WittyProfileName2 [she/her]

Cofiwch Dryweryn england-cool

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  • 58 Comments
Joined 4 years ago
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Cake day: March 15th, 2021

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  • Not sure if I’d class it as the craziest moment of my life, but it was like a scene out of a sitcom:

    When I was a teenager I briefly worked part-time at a place that refurbished various household appliances. Donations came in through the front and ended up in back with very little looking over. We took all sorts in and the workshop floor was split into various departments based on what appliances they dealt with. I was a new hire and they were still cycling me 'round various departments, my least favourite one was when I was assigned to cleaning out used ovens.

    One day this box came in and, like, we opened it up and there were various electronic massaging gizmos. So, my supervisor is pulling 'em out, he passes some of 'em to me to give a lookover to make sure they’re clean and do, like, PAT tests and stuff.

    I’m plodding along and he gets to work on the rest himself. I’m doing the tests on this thing that’s like a plastic plate with this piece on the top vaguely shaped like a pair of cupped hands, when my supervisor calls me over to lend a hand. He’s got this black tube that goes a bit wider on one end, about as thick as my wrist. It looked kinda like a torch but with a cap screwed over the bit the light’s in.

    His hands are a bit slippy so he’s having a hard time unscrewing the cap, so he asked me to have a go. Wider end pointed away from me, I wrapped my hand around the cap and gave it a good twist. The first clue I had that something was amiss was that my supervisor went bright red. I asked him what’s wrong and just told me to see for myself, so I turn the thing in my hand and see this silicone orifice looking back at me.

    That was how I learnt what a fleshlight is.









  • I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and then try to envision everything my body just did to take that breath.

    The intercostal muscles expanding an’ the diaphragm contracting to make a vacuum in the thoracic cavity.

    The air rushing down my trachea, into my bronchus, then into the bronchioles.

    The alveoli swelling individually as the air fills 'em.

    My lungs filling the vacuum that the muscles created.

    It’s a lot of things to keep ahold of all at once, so there ain’t the space in my mind to keep thinking of what annoyed me (until some daft bastard goes and does it again mind you).


  • I operate on the assumption that the overwhelming majority of people are nice, though I’ve run into more than my fair share of strangers that are complete dickheads. It feels like I’ve run into way more people who treat me kindly than cruelly (but that just be my own biases affecting my recollection).

    Problem is, interacting with other people is tiring and after a long day I just want to curl up and stop existing but people waiting for the bus want to chat and strangers stop me in the street to make small talk.






  • I don’t know how you walked away from The Shape of Water with such a shallow reading, but eh, not everyone’s taste in films is the same.

    I have a great dislike for the sorts of horror films where horror is conveyed entirely by long drawn out tension into a jumpscare. It bores me and then I stop caring about what’s going on in the film. The Woman in Black is one that immediately springs to my mind, ironically because of how bland I thought it was. It’s what you’d get if you told chatGPT to write the script for a horror movie. Just a bloke stumbling 'round a house at night being scared by random shit punctuated by daytime exposition scenes. I know it was trying to trying to say something about grief but I just couldn’t care enough about it after the spooky violin lead up to the protagonist being startled by a tap making a loud noise when he turned it on.