Uh Oh!!!! He's On My Bread :(

Tuesday February 7.

The Chosen One: Vanilla Extract.

The hero we need and deserve right now. Ever been making a cake, and then baking a cake, and then consuming a cake, a cake you will subsequently defecate, when you've been haunted by that strangest of feelings that something just isn't quite right? That something is missing. That within this process there has been a void beyond that of the baking process: a void that is not just culinary, but spiritual. It's good, but it's not right. You made it as instructed, and it looks good, and tastes fine too. The good people around you have also taken a fork, which they have politely, and apparently sincerely, enjoyed. One even took a picture which they will later upload on Instagram, with crude, flashing animations of cakes, and captions reading: Cake time! Yum!. The words jump merrily from side to side in neon colors and the cake rests handsomely, with several slices missing. But you know, they know it. It is evident in their expressions: the light is dimmed in their smiles somewhat. They too possess something unshakeable in this mouthful. Something here is left to be desired, and desire as Robert Hass ruminates, is full of endless distances. Hold the f*cking phone, someone says, their eyes suddenly luminous. I know what this needs: #vanilla extract. 

people who know lots and lots of facts about beetles>>>>

reading a hurt/comfort fic is like haha. very fun. now i'll cry myself to sleep for I Fear I Shall Never Be Loved That Way

becoming an adult cheat sheet!

learn to coupon

what to do when you can’t afford therapy

cleaning your bathroom

what to do when you can’t pay your bills

stress management

quick fix meals

find out if you’re paying too much for your cell phone bill

resume workshop

organize your closet

how to take care of yourself when you’re sick

what you should bring to a doctor’s appointment

what’s a mortgage?

how to pick a health insurance plan

hotlines list

your first gynecology appointment

what to do if the cops pull you over

things to have in your car in case of emergency

my moving out masterpost

how to make friends as an adult (video)

how to do taxes (video)

recommended reads for surviving adulthood (video)

change a flat tire (video)

how to do laundry (video)

opening a bank account (video)

laundry cheat sheet

recipes masterpost

tricks to help you sleep more

what the fuck should you make for dinner?

where should you go for drinks?

alcohol: know your limits

easy makeup tips

find seat maps for your flight

self-defense tips

prevent hangovers

workout masterpost

how to write a check

career builder

browse careers

birth control information

financial management software & app (free)

my mental health masterpost

my college applications masterpost

how to jumpstart a car

sex ed masterpost

i will pay for my sins

i'm cozy :) in bed :)

people on this site should remember to beep before they boop

🌿 My Name is Rola, and This is My Story 🌿

I never thought I would be writing this. I never thought I would be begging for help just to keep my children warm, just to feed them one more meal. But here I am, reaching out to you, because I have no other choice.

My name is Rola. I am a mother of two beautiful children, and before October 7th, we had a life filled with love and laughter. We had a home. My children had their own room, filled with their toys and drawings. We would sit together on our balcony, drinking coffee in the early morning light. We had dreams, just like any other family.

But in an instant, it was all gone.

A missile struck. The earth shook beneath us. The air filled with dust and fire. My husband and son ran, stumbling over each other in terror. I stood frozen, the ringing in my ears drowning out my own screams. Our home was shattered—windows blown out, doors ripped from their hinges. And when I looked outside, our neighbor’s house, a place that once echoed with children's laughter, was nothing but rubble and ash.

That was just the beginning.

The bombs never stopped. Every night, I held my children close as the sky rained fire. The sound of explosions mixed with the cries of mothers searching for their babies in the darkness. I covered my children, whispering words of comfort, but how do you comfort a child who is terrified of dying in their sleep?

We had to leave. We walked away from everything—our home, our memories, the warmth of our life before. My children left behind their favorite toys, their books, their safe space. Now, we have nothing.

No home.

No food.

No clean water.

No way out.

I went to buy sugar the other day. It cost $20 for just a kilo. Food is disappearing, and the little that remains is impossible to afford. Every day, I fight to find just enough to keep my children alive.

I am exhausted. I am scared. I need your help.

I never imagined I would have to beg for my family’s survival. But today, I am.

Please, if you are reading this, help us. Help me save my children. Help us find shelter, food, a way to rebuild even a small piece of the life we lost. If we ever have the chance to leave, we need support. If we are forced to stay, we need a home again.

Every donation matters. Every share helps. Every voice that speaks for us keeps hope alive.

💚 Please donate if you can. Share our story. Help us survive. 💚

gofundme.com

Donate to From Despair to Hope: Help us to rebuild our life., organized by Fatima Rajwani

Hi I am Fatima and live in London UK. I have known Rola now for appr… Fatima Rajwani needs your support for From Despair to Hope: Help us to

mold wrote this. rhizopus stolonifer I can see you

imagine if your roommate bought bread. your roommate eats some of it but then leaves most of it alone. you really want that bread but you want to respect your roommate so you don’t eat it. months pass and at this point you’re sure he doesn’t want the bread so you start eating a little bit of it. then your roommate walks in, freaks out, picks you and the bread up and throws you and your meal in the garbage. that’s what it’s like to be mold.