briefly see my mom because she had to visit my dad before going to work. So I saw her like 15 minutes a day. To tell you the truth, those nights traumatized me. It was scary being alone with my sister. I was scared about whether my father would live (he did). Eventually, he left ICU and I was allowed to see him. He has a serpent running up his belly, a sign of a drastic surgery taken to save his life. Tubes all over had him looking like he was stuck in tumblewood. He's lucky to be alive today, breathing and happily retired. But this is South Africa. Since then, he's been hijacked at least 3 times. He doesn't fight anymore. The wicked will get their just desserts when the time is right. Let's count the hijackings my parents have faced:

• BMW baby blue

• Toyota Etios (stolen and retrieved twice! I had a car accident in it)

• Toyota Fortuna

My sister and I still have a close relationship. She's the first person I call if I have problems, psychological or otherwise. She'll understand. I feel pain that she's married because it feels like I'm sharing her, but I understand the nature of life and that she found happiness in a relationship with a wealthy man who treats him well (not that my sister isn't wealthy, she is in finances and accounting).

So that's the story of my sister and I spending nights together. She protected me. I was too young to fully understand what was going but as an adult I've digestedit all. It was a dark time for my family, and I doubt any one of us were left psychologically unscathed. I feel deep appreciation for my sister who tried to take care of me during South African nights. Just the two of us.

Lastly, the perpetrators. The men who wanted to take my father away from me. I forgive you.

That's the story. Apologies for any typos. I took a shitload of different benzos, I'm surprised I could write this much at all.

I will defend my honor.

I don't know how to do a poll so say Grey Car or Green Car.

I have the ones on the grey car currently but am thinking of picking up the ones on the green car. The decision I need to make is, which ones do I use for summer and which ones do I use for winter?

Thank you.

My mom bought 9 chicks on my birthday this year to add to her coop. Just wanted to share the cuties

!animalposters

All I wanted was my own tissue box because my nose be leaking every time I breath.

She said it was unsanitary but I rebutted and said well we have tissues right by the door to like do things with you know with our faces, and it just didn't make any sense I use hand sanitizer after I do business with my nose.

I'm really high right now.

am i goign to died?

It's an s20

It's neato.

Thanks for reading

Back in the 1970s my parents were really into collecting photography, and one of the highlights of the collection was this Ansel Adams they purchased in 1974. Growing up I knew who Ansel Adams was, but didn't know we owned one until I got into photography in my late teens.

My dad attempted to sell it a few times in the early 2000s through a few different galleries, but this was before people would consider buying fine art on something on eBay. Eventually he gave up and gave it to me.

It's always been one of those things that I planned on selling if I needed the money. Not for something lame like paying bills, but for something equally as important, like fixing my Porsche. The only issue is that I'd struggle to find a buyer. Well this time things worked out and it's on its way to a new home in Texas today.

Special thanks to @FrozenChosen for the moral support and making sure I didn't drop the price too low.

It was good speed I felt happy than I gay butt fly got into my nose

I managed to push it out but still it messed up with my time

When I met her, she was already carrying a bouquet of flowers and was drinking with her friends, mostly gay males. She sucked me off at a club bathroom around 1 AM, had mcdonalds with her friends around 3AM, then the two of us went back to my place fo frick around 4 AM.

That b-word had really bushy pubes, which surprised me because the rest of her wasnt hairy. She was pleasantly juicy though, no need to use lube.

I assumed she was some sort of migrant worker. I was right, but it turns out she's just visiting for a friend's gay wedding and she actually works in Dubai.

She showed me photos of her when she was fat but she was just slightly chubby in the photos. Thank heavens for Asian FPH.

When I asked her about the bouquet of flowers she told me she doesn't know who it came from, but she seems to be lying. Her friends seem to know who it came from but would coyly tell me it was from a secret admirer or answer me with jokes when I would ask, then talk amongst themselves in Filipino like they're telling each other jokes.

What does rdrama think?

I may have the opportunity to go to a 4 month coding bootcamp free of charge (normally they are like $10-15k). I would be receiving severance and unemployment so financially I can afford to do it without any stress.

I would love to work for a healthcare tech startup and eventually (5 or so years from now) start my own company. I am a bit of a Luddite but I have done some basic coding on CodeAcademy. My aim is just to understand technology and software engineering better and develop some basic coding skills. I know a coding bootcamp won't make me a real SWE.

My sister @NotFrozenYetStillChosen is against it because she thinks ChatGPT will make any basic coding skills obsolete and if I do a SWE course then that sort of funnels me into that line of employment. She also thinks I can develop the skills I'm seeking on my own & that any startup is more focused on the team you bring. If I want to be a CEO/founder I should learn more business. She's very successful and knows business stuff so her opinion is pretty informed.

I do think she has a point but I'm still very drawn to this. My knowledge of technology is embarrassingly inadequate yet I find it so interesting….computers are like magic.

My other option is to get another big pharma job & pocket the severance as a bonus.

What do the nerds here advise? Especially the business nerds.

Edit: thank you business nerds, I will finish my project management certification instead and learn tech things on my own!!!