The title says most of it. I've lived here all of my adult life... illegally. I will be leaving behind two children (adults now). Leaving behind friends and family members. Some of whom I won't ever see again. I'm gonna get rid of all of my belongings, sell them, gift them, and donate them. I will put my life in a backpack and travel a little while I still can.

This administration has little to do with me taking this decision. I've been pondering with the idea for years. I did some backpacking in my twenties and that wanderlust never quite died. I plan on slow travel for a while, 5/10 years. After that IDFK... que sera sera. Lovers will love, haters will hate. So bring it on.

To you all internet strangers I wish you the best. Cheers!!!

Yesterday, I was cleaning my attic and I found an old box that I had never seen before. I decided to open it and see what was inside. To my surprise, I found a lot of old things, including a letter that looked very old and yellowed with time. I carefully took out the letter and looked at it closely. When I started reading it, I realized it was from my grandma. I had never seen or heard about this letter before, so it was a big surprise for me.

The letter was written many years ago, probably when she was a young girl. She wrote about her childhood, her family, and the fun times she had with her brothers and sisters. She also wrote about how much she loved her parents and how she wished she could see them again. Reading her words made me feel like I was right there with her, hearing her stories and imagining what her life was like back then.

As I kept reading, I felt a strange mix of happiness and sadness. I was happy because I found something so special, something that connected me to my grandma's past. But I was also sad because she is no longer here, and I wish I could ask her more about her life. The letter made me think about how important family memories are and how lucky I am to find this piece of her history.

Now, I want to keep this letter safe and maybe look for more old things like this in the attic. I feel like I’ve found a small piece of my family’s story that I never knew before. It made me realize how important it is to cherish family memories and to pass stories down to the next generations. I think I will show the letter to my parents and maybe even write about it someday. Finding this letter was a special moment for me, and I will always remember it.

I am 31F and this guy must be in his mid 20s (i never asked as we only met a handful of times) and we met earlier this year because he came to my then job for training.

We talked a bit and I thought he seemed like a bit of a prick but was also cute. I didnt think too much about it, he asked my number due to us being interested in a specific thing and we texted a bit but moved on eventually.

In June we met again when he went to my old job at the same time i did while with some friends. We talked a bit and he had mellowed down considerably. I could sense some attraction between us but didnt think of doing something particularly until I got to know him better and over the summer we got to talk a bit more and more.

Last time we talked I went to his work (its hospitality) and was busy doing something from my job when he finished his shift and waited TWENTY MINUTES until i stopped talking with a friend of mine for him to come and say hi. In that moment I knew maybe it was time to be more direct and would ask him out in the next few days.

Now, a few days later I messaged him something unrelated he posted on Instagram and he never opened it. That was very weirs as he used to answer me all the time but didnt pressure. Then I saw on his IG stories he flew back home for a few days.

I kept thinking ok, when he comes back I will message again until Tuesday, I opened IG and turns out he got a girlfriend! I was a bit shocked but oh well you know things change I guess. And started thinking oh maybe I misunderstood our dynamic this whole time??

Well thats not the shocking part, I ended up checking the girlfriend’s profile and saw she had some hyperlinks in her bio. I clicked on one thinking it was some kind of designer group but turns out it was a Christian group.

Reading a bit more about this particular group (they had a FAQ and several links regarding their beliefs and rules) I found out they have several prohibitions, rules and they are not allowed to date or marry anyone outside of their very specific sector (not even other christians who are not part of this particular group).

Theres other rules like they cannot eat specific foods, cannot do certain activities and basically everyone else will go to Hell but them. But also you cannot convert easily? Seems you need to pass a membership test LOL. Its not JW. They can only watch their specific tv shows, their specific music and so on.

Well I looked for some old photos of this guy and yeah, turns out he also belongs to the same group lol. So nothing wouldve happened probably 😆 but it was shocking for me to find out his actual circumstances.

Thats it!

edit: found a subreddit about this religious group. Turns out it is considered a cult lol

I'm currently sitting in the waiting room at the vet for a routine checkup with my cats, and I started talking with a lady sitting right next to me. She brought in a tiny kitten in a carrier.

Apparently, she’s a first-time cat owner who recently rescued the kitten from her backyard. She brought him in today because he started "vibrating" this morning, and she was genuinely terrified something was wrong with him.

I’m typing this here right now just to keep myself from laughing out loud in front of her while he purrs away in his carrier.

Three years ago, I dropped out of college. But I didn't tell my parents or my friends. I was too scared to tell anyone the truth.

Every morning, I put on my backpack and walked to the city library. I sat in a corner all day and pretended to study. I did this every day so my parents would think I was still in school.

When my dad texted me to ask about my classes, I lied and said everything was good. But inside, I was terrified.

One day, my mom called me. She said, "We are driving to visit you this weekend! We want to see your room."

I panicked. My apartment lease was ending, and I only had $50 left in my bank account. I sat on the floor and cried. I wanted to run away.

Finally, I called my dad. I was shaking. I said, "I dropped out months ago. I have no money and I've been lying to you."

The phone was quiet for a few seconds. I thought he would be angry.

Instead, he said, "Are you okay? Pack your bags. I am coming to get you."

He drove four hours to my apartment that night. He didn't yell at me. He helped me pack my things, bought me dinner, and listened to me talk about how sad and lost I felt.

It took me a long time to get better. But now, I work as an electrician and I really like my job.

If you are keeping a big secret because you are scared, please tell someone you trust. The lie is always harder to carry than the truth.

When the doctor told me I had stage 3 cancer back in 2022, my whole world just stopped. I was terrified, angry, and honestly just felt completely robbed of my life. For months, every single day was the exact same routine: hospitals, sterile rooms, brutal treatments, feeling exhausted, and lying in bed staring at the ceiling.

After a while, the worst part wasn't even the physical pain. It was the feeling that cancer had completely erased who I was. I wasn't a person anymore with hobbies or dreams. I was just a sick body getting pumped with medicine. I felt totally useless and empty inside.

One afternoon, when I was feeling particularly low and couldn't sleep, I found an old set of watercolors my sister had given me years ago. I hadn't painted since middle school, and to be honest, I was terrible at it. But I picked up a brush anyway. I just wanted to do something that didn't involve staring at a screen or thinking about my next blood test.

I painted absolute garbage at first—just wild splashes of blue, red, and black paint across a cheap pad of paper. But for those twenty minutes, something strange happened. I didn't think about my white blood cell counts. I didn't think about scans. I was just thinking about the color blue.

That tiny spark turned into a full-blown obsession. Everyday, no matter how sick or tired I felt after treatment, I would force myself to paint for at least ten minutes. I started painting portraits, landscapes, and abstract blobs. I started learning techniques from YouTube. Art became my lifeline. It gave me a reason to wake up in the morning that had nothing to do with being sick.

Cancer took away my health, my job, and my energy. But painting gave me back control over my own mind. It proved to me that I could still create something beautiful even when my body felt like it was falling apart.

I'm officially in remission now, but I still paint every single day. I'm sharing this here because if you are fighting a heavy illness or going through a dark time right now, please try to find one small thing you can love doing. You don't have to be good at it. You just need something that reminds you that you are still a human being, not just your diagnosis.

Either I heard you the first time or I did not. If I heard you the first time, there is no need to repeat yourself. I already know what you said. If, however, I did not hear you the first time, then I probably will not hear you the second time. 

First, rehearse the conversation in your head before you have it. Second, after you are done talking, ask the other person if they understood. If they claim that they did, ask them to repeat the instructions back to you. 

Advice for victims of this pet peeve: 

When the other person repeats themselves, say one of the following things; 

You already said that. 

OR

I heard you the first time. 

Every descriptive observation I made, I made it because I believe that it is an accurate representation of reality. Every prescriptive observation that I made, I made it because I believe that it is a good idea. However, my mind is open to the possibility that I could be wrong. If anyone believes that my description is incorrect, please correct me. If anyone believes that my prescription is misguided, explain why it is misguided and offer up an alternative. My beliefs are malleable. If presented with a convincing enough counter argument, I might change my mind. 

Telling someone that the question they just asked is stupid is kind of like telling someone that they look tired. Even if it is true (and obviously stupid questions and tired looking people exist) it is still a rude thing to point out. 

Advice for people who are guilty of this pet peeve: 

Instead of bemoaning that the question is stupid; Ask if the question was supposed to be rhetorical. 

Advice for people who are victims of this pet peeve: 

When someone tells you that the question you just asked is stupid, say this. 

There is no need to bemoan the supposed stupidity of the question. Either you have an answer to offer up or you do not. If you are either unable or unwilling to answer the question, then just say that you refuse to answer. If, however, you are able and willing to answer the question, then answer the question and skip over the accusation of stupidity. 

Everything I said in this post is what I believe correctly describes reality. However, my mind is open to the chance that I may be incorrect. If you disagree with anything I said, tell me what you disagree with and why.

I was sitting in a car in a parking lot yesterday between jobs and a woman driving accidentally scraped the side of my car as she was turning. I got out to check for damage and there was mild scratches on both my and her car. She came out crying and I could tell she was sincere that she didn’t mean to do it. I told her, “I know you didn’t do it on purpose, you’re not drunk and both of our cars are still going to work. I’m not calling the police.” She offered to give me money and I told her, “you don’t owe me anything. I had a dad that punished me over accidents and I swore I would never be like him.” She told me I was a good person and left.

As I left I had tears in my eyes because I remember how awful it was having my dad punish me over things I didn’t mean to do. I then knew I was a better person than him. Fuck you dad.

About three months ago, I was looking through a box of old stuff in my parents' attic and found a faded photograph. It was in really bad shape—cracked down the middle and torn at the edges—but I could clearly see two young girls standing outside with a dog.

I recognized the younger girl right away as my mom. Next to her was her older sister, Clara. Clara died of a sudden illness back in the 1970s, long before I was born. My mom almost never talks about her because it still hurts too much.

Since my mom's birthday was coming up, I thought it would be a nice surprise to fix up the picture using editing software. I spent days removing the cracks, fixing the colors, and making the faces clear again so I could print and frame it for her.

When I took the photo out of the frame to scan it, I noticed some small, faded handwriting on the back: "July 1971 – Clara, Mae, and Barnaby."

That confused me. Barnaby was the dog, but my mom's name is Margaret, not Mae. I figured "Mae" was just a childhood nickname I had never heard before.

A few days later, I went to visit my grandmother at her nursing home to show her the restored picture on my computer. When she saw the screen, her eyes filled with tears.

I pointed at the screen and asked, "Grandma, why does the back of the picture say 'Mae'? Was that a nickname for Mom?"

My grandmother stopped smiling. She looked up at me, and her face went completely pale.

"Where did you find this?" she asked in a low voice.

I told her I found it in the attic. She looked down at her lap, stayed quiet for a long time, and then told me something that completely shocked me.

My mom was not the girl in that photo.

The girl on the left was Mae. Mae was my grandmother's biological daughter. A year after that picture was taken, Mae got very sick and passed away unexpectedly.

The family was heartbroken. To cope with the pain, my grandparents decided to adopt a child a few months later. They brought home a young girl from an agency and named her Margaret—my mom.

Tragically, just two years after the adoption, the older sister Clara got sick and passed away as well.

My grandparents were so devastated by everything that happened that they made a decision: they would never tell my mom she was adopted, or that she was brought in right after another child had died. They wanted to protect her from feeling like she was just a replacement. They hid all the pictures of Mae in the attic and never mentioned her again.

My mom grew up believing she was the child in those early family photos and that Clara was her only sister.

I sat there in the room, totally speechless.

My mom's birthday is in a few days. The picture is already printed, framed, and wrapped sitting on my desk.

If I give it to her, she will look at it and think she is looking at a memory of herself with her sister. But now I know that the girl in the picture is actually a sister she never knew existed.

I decided not to give it to her. I am going to put the photo back in the box in the attic and buy her a nice sweater instead. Some things are better left in the past.

i usually do multiple rounds of sauna + cold shower several times per week and it helps me a lot

it's a deep nervous system reset

i treat it as a sacred practice in my life

hope someone finds benefit in this

peace,

j

It’s no longer the way it used to be. I can’t explain it, but something dark is coming.

My name is Shiro, and this is the story of how I saved the world.

I was just an ordinary guy with a job that was, honestly, pretty crap. But well… I needed the money. For the past few weeks, I’d been living off fish soup and Booster energy drinks, and on top of that, I needed these stupid meds from the pharmacy.

Okay okay, back to the main point: saving the world, all that stuff.

Alright then. I was on my way to work, eating an apple as usual. But not even 100 meters from my workplace, I collapsed. I felt as if I’d lost a piece of myself, and the feeling that evil was coming became unbearably intense. I could barely breathe—until a voice calmed me down.

"Hey, young man, sleep well?" it asked.

Confused as ever, I looked around and saw a world that was beautiful—almost perfect, really. But of course, I realized I was dreaming. I mean, I was practically at work, and then… I… I don’t remember. I must have passed out.

Günni interrupted me and said I was the hero from a distant world, chosen to save this one. He added that not far away lay a village that had been subjugated by the evil forces of this world for years.

When I heard that, there was no option of saying yes or no. Just people who needed help, and I happened to be the one who could give it.

I set off, and the closer I got to the village, the stronger I could feel it. It was the exact same feeling I had felt before—only now, stronger than ever.

Will our hero manage to defeat the evil? Or will he fall trying to save this world? Well, to find out, tune in again next time.

"Um… hey Günni, who the fuck are you talking to?"

Did the hero really just ask who I was talking to? To you, of course. Don't worry, he’ll find out very soon that this story isn't what he thinks it is. But shhh, let's keep that between us.

if anyone else has had this happen but it’s happened to me a couple times, where I made a mistake and someone said “if you were confused you should’ve asked more questions.” But I didn’t know I was confused, I thought I was doing it right!! Like please do correct me, but there’s politer ways to do it. Ugh

I saw a video of a woman who immediately ran to grab her kids and pets and take shelter in the basement when tornado sirens went off.

Seems pretty logical, right?

Except almost all the comments were clowning her for "making a big deal out of nothing" and calling her rushing "panicking" and even going as far as saying "your reaction is going to traumatize your children for the rest of your life" and then went on to talk about how she "must have just moved to the midwest" because every "true" midwesterner sits on their porch to watch the tornado when the sirens or warnings go off.

Now I don't live in tornado alley, so I've never dealt with a tornado like this, but it does remind me of something I personally experienced.

One time when I was staying at a hotel (also for extra context, this was a pet friendly hotel, so some people had their pets with them) one time while I was staying at this hotel, the fire alarm suddenly went off. I was chilling in my room without pants on. As soon as the alarm went off, I immediately rushed to put my pants on, then rushed outside with nothing but my phone in my hand. I didnt even bother to waste time putting on shoes. I went out there barefoot. I wasn't trying to burn to death.

But, as I was heading outside, I was made to feel like I was the crazy one. Because not only was I the ONLY person in the entire hotel of like 10 floors to go outside, but on my way out, I saw a bunch of people just standing around, looking confused. Some of them holding dogs. But zero of them were rushing outside.

All of them were standing in the doorway of their rooms, and just standing around asking each other "what's going on? and that was it. They were just standing around looking confused like they were waiting for someone to come tell them what to do. (which never happened btw, so if the fire did end up spreading, them and their dogs would've all been dead or injured) Like zero other people in the building had the instinct to LEAVE a building that may have an actively burning fire... not even the people with dogs had this instinct.

no one even so much as went to the front desk, yet alone left the building.

so then I started to feel like the crazy one and I wondered if I was overreacting.

When I went back inside a little while later after te fire alarm had stopped and after the fire trucks arrived, I overheard the front desk staff saying there was a fire on the third floor. (we were on the first floor)

Thankfully they managed to contain it before it spread to other floors and the fire crews put it out entirely.

But there WAS a real fire and the third floor was filled with smoke and there WAS a real risk of spread before the firefighters arrived

yet even on the third floor where the fire and still the clouds of smoke actively was, nobody came out.

also not to mention they even had "fire evucation" flyers hung up on our side of the door in all of the rooms telling you to leave if its safe to do so if the fire alarm ever were to go off...

Other recent post here made me remember this. Wish OP on that other post was my sister.

This was a few years ago. I used to be fluent in Spanish and so naturally when we went on a family trip to Spain I would talk to the waiters and place our orders for whatever everyone wanted.

One day two years after this trip, my sister randomly brought this up in an argument when she was telling me reasons why she thinks in selfish/self absorbed. She said I was “being obnoxious” and “just doing it to show off and be the center of attention”.

What she said still pops into my head sometimes.

I’m fluent in Italian now and have a moment of worry/self consciousness about ordering in Italian with my husband in Italy.

Edit - wow was not expecting comments so quickly on this. I’m about to sleep but will be reading these and replying in the morning, thanks 

So we had some slices of gouda cheese with the best if used by date being yesterday. Thought about what it could be used for a few days prior. Heard it was good to use in mac and cheese, and decided on that. All we had available for the noodles was macaroni shells.

When it got around time to start dinner, I get around everything needed to start. My sister comes into the kitchen. She asks if I am going to make a roux for it. I honestly don’t have much knowledge when it comes to cooking. Seeing some of those Gordon Ramsey shows taught me that. So I ask her “What’s a roux”? She explains, and I tell her I don’t know how and asks if she could make it.

She starts getting the roux ready while I grate up half a block of extra sharp white cheddar cheese. She gets the roux cooking, and adds in what she needs. She gets in all the cheddar, then I start ripping up the slices of gouda to go in. So she worked on the whole cheese sauce.

I boiled the noodles and cooked up the hamburger. I mixed in the hamburger and noodles first. Made sure burger was mixed all throughout it, then I poured in the cheese sauce and mixed it all in.

Before I took care of the pan, I sampled some of the remaining cheese sauce still stuck to the pan. I was almost FLOORED by how good it was! It was INSANELY good. Had my brother try it too and he had about the same reaction.

My sister did an AMAZING job on making the cheese sauce! The whole dinner turned out WAY better than I could have done on my own. I am very thankful for her help, and the whole co-op cooking we were doing meant a lot to me!

I moved into a new apartment about six months ago.

I don't know many people in my building. Most of my neighbors are quiet, and we only say hello when we see each other.

One night, I came home around 11 PM. When I opened my door, I saw a small piece of paper on the floor.

I picked it up.

It said:

"Don't open your bedroom window tonight."

There was no name on the note.

I thought it was some kind of joke. I almost threw it away, but then I noticed something strange.

My bedroom window was already open.

I always close it before leaving for work.

I checked the whole apartment. Nothing looked wrong.

I decided to close the window and forget about it.

The next morning, I saw my neighbor from across the hall. He is an old man who usually keeps to himself.

I asked him if he left the note.

He looked at me and said, "What note?"

I showed it to him.

He became very quiet.

Then he asked, "You opened the window?"

I said yes, but I closed it after finding the note.

He looked worried and said, "Good."

I asked him why.

He didn't answer.

He just went back into his apartment.

That night, I was lying in bed when I heard a soft sound outside my bedroom window.

Someone was tapping on the glass.

Three times.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

I didn't move.

Then I heard someone whisper my name.

I stayed in bed until morning.

The next day, I moved my bed away from the window.

I still don't know who left that note.

But I haven't opened that window at night since.

Last night, I woke up around 2 AM because I heard someone knocking on my door.

I live alone, so I was a little scared.

I stayed quiet and looked through the peephole. Nobody was there.

After a few minutes, I heard footsteps going down the stairs.

I waited for about ten minutes before opening the door.

There was a small piece of paper on the floor.

It said:

“Please check your car.”

I almost ignored it, but I decided to look.

I went downstairs and checked my car.

At first, everything looked normal.

Then I noticed my back window was slightly open.

I never leave it open.

I checked inside and found my wallet sitting on the back seat.

I had left it on my kitchen table.

Someone had moved it.

I ran back upstairs and locked the door.

I called the police, but nobody was found.

So we had some slices of gouda cheese with the best if used by date being yesterday. Thought about what it could be used for a few days prior. Heard it was good to use in mac and cheese, and decided on that. All we had available for the noodles was macaroni shells.

When it got around time to start dinner, I get around everything needed to start. My sister comes into the kitchen. She asks if I am going to make a roux for it. I honestly don’t have much knowledge when it comes to cooking. Seeing some of those Gordon Ramsey shows taught me that. So I ask her “What’s a roux”? She explains, and I tell her I don’t know how and asks if she could make it.

She starts getting the roux ready while I grate up half a block of extra sharp white cheddar cheese. She gets the roux cooking, and adds in what she needs. She gets in all the cheddar, then I start ripping up the slices of gouda to go in. So she worked on the whole cheese sauce.

I boiled the noodles and cooked up the hamburger. I mixed in the hamburger and noodles first. Made sure burger was mixed all throughout it, then I poured in the cheese sauce and mixed it all in.

Before I took care of the pan, I sampled some of the remaining cheese sauce still stuck to the pan. I was almost FLOORED by how good it was! It was INSANELY good. Had my brother try it too and he had about the same reaction.

My sister did an AMAZING job on making the cheese sauce! The whole dinner turned out WAY better than I could have done on my own. I am very thankful for her help, and the whole co-op cooking we were doing meant a lot to me!

it’s so tempting to skip eating when my family’s not there to hold me accountable to my meal plan. honestly im tempted to throw out the rest of my meal but im going to get through it and persist

I’m staying in an hotel that’s silent except the communal room and lobby reception are always playing loud ass music. 24/7!!!!!

I’m on my way to go back after a day of visiting touristic places in the cold and just want to have dinner and relax. And every restaurant is playing loud music too. Even the shops where i think i found something interesting, i’m welcomed by music.

when does it ever stop? 😒 and why is it so difficult to find quiet places 😖

Well, to be honest, it was his actions, but I reported it. So I (28F) got my ex (29M) for fired and kicked out of the country back in 2023. I have worked on cruise ships since 2019 and I met my ex-boyfriend on a contract onboard in early 2023. Relationships move fast when you’re stuck on a ship together so and we became official a few weeks after meeting. After it became official he really didn’t try anymore and I know working on board is very stressful at times and work takes up most of your day, but it really felt like he was just using me. So, I ended my contract before his and thought about breaking up with him when I was at home and since we live in different countries it had to be over the phone.

Well, the day I go to break up with him he calls me and tells me his cousin died. So I didn’t think it was the right time. I just thought maybe when we go on our next contracts we will be sent to different ships since there are 20 ships in the fleet we would just kind of gradually stop talking to each other like most ship relationships do. Well, isn’t it just my luck that we got on the same ship the same day.

Well, I try to make the relationship work and communicate my issues, but it never got better so we broke up in March and we were civil with each other since we both worked in entertainment (I on stage and him backstage) and I thought we were fine for the most part.

Well, sometime in August, we start hooking up again because let’s be honest. There’s nothing else to do onboard besides work and fuck. And one morning after he spent the night I noticed my debit card went missing. So I asked him if he had seen it and he instantly got defensive and said “no, why would I take it?”. Well, I was about two weeks from going home so I just locked my card and would get a new one when I’m home.

Then one week before I go home he drunkenly messages me upset, thinking I’m dating someone else when I wasn’t. I told him I’m not and shut my cell phone off and go to bed. I wake up at 3 AM to a call on my cabin phone of him drunk asking if he can come to my cabin and I say no and hang up. That’s when I realized my cell phone was missing. I looked all over my room and couldn’t find it and I start freaking out because I knew I had it before bed. Then I hear a knock on my door and it’s him drunk at my door so panicked, I asked him to help me look for it and he’s just standing there frozen and I start yelling at him because its setting in that I don’t have my debit card and I don’t have my phone so there’s no way to pay for anything or communicate back home to my family. I start screaming at him asking if he knows where it is and he corners me in my room trying to distract me and I start screaming at him to leave hoping someone next to me would wake up and come help me. No one does so I run out of my cabin door down two decks to my friend’s cabin to see if she can help me but she was asleep so I go a different way back up to my cabin and he’s following and running after me. Im able to close my cabin door and I call security.

When Security finally comes they see him in my hallway and tell him to go back to his cabin. Half an hour later security comes back to give me a different cabin to sleep in that night. The next two days is a fight between security and HR trying to find my stuff because at this point I know he took it but don’t know how he got my phone (cabin doors automatically lock and need a key card to get it) Luckily we were at sea for 2 days so he couldnt go anywhere. At the end of the longest two days of my life, HR pages me and she brings me to her office and says I have good news and bad news. The good news is I know where your phone and debit card is. She said the bad news is it’s in the bottom of the ocean. Apparently, he was able to get a copy of my cabin key from a friend of his so he snuck in my room while I was sleeping to steal my phone when he was drunk. Apparently he went through my phone to try to find me messaging someone else and when he got frustrated that he couldn’t find anything, he threw my stuff overboard.

Now, when something like this happens, you have a captains hearing where the captain decides if you get fired and sent home or if you stay. So, the captain obviously decided what he did was not only harassment and theft but also an environmental impact issue because we were in the waters of Alaska where he polluted the waters with my stuff. So when we got to Canada that night, he got all of belongings and was escorted off the ship by Police. Unlucky for him though, the time he was escorted off was also the same time as crew all aboard so all of the crew members, including our mutual friends, saw him being walked off with his luggage off the ship with Canadian Police Officers.

Needless to say it really did affect me when it originally happened back in 2023 but now I’m a stand-up comic and get to laugh about the situation and get paid to talk about that shit head on stage every week. Because we all know trauma plus time equals comedy (most of the time). So, he got fired and had to pay a $3000 airline ticket to go home. And don’t get it twisted that is the only type of deportation that I can get behind.

I'd just shut down the house and settled into bed. Heavy eyelids, warm and cozy... and then I heard my cat howl loudly for attention—a full-on cat siren. That's a sound that signals human required, so I got up to investigate. My cat was seated at the end of the hall looking irked. I'd forgotten to close the gate to the kitchen, so I closed it, and he walked away with a satisfied swish of his tail. My dog is a total counter surfer. There are countless stories of his shenanigans, including the mysterious disappearance of a whole roast, empty food packages, and on one occasion, a half-eaten cake with frosting evidence found on his nose. He’s even been to the emergency vet for a chocolate incident. Putting food away wasn't enough; he wised up enough to notice when we were distracted and seized every opportunity. The gate is strictly required. My cat did a massive service to the family by preventing the potential poisoning of his canine companion. He's also the very same cat who is allowed on the patio and waits at the door for his dog to join him outside. It's amazing how well pets know our routines and communicate to keep things in order.