My parents helped me move into my first own apartment in August 2014. It was so hot and humid. First thing I did was barf. I’m autistic, I hate change, and my move symbolized a mammoth change in my life. I was 22. I’d just graduated college. I moved to the city away from my friends. I would be starting my first full-time job that following Monday. My life as I knew it was ending, and something else was beginning. I’m sure the heat exhaustion wasn’t helping. I lied in bed, watching the ceiling spin and spin and spin and spin until I couldn’t take it anymore and said my prayers to the porcelain gods for the rest of the night.

I believe I moved on a Wednesday so I had time to get my bearings. Figure out where things were and what there was to do. I was never a drinker so even though the area was lousy with watering holes, I never visited any of them. But I did get to game over the weekend. My first day at work wasn’t too bad, either. I got paid seventeen bucks an hour to sort time cards on my first day. Paychecks were a month in arrears. You had to wait til the end of the following month to collect your first payday so since I started on the 11th and not the 1st of the month, those first few months were rough.

Took me a while to poop with the door open. I only got to do that for maybe a half year before I met and moved in with my now wife. She doesn’t deserve to smell that shit, but she does tell me I the farts I fart in my sleep are war crimes lol

Breaking the waves is how I get 45-50 mpg on commutes in my 2012 Civic. And that’s with the air conditioning turned on. If I maintain a fairly steady 50-60 miles an hour, I will easily go 400+ miles on a tank.

I love driving cars as much as I love wrenching on them. That is to say it’s among my favorite things when I want to, and I want to stick a red hot poker in my eyes when I have to.

Don’t speak for me. You have no idea what my ass will do.

It’s more than my wife and I earn in a month combined, and where we’re from, we’re not poor.

Not only did my parents have sex (ew), but also, I didn’t fuckin’ ask to be here. Now I have to do shit like:

• Have a job,
• Pay bills,
• Go to my job so I can pay my bills so I can go to my job so I can pay my bills so I can go to my job so I can pay my bills so I can go to my job so I can pay my bills so I can go to my job so I can pay my bills…
• Brush and see a dentist regularly,
• Wear pants,
• Be anxious, depressed, autistic, and attention insufficient,
• Take medications for the above conditions,
• Poop,
• Pee,
• Eat healthy regularly,
• Not get fat despite all of the easy to get calorie-dense foods out there,
• Schedule checkups with a doctor, and eventually
• Die

And society (whatever that is) expects me to have sex and have kids, too! UGH.

Jazz Fission?

For real, my wife is around 2. I like mine about 4 or 5. I want a good crunch, but she likes her bacon flaccid.

She also takes her steak at a medium. I want my steak all but still mooing.

Do we need to compensate for the curvature of the earth?

Fuck you and the horse you rode in on.

By the way, Pokemon Red and Blue came out 30 years ago this year.

Damn, and he went all the way to the sea! How far did he need to go? Atlantis? /s

Maybe he does. Maybe he was in Oklahoma City on the morning of April 19, 1995. Perhaps he’s acutely aware of the use cases one has for a fertilizer stockpile.

Also works just fine in Wine.

Came here to say essentially this lol Lars is a pretty mid drummer. It’s kinda hilarious that he gets to be in a band with Kirk Hammett.

Honestly, though, if a stopwatch counts milliseconds, I’m gonna see how close to 0 I can get without letting it hit 0

HormUwUz

Ironic, ain’t it?

I do hate the double standard that it’s totally fine for men to joke and talk about sex, but when a woman does it, she must be dirty in some way. I get that biologically, women have had to be more choosy with partners because for a long time, the best protection was zero insertion, or the chances of ending up with a child you didn’t want were nonzero. Things are different now. We have the pill. We have emergency contraceptives. Some of us even have access to abortions.

Sex isn’t dirty. It’s normal and natural to want it. It’s normal to have a hard time getting it. It’s normal to be frustrated by the dating field and navigating relationships. It’s normal to feel incredibly rewarded when you do get it. And it’s normal to want to blow off steam by talking to people closest to you about your successes and failures in life. And a big part of being human is one’s own sexual exploits.

One of my closest friends is a woman about 13 years older than me (I’m 33; she’s 46), and she’s going through menopause right now. And she’ll start talking about the difficulty it’s bringing her, and she’ll tell me, “You don’t wanna hear about all this,” or, “I know you don’t care about this.” And the truth is that I do not nor could I ever understand what she’s going through, but as a friend, I can listen to her complain about it and give her the space to vent. Even if I’ll never get it, I can just be a voice in the room to pull out some great hits like:

• “Jeeeesus, I’m so sorry,”
• “Yikes, that sucks,” or
• "Haha, Fuck. That."

As a man, I don’t always have follow up questions or advice to offer someone going through issues unique to women. But people aren’t always looking for advice. Sometimes, it’s just nice to have the space to blow off steam with a safe person.

And that’s not dirty. It’s something we all do.

I’m so happy we moved away from this and toward three basic questions:

• Where do you want it?
• How hot do you want it?
• How hard do you want it?