They’re 1000 officers short of what a city that size should need, and anybody who you would probably actually want to be a cop doesn’t really want to be a cop. Especially in L.A. So, yes. They literally take anybody.
General_Shenanigans
joined 9 months ago
Just use regular non-antiperspirant deodorant. Anti-perspirant is bad for you and for your skin. It just forces your body to try even harder to sweat through it on top of the questionable chemistry. If you have a particular issue with the stank, just keep some with you or keep it at work to re-up. Not only will your armpits thank you, but so will your shirts. You can do that or keep using harsh chemicals for your armpits, harsh chemicals to get their residue off, and go through clothing like it’s toilet paper—or give your body the chance it hasn’t had since puberty to maybe cool off a bit. Give it a whirl.
That’s exactly what he means by “ending the war” and it “never happening in the first place”
Until recently, thought it was also named after Pythagoras, with the snake being a double meaning.
I saw part of the DNC where they went to representatives of each state and territory to have them announce their votes. For each and every one the DJ played a popular song associated with that region. I’m guessing they had to try to clear all of those. It was a kind of annoying and tedious procedure, but I feel like it was a big flex on conservatives. It seems like artists are rebuking the usage of their music by conservatives for political events on a regular basis.
Sure. I mean, if I die from blood loss, I don’t say a knife wasn’t involved because I died 15 minutes from the time I was stabbed. Just like with the knife, the drug was no longer actively acting on his brain (unless he lied about when he took it), but he was still feeling the effect of it, technically. For most people, this after effect is pleasant and gives one more of a sense of being present and connected.
There’s nuance, here, though. Here’s another exaggerated analogy: If a majority of people can eat peanuts, but you’re allergic and somebody gave you some and you ate them, what killed you? Was it the peanuts, the allergy, the person that gave them to you, or was it yourself?
Psychedelics can trigger psychotic episodes in some people, especially if they have pre-existing psychotic tendencies. Unfortunately, they’re not for everybody, mainly for this reason. My theory is that they may be making it sound like the mushrooms lasted longer than they normally do in hopes of potentially saving his future piloting career. I don’t think it will work, but I think that’s the motive behind their narrative. Admitting that you’re prone to psychotic tendencies will ensure that license never gets reinstated. Pilots tend to hide things like this. They love flying and losing that ability is losing the love of your life and your livelihood.
This is the correct answer because that’s getting into borderline corporate responsibility territory. The offering of gifts and fraternizing parts of it.
You’re right. I only bought one or two of those, total. They were dumb.
I used to put them in a plastic baggie, push all the air out, then stick it in the freezer. It seemed to halt the process long enough to give it to a friend and allow them watch it after the 48 hour period.
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I was a teenager in high school. Late 90’s. I had never really been on a date of any sort before, so this is a first first date story.
I met this girl online on AOL instant messenger. We chatted very frequently for a couple of weeks, then started talking over the phone almost every day. We were really hitting it off, so we started trying to figure out how to hangout together in person. Eventually, she invited me to come over to her house. I was stoked. She said she lived in a nearby suburb, and relayed some directions to me, which I wrote down on a piece of paper. It didn’t seem too far. She said her parents would be home, so my parents said it was ok for me to go over there. I mean, they were probably stoked I wanted to go see a girl too, as I’m pretty sure they were starting to think I was gay by then. I wasn’t, but that’s a separate messed-up story.
An issue came up, though. Her parents said she couldn’t hang out unless she cleaned her room, as it was really messy. I said “No problem! I’ll help you clean it and we can hang out after!” Genius, right?
Anyway, hormones firing on all 8 cylinders, I hop in the car and begin my journey. Turns out she didn’t really live in the city she said she did. That was just the nearest city to where she lived. I’m driving, driving, driving, further away from town thinking I’m lost, but I’m not. I remember turning around and doubling back a few times assuming I MUST have missed a turn. I did not yet own a cell phone to call and verify with her. Folks, the struggle was real back then, LOL. I just eventually followed the instructions as best I could, and eventually found my way. They were not good instructions. It was a miracle, really.
I go up, knock on the door. She and her parents answer the door and let me in. These parents were weird. They were basically gushing to meet me and let me in, but were strangely stoic at the same time, if that makes any sense whatsoever. Whatever. But then, all of a sudden , these parents that were going to be there while we hung out suddenly grabbed all of their things and bounced. Drove off. Huh, weird. They just left this strange boy they’ve never met and their daughter alone in their house. Good thing I’m not a creep, I guess?
This girl is grinning happy, but then gives a warning. She says her room is really messy. I say “It’s ok! My room gets messy sometimes, too! Let’s just attack it real quick and then we can hang out.”
Narrator: No, the boy did not actually know what a real messy room was.
We go in her room and I am shocked. I try not to show it, but it’s bad. Really bad. Every surface in the room is covered with stuff. No part of her floor is visible. Just clothes, toys, books, all sorts of stuff covering the floor, the bed, the shelves, the dressers. I take a moment to look around and take it all in. I’m already here. I’ve already agreed to help her with this, and I really want to get to the hanging out part. I clap my hands and say “Welp! Let’s grab some trash bags!”
So I spend the next couple of hours at least helping straighten out this disaster zone. Now, you really get to know a person when you dig through all of their stuff. There were a couple of things of note. First, it became apparent that this had never been done. Ever. As we pulled up the strata of clothing and toys on the floor, it was like an archaeological dig. The further we got down, the smaller the clothing became. The toys looked like those of a child younger and younger. By the time we got to the bottom, there was toddler clothing. Once able to get under the bed, there were baby toys under there.
At one point, I found a bible, and asked where she wanted to put it. Her eyes widened and she got very serious and placed it up on one of her shelves with the cover facing outward, on display. The manner in which she did this was a little creepy. Now, I was religious and had recently finished up Catechism at that point, so being happy to find your bible didn’t seem weird to me, but I found her a bit dramatic. Whatever. I keep going, and then I find a witchcraft book. SAME reaction. Eyes wide, she places it up next to the Bible. She then turns to me and says, “You know, sometimes, I feel like I’m a bit closer to the devil.”
Like an oblivious character in a horror movie, I don’t get too freaked out. I’m like, dang, this girl is weird and has some issues or something. She starts talking about sex. Saying something along the lines of how she’s had it before, and wondering if I have or not. A lot of things were said by her that, out of context, may have been just a bit quirky. All together like that in that setting, though, I really wondered what was going on with this girl.
Eventually, we finished the cleaning. Many bags of trash and old clothes and toys all bagged up. Vacuumed, dusted, bed made. It felt so good and clean and open. A sense of self satisfaction. She sits down on the bed with a weird look on her face. Looking down at the floor. I say, “Alright! Now we get to actually hang out! What would you like to do?”
Her parents walk in the front door. She slaps her knees and says “Welp! It was nice hanging out! My parents said I could hang out until [this time], so you’ll have to go home now. Maybe we can hang out again soon!”
Narrator: They would not.
On my way out, I look around at the house once more. It seems normal. Clean. Very clean, even.
We didn’t really chat anymore after that. I actually tried to, mainly out of curiosity and concern. I had questions at this point, as you would imagine. She no longer had interest in responding. I just hope she appreciated having her room be comfortable.