ENTRY LEVEL MEANS NO EXPERIENCE. IT MEANS NO PORTFOLIO OF RELEVANT SAMPLES. ENTRY LEVEL IS ENTRY LEVEL
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So Fox News ran a story about how they think libraries are turning into drug-infested sex dens and I am shocked, shocked that I was never offered any drugs during my 15+ years working in libraries.
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"just ate half of this i'll finish the rest later" is like my favourite tiktok trend ever
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Man just doesn't stop fucking MURDERING white men who've done very shitty things
Edit: Yes I'm aware that Hbomb wasn't really The Guy to take down Wakefield, and Wakefield was gotten by Deere, however it was for the meme
Edit two: When referring to Shapiro I was talking about the Aquaman clip
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all queer discourse could be stopped if we all just remembered that in the eyes of conservative fascists we're all dirty queers polluting their kids minds who need to be eradicated at all costs
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Watching the difference between the Twitter migration mentality vs. the Reddit migration mentality is fucking hilarious.
Like, when Twitter users started moving over here everyone was pulling out all the stops and bringing back old fandoms that they were into and basically firing rent lowering shots by being super cringey.
And then all of the sudden when the Reddit refugees start showing up we're like, "ah yes, pull up a log and gather around the dumpster fire. We'll teach you how to not get killed by people hunting down bots and carve out a little area for you guys to relax and get used to the site before we throw you into the deep end of this hellsite that we call home. Tomorrow is Let Papyrus say Fuck day so you can prepare for that if you want. You want some hot coco and a blanket?"
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at least there is doing weird art projects on ur bedroom floor. at least there is that
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you're in the habit of denying yourself things.
if someone asked you directly, you would say that you love a little treat. you like iced coffee and getting the cookie. you drink juice out of a fancy cup sometimes, and often do use your candles until they gutter out helplessly.
but you hesitate about buying the 20 dollar hand mixer because, like. you could just use your arms. you weren't raised rich. you don't get to just spend the 20 dollars (remember when that could cover lunch?), at least - you don't spend that without agonizing over it first, trying to figure out the cost-benefits like you are defending yourself in front of a jury. yes, this rice cooker could seriously help you. but you do know how to make stovetop rice and it really isn't that hard. how many pies or brownies would you actually make, in order to make that hand mixer worthwhile?
what's wild is that if the money was for a friend, it would already be spent. you'd fork over 40 without blinking an eye, just to make them happy. the difference is that it's for you, so you need to justify it.
and it sneaks in. you ration yourself without meaning to - you don't finish the pint of ice cream, even though you want to. the next time you go to the store, you say ah, i really shouldn't, and then you walk away. you save little bits of your precious things - just in case. sometimes you even go so far as putting that one thing in your shopping cart. and then just leaving it there, because maybe-one-day, but not right now, there's other stuff going on.
you do self-care, of course. but you don't do it more than like, 3 days in a row. after that it just feels a little bit over-the-edge. like. you can't live in decadence, the economy is so bad right now, kid.
so you don't buy the rice cooker. you can-and-will spend the time over the stove. you can withstand the little sorrows. denial and discipline are practically synonyms. and you're not spoiled.
it's just - it's not always a rice cooker. sometimes it is a person or a job or a hug. sometimes it is asking for help. sometimes it is the summer and your college degree. sometimes it is looking down at scabbed knees and feeling a strange kind of falling, like you can't even recognize the girl you used to be. sometimes it is your handprint looking unsteady.
sometimes it is tuesday, and you didn't get fired, and you want to celebrate. but what is it you like, even? you search around your little heart and come up empty. you're so used to denying that all your desires draw a blank.
oh fuck. see, this is the perfect opportunity. if you had a mixer, you'd make a cake.
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it feels like it’s fucking 11pm. and it’s not even 7
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that "like what's up pronoun" tweet has ruined me it is constantly in the back of my brain
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