reblog if ur kinda cold and pretty tired
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ALT
[ID: British organ donor card from the 80s with a sticker on it reading "To hospital authorities: if I am injured in a major disaster I do not wish to be visited by Margaret Thatcher"]
Reblogging to curse the next nurse using patients for tiktok clout
ps5 brain monday
Oh so THIS is the ps5 post. I can see why you all imprinted on it now that’s hilarious
weird how no one ever comments on the absence of smells unprompted. the nose just isn't a topic of conversation unless it's urgent huh
"it's dark in here" normal regular observation
"finally some quiet" relatable exclamation
"doesn't smell like anything in here" absolutely deranged sentence
Anonymous asked:
I saw in the notes of one of your posts that you have dermatillomania. I was recently diagnosed with that but it's been a problem for a long time. I've never met anyone else irl with dermatillomania, and I was just wondering if you could share any coping mechanisms you use? I've been getting acrylic mail manicures so I physically can't break skin but that only prevents damage. It's not helping me actually break the habit at all
owlmylove answered:
lmfao oh darling. i love you for thinking i have any answers here
of course, since it’s me, i do anyways
congrats on finally getting your diagnosis!! for those who don’t know, Dermatillomania is a skin-picking disorder believed to affect as many as 1 out of 20 people, whether they’re picking/biting at cuticles and nails, plucking hairs, popping pores or picking at scabs etc. etc. The skin-picking can be compulsive, often serving as a self-soothing behavior against extreme emotions, stress, anxiety, excess energy or simply boredom
first, check out the wonderful folks at the Picking Me Foundation, the largest nonprofit & digital resource for those with dermatillomania. Their website has an online support group, self-logging downloadables, and their “fiddle pack project,” for strategically selected (and tailored for dermatillomaniacs [not sure if that’s a word but i decided it is now]) $30 multipacks of stim toys!
they’re 100% nonprofit, and every pack they sell is matched with the international donation of a pack to a therapist, pediatrician or fellow dermatillomaniac in need!
plus, check out #pickingme on social media for both their advice & solidarity among fellow picking enthusiasts
Picking Me has A++ strategic advice for their stim toys, and thinking strategically about your own behaviors and habits is my biggest advice. what does your picking look like? when do you find yourself doing it?
ok so being a parent IS really hard but not the way you think. well its probably hard the way you think but its ALSO really hard because my toddler pronounces peanut butter like "peepee yaya". and see, because he learns from me, i can't say "peepee yaya", no matter how much i want to, because i have to teach him that it is actually pronounced "peanut butter". and dont even get me started on how he pronounces "shaun the sheep" (shit the shit)
Jim Hodges at the Walker Art Center
Untitled (one day it all comes true), 2013
denim fabric, thread
Let me tell you about one of my high school friends’ old Dungeons and Dragons PCs.
Olaf Olafson was your pretty straightforward Northman Barbarian type. Huge, strong, pale, red-haired and with a tremendous beard. What made Olaf special was the little things.
Despite living in a world with clerical magic, demons, and other powerful alignment-based Outsiders, Olaf was an atheist. This was because his people believed the last world had already ended and the gods went with it (basically post-Ragnarok). All that was left were ‘spirits’. Powerful spirits. Who could grant deific magic. But they weren’t gods, and you didn’t have to worship them- in fact you shouldn’t, because it would just inflate their already swollen egos.
Despite being an enormous, frightening, powerful man with dubious hygeine and a propensity for going literally berserk in combat, Olaf was a gentle fellow in towns and villages, had a deep fondness for small fluffy animals and children, and was a generous tipper.
Olaf liked to drink. Not mead, but wine. He liked to sip it. It made him feel ‘civilized’. He never drank it quickly enough to get drunk. His meals almost invariably consisted of “Wine. Meat. Cheese.” Which was what he would order in literally every tavern. They’d ask him to clarify, what sort of wine? What sort of meat? What sort of- Olaf would raise a hand and repeat, slowly, as if to a fool: “Wine. Meat. Cheese.”
Olaf spoke broken common, more or less Hulk-speak, referred to himself in the third person almost exclusively, all that fun stuff. Then we had a story arc where I sent them up to Olaf’s homeland, where everyone spoke ‘Northman’ or whatever the hell I called it. While up there, he was incredibly fluent. Even poetic. “My brothers! I have returned from the decadent lands of the south, bearing riches and glory, and tales of great deeds!” The other players caught on and talked like a pack of movie Frankensteins, barely able to communicate in the foreign tongue.
For a long time, Olaf was the most financially stable member of the party. Because he bought a tavern in their home-base-town, hired the senior barmaid/waitress lady to be the manager, and funneled the profits back into the business. He kept his adventuring money and his tavern money separate, except when he would sometimes spend adventuring money to expand the tavern.
There’s not a lot to do in 3rd edition with skill ranks when you’re a barbarian, so eventually Olaf sank a point into Healing on a lark. A few sessions later, they captured an important enemy NPC, but he’d lost an arm in the fighting and was about to die. Their cleric had been captured and their NPC paladin wasn’t around, either. There was no magical healing available, and no one else had any ranks in healing. The dude was about to die, and take with him the knowledge of where their friends had been taken. Olaf- with a single rank in Healing I remind you -offered to save his life in exchange for the location, and the guy agreed. Olaf then stuck a sword in the fire, said “Olaf see this once,” and cauterized the wound.
It worked, of course. I didn’t even make him roll. I was too busy trying not to piss myself laughing. “Olaf see this once.” Jesus Christ.
An absolute legend