Kearney mo car wash

Back 2018 binigyan ako ng 2 door car ng parents ko ginamit ko hanggang 2023. Naging project car ko siya, linagyan ko ng mods, dinala ko sa track and talagang natuwa ako sa performance Single ako then at hindi ko kailangan ng malaking car. This 2023, fresh grad ako from grad school. Nagpropose ako sa current girlfriend ko na LDR. Ilang beses ko na sinabi sa kanya na i'm planning to sell the car and get an SUV. Reason ko here is masikip, lowered, magastos sa gas, baka bumaba ung value and hindi na practical for the future. I asked my fiance if okay lang ba na ibenta yun and she said no baka daw masad lang ako. So with that, I thought since hindi naman ako masasad na mawawala na yung project car okay lang sa kanya na ibenta. Talagang gusto ko ng bigger car and hindi na talaga ako happy sa 2 door at this age. When I asked my parents they agreed naman sa plan ko and tama naman daw yung thought process ko. Tutulungan pa nila ako sa loan kasi sila ung may credit line. Overall, approved ang parents sa plan ko kasi para saaming couple naman yung car and mas practical for the future if ever magkaanak kami mas malaki ung car. So last week, pinakita ko sa fiance ko ung SUV na gusto kong ipalit tapos parang nagandahan na siya. Kaso parang hindi siya super happy and medyo quick convo lang ung nangyari. Pero ako, super excited ako sa plan and happy ako sa parang mature decision kasi para saamin naman to. Dahil dun, pinost ko sa caroussell ung car ko. Tapos yesterday may buyer na nagview and ininform ko ung fiance ko about this. Pagkaview ng client, gustong bilin agad yung unit. So dineal ko agad kasi nagoffer siya ng good price. Tinake ko na ung opportunity kasi bihira lang ang nagmemessage about the car. Pagkadeal namin ng buyer sa bangko, ininform ko ung fiance ko about this kaso sabi niya wrong move daw and nagalit siya kasi hindi ko cinonsider ung opinion niya and I acted alone daw. I asked her bakit sa tingin niya wrong move, sabi niya lang sakin kasi maganda daw yung car ko dati and hindi naman daw niya gusto yung SUV na pinakita ko. May SUV naman daw sila na pwede naming gamitin kaso for me gusto ko naman ng sarili kasi nahihiya ako sa family niya. Sabi pa sakin, so ano papagamit mo sakin ung vios? Naiinis sakin kasi iniisip ko daw na for US yun pero hindi ko naman talaga siya cinonsider or ininclude sa decisionmaking. Ito nagtatampo sakin for 2 days na. Sinabihan pa ako na natatakot na daw siya kasi may tendencies daw pala akong ganito so napapaisip siya sa marriage. Until now, sinasabi sakin na hindi siya sure, sinaktan ko daw siya and hindi niya daw alam paano niya maaalis ung galit. Tinatry ko makipag ayos, multiple times akong nagsosorry pero parang cold na cold siya sa replies and call.

Just moved to a new area, nearest automated car wash that I know of to me is like a 20 min drive.
Prefer automated to hand car washes cause of cost but Google only shows hand car washes.
Anyone know of a website/app that has a map of them?
(I know I know, “ask a neighbour”)

“Y’know, there was this one X-Files episode I watched a while ago. It was about this dude who could stretch his limbs an’ fingers like they were made of rubber. I’m glad he got his life back on track, but did he really have to go on to design every goddamn car I’ve worked on?”
Riley suppresses a chuckle as she quietly makes her way up the driveway - further up ahead, she can see her uncle’s legs sticking out from under a Ford pickup truck. Crouched next to him is his daughter, Shelby.
“I hate automotive engineers. I hate General Motors. I will-”
“Never own a car made after 2000?” Riley announces her presence.
There’s a brief moment of silence before Leland Carpenter wriggles out from under the truck. “Riley!” The big man laughs, wiping his hands on a rag before meeting her halfway for a hug. “How you doin’, kid?”
“Same old, same old. Can’t complain,” she replies when they part. “What about you two, huh? Anything new in this neck of the woods?”
“Weeellll…” her uncle drawls, looking back at Shelby, who rolls her eyes, “someone’s goin’ to UT Austin.”
“I ain’t been accepted yet, Dad,” the brunette protests mildly. “You know they’re picky as hell ‘bout who they let in - and that was before all the budget cuts.”
“C’mon, you’re sellin’ yourself short,” Riley grins, much to her cousin’s consternation. “You’ll get there, Shelby. I got faith in ya.”
“Hear, hear,” Lee nods, a wide grin on his face. “Oh, right - I got your usual ready, Riley.” He starts towards his backyard; she trails after him after exchanging a crisp high-five with her cousin.
“Hey, actually - can I get a few more this time?” Riley asks as they walk. “Some of the people I’m workin’ with got a taste for the stuff.”
Her uncle regards her with a long, calculating look. “You sure they can handle it?”
“Oh, yeah,” she grins, nodding. “Absolutely.”
= = = = =
Washington cautiously regards the jar in front of her. “The Commander gave this to you?”
“Yup-yup,” Tennessee nods. “A dozen jars in total.”
The silver-haired battleship squints as she picks it up to read the label on its side. “Uncle Lee’s Corn Liquor - 100 proof,” she mutters.
Next to her, Nevada lets out a low whistle. “That’s gotta be the strongest thing you got in stock, then.”
“Yup-yup.” Tennessee nods again. “You want a shot, Wash?”
“Fuck yeah!” The shipgirl nods eagerly - Nevada watches, her grin slowly widening as Washington retches almost immediately after downing the shot. “Oh, ugh- fuck me!” The battleship hisses through her teeth, rubbing her throat.
Tennessee snorts. “Ask nicely and I’ll consider it.”
There’s a long moment of silence as Washington considers the jar on the bar counter.
“Another!”
“Ah, what the hell, count me in as well,” Nevada chuckles.
“Me too.” A curious Maryland joins in.
Ise scrambles to follow her. “Me too!”
“Hey, I want some as well!” New Mexico stands up.
In a matter of moments, Tennessee has her hands full serving over a dozen shipgirls their drinks. Hissed exclamations and curses follow as shot after shot is knocked back, but no-one seems to actively dislike the drink. It’s quite the opposite, in fact, a wave of approving murmurs rolling across the crowd.
But then, as Tennessee turns to retrieve a new jar, she freezes to the spot when she sees Laffey behind the counter - in her hands is a freshly opened jar of moonshine. She doesn’t even get to so much as squeak before the destroyer starts to chug straight from the jar.
It’s like a car crash in slow-motion - Tennessee cannot look away no matter how much she wants. A shocked murmur ripples through the rest of the patrons as Laffey resolutely continues to drain the jar.
“Holy shit,” Nevada mutters, eyes wide in awe, or fear - probably both.
A long moment passes before Laffey finally lowers the empty jar. “Goodnight, everyone,” the destroyer mutters, “I’ll see you in a week.” And with that, she slowly keels over backwards, hitting the floor with a muffled thump.
“Benson’s gonna kill me for this,” Tennessee groans resignedly, and fixes herself a drink.
= = = = =
Laffey wakes up, drowsy and bleary-eyed. As she blinks the sleep out of her eyes, she realises she's in a wooden carriage. Her hands are tied. She's not alone. "Hey, you. You're finally awake."

Good morning fellow Redditers! I am here to get out the truth about the history of humanity however I can and social media is the best for that these days. Can you imagine what life must have been like back in the time of Christ? There was no indoor plumbing... electric...no cars, buses...trains or planes. No Walmart, Grocery Stores etc. They had to walk everywhere. So it was a huge sign of respect to wash someone's feet. I know it's a thing today. Some have foot fetishes, while the others can't stand feet

Just picked up a Model 3 Performance and plan on sealing and detailing for the first time. Like ever new person on here, I immediately bought all CG products and then realized they were shit and have returned them. Learned a lot in past few weeks.
I did use their no rinse wash and carnauba wax combo last week so I’m not sure if that wax (which I can already tell is fading) changes my planned strategy.

1. ONR wash with big red sponge, grit guard, ect.
   
2. Use opti-hyper seal as a drying aid. (Not sure if I should apply to windshield, headlights or the matte wheels? )
   
3. After opti-hyper seal cures, waxing with optimum spray car wax. (Again not sure if I should apply to windshield or headlights? Obv I know not the wheels)
   
4. Opti bond tire gel
   

Any suggestions or feedback appreciated, thanks

Hi all! I’m hoping to get some help with a strange issue. Our dog Meesha (5 yrs) has been sleeping in a crate at night ever since we adopted her 3 years ago with no issues. We do not crate her during the day, only at night to sleep. We recently (a month ago or so?) took a road trip and had her in the crate the entire time so that she wouldn’t be up moving around. She hates the car but seems to be more relaxed while in the crate.
A few nights ago she refused to even get in the crate. Tail tucked as far as it could possibly be behind her legs and wouldn’t get inside. Last night we were able to get her in there but around 3am she stated crying and would not stop. Tonight she did the same thing and I cannot figure out why! Nothing with her behavior other than this has changed. I washed all of her bedding today and gave her a few treats after she went in there tonight but she still was so anxious. She has access to fresh water, toys etc in there as well.
I’m not sure if it’s the crate in general or the size or what? Any ideas on what to do are greatly appreciated!

Chapter 4: The Dew
We have a new cast member for this chapter! Her name is Molly, and let’s just say she’s the MVP.
It was almost noon when I woke up. Faaaaack! I scrambled to get dressed, slap on a little makeup, put my hair in purple pigtails, ask myself whether I was dolling myself up for FPB or for Axton... Yeah, that was a no-brainer. I engaged in basic some humaning (brushing teeth, applying deodorant, etc.), spritzed on some men’s cologne called Spicebomb (FPB really was kind of right about that), put on my new shoes, and dashed out the door. I looked at my phone to see if I had a missed call or an angry text from FPB. Nope. Good! He must have still been passed out.
I Ubered to FPB’s place to get my car, then I drove back to Sage’s house and parked on the side of the street. There were four Molly Maid vehicles in the driveway. I checked the door. It was unlocked. Was it possible that my absence might have gone unnoticed? As I entered the house, I could hear one of the professional cleaners yelling at Sage. I’ll call her Molly.
Molly: I’m charging you TRIPLE! I had to call in SIX extra girls. We clean up vomit, pee pee, poo poo, and your house smells like a distillery! You are nasty, nasty people!
I was damn near pissing myself laughing. One of the professional cleaners swooped past me, and I felt embarrassed to even be associated with these nasty, nasty people (even though all of them except for FPB had been super nice to me).
I found my way into the kitchen and accidentally interrupted Sage and Athena arguing over who was going to pay the cleaning bill. Sage was in favor of splitting it between the chummers, and Athena was in favor of sticking Mori with the bill since his nasty, nasty rules caused the nasty, nasty mess.
I cleared my throat so it didn’t seem like I was eavesdropping.
Athena: OP! Hey! Where have you been all morning?
Me: I ran home to get some sleep. The snoring was pretty loud...
Athena: I hear ya. We sleep in Sage’s bedroom, but Mori makes all the others sleep in the War Room or on the porch. You might be able to convince him to let you sleep in the guest room tonight?
Me: Isn’t it your house, Sage? I’ll play by your rules.
Sage: Yeah, but Mori’s in charge during Shadowrun weekends.
Damn, this really was starting to feel like a fucking cult. But I still found Mori hella amusing despite all his absurdities.
Me: Hey, guys? How much hell am I about to catch from FPB?
Sage: That would be... none. He’s still passed out in the backyard.
I made my way to the porch. I guess the cleaning crew hadn’t gotten there yet. There were toppled cups, empty liquor bottles, and several piles of puke on the porch; and the distinct scent of boozy pee clashed in an act of olfactory violence with the scent of stale vomit. I didn’t even want to take a single step outside. I was wearing my brand new shoes, after all! But the rest of my outfit was blissfully casual.
FPB’s absurdly formal clothes were draped over the hammock, and he was sprawled across a lawn chair in nothing but his black boxer briefs, snoring like a freight train.
Axton was sitting on a dry patch of the steps that led down to the yard, smoking a cigarette, and drinking what I hoped was coffee. Snorlax was passed out in the inflatable kiddie pool. And Mori was nowhere to be seen. Axton turned around and noticed me. Surely he didn’t remember trying to kiss me the night before. I mean, I kind of hoped that he did... but it would make my life a whole lot easier if he didn’t.
Axton: OP! Where did you run off to after you put us to bed?
Me: I went to sleep.
Axton: Where?
Me: Ummmm...
Axton: I won’t say anything to FPB, don’t worry.
I wanted to believe him. “I went home. I wanted to sleep in my own bed, and I wanted to have my car in case I get tired again. I seriously can’t keep up with you guys.”
Axton: That’s probably not anything to be ashamed of. Wanna come sit? Have a smoke?
I scanned the porch. “I’m not sure where it’s safe to step.”
Axton put his cig in the ashtray and stood up. “Combat boots to the rescue.”
He crossed the porch, picked me up, and carried me to the puke/pee/booze-free step. As he was putting me down his hand very deliberately grazed the length of my spine. Guess he remembered... I couldn’t seem to pull my hand off his shoulder, nor could I seem to take my eyes off his lips. But just then, FPB stirred. And he roared, “UNHAND MY GIRLFRIEND, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!”
He tried to stand, but his tall, hungover ass just withered to the ground.
Me: Good morning! Don’t worry. He was just helping me protect my new shoes.
FPB: So help me, Pretty Boy. If you touch my girlfriend again, I WILL END YOU.
Axton: Just trying to be gentlemanly, buddy. You want some coffee?
FPB grunted.
Axton turned to me. “You want some, too?”
FPB: DO NOT SPEAK TO HER, YOU FUCKING SKIDMARK.
Me: I’m good. I’ll hit Mori up for some coke later on.
Axton laughed and headed to the kitchen.
FPB: YOU WILL NOT GET COKE FROM MORI. I WILL LITERALLY KILL HIS (expletive slur deleted) ASS IF HE GIVES YOU COKE.
Snorlax was stirring in the kiddie pool.
Snorlax: FPB... Chill, bro. Seriously. God damn. You’re gonna pop a vein in your forehead.
Okay, it’s finally time to pause and give you guys some background on my relationship with FPB. It might be mildly triggering for some, so apologies in advance.
He repulsed me at first. I thought he was a snob, I hated his beard, and his circus freak height intimidated me a little. But he managed to humanize himself. He feigned vulnerability. He was attentive and affectionate (at first). And when we finally went on a proper date, it was actually pretty romantic. Plus, he had cool Bioshock tattoos! I wouldn’t find out about his Shadowrun tramp stamp until a bit later.
And I felt like I was gaining some maturity by looking past the unsightly beard, the constantly furrowed brow, and the shocking amount of time he spent standing on the most random soapboxes one could possibly imagine. I’ll also shoehorn in the fact that he had been “dating” a possessive, obsessive legbeard and I found myself feeling like a white knight for helping him out of that annoying situationship.
FPB’s triumphant, and probably fabricated, stories of his past facilitated empathy. He had dropped out of college to join the Peace Corps. He once pulled over to save a child from a burning vehicle. He had been bullied in middle school for being the only boy in the Color Guard. Blah, blah, blah. It was mostly a load of bollocks, and I’ll save the ridiculous details for another story. But his displays of affection in the early stages of our cursed courtship seemed sincere, and I believed him when he said that my “being there for him” was helping him grow as a person. What a rube I was.
The emotional connection gradually ran deeper as a result of FPB’s exceptionally well-rehearsed vulnerability act, but it was hardly a romance novel. After several relatively normal “getting to know each other” months, I discovered that FPB had been notoriously promiscuous in the past. A lothario, through and through. Many women apparently knew all about the “ladies’ man maître D” in midtown Wellsprings who would go home with absolutely ANYONE.
And I soon figured out that he had not left his promiscuous past behind him... at all. But even if I hadn’t become aware of his reputation, I could often smell his sexual escapades once he felt confident enough to interact with me immediately after he’d gone muff diving. His beard stank like a turtle tank, with heavy top notes of body odor and microwaved fish, and undertones of stale urine, dingleberries, and sometimes a gentle waft of rotting tampon.
He’d also had to treat his foul flavor-saver for pubic lice on a few occasions. I know I mentioned his beard crabs earlier, but it bears repeating (if only for the cringe). I can’t even begin to explain how humiliating the state of his beard was for me. I take care of all manner of personal hygiene, and I’ve certainly never had CRABS. To be known as the girlfriend of such a nasty beardo must have caused at least a few people to reasonably assume that I had a crab-infested crotch and a serious case of junk funk. #notmyjunk
Hindsight tells me that I didn’t care about his philandering because I wasn’t in love with him. His company wasn’t particularly enjoyable since he spent most of our time together complaining about “losers” on the internet and lambasting the insufferable management at the restaurant where he worked. But he could carry on lengthy conversations about luxury fragrance, which was... harmless. Plus, I enjoyed the idea of having a “boyfriend” since I was approaching 30.
And FPB could convincing behave like the *perfect gentleman* on the rare occasions when we attended respectable social events together. So all of my friends thought I’d won the dating lottery by landing myself a quirky, intelligent, polite, and visually striking boyfriend. This dreadful dating experience tempts me to spout some unsolicited advice along the lines of, “Wait for the right *connection* with a person who makes your life more enjoyable, and don’t get hung up on your relationship status... YOU are enough.” But perhaps that’s something we all have to realize for ourselves.
Aside from the philandering, things ran pretty smoothly back when FPB was still keeping “the crazy” under wraps. His goblinization unfolded in tiny, almost imperceptible increments. And by the time he had become a full-blown possessive lunatic, every attempt to end things with him resulted in death threats, slander, vandalism, bomb threats, or false police reports. I could easily write an entire lengthy story about every disastrous breakup attempt. But they wouldn’t be amusing stories. At least this current story has moments that I can try to frame as humorous, largely thanks to the Shadowrun crew.
I suppose the most honest answer as to why I had given FPB chance after chance is that I had absolutely NO prior experience being emotionally close to severely mentally unstable people. I’m one of the lucky ones who has never suffered from mental illness aside from occasional situational depression and some mild body images issues when I was a teenage girl on the high school drill team. I grew up in a loving family. And the only other serious romantic relationship I’d had prior to FPB fell apart because we were just in different stages of life (he was quite a bit older), and we eventually found ourselves unable to relate to one another. Nothing horrifying.
FPB was much closer to my age, we had common interests, and he was a (seemingly) genuine gentleman at first. Our relationship was like Beauty and the Beast... in reverse. I’m not so much comparing myself to Belle as I’m comparing FPB to a kind-hearted prince who gradually transformed into a stomping, snarling, tantrum-throwing BEAST.
Any desire that I’d ever felt for him died from poon fume inhalation. And FPB was pitifully butt-hurt when I closed the cookie to him. And despite displaying no interest in showing affection towards me, despite having countless randos at whom he could wiggle his whisky wang, despite griping incessantly about my terrible personality, my wretched taste in music, and my annoying sense of humor, he refused to end the relationship.
But if I so much as spoke to another man, FPB would call the police and report him as a TCAP Story, vandalize his property (usually with poop and/or semen), stalk him relentlessly, or make a slanderous website, crudely photoshopping the poor guy’s face onto obscene images that he got off the deepest, dingiest, most dumpster-fiery recesses of the dark web. This “retaliation technique” would eventually get his ass incarcerated, but not until many, many unfortunate girlfriends later.
Everyone had always told me that, “Relationships are HARD.” Guys, gals, non-binary pals... if you ever feel the need to cough out this fetid tonsil stone of “wisdom,” please operationally define the word “HARD.” If a relationship feels like a prison sentence and you find yourself fearing for your safety or for the safety of your loved ones, that isn’t “hard.” That is coercive control. RUN. But never forget that running is often much, mucheasier said than done. There’s no shame in getting help from friends, family, and law enforcement.
​
So, where were we? Snorlax was telling FPB to chill out, Axton was going to get some coffee for the lanky, bearded ball of rage, and I was standing on the one clean step, hoping the cleaning crew would come outside and save us all.
FPB was flailing about, trying to achieve a sitting position. Snorlax seemed to have gone back to sleep. And Axton returned to the porch with a cup of coffee and a bottle of water. He made his way down to FPB.
FPB: You’d better stay far, FAR away from her for the remainder of the weekend.
Me: Funky, he’s helping your hungover ass. And he hasn’t been inappropriate towards me in any way.
(That was kind of a lie. But I suppose it all depends on what you consider “inappropriate.”)
FPB harumphed.
Me: I promise you that I’ll punch him in the face if he makes me uncomfortable. Otherwise, please let me get to know your friends. You said that was an important part of the weekend.
Axton sat down the hangover remedies next to FPB’s lawn chair.
Axton: You want some Advil?
FPB nodded, and Axton took the pills out of his pocket and handed them over. FPB washed the pills down, took a few sips of lukewarm coffee, and leaned back in the chair, groaning miserably.
I sat down on the clean step and lit up a cigarette. Axton left FPB to his own devices and approached me cautiously. I gestured for him to come sit next to me. Axton grinned sheepishly, took his cig out of the ashtray, and sat down on the step. I wanted to keep FPB under control, so I said under my breath, “We’d better sit about two feet apart.”
Axton and I both scooched away from one another, the ashtray serving as a buffer, and we continued to speak quietly so that FPB’s hungover groans would drown out our conversation.
Axton: Are you really gonna punch me?
Me: Are you gonna make me uncomfortable?
His grin faded a bit, “Have I made you uncomfortable? If I did, I’m so sorr...”
I made eye contact with him and held it for about 3 seconds longer than I would have held friendly eye contact and replied with my own sheepish grin, “Not at all.”
​
Snorlax was sitting up by that time and he seemed to be in a world of hurt as well.
Axton: Yo, Snor! You need some hangover helper, too?
Snorlax (groaning): Pleeeeeeease.
Axton got up to fetch Snorlax some coffee, water, and pills. Those combat boots were going to need to get hosed down before he went back inside. Especially with Molly and her pissed off crew still at the house.
In fact, I could hear Molly screeching at Sage again.
Molly: There’s more mess on the porch? What sort of mess? More poo poo? A lake of liquor? You people are ANIMALS. I’m never cleaning your house again!!!
Sage: Ummm... I think it’s just booze and pee. You should be able to just power wash it.
Axton: There’s a ton of puke out there, too.
Molly: Jesus, save us all.
Axton ran to Snorlax and delivered the hangover helper.
Axton: Dude! The maids are on their way, and they’re pissed off. We gotta disappear.
I put my cigarette out, stood up, and dashed over to FPB, who was still reclining in the lawn chair with a pained expression on his face.
Me: Funky? The maids are coming. We need to get out of here.
FPB: And go where?
Me: I don’t know! I’ve never done this before. I think Axton knows, but I’m afraid to talk to him.
FPB: HEY, FUCK-FACE. Where are we running off to?
Axton: Garage! Go around the side of the house.
Axton helped Snorlax stagger around to the garage, and FPB managed to wobble to his feet. As he was standing up, I noticed a whisky wee aroma and an extra dark patch of fabric near the crotch of his black underpants. While I guided him to the garage, I tried my darndest to keep his wet boxer briefs away from my clean shirt. His crotch was level with my mid-section, so I curved my body away from him and let him basically use my shoulders and arms as a walker. In the end, we all managed to enter the garage though the side door. It was dusty, musty and stuffy, but it was blissfully devoid of puke and pee. Well, aside from FPB’s underpants.
Sage must have anticipated that we’d take shelter from the angry maids in the garage because he came out from the house and opened the garage doors for us, letting in a nice breeze.
Sage: You guys good?
We all indicated the affirmative.
Sage: Excellent. Mori should be back from the liquor store pretty soon. And he’s picking up hangover food, too.
Snorlax: What’s he getting?
Sage: Taco Bell.
Seriously? Not only were they having to restock the booze, but they were also planning to chow down on Taco Bell to help with the hangovers? There was no way in hell that was going to help.
At any rate, FPB and Snorlax were chugging the remainder of their hangover helper and seemed to be gradually getting their sea legs back. Axton had apparently been awake a little longer than they had, so his hangover seemed to have passed. I’m just assuming this since I was forbidden to speak to him. And with the only two non-hungover people there forbidden to speak to one another, the garage was eerily silent.
We were all sitting on the dusty floor and FPB, still wearing nothing but wet boxer briefs, tried to pull me into his lap.
Me (getting up and crossing the room): HELL NO. You peed yourself. I’m not sitting in your lap until you go wash up and put on some clean underpants.
FPB: It’s not pee. It’s dew.
Axton: It’s piss, bro. I can smell it.
FPB (snarling): You shut your fuck-nugget mouth, Asshat.
Wow, Axton’s ability to exhibit no reaction at all to FPB’s venom was impressive. I might have to try that and see if it would work for me.
Snorlax: He’s right. It’s definitely pee. No shame, though. I wet my pants, too. I had to get up and change at like... 6 in the morning. It sucked.
FPB: OP, please get over yourself and come sit by me.
Me: No lap sitting.
FPB: Fine.
Me: Do you want me to go get your backpack so you can change?
“Chill out, Miss Uptight! We all wet our pants every weekend. It’s tradition,” he said as he wound his long arms around me from the side.
I felt like I was in a cage. I rolled my eyes, and I think Axton noticed my exasperated expression because I could see him snickering.
FPB: What’s funny, you DICK?
Axton composed himself, and Snorlax gallantly stepped up to save us.
Snorlax: He’s laughing cause I farted. Sorry.
Always a sucker for bathroom humor, I burst out laughing. Axton started laughing again, Snorlax started laughing, lifted a cheek and really did rip one this time. The butt wind even kicked up a little dust from the garage floor. That made all the reasonable people in the garage laugh even harder. But not FPB. No, he was fuming.
FPB: What the hell is really so fucking FUNNY? Someone fess up to me or I’m gonna start flaying you bitches.
Axton: Dude. For real. We’re laughing at a fart. (more laughter)
Snorlax (also laughing): Yeah, just the thought of Taco Bell gave me gas.
FPB’s fury just made it even funnier, and all of us were in stitches.
FPB: I know you’re all laughing at ME.
Yeah, I guess it did kind of start off that way. But by the time his rage was hitting the boiling point, we really were just behaving like overgrown children and laughing hysterically at a fart. And everything was ten times funnier because we had this “stick in the mud” sitting there getting outrageously offended by the laughter. You know the feeling, right? When you’re not supposed to laugh at something, it becomes even harder not to laugh? Or is that just me?
FPB: I’m getting dressed now. OP, come help me. You two jabronis can stay in here and laugh at each other’s farts.
Instead of heading to the hammock in the back yard where FPB’s clothes presumably remained, he entered the house through the garage door and headed straight for the guest room to retrieve his backpack. Good. Maybe he was at least going to put on some clean underpants.
But, no. He wasn’t. That would have taken away from the repulsive debauchery that his whizzy boxer briefs allowed him to revel in. He really needed to settle on a story. Was he such a wild, crazy party boy that he was too cool to care that he’d wet his pants? Or was he a pathetic drunk who’d passed out and managed to collect afternoon dew in the crotch of his boxer briefs (and nowhere else on his body)? We’ll never know. His Shadowrun tramp stamp was in full view as he bent down and grabbed his wallet from his black leather backpack. He then marched into the kitchen and told Sage, “Bring me a maid.”
Sage: Ummm... they’ve got their hands pretty full at the moment.
FPB produced a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet. “I want my clothes steam cleaned. And I’ll need them spritzed with perfume. Athena’s got some here, doesn’t she?”
Sage: Yeah... But you’re gonna have to ask HER if you want to use her perfume. And you’re gonna have to ask the cleaning crew to steam your clothes. They’re all pretty annoyed with me over the condition of the house. There’s a new head maid. I’m having to pay TRIPLE the normal cleaning fee, dude.
In my mind, the considerate action would have been to forego the steaming and offer the cash to Sage, since FPB’s sparkle vomit and spilled liquor definitely contributed to the mess. Instead, FPB exited through the front door, made his way around to the backyard, and began removing his clothes from the hammock. The maids shrieked. FPB ignored the shrieks, gathered his clothes, and sauntered back into the house. Once we were back indoors, we could hear Molly going over the bill with Sage.
FPB: AHEM. Madam, I need these clothes steam cleaned.
He thrust his suit and the hundred-dollar bill in her direction.
Molly: Excuse me??? We were hired to clean this disgusting house. You want your clothes steamed, go to the drycleaners.
She sniffed the air.
Molly: And go take a shower. You smell like a diaper.
I stepped in. “Hey. Sage? Do you mind if I steam FPB’s clothes in the guest bathroom?”
Sage: Fine by me.
I pulled FPB aside. “Give me your clothes. You peed in your sleep after you took you suit off right?”
FPB: IT’S DEW.
Me: It doesn’t matter. Your underwear’s wet and you need to put on a dry pair. In the meantime, I’ll go in the bathroom, hang your clothes up, get the room steamy from the shower, and then they’ll at least be a little less wrinkled. We used to do it all the time in college.
FPB: But those bitches have professional equipment. If they can steam carpet, they can steam a suit.
Me: I think it’s a different type of steamer.
FPB: Oh, you’re an expert on steamers?
Me: Not the Cleveland kind.
Damn it, Mori would have appreciated my attempt at an obvious dirty joke.
FPB harumphed, and I put the plan into action. I turned the shower on as hot as it would go, sifted through FPB’s suit components carefully to make sure his pants were dry. Fortunately, they were. I hung the clothes as close to the shower curtain as I could without getting them wet and sat down to try and enjoy the steam room and the solitude. Maybe it would make me feel refreshed? But the sweetness of the solitude wouldn’t last, as I could hear a conversation taking place just outside the door.
Sage: What the hell, man? Why are you guarding the bathroom door?
FPB: I don’t want any of you pervs trying to walk in on my girlfriend while she showers.
Sage: Okay... I think she’s just in there steaming your fancy clothes.
FPB: She might be taking a shower, too. NAKED. I have to protect her from the male gaze.
Sage: Well... I’ve got a girlfriend. Mori’s not here, and Snorlax and Axton are both stand-up dudes.
FPB: I don’t trust Axton. I caught him picking her up on the porch, and then he tried to TALK TO HER.
Sage: “Picking her up” as in the crap you pull at work all the time? Or literally “picking her up” so she didn’t step in puke?
FPB: Uh... he made some lame excuse.
Sage: So... Picking her up so she didn’t step in puke. What a jerk.
FPB: Right?!
Sage: Listen, man. The door locks. And she’s a grown woman. Leave her alone for five minutes, for fuck’s sake. And put on some clean underwear.
FPB: IT’S DEW.
When I couldn’t take the steam anymore, I turned off the shower, retrieved FPB clothes, which did look spiffier, and opened the door to inhale the fresh, cool air. Ahhh! And the lovely cleaning crew had managed to get rid of the “poopy-pee-puke-pizza” pungency.
Apparently, being lightly mocked by the “vice principal” had embarrassed FPB enough to make him go find something better to do. No one was outside the door at that moment. I gathered FPB’s clothes, carried them to the guest room, and laid them out on the bed.
Now to find my seething anger ball of a boyfriend. Best guess? He was back in the garage, yelling at Axton and Snorlax. So that’s where I checked first.
I entered the garage from the house, and found Sage, Athena, Axton, Snorlax, and Mori all sitting around enjoying some Taco Bell and drinking beer. No FPB.
Me: Hey, guys! Have any of you seen a tall, angry guy in wet boxer briefs?
Mori: He’s on the back porch. Said he had to call his work.
Ah, yes. “Work.” That meant he was texting one of his randos. Probably the one who showed up at Sage’s house late last night.
Me: Beer me?
They all answered with a validating chorus of “Hell yeah,” and, “Go girl!”
I grabbed a beer from the cooler and scanned the room for a place to sit. Axton stood up and led me over to his spot.
Axton: Hey, guys! Who am I?
And then he pulled me onto his lap, wrapped his arms around me and started shouting in a caveman voice, “MY GIRLFRIEND. MINE. NO TALKING TO HER. DON’T EVEN LOOK OR I’LL STAB YOU IN THE EYEBALL.”
Everyone, including me, found this incredibly funny. And I was pleased to see that the whole team was acknowledging FPB’s absurdly possessive behavior. Maybe if the people he respected most in this world called him out on his insane possessiveness, he would reflect? Yeah, let’s see how that goes...
I stayed in this far too comfortable position for a minute or so. Axton was more muscular than FPB and he wasn’t “circus-freak tall,” so his lap was a much better fit. But I knew that if FPB rounded the corner and caught me sitting in another guy’s lap, he’d flip. Especially since my position in Axton’s lap had happened purely to make a mockery out of FPB. I leaned into him for a few more seconds, then slid over into my own cold, hard, lonely space.
Guess I needed to do some reflecting, too... Not because I was finding myself attracted to a guy who wasn’t my boyfriend. My boyfriend was a psycho and I needed to reflect on why I hadn’t been able to find an exit strategy that didn’t lead to terroristic threats or stalking.
Mori: I think I’ll add a new punishment tonight. But only for FPB. If he glitches, he has to sit in my lap and let me paw all over him. See how he likes it.
Me: Be sure to get a raging boner and jab him in the hip with it.
I couldn’t tell if the laughing that ensued was because I’d made a crude joke to the perfect audience or because I had unintentionally “called” the inevitable.
Mori (in a deliberately creepy tone): Oh, that won’t be a problem.
We laughed again.
And then, all the fun was sucked from the garage. FPB entered from the driveway and demanded to know what was funny.
Sage: Mori’s cooking up new punishments.
FPB: That’s... terrifying.
Me: Hey, I put your clothes in the guest room if you want to get dressed.
FPB: M’kay. I’m getting a beer first.
He cracked open a beer and headed inside. As he towered in the doorway, he turned to me.
FPB: You coming?
Mori: You need your girlfriend to help you put your clothes on? Are you in kindergarten?
FPB: Eat a dick, Mori.
Mori: Sounds delicious.
FPB shuddered and trudged inside. He hadn’t made any more demands that I accompany him, so I let him go put on his big boy pants all by himself.
*end of Chapter 4
As always, thank you so, so much for reading!
Hope to see you back for The Lap of Luxury!

I went in thinking 3-5 days to address suicidal thoughts. They ended up keeping me for 13 days, it drove me absolutely mad. I had to sign an AMA to force my way out, but my partners didn't want to pick me up because they knew I still wanted to do it. I called upon a gentleman I had met inside (I started up conversation cause he was reading Locke Lemora, he turned out to love all the right books and video games ❤️). That quality ass dude picked my sorry butt up and drove me down to a car rental. Hero. He even waited for me while I got the car sorted, kept my teddy bear safe. Love him for real.
The only vehicle they had at the rental was a fucking huge ass truck. Giant, white 4 door. I stumbled my way through her questions, knowing I intended the truck to be a one way deliverance to my End. The woman behind the desk was small, blonde, and seemed happy. She was apologetic that she had to give me a giant ass truck. She smiled and brushed over my stumbling mistakes. Accepted my muddled explanation with grace. 10/10, excellent service. She even complemented my bear.
My first destination was a panicked dash to collect my method. I won't tell you what my method is, so as to not give you ideas. I nearly didn't make it before they closed, but I got it. Then it's accessories. Then lots of weed. Then juice. Then vodka. Then notebook, sharpies, sharpie pens. At last I treated myself to my favorite, Massaman curry. Then I drove to a motel. Checked in. Dragged everything up in two trips. Oh and before we leave the car portion of the story let me remind you that I navigated all those streets and parking lots in a fucking huge ass truck.
Anyway, now we're in the room. I set up my pillow and bear on one bed. My method on the other. I arrange the weed, food, alcohol, and juice.
I want to do it. I had driven the whole way thinking how badly I wanted to do it. Sure I planned to have a couple of fun days, but i definitely planned to do it.
And why even do that then. Why bother living a few more days? Fuck it. Fuck life. What the fuck am I living for
Wait, one second. We ate 200mg of weed. And we're sipping fruit juice and vodka. Maybe if we can make it until they hit, it'll feel good.
I'm a crazy person, so I end up documenting my life and day on the walls if the motel bathroom in sharpie. It actually helped a lot. I figured it out. I need freedom. I choose life.
It's hard, the thought is still there. The wolf only has to get lucky once.
But I'm fighting.
Thanks in huge part to my good, good Ace love that I also met inside.
But even bigger to my dear beloved, my dear sweet beloved. Pineapple 🍍 B the only thing that kept me alive inside.
She was there for me. I was attracted to her immediately. Her intelligence. Her gorgeous hair. Her fucking slamming body. We played grab ass. Not enough to get in trouble with the wardens. But clearly thirsty. One time I ducked into her room as she washed her hands in the bathroom. I pushed aside the curtains, her shocked, excited eyes in the mirror.
"You're going to get in trouble" her eyebrows twitch upward as she turned to me, daring me to make real what the moment promised.
"I know," I tried on my best smirk and slunk closer. "Just once?" I begged with my eyes, leaned in
Her hand around my neck
Her lips soft on mine
A flick of a tongue
"Get out of there"
You slap my ass, I smile as I scoot.
Holy.
Fucking.
Shit.
B, that kiss made me think life could be worth living.
I fell in love with you right then.
And tonight you did me the honor of playing virtual grabass, admitting to fantasies. We go back and forth admitting to longings for one another. And in the end you reassured me how real and true our love is.
You saved me B.
And you're really fucking hot. Those curves. Tattoos. Your hair.
When you braided it. Mmmm.
You're also fucking brilliant, but you let people hurt you when you've decided to love them. I do the same thing.
I want to protect you.
So I'm here.
I'm this bed. Typing this account.
Choosing to live.
For her. And Her. And Him. And Him.
And my mom and sister and bestie.
And to my main line of defense. Piller and the Hero Caramel.
You're doing your best for them, Me.

I usually just wash the cars and wax it. Some detailers have told me I should check out clay bar.

My PA has been working on recovery and it’s been a rocky start. He got rid of all the triggering apps and deleted all his social media profiles. I make sure to monitor everything now as well.
Something clicked today and I can’t quite prove it yet but I can tell somethings up even with all the stuff we have in place.
I’m wondering if anyone has suggestions of what I might have missed or weird things to look for that I just might be oblivious to?
He keeps saying he’s staying up watching his favorite show in the evenings at work but his watch history on the app he logs into doesn’t show any progress for that show. It’s been the same episode and season for the last week. We share the service so I can see his profile and watch history whenever I login. He doesn’t know this yet, and I don’t plan on sharing anything. I sort of want to see where it goes.
One of his tells is when he talks a lot about something or shares lots of detail I know he’s lying. He knows I don’t watch the show or care to but he started rattling off today about the season finale. I think he needed to make sure I knew he was actually watching it. Thing is, I will sit through the work of verifying that shit down to the color of the shirt he might have described. He doesn’t even think that far so he just kept talking. Anyway, I watched the finale for myself. None of the shit he spent that rant explaining happened in that episode . It all happened in the episodes prior to and in the one his profile says he last watched. Which is halfway through the entire season.
I’ve pieced that part together now, but I can’t figure out what he’s doing during that time frame that isn’t actually watching the show. His screentime isn’t showing anything in the timeframe so I’m assuming it’s incognito but I need solid proof before he will admit to pretty much anything and work on it.
Another aha moment today was that I realized his work backpack was missing the towel he took for showers on the road(he’s a truck driver). It’s been missing for a bit, but I sort of let that slip under the radar I guess. He always had it just in case he was expected to have an extended trip and needed to wash up at the truck stop. I called him out for using socks to ejaculate into at work and I told him I never wanted to find that shit again. I’m thinking since I haven’t seen a sock in a long time, it’s got to be the towel now and he’s just been lying.
I will causally bring up the towel at some point and ask him to bring it home to launder. When it either doesn’t or he rushes to wash it before me I will know the answer to the MO at the very least. I just need to find out what the porn is.
Any clues or guesses?
I am in investigative mode to collect information for accountability right now. Any suggestions are much appreciated!

I am not the Original Poster. That is u/EarthClassic230. He posted in AmItheAsshole
Mood Spoiler: Okay-ish? Still... the audacity
Original Post: May 25, 2023
Ok so I (25M) am a wedding planner so when my sister (32F) announced she was getting married, most of our family, her included, assumed I’d help plan it for her. I initially didn’t really want to as ger wedding is right in the middle of busy season so I’d miss out on gigs that would pay but then I decided that she’s my sister and this would be a good wedding gift and would just help with the wedding stress.
She was so happy when I agreed and we started going over her plans and themes, I found some venues and we went to look at them, I took care of all of the catering so all she had to do was taste test and pick, I was also able to use my connections to get her special deals and stuff like that.
At first it was pretty smooth but as time went on it just got more and more stressful. She wouldn’t communicate with anyone and almost got her photographer to quit (I had to convince him to stay), she’d constantly change her mind on things and then get mad they were changed as I should of known she was just being indecisive and that I should have stuck with the first option.
While I was setting up the registry she told me I could have first dibs on what gift I was getting her, I looked at her confused and said that my help planning was my gift. She then said that a lot of family helped out and they are still getting gifts. I told her that other family members helped move furniture or lend me their car to pick up supplies, I was doing most of the work and was missing out on actually getting paid helping her.
She said she’s greatful for my help but that this wouldn’t really constitute a gift unless I was paying for things like her dress or the venue. And she said it didn’t matter when I brought up that my connections have literally saved her thousands when you add them up.
She’s now calling me cheap and is getting our family involved. I don’t know what she told them (they won’t tell me) but they keep saying how selfish I am to make my sister’s big day all about me.
If I could afford it I wouldn’t mind getting her something, but the cheapest thing in the registry is almost $200 and I’m not well off, plus my loss of income I can’t afford something like that rn. I want to support her but I don’t think I’m gonna get her a gift, WIBTA if I didn’t?
OOP is voted NTA
Update Post: May 27, 2023 (2 days later)
I took some of your advice but didnt go as extreme as I think some of you were hoping I would, sorry but I can be of a people pleaser and I dont want to ruin what is supposed to be a happy moment in her life.
I put together a list of everything I had done, including all the discounts I had gotten her, I'm not sure if she knew they were discounts as I didnt say they were discounts, I was saying things like “I have been able to get you a quote of x amount from y for z”. Aswell as stating what I would normally charge for a wedding this sized. I then texted her to ask if we could get some lunch and talk.
When she arrived I showed her the list and explained that I'm not asking her to pay this but I wanted her to see how much I'm helping her and how much money I am losing by doing her wedding instead of taking on a client who would pay. At first she was shocked at the amount and accused me of lying to try and make her feel bad, I was able to show her bills from other weddings I had done before and a quick Google search showed that my prices are pretty average, she had never looked up any wedding planner or their rates bc she assumed I was always gonna do it.
She said she thought it wasnt that much as I didnt seem to be well off, I told her that while it does pay well I cant take on crazy amounts of clients since I need to give quality service and that I might not always get clients all year, plus I have a few medical expenses that can take out a large chunk.
She said I still must have some money saved up, I said I do but that I would be having to use it to cover my bills and stuff since my income is taking a hit due to taking on her wedding, after a while of insisting that some of the items on her registry arnt that expensive she relented, I wouldn't have to get her anything since I had gotten her enough discounts to qualify as a gift and that she was grateful for my help and services.
Honestly, I didnt know how much this was stressing me until that relief washed over me, I was thankful that this was over and we could continue with planning her wedding. I asked her to clear things up with our family as they wont talk to me about it, she agreed and sent a group text explaining that the gift incident was just a misunderstanding and that we had talked it out and cleared things up.
For those who are saying that her registry seems very expensive, her new husband, his family friends, and alot of her friend are very wealthy, and she makes sure our parents and other close family are taken care of so she kinds has become disconnected from people with “normal” financial status like me. There are alot of things on the list like designer handbags, clothes, shopping sprees, dinners, and even a car and second home on there. The cheaper items are some simple jewelry she liked.
She paid for my part of the lunch as an apology and since I'm struggling and things are all good now I think, thanks, everyone. Marked as ongoing in case we get any info on the wedding

Hey guys, I have a nd mx5 and have gotten really into the detailing world after they turned me down in an automatic car wash. I want to start a new project and try to color wrap it my self but I don’t know how difficult it really is. Do any of you have any recommendations for wrap brands, materials and costs for doing it for my first time (I know there would probably be a lot of material waste). Thanks! (Also looking forward to opening a shop in the future so this could be a test trial)

If it makes any difference I stopped playing for awhile around when chilling reign came out

Hello all! This is my first reddit post ever so I am very nervous typing it but here it goes. I am a FTM to my precious 13 MO. We do part time cloth diapering. Where we live, it is quite sunny for most of the year. So I prefer to air dry all our clothes which has worked out very well so far. We live in a townhome community but we all have our own front yard. The HOA regulations state that we can't do any gardening or do any structural changes to the front yard. But I do have a movable cloth drying rack that I sometimes move to my front yard just for a few hours. I do this because the front yard gets a good amount of sunlight but I always make sure that I don't leave the drying rack outside for a long time. So I have this neighbor who always had a problem with me air drying my baby's clothes and diapers. Over the past year, she has constantly bullied me by calling me "diaper lady" and then passing it off as a "joke". She kept telling me that I won't be able to keep up with this cloth diapering for long. She has even challenged me that when I have my second, I will definitely not even think cloth diapering. So now, after a year of bullying and passive aggression, she rang my doorbell today to tell me that "some neighbors" have a problem with me drying the clothes outside and that "those neighbors" went to her, complaining about me. First of all, I know for a fact that she is the only one who has even the slightest problem with this issue and all my other neighbors have been nothing but supportive of me so far and honestly, most of them don't even have the time to care about something as trivial as this. I was taken aback because 1. This lady is too loud. She rang my doorbell, woke my baby up from a nap and was totally unapologetic about this. 2. She told me that this is culturally inappropriate. For context, I am a first generation immigrant mom living in the US. Now, I feel very insulted by the culture reference because she implied that I come from an uncivilized place which is not true. Also, I've been feeling extremely hurt ever since she dropped by. Now about this neighbor, she has loud parties most Friday nights. She is extremely tacky. She always answers her phone with the speaker on loud volume (Sometimes the car speaker. The whole neighborhood can hear her conversations). And yes, the parties do include a lot of people and the smell of weed is a bit too much. But so far, all of us have been extremely neighborly and have been looking the other way. But this encounter with her pushed me to the verge of tears. I am here, minding my own business and trying to be a good mom and she comes to my doorstep accusing me of being inappropriate. I am not sure what to do here. My husband thinks that unless the HOA sends an official mail regarding this issue (if there is any), I need not worry. But I don't want to cause any more trouble. If anybody has any suggestions, please let me know. I'll really appreciate it. Also, is this really culturally inappropriate?

So, I wanted to share something that happened to me yesterday, to try to understand it, with some help.
A preface: I don't have a diagnosis of anything, but I'm doing a lot of research and reading about adhd, autism and high sensitivity, and I see myself in a lot of symptoms/characteristics of all of the three.
So, yesterday I had to go to a family event (my husband family) and I was ok, somehow in a good mood. We went early because we had some washing to do at my parents-in-law house. There the situation started to change, because I was very hungry, but I had to wait to go to where the event was, to eat (because the food was there). I get very angry and irritable when I'm angry, I basically stop talking and interacting and I don't really treat others well. I was also irritated by the waiting time. Like an hour later we finally went, my father-in-law was taking us there, but had to go somewhere else in between, a 5 minute things that turned out to be like half an hour of just waiting in the car (I looked at TikTok getting absorbed there or I would have gone crazy). When we finally reached the event house, late ofc, I went into more of a shout down, not talking, not feeling, not wanting to eat anymore. Then I started to feel bad and I was about to cry, so I went to search for my headphones and to go out to be alone. But exactly at that moment, people started talking to me, offering me food, "look I've made this for you", "look your favourite juice", "look I bought you this"; I could not take it anymore and rushed out and basically collapsed into crying and stimming. After sometime, after crying stimming and listening to loud calming noises, I calmed down. Ofc then I was feeling ashamed, and culpable for the poor response I had to my relatives-in-law kindness. So I stayed and I was able to eat something and I felt better (it was like 21 and I hadn't eat since the lunch at 14 so I was in desperate need of food).
So what I want to understand is: what is this? Is it a meltdown? Or what? Because it was not a panic attack nor an anxiety attack, I have those and they're different. This felt like I could not take it anymore and collapsed.