My dad has said "He couldn't drive a greasy stick up a pigs bum!" countless times but he got me a good one just the other day.
We were checking out an old steam engine and he said "they're as rare as rocket horse sh*t" which just cracked me up.
Reddit do you have anyexcellent lines to share?

INT. WERK ROOM
The queens trickle back into the werk room, only seven of them remaining. There’s an obvious difference in the group’s energy now that u/Breszn has sashayed away.
“I thought she was gonna go all the way” Yogi sadly sighs, taking off her UFO fascinator and setting it down as her workstation.
“We’re all gonna miss her” John sighs. “When she got eliminated this competition started to get really real, you know? Like she’s such a legend but if even she got thrown for a loop by the challenges, it could easily be any of us next.”
“Ugh, enough of the sad sap stuff. Let’s focus on the positives! Like u/soupcereal getting her second fucking win bitch!”
The girls applaud and clap for Soup who smiles. “Thanks guys. I really didn’t expect to win two challenges this early on in the competition. The judges seem to really be responding well to my unique sense of humor”
“Nepotism!” u/FreedomWillowTree barks.
“What?” Yogi responds, raising one eyebrow up in the air.
“It’s all nepotism! Soup is doing so well while some of us aren’t acknowledged no matter how hard we work!”
“Oh Free, that’s called favoritism. Nepotism is something different entirely” Dollar laughs. “How else do you think Elizabeth Garrison got the role of Matilda in the 8th grade over me? Her Mother was the theater director. Now THAT’S nepotism.”
“Well at least you weren’t Tree number 3!” Cre sobs. “And it feels like that all over again tonight! I was so happy about my look and commentary, and the judges hated it. I wish that I could have a do over. Like, if you had the chance to change your look… Would ya?”
“Probably” Free sighs grimly. “But whatever! I’m over it.”
Talking Head: u/TelevisionHeaven, “I can tell that Miss Free is beginning to lose it. She’s been in the bottom every episode, and the fact that she was brought back makes it worse. As a friend I’m concerned, but as a viewer I enjoy the emotional trauma!”
---

SPOILED DRAG RACE DRAG RACE

TONIGHT WITH SPECIAL GUEST u/ErikaGenerika !!!

---
INT. WERK ROOM
It’s a new day, and the queens walk back in out of drag. Nothing new, nothing changed. Everyone’s really depressed without Bre there. The girls all sit in different parts of the werk room dejectedly. The camera men sit there filming, occasionally glancing at each other wondering what was going on. One of the producers comes in and asks Free to ask a question to TV, but she refuses. Finally, the painful silence is broken.
OOOOOOH GIRL, SHE ALREADY DONE HAD HERS-SES!
Grot appears on the TV screen. “Hello my sickening seven! Are you ready to serve another da- wait why do you all look so depressed? Ugh, whatever. Anyway today we’re gonna be doing snatch game. I think we all know what that is at this point. It’ll be hosted by the hilarious u/KingKabs! Choose your characters wisely! And, PLEASE don’t be Millie Bobby Brown.
---
The queens begin screaming and wailing in abject terror. They knew this day would come, but it seems far too soon.
Then u/KingKabs walks into the werk room in a Klein Epstein and Parker suit.
“Hello, hello, hello!” Kabs roars. The queens all jump up in down feigning excitement for this unexpected visitor.
Kabs walks over to Dollar, who is sitting at a table with a mousy brown wig.
“Hello Dollar! Who are you planning on playing for the snatch game?” Kabs enquires.
Dollar puts on the wig and flares her nostrils. “Can you tell yet?” She smirks.
“Uh…. No?” Kabs responds.
Dollar slumps dejectedly. “Ugh, fine. I’m doing Patti Lupone. She’s a theatrical legend, so I really wanted to channel her energy for such an important challenge.”
“Bitch, why you playing a character ain’t nobody know! You should be Joe Biden! People know him.” Satisfied, Kabs daintily gallops away from Dollar’s workstation.
Talking Head: u/missforadollar, “I’m really starting to worry about my character choice, but I didn’t bring any backups. That’s show biz for ya’!”
Kabs then walks over to John who has an assortment of wigs around his station, as well as expensive clothes. “Hm…. From what I’m seeing, I feel like you might be planning on being Moira Rose!”
“That’s right!” John smiles. “Snatch game is a warm bottle of milk, and let’s just say bebeh is hungry!”
Kabs cackles so hard he pisses his new Klein Epstein & Parker pants. “Well I’m a huge fan of Schitt’s Creek, so I’m extremely excited to see your Moira. Alright, thank you John!” Kabs crouches on all fours and dashes out of the werk room. A small yet assured smile dons John’s face as she continues to flat iron one of her wigs.
Kabs trots on over to an empty desk, tired from all the labored walking he has done in just 35 seconds, and asks Soup and Tv to make there way on over to him.
"So dolls, what are you snatch game choices for me?"
"Well I figured it'd be easier to show you rather than tell!" Soup proclaims before pivoting on his right foot to ruveal the tackiest Ethika mens underwear with the phrase 'News!' written over them.
"Oh I have a feeling you're doing Honey Davenport. Actually, I'm certain! A cloud of discomfort has appeared over top of my head!" Kabs looks over at Tv begging for any degree of alleviation.
"I'm going to be the Duo Lingo Owl so I hope you're ready for a litany of reminders to finish your French coursework!" Tv interjects, hungry to impress the forlorn Kabs.
"Well now I'm terrified of Sir Bussy Davenport and ready to fall into a depression nap over uncompleted French quizzes! Thank you, I am brimming with dissatisfaction!" Kabs props himself back up, eager to rid himself of the rest of the girls terrible decisions!
Talking Head: u/soupcereal, "I have a feeling me and TV are royally fucked if this is how he's responding to the werk room portrayal..."
"Oh and ladies... someone wake up Free! I would, but he's procured a restraining order against me that prevents me from being within a 3 meter radius of him!" Kabs exclaims as he speedily walks back up his little stairs and out of the work room slamming the door.
Cre peaks his head from under the tables holding a toy unicorn and Merida doll.
"I heard this week we're doing snatch game? Fuck I was just about to take a nap after toy time!" Cre interjects to an anxiety filled room and a snoring Free
Talking Head: u/King-Yogimar, "This...should be a motherfucking experience. I'm killing the game so I can't be bothered to worry about what all of these BAWDUM BITCHES are going to deliver in comparison to me. Purr"
🎶 Tense and dramatic music
---

SNATCH GAME SEASON 7 [READ HERE]

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INT. MAIN STAGE
🎶 Redditgirl! Please just go for a walk! Spoiled Sub is making your brain rot!
u/Grotesquette struts the mainstage in… a choice!
Grotesquette: Welcome to the mainstage of Spoiled Drag Race Drag Race Season 7! u/KingKabs, what’s the key to a good snatch game?!
KingKabs: The key to a good snatch game is to respond to every question the same way you would to your outfit tonight! Bemusement with a hint of disgust x.
Grotesquette: You little rascal! u/StrawPedro, how are you doing tonight my love?
StrawPedro: Looking forward to some great runways tonight. I handpicked the runway theme, it’s my favorite!
Grotesquette: u/SufjanCaesar, how’s the Symone stan HQ!?
SufjanCaesar: I don’t know I’ve been too busy Rosé spinning to Rain On Me while an image of a demented Elmo haunts my thoughts!
Grotesquette: Seek better help! And special guest u/ErikaGenerika, how’s my favorite (and only) daughter doing?
ErikaGenerika: Shut up! Shut the hell up! I have to focus on filling out this 2 month long UCAS application before Euijin does! I WILL WIN FAGULA S3 IN 2022!!
Grotesquette: My pride, joy, and testament to why my tubes are tied! Tonight, I asked my girls to gag us with their comedic eleganza in snatch game! And on the runway the category is Tie Dye Couture! Racers start your engines, and may the best drag queen… Win!
---

🎶 Commes Des Garcons, Like the Boys, Like the Boys

---
"First up! Give us the u/misforadollar that makes us holler!"
When I think tie-dye I think hippie, and when I think hippie, of course I think of the musical Hair. So tonight I’m serving you simple but chic hippie realness, padded to the gods with hair hair hair all the way down to the floor. This is the dawning of the age of Dollar.
---
"Next up, u/TelevisionHeaven! Not to be confused with TelevisionHell..."
In a week where we had to be someone else in the challenge, I’ll go back to my roots for the runway — and what’s a better chance to go full Maxipad than a tacky tie dye theme! Tonight I’m looking straight out of a circuit party in Puerto Vallarta. Sickening, no? I can joke about that, I’m mexican. I’m rocking my signature Max Cut wig and then I turn around and BAM! hair AND makeup grotveal. This outfit also highlights my ass and my “Slut Ava Max” tattoo that I got as part of an extermination during an unaired Fagula season, perhaps the episode will get posted in the upcoming 3 years, who knows.
---
"Coming up, u/CremationBloc!"
I’m walking down the runway in my blue and white tie dye 1950s Dior inspired silhouette. I look like a polluted ocean, which contrasts with the petals on my midsection as they signify nature. My posture is wonky but I feel fabulous.
---
"Bear back! It's u/King-Yogimar!"
Me? Looking ugly? During a tiedye runway? Nevah! I’m giving you Detective Yogi, am I qualified? No! But I’ve got a trench coat and that’s all I need!
---
"Whoop whoop! It's u/soupcereal!"
"I’m wearing this fiery, saturated, 4-color tie-dye dress. I’m giving you spunky art teacher! Unfortunately art teachers are woefully underpaid... After the school closes at 3, I head to my second, less respectable job... GAGGING the house down BOOTS mawma!!"
---
"It's not just a phase, u/JohnTheLesbian!"
“For this runway I just visited my 12 year old cousin and threw on whatever she had! Is it fashion? No! But it sure is a look to dye for
---
"Last, but never least, preventing forest fires! It's u/FreedomWillowTree!"
Pink wig, thick ass, make em blink fast! Lemme twerk on the D for my lost sister Bre!
---

🎶 Commes Des Garcons, I'm So Confident

---
Grotesquette: Thank you ladies. Now, when I call your names please step forward.
crickets
I’m just kidding you’re all getting dragged tonight! <3
---
Grotesquette: Standing before me we have the tops and bottoms of the week. Starting with…
u/KingYogimar!
StrawPedro: Yogi, your snatch game tonight is a mixed bag for me. You did make me laugh here and there with your witty jokes to the questions, but overall it was just… meh? You could have hammed it up way more and I know you know that. The responses are also kinda generic and stereotypical. It is an interesting character choice, but for people who do not know him - and this is a note to everyone up here tonight - you gotta go all the way, and put in more content or characterization effort to fully sell it to us. You took a risk playing a male celebrity which I appreciate, but I do not think you did enough to warrant a spot in the top tonight. The runway though, stunning, exquisite as always. If I have to nitpick, then I wish the base was a shade other than beige.
KingKabs: Your snatch game tonight got the job done. It served a purpose and that purpose was to be perfectly safe. The answers are in a character I just don’t feel like the character was a distinct enough approach for me to say this was an accurate depiction of Buddy Valastro as opposed to any dad humored italian man living in New Jersey. However, that just bodes the question of whether or not this choice was ever going to be one to deliver a distinct characterization. Runway was quite lovely however, you aren’t one to miss! Give my regards to Florence Dee’Lee!
---
"Up next, u/FreedomWillowTree!"
Sufjancaesar: This is the story of how I should've been Blac Chyna... Oooh Oooooooh I shoooould. Ooohh Owowowowowohhhh Ooohh. Shea Couleé, you took my edges away that day, you walk down that runway, you were Blac chyna but you were shaped like a surfbooooard. Heyeeeyy. Alexis Michelle Your last name It rhymes with hell. You're a demon. You knew I should've been Blac Chyyyna. Why did yooou give the roole, you know I have the body-ody.
StrawPedro: Free, your Elliott with two T’s impersonation tonight was kind of a cringefest… I mean you did have the look down, the wig, the mug, even the prosthetic nose.. But I felt like you were focused on standing out that it just became … very loud and unbearable. You got the nasally sound down and that was probably the only redeemable quality of this snatch game. On the runway this is cute, but is it enough to save you from the bottom? We shall see.
---
"Next up, u/soupcereal!"
ErikaGenerika: So as Honey Davenport you were exactly what I expected. Overall, it was very safe. But that’s okay! You were still in character and compared to everyone else in this snatch game, you were HILARIOUS! Very high placement indeed ma’am. Give yourself a pat on the back, this is the beginning of the rest of your life! Your runway was a little tragic. In my mind, Trixie is a mermaid here, and this isn't a dress but her skin. I can see Mingey rocking an Ursula the Sea Witch costume and really pulling off the mermaidy vibe here.
Sufjancaesar: This choice was quite safe. Before I read it, I knew what to expect and nothing really surprised me or felt that interesting. But nonetheless, it’s always something that gets a laugh out of us so it was a good safe bet, and your impersonation had lots of jokes, it was in character and it all landed. I just expected more at this stage. With your runway, I liked that the soup can matched the look but the outfit itself was just a pantsuit
---
"Next up, u/CremationBloc!"
ErikaGenerika: Gwyneth Paltrow is a legendary household name. I mean, who could forget the iconic, “This Smells Like My Vagina" candle. Which is summarized as, "a funny, gorgeous, sexy, and beautifully unexpected scent. (trademark)” But I felt like you let queen Gwyneth down tonight. Was there effort? Nar. Seriously though, this could’ve been very funny but it just felt low effort. As for your runway, it wasn’t really tea that gooped my wig. You even captioned it ‘Tie dye horrible.’ WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO YOURSELF YOU NEED TO HAVE CONFIDENCE TO WIN AN INTERNET SHOW!
KingKabs: Baby it's just really lazy I don't know what else to tell you at this point. These answers could have been much better explored, if at all, and it would have been great. However, you didn't really go for anything besides a cute little one liner that, while it elicited a giggle out of me, isn't good. Really bad showing for you this challenge. As for your runway? It's tie dye, you did what you could and I'm not mad at it!
---
"Up next, u/JohnTheLesbianl!"
Sufjancaesar: Starting off with the good, your interjections were super funny to me and I quite liked your jokes there. Unfortunately, with a character that’s melodramatic and absurd in real life, you really have to go for it for that to translate on paper. And I felt a lot of your responses didn’t really give me the punch I get from Moira IRL. As for this runway, the commentary was funny but it doesn’t make up for quite a weak and whelming look itself.
Grotesquette: Hi John. First of all you look absolutely stunning on the runway tonight. However, your Moira Rose was was a huge let down. Your answers consisted of her most famous quotes, and you didn’t build upon them or change them at all. It was less of an impression and more of a game of quote trivia. I think another character would’ve served you better. Moira’s a character who’s already funny. So you need to be funnier than her, which is a hard ass task! If I were you I would’ve gone for someone who isn’t a comedian/ comical character. Hope that makes sense!
---
"Next up, u/TelevisionHeavenl!"
Grotesquette: This was definitely the most fun character choice on the panel tonight. Snatch game is all about the element of surprise and you did an excellent job of capturing that spirit. Your answers were witty, unique, and were built upon a really funny premise. It’s become clear to me that you’re much more than an Ava shill. You’re also a psychopath!
StrawPedro: TV, that snatch game was the business...model! No one would’ve ever thought you’d come out as a freaking creature, let alone a virtual one! You surprised us with the character choice and executed your idea almost flawlessly. You perfectly embodied the annoying owl and sent me on a guilt trip for not committing to my Port of geese lessons. Those interjections are also so well planned out and your characterization added even more to your performance. This runway, albeit a bit slutty, fits the theme well and told me more on who you are as a drag queen. Tonight you definitely cemented yourself as a fierce contender for the crown. What a wonderful job, 娼妇！
---
“Up next, u/missforadollar!”
Grotesquette: Initially I was worried about this character choice but you managed to deliver a really funny impression filled to brim with references to iconic moments and productions. However, it feels a bit on the safer side for you. We know how funny you are so I was expecting a little more. Overall this was still one of the better impressions we saw tonight, and you should be proud of that
KingKabs: Your performance tonight was great. References out the ass, an exceptional display of wit. Of the disparaged older white women we had to endure tonight you ran away as the Supreme mama. The cute little Rihanna nod in your introduction? Oh you fuckin' smart aint you boo? Really good work tonight. Your runway was also really cute and fun, out of the tie dye hell we had to endure this was lovely.
---
Grotesquette: Thank you ladies. You all did fantastic tonight. However, there can only be one winner.
u/King-Yogimar.... You are safe. You may head to the back of the stage.
---
u/missforadollar your Patti Lupone made us all put down the phone.
u/TelevisionHeaven your Duo Lingo, the Owl, left us a notification that you’re present in the competition.
....

u/TelevisionHeaven Condragulations you are the winner of this week’s maxi challenge!

Dollar you are safe and may head to the back of the stage.
u/soupcereal you are also safe.
---
u/JohnTheLesbian your Moira Rose had the crowd go mild.
u/FreedomWillowTree your Elliott With 2Ts is cancelled.
u/CremationBloc your Gwyneth Paltrow made Chris Martin leave again.
…
u/JohnTheLesbian you are safe, by the skin of your teeth. You may head to the back with the other girls.

u/FreedomWillowTree and u/CremationBloc, I'm sorry by dears but you are up for elimination. The time has come for you to lip sync.... FOR YOUR LIIIIIIIFE!!!!!! Good luck, and don't fuck it up!

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Who should win the lip sync? Vote here! Voting closes soon.

After finishing my social transition I have been moving on with my life and had to deal with the consequences of transitioning. I stepped away from the box I had put myself in during my transition and been working on how to incorporate the fact that I transitioned as I live the rest of my life.
This is one entry in a series of posts drawn out of notes and journal entries. A link to all of the posts can be found in my transition journey.
As with all my posts, this is comprised of notes from my journey, from someone that knew something was off since childhood and transitioned well past puberty had done its thing. Your journey will be different, YMMV applies to this community more than most, and there is no right or wrong way.

Transition Consequences

Dealing with the consequences of transitioning can take up a lot of time. This might be finding a new friend after your lifetime one fades, finding a new church after they toss you out, going through the divorce process, redefining what your marriage looks like, changing jobs because of your coming out, etc. They are all things that you at some point have to deal with because of your transition.

Friends

During my transition, my best friend of more than a decade, who I was very close to, and a huge part of my life pulled away. He was someone who I never tired of hanging out with so his absence was missed. He was the one and the only relationship I didn't want to lose by transitioning and it hurt for a long time. We have reconnected, but it is a different friendship.

Parents

My father who I kept talking with and continuously held out hope would eventually come around started posting anti-trans hate online and I realized he would not accept me and much worse both I and my family could never be safe around him. Later I learned that even though he promised, he still uses male pronouns and my deadname when I am not around. I had hoped him going through the grieving process would be months, but realizing that we were years later and he was still at the same point as when I came out to him was disappointing. This behavior was no longer something he was going through, but now the new normal.
Even if I didn't ever need it, my parents were always the ones I could call in an emergency, a place I could stay, but now I know all of that is gone. I expect to see him now and then at maybe a family gathering, but for all intents and purposes, I have cut him out of my life. I hoped he could be part of my life and I could share with him the joy, trials, and tribulations like you want to with any parent, but I now know that won't happen. Maybe he can grow at some point in the future and we can re-connect, but I am not holding up my life waiting.

Marriage

Before I started transitioning my marriage wasn't in good shape. The first year of my transition I was all consumed and my wife was pretending it wasn't happening which made things much worse. On the other side of coming out, I recognized that this was a core area of my life that needed work. Even if the marriage didn't survive, because we had a daughter we would still be in each other's lives. Across 2019 and 2020 I spent more and more time working with my wife on our relationship. Dedicating time to talk through issues from our past, our goals, and in general spending time together was important. Investing in our relationship, learning, and working on being better. I became significantly more involved with my family, both as a parent and as a wife.
There are so many scripts that couples perform, maybe they are from patriarchy and gender roles, or copying our parents. We started questioning them one after another and we began to toss many of them out. There was even one script we both hated, but we're doing it because that is "the way things are". From the bedroom to the kitchen and everywhere in between as we questioned assumed behavior and changed it to be what we wanted we ended up much happier. Change wasn't always easy, but we both grew a lot. We are not competing with each other like two women in the same household. There is more overlap now, more sharing of responsibilities.
One day my wife gave me a note that I will always cherish that says "You are a much better wife than you were a husband".

Trans Broken Arm Syndrome, it is more than only medical

When seeking help from the doctor's office and elsewhere you will need to learn how to respond when someone immediately pulls the trans card. When seeking help from a marriage counselor we suffered through several sessions of the therapist bringing every single topic back to my transition. This was frustrating as we both knew that our issues were plain old relationship issues around communication, sex, finances, family, and more. After that experience, I started seeing the same behavior in a number of places when I or other trans individuals were asking for help.
This seems to especially apply to any sort of advice around dealing with other people. Your boss can be an asshole. Your teenager can be an annoying teenager. Your parents can be grouchy and old. Your romantic partner might not be right for you. Friends can drift away as life moves you apart. All of these are everyday things that happen to everyone and when asking for advice you don't want them to say it must be because you are trans and be unable to come up with any of the advice that they would give to everyone else.
The further I get from my transition the more irrelevant it is to my day to day life.
Being able to quickly shut down any discussion that everything is because I transitioned and not normal everyday issues takes some practice. Even simpler not bringing up my transition unless I think it is actually relevant.

Sexuality and Sexual orientation

Self-reported change in sexual orientation is a common phenomenon after transitioning. As a result, spending time figuring out your sexual orientation and exploring your sexuality frequently happen. Dating, experimenting, or at least talking through what changed in your sexuality is common.
Regardless of how any personal changes will make you feel, other people might radically change the way they see and treat you sexually. Even simple things like snuggling with someone on the couch can be different.
Like so many others, my sexuality changed. Throughout my writing, I mentioned small things, but by last fall it was something I could no longer deny had changed and I was at least bi, maybe straight. At the start of my transition, I was confident that I would identify as a lesbian and when things changed I struggled with my loss of attraction to women. Sexuality was never on my transition “goal list”. Understanding this reality required many conversations with my therapist.
Attempting to discuss this topic in any depth with the LGBT community, feels like something to avoid. It is a hot button topic with many polarizing opinions. I have tried talking about my experience a few times, but I end up feeling so deflated. Being told (by trans women no less) that “if you find men attractive now, then you must always have” is frustrating. There is no way for me to reply to such a statement other than "No, I didn't". Maybe these women were attracted to men before, and are reflecting their own feelings on to me, but that doesn't mean they are correct. Having someone in the LGBT community deny me my sexuality and tell me they know more about me than I do, hurts.
I thought I would have to have another big coming out. However, I quickly realized most people simply assume I am straight.
I further worried that if I told people I was straight, they would make incorrect assumptions. People would conclude that the only reason I transitioned, was so that I would not be a “gay man”. Not only would this disregard the gender I have always known myself to be (a woman), but it also disregards the fact I was attracted to women before transitioning.
The most unexpected thing about this is how natural my current sexuality feels. The idea of being with a man feels completely right in the way that being with a woman did before. I feel as though I should be mourning the loss of my previous sexuality, and yet I can’t because the thought of being with a man feels instinctively right.
This change complicates my marriage. I did not keep my wife in the dark on it as I was figuring it out. I can't definitively say what is going to happen with us.
Trying to figure out why your sexual orientation changed, or what label works best for you is not what matters. If you feel something has changed, it is important is to take the time to process what the change means for you.

Miscellaneous

I went to work one day without makeup by accident and ... the world didn't end.
I hurt my shoulder and had to get an x-ray. I was asked if I was pregnant, said no, the tech then asked if I was married, said yes, pondered a moment and then they decided I also had to sign a form saying that I wasn't pregnant before she would start.
I don't feel guilt over blending into society as a woman because I don't have the genetics and worked my ass off and was relentless to get to where I am.
I met a man who does audiobooks and taught him how to have a good female voice. He now can have way better sounding female characters in the books he narrates. Having amazing vocal control both as a singer and as a voice actor he was able to pick up in a few hours what took me months. It was amazing to watch him progress so effortlessly.
I went from rarely cooking to cooking many of the meals in our house over the last few years as I have embraced this gender role and have a lot of fun with it.
Someone told me they like my name. This felt odd because after having used it for several years now it is just my name. But then I remembered how back when I first picked it, the idea of telling someone else who had picked theirs that it was nice would have felt perfectly natural.
I came out at work two years ago. Given how visible my transition was, it is surprising how many people I now interact with at work who don't know. I thought I would have to change jobs to experience that.
After getting my breasts played with I made a joke about how good this felt and I should have grown breasts years ago, only to have it spit back in my face that I had grown them years ago.
I had a dream I was pregnant. The baby started kicking and my daughter put her hand on my stomach and gave me the biggest smile as we both got to feel the baby move. Having accepted that I could never be pregnant so long ago this was both unexpected and was a hard thing to wake up to.
Still using a not flattering bikini I bought a few summers ago I went swimsuit shopping to get anything better. Turns out you can get long torso swimsuits online and found an amazing one that is so much more flattering.
I still occasionally look in a reflective surface and smile that this is me.

Three years HRT

June 26th will be an important day for me forever, I didn't try to celebrate as I have in the past, but I did make sure to take some time to privately reflect and do something for myself. And to my surprise, my spouse gave me flowers.
Over the last year, my body has continued to change, but they are all subtle and none of them are life changing by themselves. My hair grew longer, breasts grew bigger, fat and muscle continued to change especially on my butt and thighs, and more. Each might be a small change, but they do add up and I saw someone for the first time in a year and she couldn't get over how much more feminine I had become.
The first year was patiently waiting for changes, the second year was socially transitioning while being visibly trans and a million changes occurred, the third year was living my life and switching to not actively disclosing I was trans. In a way, it felt like this third year was the first year I lived and was treated as a woman. While I know the first or second year counted as my first year of "full time" for medical reasons, the third year felt like my first true year that I was me.
Things that were new, no longer are. My clothes are just my clothes. Some have even needed to be mended or had to be replaced. The idea that I would get nervous or someone would look at me funny with what I am wearing is now odd. Hanging out with other women is normal. Having a woman's voice, going out in public seen as a woman (be that jeans or a dress), and being mansplained is nothing special. I no longer worry and fret over every detail about how I look. I rarely wonder if I pass or not.

Being comfortable

It is hard to describe how comfortable I am with myself these days. Seeing myself in the mirror, picking out what to wear, going about my life, it is all so normal (minus what my upcoming SRS will deal with of course). Maybe this is how cis individuals feel?
Early in my transition before my social transition, my best friend asked me if I would want to get rid of my breasts eventually. The question shocked me, confused me, and honestly made me sad for a long time because it showed how badly a job I had done telling him what I was going through. It was asked it as though this was a phase and I would get tired of my breasts.
Only now can I understand why he would ask that. He is comfortable in his body and as much as he would enjoy breasts for a day, he wouldn't want them permanently and they would make him uncomfortable. At the time he still saw me as a guy and so he assumed that I would feel the same way as he would.
In the same way that he couldn't fathom being comfortable with breasts, I could never be comfortable without breasts. This of course ... is called gender dysphoria and for him, the idea of having breasts would induce it in him while for me not having breasts induces it in me.
That conversation stayed with me all this time and it was closure being able to finally experience what it is like to be comfortable with one's own body and understand what and why he was asking what he did.

Discrimination?

Having lived long enough where I was perceived as a white male I now occasionally wonder if something minor that happened was discrimination. Was that discrimination because I am a woman? Because I have a wife? Because I transitioned? Or was it random and it would have happened regardless? I will never know and it can really mess with your head sometimes. I at least have experiences from before and know how often it is random luck and not discrimination. But still... was it?

Weight

During the COVID-19 quarantine I put on 10lbs I noticed that it went straight to my hips/breasts. I might not have hip bone changes like teenagers get, but I do have the fat distribution that the women in my family have.
I have found as my weight approaches underweight or overweight it causes me to look more masculine than a healthy weight. Either all you see is the male bone structure or the excess fat begins going to my gut. But being in the healthy range the fat really feminizes my body. So I have a healthy band that I will try to keep my weight for the rest of my life.

VFS (Voice Feminization Surgery)

If I had to rank my dysphoria, my voice might be at the top. I started changing my voice even before starting HRT and had a feminine voice even before I socially transitioned, but a few times a day, every day I drop my pitch and the constant dysphoria was hard to deal with. No one else would notice, but I did. After much debate, I decided the significant risks of VFS were worth it for me. The full details on my VFS post. Post surgery my new baseline pitch is now in the androgynous, low female range which is good enough to alleviate my dysphoria.

Being visible for the next person

When I came out I was incredibly visible everywhere including where I worked. I still work at the same place and one day someone else came out. Later they told me that watching my transition was the reason. While I struggled with the way I came out and being so visible, knowing I could help them be true to themselves made being as open as I was worth it.

Blending and becoming invisible

Blending is separate from going stealth, but they can feel so intertwined it can be hard to separate them.
Growing up I was not aware of all the trans women that had transitioned in the past and we're living their lives. I saw the James Bond film "For Your Eyes Only" as a teenager, but I didn't know one of the bond women (Caroline Cossey) was open about being transgender. The fact that these women had transitioned was old news. The women I needed as role models were there and even open about the fact they had transitioned, but they were still invisible to me. The only visibility I had was the shit show and hate the media gave me.
Blending and becoming invisible is not about choosing to go stealth or not. It is about what happens after your transition and you continuing to live your life. A life filled with so many things that are not transgender related. It is about no longer being at the awkward phase, but consistently being seen and treated as a woman. Blending into society, a society that doesn't see you as trans. Even if you are not stealth, by living your life blending means there will be no doubt plenty of people who do not know that you transitioned.
I noticed how by living my life I was blending. I spent a fair amount of time feeling like I was going stealth without choosing to. Separating the two concepts helped elevate that and I want to explicitly call it out for those who go through the same thing.

Lost

For the last 18 or so months I have been struggling a lot more than I would like to admit. I had a month by month list of things to do the first two years and I accomplished them all. After that, I noticed I didn't really fit in the community, but I wasn't able to move on. I was trying everything, even telling people that I was moving on, but ... I wasn't.
I spent a lot of time finishing transition stuff thinking that would help. I also tried getting into my old passions, but they never seemed to stick. I completely failed to set and go after new life goals.
I wanted to move on, but I found it was too tempting to jump back into the trans spaces and I did that constantly. I don't want to be an activist, but being a mentor and helping others felt useful and this place was such a safe place for me. I was feeling more and more burned out thinking about my transition so much.
Even if I kept saying I was moving on I had this nagging feeling that I actually hadn't. This reached a peak when after my VFS surgery when I wasn't allowed to talk for three weeks I realized I was still thinking about trans stuff 24/7.

Looking for help

There is a lot of information about how to transition, but very little about the end. I was constantly on the lookout and asking any elder I ran across what happens after year two. I got a lot of tips about things they wished they had finished earlier (which I did do), but no advice that could help with this feeling of being lost.
One evening I came across a page on Lynn Conway's site about Life as a woman after transition - To assimilate or not to assimilate. In it, she describes exactly what I had been feeling and going through and how to resolve it. How consciously or unconsciously trans women can either stay "stuck in transition" or they can move towards social assimilation as women and everything that it means.
This was a profound statement. I had been spending all my time looking back at my transition rather than looking forward. Realizing that I could at any time choose to change was exactly what I needed. I also realized how I had ended up here.

Being "trans" (or how I ended up here)

I recall talking with my therapist early on about how if I was a teenager I would absolutely come out that day, and start living as a girl to the fullest that instant. But because I was in my 30's, house, mortgage, marriage, a child I felt I had to take it slow. Not only did I feel that was how I had to do this, but a number of people told me the same. This attitude worked well in making my transition smooth, but it forced me to put myself in an in-between box.
The first year on HRT I was still in the closet presenting as a guy, the second year many still saw me as a man, I dressed androgynously a lot of the time, still working at the same place where many knew me from before, and even at home while I wasn't dad anymore I wasn't quite mom yet. In the third year, everything was dramatically better, but being trans was still part of my primary identity.
For most of my transition, I was visibly seen as "trans". It is hard not to when you might still look masculine, your ID still has your deadname or the countless other things we go through. Even most of the people you interact with knew you from before. You don't have much of a choice. I wasn't a woman who was also transgender, I was someone who was often straddling both genders in so many ways. At a party early in my social transition, I found myself struggling and laughing to myself as I could and did hang out and chat with both the group of men and the group of women. As time moved on and even as others no longer saw someone who was trans I realize now I comfortable I had become with this identity.
I admit I liked my identity as someone who is trans. I did a pretty good job transitioning and delved into every topic imaginable to a degree that astounds even me. I was okay talking about it and I knew how others would treat me as a visible trans woman. I even would justify my trans activities by saying I was only doing them to help me move on.
I also realize how I had been using being trans as a crutch in a few places. Those at work that knew me from before we're fine with me being assertive, that is all they ever knew.
Being "trans", I knew what to do and it was ironically, safe. Being seen only as a woman and not a trans woman was intimidating when it started happening. The idea of changing jobs and working with people that didn't know I had transitioned was scarier than I would like to admit.
This is deeper than being out and proud. I had become comfortable being that person who is/was transitioning for far too long. I felt I was still in the in-between role where others could treat me like a guy or not treat me as a woman and I might be disappointed, but I would only moderately push back. Even how long it took me to admit out loud that I wanted to have SRS was related to this.
I now understand why my favorite coming out experiences was a one liner at most. I was saying I was a woman without all of the baggage of being trans that I had given other people. For a few people, I got to experience what it is like to live outside the box early on.
I realize that what had been a safe place initially was now a hindrance to me being a woman and this was never supposed to be my destination. And even as others didn't see me that way I was still putting myself in the "trans" box and I had kept myself there for way longer than I should have. It was what I needed to do to survive at the time, but not now. I have been wandering around outside that box for a while now, but I kept going back to it like a safety blanket.

Moving on

Realizing that moving on is a choice I can make at any time was powerful. From that moment on there was no going back. This is different than when I said I was "done" and stopped doing so many trans activities to try to get my life back. It was a major mental shift. I finally get to be who I wanted to be at the start of my transition. I stopped thinking about myself as someone who is trans, but instead as a woman who had endured a transition.
This choice to move on gave me the confidence to no longer put myself in the in between box to make someone else feel comfortable. I even told my parents that they needed to stop using male pronouns and my deadname if they want to see me or their granddaughter. I gave them a pass at the start, something I thought would last months, but I had let it continue for approaching three years.
Living my life as a woman means I stop confining myself to the trans universe. I stop being someone who is happy to talk about my transition, but instead point those who ask to the numerous resources online. When I would see a question online I would frequently answer it, but now I will let the next group that is transitioning answer. They already are. When someone asks a question to women I no longer answer it from both sides, only how I see it as a woman.
While I might stop doing things it is actually much more about looking forward. For the first time realizing I am facing all of the same issues, women face as they enter adulthood. Career, family, friends, hobbies, love? I had thought about them to some extent in the past, but it was always some far off thing, now I realize they are all right here, right now.
I am leaving behind the person who I needed to be for a few years and becoming the woman I am. In the process, I will be leaving the world that had helped me so much in my transition.
For many, including me, transitioning was similar to going to college. It becomes part of your identity, you wear the sweatshirt, you have the car sticker, follow the school news. For some people where they went to school is a huge part of their identity for the rest of their life, but for most people including me, it fades after a few years. It comes up now and then, mostly when applying for new jobs and every once in a while I meet someone else who went there also and we joke about our favorite teacher and commiserate about the annoying campus for a minute or two, but then move on from the past to present-day topics. I feel like I am a new graduate and am starting my first adult job while still thinking about my old class life.
I had some vague ideas at the start of my transition that there could be a far off future, but so much of it was only about making it to the next step. I did do things to set me up for a possible future, but I was much more concerned with the next few months than the next decade. Having succeeded beyond my wildest dreams I now am choosing to stop dwelling on my transition and move on.

Stealth

Blending, combined with being less vocal about being trans I found myself entering the world of stealth. I researched it, reading so many stories about the cons and pros, asking questions, and even wrote entire drafts of posts on this topic.
For at least a year I thought the struggle that I had been going through was about going stealth or not. I tossed everything I had written out when I realized I was looking at it from inside the box. It is not about if I will go stealth or not, but about figuring out how to integrate the fact that I transitioned with my life, now and in the future. My future life will direct and lead where I am going, not my transition.

Defining stealth

Ask ten different people that transitioned what they define as stealth and you will get ten different answers. But if you look closely at the core in all the answers, stealth means that you will interact with people who do not know you transitioned.
Maybe it is only the cashier at the grocery store. Maybe it is everyone including even your significant other. The important thing is finding where across that spectrum you want to be and how you want to accomplish that.
From everything I have read going stealth to a degree where no one or practically no one knows is a very unpleasant thing to do, an isolating closet you don't want to put yourself in, and not something I ever plan on doing. Worst of all it can result in internal transphobia and self hate. Searching around you can find countless testimonials on this.
Conversely to be stealth where only some random people out in public don't know means that being trans is my primary identity. For example, I would always wear a transgender pin and hang a transgender flag up at work and more.
I personally have little interest in being at either end of this spectrum.

Going "Quiet"

Two years ago when I first was grappling with my new blending experiences and confusing it with stealth I honestly had zero possibility of actually going stealth. I was in a privileged position where I could keep my job, my wife didn't immediately divorce me, and I wasn't forced to move. I was so naive. The best thing I could come up with was Going Quiet which was much more of a goal I could work towards, but at the time it was only skin deep. It did at least set me up for where I am today.
It has been a different thing grappling with the reality that as I move on I will have to decide who to tell if anyone. That idea that after I change jobs there will be no reason for anyone there to know that I transitioned and I will be faced with someone "outing me". The idea that I could make a friend who I might need to decide to come out to or not. The idea that ten years from now so many people might not know that I transitioned that I might have to go through the horrible process of "coming out" all over again. This is an issue that will be with me for the rest of my life. I only now understand when someone once told me that coming out never ends.

"Going stealth"

For many "going stealth" has less to do with leaving behind their pre-transition life and is instead all about leaving beind their transition. Those that saw you during your transition will often treat you differently than those who meet you after your transition. And you yourself are a different person than the awkward individual going through a second puberty.
By that definition, I will be "going stealth". I will be open to doing those things like getting a new job, new friends, change where I live, and more to leave behind the person I was in my transition.

Know where you live and the laws

We might have come a long way in the last 50 years, but transphobia is still a very real thing. Many of the stories from the '90s and early '00s actually feel similar to what I have seen and experienced today. There are many good people, but there are still bad eggs.
Know about where you live. Start by researching in places like the lgbt equality map. Either move or be involved and help make where you live a better place not only for yourself but for those who come after you. This can be helping to pass laws at the government level, but just as important improving policies at your children's school and your workplace. Help other trans individuals change their id's and get registered to vote. Always vote, always.
Knowing what laws are there to protect you can help take away a lot of the fear.

Lying

I won't lie. I won't put myself in a position where I have to lie or have to remember which lie I told to which person. Lying will eat you from the inside. When I get a new job, I'll tell HR so they know from the start and have my back. If someone asks if I am transgender I'll tell them, but they won't get any of the transition stories.
Not wanting anyone to know can hold you back, such as avoiding jobs that have real background checks. I want to accomplish and do things in my life and I won't avoid them because I transitioned in my past. It might be harder, but those are my terms.

Less alone than you think

Lots of people also experience the never ending coming out. Gay, lesbian, poly, and more, but also those who are not LGBT such as vegetarians. Most people have a story to tell the world about what makes them unique.

Find a friend or two

Over my transition, I made a few friends with other trans women. Between them, Reddit, and elsewhere am I sure I will be able to have a group who understands trans issues when I need to talk or vent about it. I won't keep those feelings all bottled up inside of me where they can cause harm.

Hate

There are some people who will hate you for what you are and there is nothing you can do. You can't change them, convince them or anything else. They hate you not because you are you, but because what you represent. They will try to dehumanize you. They will try to get under your skin. All you can do is avoid them. Life is too short to deal with every asshole.

Fear

If people don't know it can cause you to feel like if you ever tell anyone you are trans you are giving them ammunition that will eventually be used against you. You will then be constantly worried that one day they will publish it everywhere causing you to lose your job, your reputation, your friends. It doesn't matter if that fear is way less true these days especially with all of the new laws in the last 20 years, it is always there in the background.
It is important to note that bad experiences during your transition are not necessarily going to happen later when you are seen and act differently.
What happens if you are outed? Someone asked this question recently and the replies are worth reading: Experiences with being stealth and then outed? The tl;dr is that if you lose some friends, they were not friends you wanted in the first place.
Further helping to remove the fear is working on yourself. Working on self acceptance and confidence by yourself or with a therapist will go a long way. I explicitly did this earlier this year.
When it isn't a secret, when other people already know, only then does it mean I won't be worried sick that someone will find out. I will also feel comfortable outing myself if an appropriate situation arises.

Someone finds out

If someone find out, that is okay.
I want to take away the power of finding out I am trans. I won't advertise, but I won't hide it either. Casual colleagues or acquaintances might never know. If someone wanted to actually know more about me they would find out I am trans with relative ease. And if they find out, they won't be the first, nor the last and they will be denied the prize of "figuring it out". When confronted I won't be embarrassed and will answer honestly. I don't really know how many will ask, but others that do this report that they are rarely if ever asked.

Treatment & Friends

From what I can gather the moment you tell someone you transitioned they immediately make all sorts of assumptions about you with what they think a trans woman is and in their mind, you lose your entire identity and become "trans".
Unlike when I was transitioning where I was happy to talk about it for hours I will do the minimal amount to help them understand what a trans woman is, but beyond that my response will be to send them to Google to learn more. The more they know about my particular transition the more that identity I will become for them. Yes, I transitioned, but that is where it ends, and being consistent, insistent, persistent in everything else that I am will continue to show them the woman I am. I am not their LGBT ambassador, I am not whatever they think "trans" means.

Disclosure

Rather than telling anyone or everyone there needs to be a reason to disclose. Will it improve our friendship or our relationship? If I do decide to disclose to someone setting aside a time and place to do it right and not doing it out of the blue is the best advice I have heard.

Dating

I have read advice suggesting every possible option on disclosure as viable (and not viable) as well as countless stories of heartache. But I do love julhoag comment for the brutal honesty

men treat me worse when they know, generally. I guess not unlike being the ugly or fat girl in a group. just, as if I am of no use to them.

#notallmen
This is a topic that has been discussed many times over. Searching on Reddit for older posts on this topic will provide countless hours of reading. One in depth article on this, checkout discussion around disclosure and dating.
One thing written over and over by so many is to not settle for a bad relationship. Don't be with someone who is ashamed to be seen with you in public and won't introduce you to their friends. Other trans women have tried this and they all report back that it isn't worth it. You are worthy of love.

Visibility

I know I have some privilege as someone ended up passing after transition. Beyond keeping my sanity by being okay if other people know, I first hand understand the benefits of being visible as well as making transitioning more acceptable in society.

Not set in stone

How open you are is a personal choice and there are many factors involved. I believe I have a good foundation for how I will live my life. It is an ongoing story that can also change. Plenty of trans women that didn't disclose to anyone have returned to the community years later and or become more open in everyday life.

My story

I remember at the start being terrified of how this journey would go and how others would see and treat me. I had been taught such a negative perspective of trans women that I assumed I would lose everything and there would be a very real chance that someone would kill me. The reality was far different. There was abandonment, but there was also support, kindness, and caring from so many people. There were setbacks and struggles, but there was also joy and wonder. If I could go back and talk to myself it would be to say that not only will they survive, but they will get to have a life after transitioning.
One of the most powerful moments in my transition was the day after I came out at work. I was getting dressed for work and realized that day would be the first day of the rest of my life. I wasn’t fully prepared and I still had a lot of work to do. It was at a moment that seemed impossibly far off in the future when I started. It was a step that I had looked forward to for so long and making it meant I would never return to the way things were before.
One day I wrote in my journal about the things that went well and the things that didn't go so well in my transition. Halfway through I stopped and took a step back. I realized that to construct such a list I must be at the end.
For years I have been on this journey, growing and changing and even it has been coming to an end for a while now it’s powerful realizing that all of the exciting adventurous parts are in the past and are now only memories that I will cherish. That last day of school where you realize you will probably never see some of your friends again. The last day of a long vacation. Turning the page to realize you are on the last page of a book you couldn’t put down. The last mile of an epic journey. The end of my transition.
Deciding to move on, look forward and live my life caused me to let go of my transition rather than trying to hold onto it as I have for more than a year. It is something I did, not something I am doing. Here it is, the good and the bad. Sure, I will do things related to being transgender in the future, but this, this here was my transition story.

My roommate Don is a 20-year-old man who sleeps on the bottom half of a bunkbed, and no one sleeps on top. Not even when he brings home company would he allow anyone to sleep above him, not that a girl would want to, it’s not very romantic. When we first moved in together, as a joke, I got on top of it. He'd been done putting it together and went inside the bathroom. When he saw me, he became a different person. Pulled me down, I hit the floor with a thud, and he yelled that I was a “piece of shit,” and that I should of asked before hopping on his stuff like that. It was a side of him that made me feel for a second I had moved in with a stranger. After he calmed down, he was so apologetic that it furthered that feeling beyond anything prior.
It’s a Don thing, and I leave it be. I have no idea why he reacted like that, and I’m afraid to ask. It doesn’t matter, because nothing like that ever happened again. It was that one thing.
See? People have their quirks, their instances of abnormality, and things happen sometime for no logical reason at all on surface, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a sensible reason if you dig. If I had additional information about who Don was, it would make perfect sense as to why he reacted like that, even if it hadn’t made sense at that moment.
That being said, there’s something that I’m dealing with that has me in a similar position. If you have any theories, any logical explanation, I’d say go for it. My life may depend on it.
It's a Friday afternoon in September. I’m in my cold-as-fuck, tiny ass apartment, or dorm, or whatever you want to call it. My walls thumped against the bass of Don’s stereo. I enter the living room, Don’s inhabitance -- the only other room in the apartment. The room smells like it’s bathed in axe body spray, but this is a good thing. Why? Because it means dickface is heading out soon. I’ll have the next few hours of peace and quiet before I head out for my 5pm sociology class –- my only class for the day. I go to our half-a-kitchen, make me an egg sandwich, and while doing so, the music cut off. Don came up behind and punched me in the shoulder. I flinch so hard half of the eggs in my sandwich drop to the floor. I glare at him.
“Oh, shit, my bad, bro. Leave it there. I’ll clean it up later, promise,” he said.
I can never tell if he’s being sarcastic, genuine, or if he’s really that stupid. None are a good look.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m guessing you're going to calc? Don’t wanna be late.”
“What? Nah, bro, I went this morning while you were out taking photos for your photography, whatever club.”
I sighed and retaliated that he didn’t even have class today to begin with. I tricked him. He’s going to a party or whatever the fuck with his drop-out clique.
You truly don’t know a person until you start living with them.
I digress, he tells me that there’s this party that’ll be going on from 5pm to late-as-fuck hours and it’s for a birthday of whoever. What’s important, though, is why he was so excited to go. There’s this girl named Brittany that Don has been trying to sly-dog maneuver ever since the semester had started. I immediately have a problem with this. Not because I also had a crush on her or anything, I have a girl of my own, but because I know Brittany shares my 5pm class. We had a mid-semester exam. I wasn’t friends with Brittany or anything, but I couldn’t imagine she was as much of a goof-off as Don is.
“Yeah, I don’t think she’s showing up,” I explained while pouring myself a glass of eggnog.
“What? Nah, fuck that, she’s coming. This is it, bro. I’m gonna score.”
He was so confident that she’d come despite my warning of the exam. His reason was sort of solid. Brittany’s cousin was the one hosting the party. I guessed the rhetoric here is that since her cousin is hosting, she would be more obliged to skip out.
So, whatever, whatever, a few hours pass. Don is gone, I’m dressed, I then walk-through campus, find my class, and we all wait for the professor. Sure enough, Brittany shows up. Yet another thing I’m right about. I snicker to myself of how frustrated my horndog roommate is gonna be. I’ll admit, I saw the appeal. Red, straight hair down her shoulders, wore black eyeliner masterfully, and had an obvious strict gym schedule. The professor goes on to announce that he’s ‘sorry’, but the exam is postponed due to some last-minute error I don’t quite remember. A wave of dismay erupted.
Brittany, like a fireball, lashed out. “Are you fucking me? I had my nose in that dingy book all night for what exactly?”
“Relax, Ms. Flowers. Not everything goes as plan. This isn’t elementary; it’s called being an adult,” our patronizing asshole of a professor said.
Brittany exploded. “Yeah, I wouldn’t be so fucking upset if you taught like a damn ‘adult’. This college bullshit is so crummy now. Always delays, always miraculously show up a minute before we’re allowed to legally leave like it’s some practical gag.”
My first thought was: “here we go again." Whenever these two got into it, the class tuned in like it was WWE Saturday night with the boys. But, to give it to Brittany, I can absolutely see where she was coming from. Freshman year at this university was like a dream, but as time went on, the board changed. Updates on the school website were unreliable even to the point of precariousness. The website itself lagged and would log you out mid-usage. Same could be said about the professors. See, this university is new, so we sophomores were technically its first class, and we’ll be the first to graduate. There was this sort of euphoria to that when we first arrived, like opening up a new box of shoes. Professors smiled all the time, almost every one of them had this burst in their step, this ebb and flow in the way they taught. Almost to the point of creepy, to be honest. However, it was so unlike what we thought college would be. The lectures weren’t so tense, not overly boring either. Though, if we were bored enough, we learned that our teachers ate up bullshit excuses to leave early like doggy treats. In response, most would smile, then tell us what chapter in whatever book was relevant to the lesson of that day. Like, there was no burden, you know? Counselors were responsive, easy going, schedules were manageable and negotiable to a ludicrous degree. Our dorms were spacious, well painted, and had decent sound proofing.
But when we all came back for August, things took a 180. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t expect the magic to last forever, but I didn’t expect it to be like a flipped switch. The professors always arrive at-, well as Brittany said. Hardly teach anything, they sort of recount what’s in the books and somehow convolute what's already convoluted in them. We watch short films and sketches to the point where something like our sociology class is more of a film study. Before, the naps I used to take during a rare boring lecture felt ever nourishing than ones I took in my own bed, to then be kindly awoken by whichever professor sometimes a whole 15 minutes after the session was over. In second year, I awake from long-winded lucid nightmares, then wake up to migraines with maybe 15 minutes since the class actually begun -- sheesh. People didn’t even make excuses to leave anymore, they got up and left. The halls lost their glossy texture, decorations peeled off the walls, and vending machines eat my fucking bills as if I’m the one who's supposed to be feeding it. Our dorm? Spacious, yes, and was fine at first. Over time the paint on the walls cracked, things break, our door handle keeps popping off, and our room is technically underground so there aren’t even any windows. But that was unfortunate circumstances that Don and I were one of the last people to get a room.
So, when I say that I understand why Brittany had begun getting so hostile and argue-mongering, I really get it.
However, in a rare moment of good graces, before everyone was about to get up and nope-out, Hamilton – our Professor – promised a detailed study-guide for the test. We haven’t received a study guide from him since freshman year, and they were the best. I mean, talk about all of the answers to the test spelled out for you. None of us wanted to pass-up an easy A. We all stayed, even Brittany.
Poor Don, so close.
Sorry for the tangent, but I somehow have this foreboding sensation that I needed to vent. That it was relevant to what happens next.
I get back home, it’s about 8pm -- did I mention the classes were longer? I lay in bed, text three of my five siblings and give my girl a discord call because to hell with studying.
I get a text from Don.
“Yo, buddy. I’m bringing a girl over. You mind cleaning the pad a bit? Man, I promise I’ll pay you back somehow.”
Fantastic. “Fine. Whatever.”
“Dude, I promise…thanks bud.”
Don’s living space: leftover wraps, spilled residue stained on the carpet, loose clothing, there's no telling the number of times I vacuumed after him. I get it done.
At around ten-ish, Don came back. I can smell the new flavor perfume. Of course, it ain’t Brittany. Her name was Diana. When she comes in, she’s glancing around the room with a blank expression, and she’s quiet. Don looks around the living room, sees how it’s cleaned up, and then gives me a wink. I roll my eyes. Typically, a girl who comes over has something snarky or funny to say about Don’s bunkbed, but Diana doesn’t say a thing about it, as if she has other things that outweigh any significance of his idiosyncrasy. Something about her mannerisms set me off a bit. Like I said, her expression came off as blank and pensive, but whenever Don said something to her, especially something of a typical goofy Don-ish one-liner, her expression changed in an instant.
This is gonna be an odd comparison, but have you ever seen the movie: "Spider-Man: Homecoming"? You know that scene where Liz, Peter’s prom date, are in a car and she shows him some picture of the cute whatever on her phone? Peter feigns a smile and says something like: “oh wow that’s really cute,” but when she pulls the phone away, he comically goes back to a stern, nervous, face because he’s realized their driver – her dad - is actually a crazy vulture murderer? It was just like that. Don would say something funny, call to her attention, then her dimples would punctuate, her eyes would gleam, but when Don had finished his point or took his focus away, she would look back straight ahead and continued that blank expression.
I asked if she’s okay, and she nods her head: 'yes'.
I pull Don to the side, inside my room to be specific. “Is she okay?”
Don doesn’t know what I mean.
“She’s acting weird. Like she doesn’t wanna be here.”
“What? No way, she’s the one who asked to come back to my place because Sal doesn’t like company.”
Sal is Diana’s roommate.
“Promise, bro. It’s probably because you’re cramping our style. She’s like a social butterfly when it’s just me and her.”
“Oh, what the fuck ever, Don. Fine, I’ll be in my room. You’re welcome by the way, asshole.”
I stay in my room, Don obviously doesn’t. We’re all asleep by 2:30am.
It’s bizarre, can’t fathom what woke me up so early. It’s a whopping 5:30am. Way to go, managed to wake up in 3 hours. I grunt, there’s no going back no matter what. Yes, am that type of person. Figure a cup of coffee and some Netflix should carry me through the morning. Whilst tiptoeing to get in our kitchen through the living room, I notice some slithers of light around the edges of the door. This indicates it isn't locked and closed all the way.
Idiot forgot to lock it behind him when they came in. I scoffed, noticing the knob was also loose.
Hadn’t paid attention the night before, but Don must have forgotten to be gentle when twisting it, thus reoccurring this pain. I play with it a little, wondered how much fixing it needed. I sigh with a smile when I’m able to firm it back into place after some toying. I try to make sure it functioned properly by opening and closing the door since it wasn’t a creak-er and thus wouldn’t make too much ruckus.
There was a “clack”. While it wasn't locked, I forgot stupid Don had a habit of only using the chain lock. Another one of his quirks. By instinct, I snap my head towards the bunkbed. Good, Don wasn’t disturbed. I push the door centimeter by centimeter until it’s shut.
Wait, what?
My eyes flare up, and I do a double take. Looked closer, felt creepy as I did, but it had to be confirmed. It was only Don.
My first thought was: “Man, she jumped ship early.”
Wasn’t surprised though, with how uncomfortable she looked night before.
Rest of my morning carried on without a hitch.
“What the fuck?”
I must have managed to doze off because I remember flinching hard over Don’s outburst.
“Yo, bro, you mind taking a look at this?”
Don stood by his bunkbed and held articles of clothing in his hands. Didn’t see anything wrong, but that was before the realization came about what type of clothing it was. A bra, panties, blouse, womanly items.
Don looked at me with a blue, pale face. “I’m a bit freaked out, man. She’s not here. She’s not here but her clothes are, what the fuck?”
The feeling of wanting to laugh and being concerned clashed inside me like two titan veterans.
“Well, I mean I noticed she was gone this morning. I figured you must have-“
Don interrupted me. “No, I was sleep all morning. I woke up like 3 minutes ago man.”
“Well, she’s been gone since this morning, Don. Pretty damn early too,” I said.
“Did you let her out?”
“No. She got up before both of us. Honestly, she was quiet about it… she could have took us out in our sleep,” I laughed.
“Not funny, man. Why would she leave? Why without her clothes? I mean, I knew she was a little odd, but this is crazy.”
“Told you she looked uncomfortable last night. She probably wanted out. Snuck out while you were sleep. I mean, you did leave the door unlocked. She could have waited till you were sleep, got up and-“
At that moment, mid-sentence, a thought flashed in my mind that halted my thinking process. The kind of epiphany that introduces a concept that raises more questions than answers. Some part of your logical mind attempts to answer those questions because the brain doesn’t want to process any suggestions that something out of the ordinary, something truly strange, has happened. So, I’m stuck there in front of Don trying to put pieces together in my head, but he then utters something that breaks the mood and made me laugh.
“So, is the bitch a nudist or something?”
Ever just had a thought slip away from you? After laughing at his remark, I tried thinking about what I was gonna say, but I couldn’t quite grasp it. Whatever it was, my mind would rather toss it aside than confront it head on.
In response, I suggested she probably threw one of his own sweatpants and shirts on. He checked to no avail.
It hits us that we have a problem.
“Drugs?” I said.
Don shrugged.
I go back to my room. We decided we would wait for her return. If she didn’t return by night, we’d have to call the police.
Hours pass. No sign of her knocking at our door. Like, this girl vanished. Started to feel my palms and neck sweat. We start calling friends who know of her. I tell Don to do it, and he does. People I also know of. He calls Tommy, Jessica, Rob, and finally her roommate: Sal. None seen her. On speaker volume, Sal says the last time she saw Diana was when she left with Don from Brittany's Cousin’s party.
Sal said she'll check with her parents and hung up.
…Alrighty then.
We left out the part about the clothes. I mean, for obvious reasons. Details like that are just…Yeah. Under panic-control.
Night came. Never thought a day of doing nothing could feel so long. 20 missed calls with the caller ID of "Mom" from the phone inside Diana's purse.
We call the police at evening.
Throughout the day, Don paced around the room. Didn’t play his usual video games. Couldn’t sit still while watching TV. Can’t lie, I was doing the same. Like, seriously, how the fuck could I end up in this position? I never talked to the police before in my life. A missing girl’s report, an eerie and suspicious one at that, was not how I wanted to start.
Don and I juggled mentioning the left behind clothes. In our situation, earnest folk would say: “of course you should tell them,” but in the heat of the moment, there are second, triple, quadruple thoughts that your mind pumps out. Don may seem dumb enough to sell a living butterfly with a two-month warranty, but even he can see obvious implications.
We end up telling the 911 operator everything. Minutes later, we hear a knock at the door. Had this false hope it was actually the girl, but a badge through the peephole slapped reality in my face. They were campus security. We told him the same thing we told the operator. Don brought her the night before. We fell asleep, we woke up and she was gone.
He gave no reaction to what was said. This dulled our nerves a bit. The thing about those clothes flowed into the convo smoothly. When done, the security man looked at us and said something along the lines of:
“Thank you. Everything is under control.”
He took out a plastic bag and requested he confiscate everything which was left behind by Diana. We follow suit. Before the man left, Don remembered something and pulled out a photo from his jacket. It was of him and Diana. Apparently, one of my photographer pals was at the party and took a surprise snapshot of them. The flash must have been pretty bright because Don had a big, cheesy grin, but Diana was squinting away from the camera like she were a vampire witnessing sunlight.
Photographic evidence of the last time she was seen, that’s actually useful.
That’s every relevant thing that happened between us and law enforcement. I had thought we would be taken for questioning; our faces would be on the news or some shit, but that didn’t happen.
Cool. But what happened to Diana?
Well, I’ll get to that, but before I do, it’s relevant to mention that the story doesn’t end there. There’s one more thing that happens that I need to talk about.
Brittany.
I’ll try to get through this one quickly.
The date was October 31st 2019. It had been some time after Diana’s disappearance. There’s no mention of her in the news or anything. She had calc with me on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but I never saw her anymore. I tried my best to move on.
Anyway, Halloween night means Halloween party, but I’m home. Guess who isn’t? At night, Don comes home with another girl.
He finally scored.
Brittany was in our home, and to be honest, I was impressed. Didn’t think she would go for a guy like Don. But hey, I’m not hating. They’re both dressed for the occasion. Brittany has on a Dracula cape, some pointy dentures, a vest, and some bloody makeup. As for Don… I don’t know what the fuck he was going for, but he looks like an idiot. Just imagine it, I’m pretty sure you can come up with something better, for his sake.
Anyway, when I greet them at the door, Brittany smiles and punched me in the arm.
“I can’t believe this dork is your roommate. It’s ******, is it? You’re in my sociology class!”
“Yup, it’s me,” I said. “How was the costume event?”
“It was baller,” Don said.
“It was fucking lame. Humid air, cramped, so loud, and no one complimented me on my costume. Jerks. I’m only with Don cause I didn’t feel like going back with my bitch of a roommate.”
Still the fireball. Hey, at least it wasn’t as weird as Diana. Anything beats that. I chatted with the two for a bit. Longer than I expected to, Brittany really holds a conversation. She kept going on about her roommate issues and ranting about school. Her perspective on things was really something. But it was also kind of strange. See, when I say, “ranting about school,” it isn’t to mean she was ranting about the school itself. Y’know, all the shit I was complaining about. She was referring to the students. How ungrateful those who were complaining were. How, yeah things haven’t been as enthusiastic, but that our professors are very hard working. We can’t expect them to hold the same cheerful attitude for too long. That we were lucky to be accepted to a university with all these benefits. Honestly, she had a point.
The advertisements for this university were incredible in what they offered. Free of tuition, low cost of dorms and books. 70% of what would cost a fortune in other schools were drastically cut. My parents and I thought it was a scam, and I entered to be selected as a joke. Though, open-house was so impressive that we had no choice but to give it a shot.
While she made these good arguments, it was strange that this was coming from her mouth. The person who always argued with Professor Hamilton and complained to him about how things were ran.
I guess you really don’t know a person until you chat with them. Perhaps you can chop it up to burst of anger. She has a problem with Hamilton alone, I suppose.
Before I could go back to my room, Brittany stopped me. She wanted me to take picture of them both. I obliged, but I didn’t want to do it with a regular iPhone. Halloween is my favorite holiday, and this would have been the only year where I didn’t take any really good costume photos. So, I took out my best digital camera. Don and Brittany posed. The flash erupted from the lens, both of them smiled together like an old couple.
Brittany clapped at the results. Although I had planned on going to my room, she ended up questioning me about my passion and hobby for photography. I instantly turn into a chatterbox. This eventually diverged into talking about our high-school experiences.
Something changed. As the conversation between the three of us continued, I noticed Brittany was starting to get reserved. She begun inputting less, had been less snarky, and was to the point. Her face flashed constantly, the type of face you would make when you forget something important.
“You okay, Brittany?”
Got flashbacks of Diana.
“I’m okay, thanks. I just…need to use the restroom. May I?”
Tone of her voice was unsure, low. We allowed her to go ahead and do what she needed to do.
Don looked at me when she was gone. “Cramping the style again, bro.”
“Shut up.”
Back to my room, decided it was time to isolate myself. My girlfriend calls on discord to watch a movie.
We’re towards the end of a movie when there’s a knock on the bathroom door.
“Hey, Brittany? Just checking to see if everything is alright,” I heard Don outside.
Didn't think too much of it. Girls usually take a while in the bathroom from my experience. I mute my girlfriend, pause the flick and check it out. Don had his ear pressed to the door.
When approached, Don shrugged. My turn. I call for her too, but she doesn’t respond. She may have passed out or something. My hands grasped the knob and I noticed I’m able to twist it all the way through. Get this feeling in me, like it’s weird that she wouldn’t lock the door behind her, but it’s put to the side as we creep in.
There’s never been a time where my first reaction was to wanna vomit.
Take a wild guess at what we see. Now a take a brilliant fucking guess at what we don’t see. On the bathroom floor lied the remains of everything Brittany had on, but no Brittany in sight. Her vest, her cape, everything she wore under, and even pair of pointy dentures.
We freak out.
We check everywhere for this girl, but there was no where she could have been but the bathroom.
I’ll skip details, what happens next is pretty much the same as what happened with Diana. Except, this time, before the police is called, I get the sneaking suspicion that perhaps he’s pranking me. I thought about it, it was the only logical conclusion at the time. This was an elaborate prank, and that security guard from last time was a poor actor.
“Alright, you got me,” I said.
At this point, Don looked like a wreck. He sat at the ends of his bottom bed, his face in two palms, and tapping his right foot.
When I announced my claim, he dragged his face up. “Are you kidding me? I’ll fucking kick your ass. Call the police, smartass. Look at me and say that this is a joke.”
Either he’s an amazing actor, or there’s something unexplainable going on.
But like I said, things happen like they did before. I call the police, a campus security guy comes over. This time, I’ll give him this, he’s a little bit more concerned. He’s digging for exact details to an extent he maybe should of last time. We end up telling him, step by step what happened. Like before, he confiscated everything. He even takes my camera. Actually, no, he takes all of my cameras. This didn’t make sense to me at first, but it did later on. If this girl was genuinely missing, I’d have the last photographic evidence of her whereabouts like Don had. Still, did he have to take all of them?
He doesn’t take us, and he doesn’t leave us with any indication that he’ll be back. Security sucks.
But yeah, I mean, guess that’s the end of this tale. Wish there was a satisfying conclusion, but we have no idea what happened to Brittany.
Oh, right. So, Diana -- I can't end this without telling you her deal. After the Brittany disappearance, things went back to normal. Though, Don isn’t bringing any girls over for now on, and I don’t think I’d allow it. To be fair, though, this has traumatized him in greater effect than myself, it seems. At least, that's what I like to think.
I managed to get in touch with Sal. Don’t know why this wasn’t tried earlier, but I was too busy thinking I was a possible murder suspect. However, thinking about it, that security guy said things were “under control”. If there was anything to that, her roommate ought to know. I caught Sal at a café in one of our buildings. I asked her what happened to Diana, and if she ever returned to her apartment. She said: “No.”
I pressed her further. If she knew anything, anything at all, she needed to tell me. Need a clear conscience. She did have an answer.
So, get this. Apparently, Sal was told that Diana had a “mental breakdown” and was sent home back to her mother in South Carolina. A group of security men came in about a week before Brittany came over to our house. They "moved out” every ounce of her stuff. Basically, Diana dropped out.
This made perfect sense to Sal. She known Diana was very homesick. For me, this story is a stretch. Because this means that between the hours of 2:30am and 5:30am, Diana – very silently – broke down, took off her clothes, and exited our apartment.
It’s ludicrous, but you know what? Fine. I can believe it. People do crazy things all the time, have instances of abnormalities. Nonetheless, it’s a logical thing, and authorities have confirmed she is fine. There’s a logical explanation for everything.
That day, I thought about everything Sal said to me while I walked my way home. I think about how authorities didn’t panic over Diana, and she’s confirmed to be fine. Same can be said about Brittany. Security wasn't too concerned, so she’s also fine. I thought about how unfortunate Don is to have this happen to him twice in a row. How crazy the odds are.
I’ll contact whoever Brittany’s “bitchy” roommate was, and she’ll have an explanation by the authorities that will make complete and total sense. Even if it’s a major stretch, at least it’s an explanation. I’ll put it in the back of mind. Don't care how much sense it doesn't make right now, it has to make sense later once I'm given additional information.
As I get to the front door, I’m so busy in my own thoughts that I forget to be gentle with the knob. It comes loose, and as it does, I freeze. A memory was jogged into me, something that I noticed, something that I attempted to wrap my head around before Don interrupted me with his stupid joke.
There's one giant hole in this story, in Sal's explanation she was given.
That day when I woke up and saw the door unlocked.
When I crept over and made sure the knob worked properly.
The chain lock was on.
I don’t think I’m safe.
Part 2
Part 3

Yes, I am a minor.
Basic info: My mom and I are related to the tribe. I don't care about the culture and focus on my thing. My mom wants me to be in Native American culture. But I have a culture. Gamer culture. 😎 All jokes aside. I do not care about culture. My dad or at least my aunt is also trying to do the same in Jamaican culture since my dad is full-blooded Jamaican.
Story: I was doing Office Hours. If you don't know, it is the equivalent of staying after school to work on a subject. Let us call her, Ms. J. Ms J was a nice person and there was a servey. The options were limited and I asked her what would be the equivalent of my situation. I explained that my parents and me talk about because they keep about to me but I can give a rat's ass about it.(Did not actually say that just to be clear) She also knows that I am in the middle with politics. She knows I am very Anti-SJW. So, I am okay talking with her about things like that. But she cannot give her opinion due to rules. I told my mom about the Native thing. She says she does not do that much anymore(She has not done it for a bit) She was just done. When I told her the devilish tongue, "I don't care about the culture that much" She said about how could I say such things. She also said about how I am just a kid and don't know anything. I said not again openly when it was in my head at first. She said that it is true, I just don't know what I am talking about. I said that it was my opinion to get her off my back. She said something that was the equivalent to you need knowledge of a subject to have a opinion. I argued differently. I was gonna say something like "A person can have the opinion of socks can talk. It does not have to have knowledge of a subject. A person can have the opinion that socks don't talk and have proof of it, it is not a fact" but before I could say that, she said: "You just don't listen." I could hear my eyes wanting to roll at that point. I WAS listening. And I was done. I WAS listening. I DON'T WANT TO. I want to find a reason to want to listen. And then she said the classic movie one-liner. "Listening matters just as much as having an opinion." She said having a opinion in that Karen voice. Oh god. I guess I might have been a dick because I might have hurt her feelings since I know that it means a bit to her. She won't even let me cut my hair. I didn't try to hurt them. So, reddit. Let me see the errors of my way or let me the absence. Reddit. Am I The Asshole?

I would like to ask for a simple favor before I kickoff another Hawk story. We are nearly one-month old, and we have really grown. There was no rhyme-or-reason, but my goal was to have a thousand subscribers. We surpassed that goal quickly, and had more than twenty-five days to spare. We are currently nearing 1,300 subscribers to this particularly unique sub which begs the question, why are there zero stories with more than 200 up-votes? I am not asking anyone to post. Nor am I am asking for anyone to comment. However, there are numerous authors whom have contributed their first ever Reddit story. I think the very least we can do is up-vote, and let them know we enjoyed their story. Rant complete!
Seriously? Shame on you if you actually thought I was done ranting.
Actual Conversation(s):
Wife: Nobody thinks you're funny.
OP: If I agreed with you, we'd both be wrong.
That sounds mighty arrogant Sloppy! Dear Reader, it's more honesty than anything. One of the Eleven Timeless Principles of Leadership (US Army 1948) is "Know self, and seek self-improvement."I may occasionally disregard the "self-improvement" portion of this principle, but I am fully aware of the first portion. I fucking know Sloppy. I understand I am not the funniest bipedal humanoid, but I am funny. Furthermore, I know my particular brand of humor is not universally appreciated, and understand there a people who find it to be repulsive at best. Believe it or not, it is important for me to understand that.
Q: What do the workers at the abortion clinic say at lunchtime?
A: We're hungry, Fetus!
I made that joke up nearly twenty years ago. It is a perfect example of taboo dark humor. I find it comical. I don't go spouting this one-liner everywhere though. I may not be the smartest person in the world, but I am not a complete and utter retard either. My wife is in the medical field, and I wouldn't dare introduce that joke to any of her colleagues. It is vitally important I "know my audience" if I want to fool people into thinking I am fully functioning adult.
Know Your Audience
My wife and I are complete and total opposites; polar opposites. If we were actors, she is Christopher Reeve and I am Christopher Walken. The initial courtship revolved around a considerable amount of drinking, and aggressive cuddling. I was certainly aware we were different people, but I didn't fully realize how different we were until I was well into our married life. Then the kids came; one for each of us. Kelly is sweet, kindhearted, and very literal. Cake is my doppelganger. Cake Judo-chopped his way out of the baby-cave and has been a terrorist ever since.
I have myself a conundrum though. The key that controls my sense of humor snapped-off, and I have been running on "On" ever since I can remember. My humor is autonomic, and lacks a deliberate thought process at times. I instinctual make remarks before my brain has the ability to decide if it was appropriate. This creates parenting problems for Sloppy, specifically with Kelly.
Actual Conversation
Kelly: Why do older guys like Jennifer Anniston so much?
OP: I am not entirely certain. I think it has to do with her being on "Friends" and just generally a very wholesome MILF (Mother I'd Like to Fuck).
Kelly: Do you think she is hot?
OP: Boy, I'd eat a mile of her shit for the opportunity to tongue-punch her fart-box.
Kelly: You'd eat her poop?
The humor eluded him. He was very concerned that I would actually eat a mile of human shit. Actually, this may be a poor example. I am semi-certain I would eat a mile of Jennifer Anniston's shit to tongue-punch that fart-box. This was a very poor and very disturbing example. I now present example number two. This will help prove the aforementioned was not an isolated incident, and that Kelly's literalness can be a detriment.
Both of the boys were in my Garage Man-Cave last night watching the Miami Heat play the Boston Celtics. Kelly was intent on watching the basketball game, and I am fairly certain Cake was mentally determining what power tools would be the most painful torture devices. I bet some of you think I am fucking joking too.!?! My power tool collection is beautifully displayed on a metal peg-board wall. Cake refers to it as, "The Wall of Death."
Many Moons Ago (Maybe a Month)
Cake: Could you kill someone with INSERT POWER TOOL HERE?
OP: They are made for woodworking Cake. However, I suppose you "could" kill someone with most of them.
Cake: Cool! (Then runs off)
OP Brain: Lock the door. Now!
Again, Cake is my doppelganger. I don't personally think he is going to kill anyone, but I won't rule it out either. Anyways, Kelly is watching the basketball game, and Cake is being Cake.
Cake: Can I shoot the nail gun?
OP: Can your dick touch your butthole?
Cake: What?
OP: It's from a joke about not being old enough.
Cake: What joke?
OP: (Busy Woodworking) Nope.
Kelly: Please.
OP: Fine. Johnny's Grandpa is drinking bourbon and Johnny asked for a sip. Grandpa asked, "Can your dick touch your butthole?" Johnny said, "No!" Johnny's Grandpa then said, "You're not old enough then." Johnny's Grandpa was smoking a cigar later in the evening and Johnny asked, "Can I have a cigar Grandpa?" Johnny's Grandpa again asked, "Can your dick touch your butthole?" Johnny said, "No!" Johnny's Grandpa again said, "You're not old enough then." The next day they went fishing and Grandpa noticed Johnny was eating freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. Johnny's Grandpa asked, "Where did you get those cookies?" Johnny said, "Grandma made them for me." Johnny's Grandpa then asked, "Can I get one of those cookies?" Johnny asked, "Can your dick touch your butthole?" Johnny's Grandpa had a smile on his face when he said, "Yes. It can." Johnny smiled back and said, "Good. Go fuck yourself. They're my chocolate chip cookies."
Cake: (Hysterical laughter) INAUDIBLE NOISES.
Kelly: That's impossible. There is no way you can bend a hard penis and have sex with yourself.
OP:(Puzzled) Have you tried?
Kelly: (Massive amounts of embarrassment) Dad. Stop.
Cake: (Unauthorized holding of nail gun and matter-of-fact voice) I think my pee-pee is long enough.
OP: Cake. Put that freaking nail gun back. Now.
That's great Sloppy. This is supposed to be a Hawk story Sloppy. Where in the fuck are you going with this? I have not led you astray Dear Reader. We are talking about Hawk. Hawk, like Kelly, he is a very literal person. This is a very desirable trait during a firefight. Hawk will immediately perform any direction I command during the lead jellybean exchange. However, free-range Hawk scares the living shit out of me. There are many areas in which Hawk excels, but commonsense is not one of them.
Dramatization
Hawk: How was your weekend Sergeant?
OP: Odd. I met this moderately attractive lady at Cafe Risque, and she invited me to her place. Imagine my surprise when I walk into her house and see a giant Nazi flag in her living room.
Hawk: That sounds like a big red flag to me.
No. This did not happen, but this scenario is very plausible. Is the moderately attractive lady being a Nazi supporter the "red flag" for Hawk? I honestly don't know, because I sincerely think Hawk would be oblivious to her White Supremacist prerogative, and simply think, "that's a big red flag." This is the Hawk that scares me the most! How about we talk about a time where literal Hawk scared me?
Dear Reader, please be cognizant that these Hawk stories will eventually end. I have a handful of Hawk stories rattling around my cranium. I will post a long one next week, but the Hawk story this week is short. However, I will put on my Yellow Bracelet ("I Cock-Blocked The Hawk Twice In One Night" reference) and do my best to "Drag" them out. I suggest you find another author if you don't like being put in the trunk of my car only to circle the block twenty times.
The deployment was successful and we were a few days away from departing Iraq. The majority of us were Armied-out. Everyone was dreaming about all the wonderful things we would do when we returned to American soil. The majority of younger Soldiers talked about alcohol and sex nonstop. I had dreams of adding another well-oiled midget to my collection in the attic dungeon. Nobody was interested in fuck-fuck games. However, the Army has a unique way of shitting in your Cheerios when you least expect it.
We had departed our temporary housing area for breakfast chow. The walk to the chow hall was nearly a mile. The Iraqi sun was unbearable, and the midday lunch trip was more akin to a death march. It only took three steps for the sweat and misery to start rolling down your ass-crack. The morning trip was the most bearable, and breakfast food is one of the few foods the Army has trouble fucking up. I am not saying Army cooks are incapable of fucking up bacon and eggs, but breakfast is typically the best meal of the day. Imagine our surprise as we near the chow hall to see a mile-long line.
Hawk: Why is the line so long Sergeant?
OP: Why the fuck would I know?
Hawk: Oh Yeah!
Why was the line so long though? Were the migrant cooks dissatisfied with the incredibly low hourly wages? We continued our disgruntled journey to find ourselves at the end of a nearly quarter-mile long line.
OP: (Pissed) What the actual fuck is going on here?
Hawk: I don't know Sergeant.
OP: It was rhetorical Hawk. Believe me, I "know" you don't know.
Hawk: Want me to go find out Sergeant?
OP: Yeah. Go ahead and do that!
I know Hawk is a literal person, but I didn't see any harm in letting him loose on a "find out" mission. I am not saying I didn't have any worries, but my "Oh My Fucking God, What did Hawk do now?" senses were low. It was late in the deployment and I was certainly complacent. "Complacency kills!" That phrase is often uttered during the end of the a deployment cycle. Mostly because it's true. Well fuck my tits! Hawk didn't kill me, but he certainly gave credence to the "complacency kills" motto. The Sea Monkey was gone for five minutes and came rushing back with an answer.
Hawk: There is a Four Star General at the door greeting people.
OP: Who told you?
Hawk: He did!
OP: (Oh Fuck) What do you mean, "he did"?
Hawk: The General.
OP: Hawk. We have talked about this. Remember? You need to be more specific with your answers.
Hawk: Right sergeant! I asked a couple Soldiers while I was walking up to the entrance and nobody knew why there was a long line. I eventually seen this guy at the door and I asked him; the General.
OP: What General was it, and what did you ask him?
Hawk: I said, "Hey Sir. What are you doing here?" Then he told me he was "thanking us" for our efforts. I don't know who he was. Just some General.
Rant: Just some General? There is not an infinite amount of fucking Four Star Generals. In fact, there are only seven of them in the Army. I have the intellectual capacity to rule some out, but I also know I can add some. Not that it fucking mattered, but I had my list narrowed down to three humanoids of God-level ranking humanoids. For the civilian readers, Hawk basically walked up to Jesus Christ and said, "What are you doing here?"
OP: Awesome. You can stand in front of me.
Hawk: Why?
OP: So I know why I am getting fired.
My fucking god. Did we ever wait in that line. It was going to be lunch by the time we fucking ate. We eventually find ourselves a mere ten people behind the "General." I could now see the General was the U.S. Central Command (CENTCOM) Commander. This "General" is in charge of every military soul in the Middle-East. Not some. Not most. Everyone. Again, God-level echelons above me, and Hawk had already asked him why he was here! Awesome. I got nervous as the line inched forward, and shit my pants when Hawk was next. I had a turd-nugget roll down my pant leg and rest above my right boot as Hawk went to shake the CENTCOM Commander's extended hand.
It was against my better judgement, but I started to feel relieved. Maybe it was just a handshake, thank you, and see you later type ordeal? Another turd-nugget lodged itself above my left boot when it turned into a Question and Answer (Q & A) session.
OP Brain: You are literally watching the death of your career at the hands of Hawk, and you don't have any ammunition anymore. You are going to have to "go manual" when you kill him.
GEN: (Chuckle) Nice to see you again.
OP Brain: FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!
Hawk: Good to see you Sir.
OP Brain: Smooth so far.
GEN: I'd just like to thank you for your service Specialist Hawk.
Hawk: I am proud to serve Sir.
OP Brain: (Happy) Damn. Hawk's got this shit!
GEN: I see you are a Grenadier (Grenade Launcher Guy)!
Hawk: Roger that Sir.
OP Brain: Now walk in the door. GO! GO! GO!
GEN: What do you say I ask you a question? If you get it right, you will get a coin (Giant "I am a Commander" coin), and I will knockout 25 pushups. If you get it wrong, you have to do the pushups. Deal?
OP Brain: NO. No deal Hawk. Walk in the chow hall.
Hawk: Deal Sir!
GEN: What's the maximum effective range of your grenade launcher?
OP Brain: Point or Area Target? I know Hawk knows both of them. Will he utter one, or go platinum and say "Point or Area target" Sir?
Hawk: About 30-feet Sir.
OP Brain: Fuck Everything And Run (FEAR).
GEN: (Straight fucking puzzled) WHAT?
OP Brain: You suck at running! Hawk has a chance at redemption though.
Hawk: 30-feet Sir!!!
OP Brain: Can my brain eat itself?
GEN: (Still puzzled) Why do you say that Specialist Hawk?
Hawk: I don't have any ammo Sir. I figure I can throw this thing about 30-feet!
OP Brain: Don't fucking move extremities. Let's see how this fucking thing plays out.
GEN: (Laughing hysterically) Well. It was not the answer I was looking for, but I suppose you are correct. Here (Presents coin and starts doing pushups).
OP Brain: (NOTHING. Nothing but astonishment)
GEN: (Still laughing) It was nice talking with you Specialist Hawk.
Hawk: (Oblivious) Talk to you later Sir.
OP Brain: I fucking hope not!
My conversation with the General was quick and painless. No I did not tell him I was Hawk's Team Leader. He would have asked why I forgot the leash. How about we just fast-forward? Like you have a choice.
Fast-Forward:
OP: Is that all you're going to eat?
Hawk: Yeah.
OP: You waited in line for nearly 45-minutes for Lucky Charms?
Hawk: I like the marshmallows.
OP: You have like ten boxes under your bed.
Hawk: Yup. How did your conversation with the General go?
OP: Faster and less awkward than yours. Eat your fucking cereal Hawk.
Hawk: Hey, at least I got a coin!
That's it. I sincerely appreciate you strapping in and taking that ride with me. I know! I could have simply wrote about the encounter with the CENTCOM Commander. It would have been short, and good for a small laugh. Writing is therapeutic though. I am by no means a "writer" but I enjoy giving you a small glimpse into my life, and this helps me to alleviate stress. The more I write, the less stress I have afterwards. Thus, the reason I spiral out of control and splinter off on random tangents. Some of you say I'm, "hard to follow." Agreed. Imagine how that feels being being me! I deal with it though. You can deal with it too I suppose.
Cheers!

G'day, I'm 23M from Australia. Honestly just looking for a chat friend or two.
A little bit about myself: I watch British panel shows, I mostly waste time on Reddit and YouTube, I like watching TV shows but my attention span leaves a lot to be desired.
I like to think I'm funny, I love dad jokes and cheesy one-liners. So if you like that, I'm your guy!
Shoot me a chat if you want to get to know me. :)

It goes without writing, but I have sincerely grown found of our small, and unique community. Joining Reddit was one of the best recommendations I have ever received. However, there were some growing pains. I am still relatively new to Reddit, but I have already encountered "Gatekeepers" and the arbitrary removal of a story, or ten, for violating a ridiculously subjective rule.
I have concluded that some people just want to be miserable. I spend my days hunting laughs while other people spending their day requesting to speak to my manager. Have you ever gone out of your way for someone only to find that your deed has gone unnoticed, or worse, unappreciated? Ungrateful people infuriate me. I bought a trampoline to celebrate my nephews tenth birthday party, but all he wanted to do was sit in his wheelchair and complain. The nerve of some people.
Okay, maybe the last part didn't happen. I could though. I have had many moments since Coronavirus took over the world in which I ponder,"What in the fuck did I do to deserve this?" I think we have all, at one-time-or-another, sked ourselves that question. Well, I asked myself that very question today after conversing with a LOSER. "What's a LOSER Sloppy?"
Dear Reader, you're a fucking LOSER. Lovers Of Sloppy Embrace Rants (LOSER). Don't worry, I am a the biggest LOSER of all of us. I was honored to correspond with this LOSER, but I was surprised to learn he, she, or it, was unaware of the numerous "short" stories I have posted to Fuckery. I introduced this LOSER to one of the many stories in my Gunfighter Dad series. That was my "Trigger".
Did you know there are twelve stories in the Gunfighter Dad series? Furthermore, Can Actually Kill Everything (CAKE), takes center-stage in virtually all of them. Dear Reader, these twelve stories, are but a glimpse of my everyday life with Cake. I was already in pain from recently throwing my back out, but the realization hit me like a ton of bricks. I was feeling sad, depressed, unhappy, dejected, and miserable. Know what I did? I put the Thesaurus away and devoted some critical thought to solving my Cake problem. What have I done in my past-life that was so terrible that demanded Cake? I feel like John Connor and Cake is my Terminator, except he is not here to fiercely protect me. This Terminator gives zero fucks about my future, or the future in general. I needed to solve this problem, but I have knack for procrastinating, "If you wait until the last minute, it only takes a minute" is my battle-cry. So, instead of finding a solution, I order a gun.
I no longer have the luxury sending millions of rounds downrange while charging it to Uncle Sam. Shooting is expensive, and I simply can't fiscally afford my old lifestyle, or the time required to continually hone my skills. However, this does not mean I give up. I did the next best thing. I recently purchased an extremely expensive airsoft Glock 19X. It is a fully functional, identically weighted, and Glock authorized replica. The fundamentals of pistol marksmanship are exactly the same, and I can continue to hone my abilities from the sanctity of my garage. It's glorious. Maybe shooting a gun will miraculously solve my Cake problem?
"Sloppy, you're doing it again!" Relax Dear Reader, I will promise this will all make sense. As I was saying, before you so rudely interrupted, I have adapted. The sound of "Freedom" emanating from the garage was instantly recognized by Cake. He ran faster than Taco Tuesday diarrhea. He is a consummate professional with firearms, but I needed to ensure he treated this pistol with the same seriousness we treat the slightly more real pistols.
Cake: Can I shoot it?
OP: (Jokingly) Yes, but you'd better not shoot me with it.
Cake: (Smile) Oh, don't worry. I would never shoot you with an airsoft pistol.
OP: (Puzzled) What's that supposed to mean?
Cake: (Smile) This would only make you angry. If I was going to shoot you, I'd use the real thing.
Thankfully, he was joking. I think!?! I have a biometric pistol safe, which means Cake will have to amputate one of my hands to access the black angels of retribution. This does not me he is not capable, but he will need to ensure the amputation is performed quickly, and with surgical precision. Furthermore, he will need to out-potato me in a footrace.
I told Mom Sloppy about this encounter, and she found it nothing but comical. "You are finally getting what you deserve." She then expanded on the various reasons why I "deserve everything you get". Dear Reader, I had forgotten so much. Karma has not forgotten though, and Karma is quickly catching up. Say what you want about my logical reasoning, but the answer to my problem just T-Boned me.
Sloppy Analytically Computing Karma (SACK)

1. Identify your problem.
2. What the fuck did I do to deserve Cake?
3. Briefly ponder the problem.
4. Think about possible solutions to your problem or buy a gun?
5. Buy a gun.
6. Gun arrives.
7. If Cake alludes to killing OP; Call Mom Sloppy.
8. Call Mom Sloppy
9. Mom Sloppy details a few reasons as to why Sloppy deserves Cake
10. Ipso Facto, buying a gun was a solution to my problem.

We're Going Mudding In Sloppy's Past!
Mom Sloppy: You once got pissed off because we wouldn't let you go outside and play. It was raining outside, and you wanted to play with your Matchbox Cars in the mud.
OP: Yeah!?!
Mom: Yeah!?! So you shit your diaper, took it off, and ran your Matchbox Cars through your own shit. On the kitchen table!
Germs First Military Free Fall (MFF)
Mom Sloppy: You hated the attention Germ got when he was born. Nobody was paying attention to you and you didn't like it.
OP: Yeah!?!
Mom Sloppy: I don't know why, but I felt the need to go check on Germ. I walked into the bedroom as you were lifting Germ up out of the crib, and you threw him on the floor. He was not even one month old, and the only reason he is alive is because he landed in a basket full of clean clothes.
OP: Really?
Mom Sloppy: Really! You were a little shit. You're still a little shit.
Frank's Red Hot! That Shit Goes On Everything
I know I have discussed this, but if you are anything like me, I know you won't remember. I, like everyone, have my "Red Buttons". Things that piss me off. Unfortunately, the thing that pisses me off the most, is something people can't really control. Fucking snoring!
Mom Sloppy: Remember what you did to Germ?
OP: (Laughing) Which time?
Mom: The hot sauce!
OP: I remember the ass-whopping afterwards.
Mom: You were trying to sleep, but you could hear your brother snoring through the wall. You walked out to the kitchen while you Dad was eating breakfast and asked for the hot sauce, and your dad gave it to you. You walked into Germ's room, open his eyelid, and dabbed a drop of Tabasco Sauce into his eyeball.
OP: (Oh-My-God Face) How old was I when I did that?
Mom Sloppy: I think you were twelve.
OP: (Laughing) Dad figured out what I did!
Mom Sloppy: Oh, your dad figured it out when pretty quick. You were almost in the kitchen when Germ started screaming bloody murder. Your dad beat your ass that time.
OP: What a pussy!
Mom: Your dad?
OP: No Germ!
Coup De Grace
Dear Reader, I am perfectly capable of retelling this story in great detail. It's not because I personally remember it though. It's not even because my parents "remember" it all that well. However, it was evidently a pretty traumatic experience for my babysitter. Dear Reader, I can literally hear the cogs inside your brain engage as you loudly think, "What the fuck am I about to read?"
My parents had given my babysitter very explicit instructions, "Don't use the hallway bathroom." No, it was not broke. My parents had changed the locks around on the hallway bathroom though. I would often lock my parents out of the bathroom in order to conduct my uninterrupted science experiments. Toddler Toddler Sloppy was not exactly an upstanding citizen. Toddler Sloppy had very strong desire to play with fire. I think Drew Barrymore's character in "Firestarter" was loosely based on Toddler Sloppy.
Again, I don't recall, but my mother informs me that I had a unique ability to acquire lighters. I should also mention that I am both a visual, and tactile-kinesthetic learner. I didn't require in-depth instructions on how to master the art form click-click-burn. Brilliant childhood prodigy, Bobby Fischer, was a chess Grandmaster at the tender age of fourteen. Well, fuck Bobby Fischer, because Crib-Midget Sloppy was able to harness and master the powers of fire at the tender age of four. That's right Bob, I was a fucking prodigy an entire decade prior to you winning a fucking board game.
"Master of fire Sloppy? That's a bold statement." I don't want to derail my parents marriage, but I think Dad Sloppy is actually my stepfather. I sincerely believe Hephaestus , the Greek God of Fire, was the mailman. Sloppy is a demigod. (LONG PAUSE) You're welcome Dear Reader. I know I had to give you a moment to swallow and digest that. Some of you are just now realizing that you have been conversing with greatness, and actual Greek God. The more intellectual Fuckeries are likely devastated that I am the worlds greatest underachiever. What can I say? You're both right!
"So what did you do that was so brilliant/terrible (Perspective) Sloppy?" How dare you insinuate this was my fault. The babysitter was explicitly warned to not use the hallway bathroom. If anything, this was her fault. The suspense is killing you isn't it? I would not wish Cake upon my greatest enemy. "What did Sloppy do that was so deserving of the worlds largest Karma-Cookie?" That question would have been answered already if not for all the Dear Reader interruptions. How about I answer why I fully understand the reasons I deserve Cake? The answer is simple; I am the only asshole on earth qualified to parent the likes of Cake!
I don't know if I found it or already had the lighter, but I certainly "had" the lighter. The babysitter was doing a terrible job of babysitting because I was able to successfully light the clothes in the hamper on fire. The previously preoccupied babysitter finally took notice of my superpower and frantically took necessary actions to extinguish the fire. She fell into my trap. Well, I don't know if it was a trap, but I did lock her in the bathroom.
Kudos to the babysitter. I applaud her ability to extinguish the fire before it became a problem. However, she was only successful in fighting fifty percent of the fires that night. Toddler Sloppy was able to start another fire while she was taking a break in the hallway bathroom. Dear Reader, I don't particularly care for Frosted Flakes. They're just not my favorite cereal. I don't exactly recall when my disliking started, but it may have started the night I lit a box of Frosted Flakes on fire and returned the flaming box into the cabinet. Oh, while my clearly overpaid babysitter was still taking a break in the hallway bathroom. "It's just so hard to find quality babysitters these days" was also indicative to the 1980's as well.
Thankfully, the neighbors realized I lacked culinary skills, and called the Fire Department. I know some of you are upset. I was just as upset as you are when I found out my parents still paid the "babysitter." That poor child, and her lack of awareness almost killed me, yet, my parents had the audacity to reward her with monetary compensation. Ridiculous. I know I would not pay a babysitter that required assistance from emergency services to complete the job.
Wonder where it comes from? Wonder why I have Cake? It's because my mom slept with the mailman, and the mailman happened to be the Greek God of fire. Ipso facto, it's my mothers fault I have Cake. And she wonders why I rarely call. I'm too fucking busy putting out fires. At least I can take solace in the fact that they are currently figurative, and not literal fires.
Tragically, Cake is exactly like his father. My mother once jokingly made the comment, "You are worth more dead than you are alive," to my father. It was at that moment I learned about "Life Insurance" and the sad fact that some of us, are indeed, worth a considerable amount of money dead. Well, previous to my last deployment, Cake became aware of this as well.
OP: I will see you in four months buddy. Unless I die or whatnot.
Cake: That's not funny dad. I really want you to come back.
OP: I know buddy.
Cake: I do want a four wheeler though.
OP: What?
Cake: We get money if you die right?
OP: (Puzzled) Ah, yeah!?!
Cake: (Not Puzzled) Lots of money!!!
Finally Confirmation
I did something yesterday that I have only done once before in my life. I took the boys to the doctor for their school sports physical. My wife is a medical professional and I have witnessed her superbly interact with medical professionals using her medical fictionary words. For example, I have been having numbness and tingling in my left shoulder lately.
OP: My left shoulder is numb and tingling all the way down to my wrist.
Wife: You need to get check, because I am fairly certain you have radiculapothy.
OP: I mean, it's ridiculous, but there is no need to add an "apothy" to the end.
Wife: You're a fucking idiot.
As I was saying, but I interrupted myself, I took the boys to their medical appointment. Kelly, is a shy-guy, and he was extremely embarrassed during the "turn-and-cough" portion of the physical. It was either because it was a female doctor, or because he doesn't like it when strangers touch is coin-purse. Cake on the other hand, had no issues with this portion of the medical procedure.
Doctor: Alright, drop them.
Cake: Underwear too?
Doctor: Everything.
Cake: Okay.
Doctor: Turn and cough.
Cake: Cough.
Doctor: Give me a real cough!
Cake: Cough, cough.
Doctor: Okay. You're good.
Cake: Just remember, we are growers, and not showers!
OP: (Face palm) Cake!!!
Doctor: (Hysterical Laughter) I will be sure to remember that.
I guess there is no reason to ponder, "what did I do to deserve this?" anymore. As stated, I have only provided you a glimpse of the daily struggle with Cake. However, I have also only provided you a glimpse of the struggle my mother had with Sloppy. I was chaotic as a child, and I fully deserve Cake, but I can still complain and rant about it.
I understand the above story was not necessarily funny. It was merely a factual rant. How about a leave you with a laugh? Maybe it's nothing more than a joke, or maybe it really happened. Either way, I hope it leaves you with a laugh. It's about a minor blunder I had last Thanksgiving.
Tim (Neighbor): How was your Thanksgiving?
OP: Horrible. I had a Freudian slip, and it just completely ruined the entire weekend.
Tim: (Puzzled) Freudian slip?
OP: Yeah. I slipped and said something that ruined my weekend. I was at the ticket counter at the airport and the lady working the counter had really large boobs. I was about to tell her I needed to tickets to Pittsburgh, but I accidentally said, "I need two pickets to Titsburgh," and the wife was pissed all weekend.
Tim: Oh. It's like saying one thing, but meaning something else!?!
OP: Sort-a!
Tim: That happened to me too.
OP: Really?
Tim: Yeah. I was sitting at the table eater Thanksgiving dinner with the wife and in-laws. I asked my wife to pass the mashed potatoes, but what I really meant to say was, "You ruined my life bitch."
Dear Reader, I hope you enjoyed and got a little giggle. I will post the final Hawk story tomorrow. I have some work that needs my immediate attention today, but I will start working on it tonight. There is no need to be sad either. We will be saying goodbye to Hawk, but he will make occasional cameos. Furthermore, there are a considerable amount of friends and characters you have yet to met. I, Sloppy, will star in many of those stories. I don't know what you will think of Dear Sloppy afterwards, but I promise there will be many laughs to come.
I hope you all had a great weekend. I look forward to another week of Fuckery joy. Be safe and remember to follow Hawk with caution if you see the back of the Monk-head, and please run, run for your fucking life if you ever see Cake. I know I have not posted pictures of Cake, but you'll know if you see him. He is a five foot tall humanoid, and will have our missing forks and spoons in his pocket. Your body will be paralyzed with an overwhelming amount of fear, and you will most definitely shit your pants.
Cake Avoidance Technique (CAT)

1. See five foot tall emotional terrorist.
2. Uncontrollable defecation without reason.
3. Overwhelming panic.
4. Recall Sloppy warning you about statements one thru three.
5. FEAR (Fuck Everything And Run)
6. Call Fire Department.

Random Donkey (Ass) Bum Slug (Shit) That Has Nothing To Do With the Story. I am just going to free-ball and type some stuff because I have ten minutes before a "virtual" doctor appointment. How about I provide you with one-liners? They are not mine, but they fall my mouth on occasion. Below are some of the many reasons my wife does not introduce me to her friends.

1. If I agreed with you, we'd both be wrong.
2. Cake, hurting you is the last thing I want to do, but it's on the fucking list.
3. Last night, my wife was complaining about that I don't listen to her...or something like that.
4. Well, you know what they say, "When life gives you melons" you're dyslexic.
5. Today was a horrible day. My ex-wife got ran over by a bus, and I lost my job as a bus driver.
6. I got shit-housed last night and blew Chunks. Poor guy won't come out of his kennel.
7. Whats the difference between my dad and cancer? My dad didn't beat cancer.
8. Twenty years ago we had Johnny, Bob, and Steve. Now we have no Cash, no Hope, and no Jobs.
9. My wife was mad when I skipped her mothers 9 am funeral, but I am not a mourning person.

Have a great day. We will come together tomorrow and bid farewell to Hawk. Again, be safe, stay away from the Zombies, continue to Fuckery.
Cheers.

EDIT Thank you so much for all the comments. Thank you for validating me. I have written some more here: https://www.reddit.com/CPTSD/comments/j7pycconvinced_i_was_lgbt_because_i_didnt_correctly/?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share
I've only recently made these connections. I've been in therapy for almost three months. I feel like I'm waking up from a dream while also feeling guilty and scared to feel angry.
My Mom was raped as a child. Repeatedly by her father. Her older sister was his target as well, and she fell pregnant. She miscarried.
I remember when I was seven years old, maybe eight, my mother sat down with my younger sister and I (my sister was five at the time). I remember this vividly. She sat in a rocking chair and we sat at her feet on the floor. She said she had something she was going to tell us when we were older - something that happened to her when she was a child. And immediately I knew. I said to myself, you were raped by your Dad. I said this in my head...but how did I already know this? My mother had never told me. My sister and I would play dolls and talk about then being raped. I'd thought being raped meant being stabbed in the vagina with a pair of scissors. I thought that every woman just became pregnant at age 37 after sleeping in the same bed with a man.
I remember being eight years old. My Dad had been off work for two weeks because his workplace was on strike. I remember my Dad calling my mother "ridiculous" and thinking that meant they were going to get divorced. I remember that same night my mother being in the bathtub. I don't remember if she had called me to her or if I had gone in there by myself. I do remember feeling as though I wasn't really "there". Like I was just a sound board or a fly on the wall. She was saying how my dad never took her out anywhere. She was saying how he was ashamed of her, of how she looked. She was talking about my Dad as though he was not my Dad. My sister has recently told me that out Mom also did this to her but she won't tell me what she said about our Dad.
My Mom seemed to be convinced that our Dad was having an affair with his boss at work who was like a mother figure. She never said anything but she had managed to get me to hate this woman without any reason. My Dad, as per usual, was totally oblivious.
From there things are very blurry. I remember very little.
Cut to: I'm needing to masturbate multiple times per day. I'm nine years old. I believe I'm the only one who has ever masturbated in the history of the world. When I climax I feel like I'm losing my mind, but that is the high I need to achieve to function. It's an addiction that I refuse to acknowledge as an addiction. When I masturbate I think of my parents, but mostly my mother. I think of women.
Cut to: I'm 12. I have a crush on a boy. It makes me feel ashamed and disgusting. I masturbate at school. I masturbate to fall asleep. I come home at lunch and when I'm home alone I search for anything sexual. I read my dad's novels and say I'll be satisfied to even see the word breasts. That would be enough. I watch the sex channel on TV and get upset when there isn't enough nudity. I need specifics. I draw pictures of naked women to masturbate to and then I crumple them up and flush them down the toilet.
I have dreams of having sex with my mother. Most of the times in my dreams I am trying to escape it and I feel sick. I dream of walking down the aisle at my wedding and my mother is there. I dream of her forcing herself on to me, kissing me and I shake myself awake. I also have dreams where I initiated the sex. I hate myself. I never tell my mother this.
I stay home from school in highschool and watch lesbian porn all day on the family computer. I wiped the history but it didn't matter my parents had no idea and still have no idea. I wasn't gay. I had crushes on boys.
I had large breasts from when I was 10. People would think I was 'with' my Dad and my two younger sisters were my kids. People at our church would say 'Oh, you had better chain her to the door'. How is a child meant to react to that? I felt disgusting. My Dad's cousins and friends and his Mother would comment on my weight and call me ugly. And my Dad would just tell me they were joking. It was never reinforced that I wasn't ugly. And I was miniature version of my mother so my Mom chose to absorb my feelings as her own while somehow simultaneously denying them.
Any attempt at looking "feminine" is made fun of by my Mother. I wear makeup and she says she doesn't wear makeup so that means I can't wear it. I need to dress in in bland colours and always cover up. I need to not be social or have a social life. Socializing is stupid and airheaded.
I realize I want to be seen as masculine around other girls. An I not meant to be a girl? I cringe at being called a woman and the word girl is a bit weird but better than woman. I feel horrible around other women my age but so desperately want a female friend exactly like me but not really like me because who am I. I just want to be beat friends with Lizzie McGuire. I hate being Black and want to be a suburban white kid with a hot sporty boyfriend.
My parents never spoke to me about sex. My mother never spoke to me about my mentrual cycle. Sexuality in all forms was wrong. The sex talk I recieved was two weeks before my wedding. My Mom told me to wear a panty liners because I might bleed. She bled.
I didn't have sex on my wedding night. It would have been my first time. It would've been my first time because 'i was raised to believe sex before marriage was wrong because my parents said that'. That's what I told my boyfriend/now husband when he asked why we weren't having sex. I'm glad we waited but not for the reasons I thought I had to wait...which were because I had no idea about anything at all. I didn't have sex on my wedding night. I wept.
I'd still watched porn after getting married to my husband. I watched pron while pregnant with my two children. I want to end my life while pregnant with my second child and go to the mental hospital. Right now, I'd be happy to never have sex again for the rest of my life...but I don't want to do that to him. I love him and if just rather hug him and cuddle him and talk and never have sex again.
I'm exhausted now so I need to take a break. I may continue later. Thank you for reading. I'm sorry if things are all over the place.

I am not a fan of Rogue One: A Star Wars Story. I'd even go so far as to say it's my least favourite Disney Era Star Wars film.
However, I am clearly in the minority on this, and everyone else on this Reddit hails it as one of the best or THE best film in the franchise. I've seen lots of people defend it for a multiple reasons that I personally don't agree with, but I was hoping some of you guys could shed some more light on your personal reasons for liking this film that I'm just not getting.
For argument's sake, I do have a quick run-down of my likes and dislikes on the film. I just wanted to outline the things that make it frustrating in my opinion to watch, as well as acknowledge the good that is in it, as it is not the worst movie if all time by any means:
Likes: - The cinematography is good. Like REALLY good. Some real gorgeous shots throughout - The space battles are well-executed from a technical standpoint. - I actually like Cassian Andor and would like to see more of him as he was really under-used IMO (looking forward to the Disney+ series) - The joke where the stormtroopers put a bag over Chirrut's head and he exclaims "are you kidding me?! I AM BLIND" legitimately made me laugh out loud - It actually made the Empire threatening - The CGI on Tarkin and Leia, while not quite there yet, is an impressive feat and looked better than I thought it would
Dislikes: - The characters. Just... The characters. I had a hard time caring about any of them, and I can usually forgive a dumb plot and other flaws if I like the characters enough. - Saw Gerrera - I have no idea what the point of his character is and it is not acted well. We don't see any of his relationship with Jyn as her "adopted" father and his death is meaningless. If this character type is in your movie, it's kind of an unwritten rule that you should see a connection between them and their adoptive child. - Jyn Erso - I also don't care about Jyn. She has no particular skills, likes or dislikes that made me relate to her. Lots of other characters had something to bring to the team (sharpshooting, hand-to-hand combat, Imperial knowledge, etc) but she just... Is related to someone who's actually important? I also didn't buy her relationship with her dad of sudden belief in the Rebellion in Act 2. Again if we had some time anywhere in the movie to see their relationship or her view of the world I might have cared but I just... Didn't. She's also a super passive character, basically being dragged along everywhere she went and told what to do until she decides she likes the Rebellion, which again made no sense to me. - Bodhi Rook - not a bad character per se, but so much wasted potential, and again we know nothing about him. He defected from the Empire but... Why? Then he gets his brain scrambled and then is fine 2 minutes later? And then the movie kind of forgets he's even there? This one is more frustrating because of how much people hate on Finn for his wasted potential, when Bodhi has a pretty similar set up, but is given even less insight into why he defected and everyone seems fine with it. - Baze Malbus - not much to say, I just don't know much about him aside from "he has a gun" - K-2SO - I didn't find him funny, and he was essentially just a one-liner machine. For how much people rag on the comedy in the Sequel Trilogy, I'm surprised he doesn't get more flack

• The first two thirds of the movie are a bit of a mess. I literally got whiplash from how many planets we went to in such a short amount of time and how many things were happening. IMO it was needlessly complicated for a plot that can be summed up with "Rebels steal the Death Star Plans".
• I didn't care during the fight scenes, even the Darth Vader hallway scene. Like, it was well-executed, filmed and choreographed well, I just didn't get excited about it like a lot of people did.
• The whole idea that Galen intentionally put that design flaw in the Death Star is kind of lame. Like, if you were going to put in something like that to destroy the Death Star, why make it so hard to hit, and if it's not supposed to be that hard to hit, it kind of devalues the significance of Luke's accomplishment.
• Also did not buy the emotion in Galen's message to Jyn. Just did not feel genuine to me. We never get a single moment of the two of them together to connect with their relationship, and as a result, the whole thing rang hollow for me.

If you loved this movie, I really want to hear why! All the things I mentioned are my opinion, and clearly I'm just not getting the same out of it as a lot of people are, so I'm curious about hearing some real peoples' thoughts.
Please try to keep the conversation civil!! We're all Star Wars fans here and I don't want to crap on anyone's opinions.

G'day, I'm 23M from Australia. Honestly just looking for a chat friend or two.
A little bit about myself: I watch British panel shows, I mostly waste time on Reddit and YouTube, I like watching TV shows but my attention span leaves a lot to be desired.
I like to think I'm funny, I love dad jokes and cheesy one-liners. So if you like that, I'm your guy!
Shoot me a chat if you want to get to know me. :)

Disclaimer 1: This is not an attempt at scholarly analysis of the music or a comprehensive exploration of biographical information.
Disclaimer 2: I don't recommend listening to Waits' discography all at once.

Personal interaction with the artist

Tom Waits is one of the few artists whose entire discography appeals to me, and his music is, in my mind, anchored not only to the time of day but also the activity I'm engaged in: that time of day being evening/night, and that activity being reclining with a drink in hand. I know that might sound a little bit cliche, but the early albums at least definitely favor that treatment. As I move through Waits' discography, though, being upright and sober is also an acceptable way to listen. Waits was an instant like for me and my family. My wife and teenage daughters adore his music, too, especially the dark cabaret stuff.

Overview of the artist

I'm not here to rehash encyclopedia entries and biographies about the man. The links are below for anyone who wants to dive in. tl;dr, though, Waits' 70s stuff is of the piano blues singesongwriter variety. It all goes down easy. Pretty simple and easy to define, mainly because this was before he met his wife, Kathleen Brennan, whom he married in 1980. His "blood and guilt" Irish Catholic wife had a massive influence on his styles going forward, and in my opinion, it was a positive influence, one that helped Waits spread his creative wings. Of course that influence wouldn't have gone anywhere if Waits wasn't already leaning in that direction. He just needed someone to give him the confidence to take the leap.
In the 80s, he went experimental, especially with the rocking Swordfishtrombones. Rain Dogs continued his experimental rock exploration, and he closed the decade with Franks Wild Years, in which he embraced the dark cabaret he'd only dabbled in on the previous two albums. He tried to set aside what he called "the embarrassing baby photos" phase of his career.
Then came the 90s (and early 2000s). Keep in mind that Waits is singesongwriter throughout his career. He is just adding other genres to that folk-esque backbone style of his. Experimental rock continues to dominate his discography at this time, too, but let's throw in some blues rock, vocal jazz, and some more of that dark cabaret Waits just does so damn well. I mean, Alice and Blood Money are basically theater pieces anyway!
Speaking of theater, Waits was involved in many cinematic and stage projects, his most famous being The Black Rider, but he not only wrote and performed theater pieces and film soundtracks, he was also a prolific side actor in many films. I know that sounds like an oxymoron, but he said it himself: "I'm not an actor. I'm just a guy who does some acting."
This is merely the briefest of overviews into the life of a somewhat private and aloof artist who was just as interested in spending time with his wife and three children as making music for public appreciation. If anything has caught your attention so far, and if you're not turned off by Waits' "hobo act", his "pastiche of poverty", Barney Hoskyns' Lowside of the Road: A Life of Tom Waits and Patrick Humphries' The Many Lives of Tom Waits might be a couple biographies you'll want to check out.
You might like him if...

• you want something to soothe your soul while the whiskey burns your throat
  
• you want the immediacy of singesongwriter
  
• you want the confessional of the universal
  
• you're an outcast
  

You might not like him if...

• you don't like middle-class dudes playing a "hobo" act
  
• you want something to easily sing along to
  
• you want something innocuous in the background
  
• you want something to pump you up
  

Similar artists and influences

When it comes to similar artists, perhaps it's better to look at the acts that had the biggest influence on Waits. First of all, when Waits was working at a restaurant, he would jot down notes of the diners' conversations, any snippet he found interesting, anything he could use for the everyman down on his luck feeling of his music. Men and women failing at life and yet still able to provide moments of piercing insight.
Waits said in an interview that his uncle's gravelly voice intially inspired him. He also rejected the hippie movement and adhered to the Beat movement of the 50s, finding solace in Kerouac's musings. In fact, he later collaborated with William S. Burroughs on a theater piece. Randy Newman and Dr. John were big musical influences on him, and after Brennan introduced Waits to Captain Beefheart, Van Vliet's style was huge. Of course, Bob Dylan's influence loomed large for Waits, as it did for many singesongwriters in the 70s, and Waits once said that if you want to know how to write a song, listen to Merle Haggard.
Last.fm attempts to provide a list of similar artists, but this is really just a matter of opinion. I strongly disagree with some of these picks, but here are the top ones: Nick Cave, Leonard Cohen, Bob Dylan, Neil Young, Captain Beefheart, Townes Van Zandt, Lou Reed, Tim Buckley, and Van Morrison. As far as I'm concerned, this is more a list of "if you like Waits, you'll like these" than "these artists are similar to Waits". I guess for me the one in that list the most similar is Lou Reed, not only because of his style but the sometimes sordid always ramshackle content of his music.
In a 2005 interview, Waits was asked to list his top twenty albums of all time. These were his choices, and perhaps there are some clear marks of influence herein:

1. Frank Sinatra - In the Wee Hours
2. Thelonious Monk - Solo Monk
3. Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band - Trout Mask Replica
4. The Rolling Stones - Exile on Main St.
5. Gavin Bryars - The Sinking of the Titanic
6. Bob Dylan & The Band - The Basement Tapes
7. The Lounge Lizards - Lounge Lizards
8. The Pogues - Rum Sodomy & the Lash
9. Leonard Cohen - I'm Your Man
10. Little Richard - The Explosive Little Richard
11. James Brown - Star Time
12. Various Artists - Texas-Czech Bands, 1929-1959
13. Frank Zappa - The Yellow Shark
14. Various Artists - Aria: A Passion for Opera
15. Bill Hicks - Rant in E-Minor
16. Various Artists - Prison Songs (Historical Recordings From Parchman Farm 1947-48), Vol 1: Murderous Home
17. Marc Ribot - The Prosthetic Cubans
18. Houndog - Houndog
19. The Les Claypool Frog Brigade - Purple Onion
20. Elvis Costello & The Imposters - The Delivery Man _______________________________________________

The Albums

This album list does not include bootlegs or other recordings not approved by the ever-litigious Tom Waits.
The Asylum Years (label formed in 1971 in LA, founded by David Geffen and part of the Warner Music Group).

• Closing Time (1973). How many times have I heard this album by this point? It's like seeing the face of an old friend, getting a bit misty-eyed, and enjoying a warm hug from him. This whole album is an embrace. And he's got stories for you... all the things that happened since last you met. Waits has got an eclectic style to his storytelling, too, one you never get tired of hearing. He's just as comfortable going acoustic guitar as he is at sitting behind the piano and plinking out the blues. But Waits is at his best once he's got a few drinks in him and his music turns slowly like an inebriated carousel. Album art zip file link.
  
• The Heart of Saturday Night (1974). Man, Saturday night’s a bitch. Sometimes it’s me putting on a tie, you putting on a dress, and we go out and laugh at the bloodshot moon in the burgundy sky. Other times it’s us fighting like cats and dogs, but that’s all right, I guess, since it’s raining cats and dogs, anyway. While you’re out catching your death walking, I’m so lonesome I might as well be a sailor in the middle of nowhere. Both of us stumbling into the heart of all that revelry and heartbreak. Shiver me timbers, but Saturday night can be a real bitch! Album art zip file link.
  
• Nighthawks at the Diner (1975). This is a weird one. Is it technically a live album or technically a studio album? It's both. Kinda. They wanted to do a live album because that's where Waits thrived. Got him in that rare jazz mood where he can rattle off the coolest one-liners you'll ever hear. But the venues around town were "toilets" in the 70s, so they decided to just invite some people into the studio for two nights to do a live show--but they recorded it using studio equipment in a studio environment. So some people criticize this recording for being fake. Bohemian coffeehouse cool oozes from this album, Waits standing there with a drink in one hand, a cigarette in the other, as he swaggers and stumbles around the microphone, doing what he does best: lowering the temperature of the room with the coolest anecdotes around. Some real laugh-out-loud moments sprinkled here. Album art zip file link.
  
• Small Change (1976). They say that’s Cassandra Peterson (Elvira, Mistress of the Dark), and that those are her real tits. Okay. Cassandra says it’s not her. Whom to believe? Now that that’s out of the way, how about that sour whiskey music? This album gets better with every listen. And how to listen? Just lie back on the sofa, close your eyes, and listen, which isn’t something we often do with music. But that's the treatment this one needs, especially on a cool, rainy afternoon. Small Change seems to me to be a track by track play of a piano player working at a blues bar who likes to partake of the firewater along with the customers, so by the end of Side A, he’s had one too many, and he has to blame it on the piano. Apparently this is a common occurrence, though, because he alludes to his bad liver later on. But everything will be all right, because his shift is just about to come to an end, and he’s looking forward to getting off work and going home to see his girl. The on-album persona aside, Waits did have a real-life drinking problem. Early on he joked that his only drinking problem was when he couldn't get a drink, but later in life he finally enrolled in Alcholics Anonymous. It's all fun and games until the booze threatens to destroy your life. NSFW outtake cover art.
  
• Foreign Affairs (1977). First, there's the album cover. Something critics of Waits might point to and say, "See see! This is what I'm talking about. The pretension." Waits definitely was going for a cover that would represent the film noir mood of his music up to this point. But it's all an act, right? I mean, he's just some guy who grew up in a normal family in a suburban California neighborhood. Right? My rebuttal is: And? Is there no place for theater, for adopting a persona, in music? Waits deliberately lived in neighborhoods that reflected not only the poverty but the bohemian cool that pervades his music. And he's not just a singer; he's an actor, too, so he's got that theatrical sense about him. That's why his live shows use props. Bette Midler guests on this album... perhaps Waits' first misstep. Like his other albums, this one swims in drink. Funny thing about the cover, though: the woman thought she was Waits' girlfiend, but she wasn't. She was just one of the Troubador slags. Album art zip file link.
  
• Blue Valentine (1978). It's Thursday night and close enough to the weekend for a drink. Besides, a little fire in your belly might shake off this damp chill. All her usual bull and excuses and best intentions are scribbled on a rain-soaked postcard in your mailbox. You take it and climb the stairs on dreams, and after your drink, you think you might fall asleep if only the sirens would start. Cover art.
  
• Heartattack and Vine (1980). When you're so far gone in the liquor you think even the rain is a beverage. Anyway, it doesn't take much imagination to understand the implications of the album title, an obvious reference to Hollywood and Vine in Los Angeles, the very heart of the rise of cinema and all its attendant lures into the corruption of innocence. This album is certainly more blues guitar-driven than Waits' six previous recordings, bringing with it even sexier grit (that seems to be obsessed with prostitutes). Like pretty much all his other music, these songs are snapshots into the lives of seedy people who live in the quiet, dark, lonely hours between the closing of the bar and the opening of the circus. This is the final Asylum record, and Waits was contractually-obligated to write it since he owed the label seven albums. You might know Springsteen's cover of Waits' "Jersey Girl"... and I can't help but wonder if the "sha la la la la la las" are indicative of Waits' fatigue with his label. Album art zip file link.
  

Film Scores (I'm just going to knock them both out here, out of chronological order, since they're not initially connected to any of the label eras.)

• One From the Heart (1982). Coppola lured Waits back to LA, taking him away from his newfound love for the NYC creative atmosphere, to write a soundtrack in the vein of Waits' earlier stuff, a sound the singer was trying to break away from. I like to think it was fate that brought him back to the West Coast, because if he'd not torn himself away from NYC, he never would've met his future wife (who worked in the film studio), and the latter part of his discography probably wouldn't have been as wonderful as it is. The beauty of that alone is, in my mind, worth the making of this overwrought, schmaltzy album. I'm sure Crystal Gayle is a fine singer, but her energy just doesn't work when mixed with Waits. There's just something about duets like this that drives me crazy. Like, the back and forth is just so cheesy? Don't think of this as a Waits album; it's a collaboration and as much a Gayle album, which, in my book, is a hard pass. This album is sanitized Tom Waits. Album art zip file link.
  
• Night on Earth (1991). I feel that if people didn't realize this was a Waits album, they'd rate it higher. People bring baggage into a Waits listening experience, and if the expectations aren't met, well, there's bound to be some disappointment. First of all, Waits' voice is conspicuously absent througuhout most of this soundtrack, as the artist decided--unlike with One From the Heart--to focus on instrumentals. Thus this recording lacks the full Waits experience fans grew to love, providing more of an overall noir-jazz soundtrack feel than having anything specifically to do with the voice of the broken-down, boozing loner our itching ears want to hear. Album art zip file link.
  

The Island Years (label formed in 1959 in Jamaica [moved to London three years later], became part of the PolyGram group)

• Swordfishtrombones (1983). Take an unshaven shuffle through the neon rain, with nothing but a pack of dirty playing cards and a lonely heart. Follow the slow parade drumming down some empty town street, remembering all the dirty details of the neighborhood. Dip into the desert a couple times while you’re at it and take in the snapshots of tragic lives, and if you’re thirsty, drink water from a swordfishtrombone. What the hell is it anyway, and is the water any good? Count the number of parties playing in the heads of people you pass every damn day. In Waits' real life, this is his big artistic break from the past, both creatively and professionally. He'd completed his Asylum contract, and this was as good a time as any to move away not only from his producer but his (swindling) manager. Waits and his wife took over managerial responsibilities themselves, and they seem to have done a better job with that side of the business as well. Brennan--his wife--also brings her influences to bear, including giants like Captain Beefheart. Asylum rejected this record, as it was a departure from his previous sound, so Waits took up Island's offer to release it. Album art zip file link.
  
• Rain Dogs (1985). Take every undesirable yet attractive thing you read in a dime-store pulp novel and throw it into a pot stirred by an unshaven vagabond, and you get this bourbon-soaked album. Mad hatters and beat poets doing the polka on this postcard mailed from desolation row. Album art zip file link.
  
• Franks Wild Years (1987). You’re a lonely, heartbroken truck driver going down a dark highway to drop off a load at an amusement park, but the park is abandoned with all the lights on and the rides operating. So you go wild, dragging your heels across the cracked pavement, looking up at the stars and growing ever more dizzy watching them wheel through their orbits. And the narrative of this album plays like a movie in his mind. Album art zip file link.
  
• Big Time (1988). The recordings here were taken from two shows Waits did on separate days in November of 1987. Unlike Nighthawks, however, this is a true live album, part of the overall Franks Wild Years tour, not something contrived for a studio audience. Though Waits never goes full Bowie when it comes to on-stage roleplaying, the singer did adopt for a short time a kind of alter ego in Frank, referencing how he torched his house (in that short, spoken word track) before taking off for the big time. In keeping with the theatricality of the Frank concept, several dramatic audio effects were added in post-production, not only audience applause but also snapping fingers, boot stomping, train whistles, gunshots, and whatnot. Disregarding the post-production shenanigans, though, I find it interesting how some of these songs are re-imagined in a live setting. Waits was fascinated by the idea of the street preacher, and some of that comes out here. Can I get an "amen"?! Album art zip file link.
  
• Bone Machine (1992). This album opens sounding like a bone machine, as if the percussion is being pounded out on the bones of people, the earth screaming like a mother forced to swallow her own increase, her children unable to escape the devouring dirt because we're all chained to her--all because one brother slew another, and the dust cried out for vengeance. Yet this is our home. For all its ugliness, it's beautiful. For all its grit and grime, it's smooth and clean. If you think of Earth as a hotel, you're gonna wanna complain to the manager. But if you think of Earth as a prison, it's pretty damn nice. This album won the Grammy for Best Alternative Album, and when Waits found out, he said to his friend, the filmmaker Jim Jarmusch, "Alternative to what?" Good question, Tom. Waits' wife co-wrote half the songs on this album, demonstrating Brennan's growing influence in the creative evolution of her husband. Album art zip file link.
  
• Bone Machine: The Operator's Manual (1992). This is a long CMJ radio network interview with Tom Waits, featuring tracks from the album of the same name. Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3. This isn't an album, just an interview in which Waits explains what the album is about and the process of its creation and production. He says the albums started with the title, so in that sense, this is a concept. He wanted songs that would fit the title "Bone Machine", so songs that evoke a sense of horror, songs about the inevitability of death, since it is a fact that we all die screaming. And not only us, but everything. The earth first, and eventually the universe. There's no escape. One thing I love about this interview is how he describes songs like they're entities: he describes the creative process in such beautiful metaphorical terms, like when he talks about how a song is "sick", meaning a song isn't working in a certain context or a song is unfinished... it's "sick", and Waits, as a kind of doctor, has to diagnose the song's sickness and help it get better. He also talks about the listener's relationship to songs, saying that an individual song is like a bar of soap. You can hold it in your hand, and sometimes your relationship with the song lasts only as long as a bar of soap, and once it's gone, you move on to the next song. He discusses how his performance aesthetic is changing, too, going from a guy who sat at a piano to a more physical, animal show and how it's connected to the spirit of music that, in some ways, can work as a poltergeist. Perhaps this is connected to Waits getting older and getting angrier, which is why he thinks his percussion has improved. Because he gets to hit shit with more gusto. Waits mentions religion so many times in this interview, which I find interesting, as he's getting it from both his wife and his mother, and that influence finds its way onto the album in frightening clarity. Album art zip file link.
  
• The Black Rider (1993). In some ways, this is like a lot of Waits' other work, but in other ways, it's completely different. It's got all his grit, of course, but as far as I know Waits doesn't have another operatic concept album like this. (He has the "Franks Wild Years" show, but it was never made into a concept album.) Also, this is the only time he strikes me as creepy (not throughout, just in spots). This album isn't as highly regarded as his giant albums, but I think it's worth anyone's time to give it a close listen. It'll make you wince until it goes down smooth and you're craving more. Basically, this is the creative result of a theatrical collaboration Waits had with a stage director and the famous Beat generation writer William S. Burroughs. This opera is a retelling of the German "Freischütz" myth, about a gunslinger who makes a deal with the Devil for a number of magic bullets that unerringly hit their targets. All but one. In a classic Faustian twist, there's one bullet that's under control of the Devil. In this story, a mild-mannered clerk makes the deal to win the hand of a huntsman's daughter. He must prove his worth as a hunter, and with the magic bullets he does, but on his wedding day, the final bullet under Satan's control kills the clerk's young bride. And in a Greek tragedy parallel, the clerk, like Orpheus in his inconsolable grief, disappears from society. Orpheus is driven to wandering and drink, and in the end he is torn apart by Dionysus' maenads. The clerk joins Satan's carnival, losing his heart, soul, and mind to the infernal pleasures of the circus. This work first appeared as a play in 1990 in Hamburg before being arranged into a concept album. Album art zip file link.
  

The Anti- Years (founded in 1999 in LA, a sub-label of the punk Epitaph, whose ethic is to treat artists like business partners, not slaves, a stance that clearly appealed to Waits)

• Mule Variations (1999). Whenever I start a Waits album and try to write some of my thoughts down, I find it difficult to say much because I feel like I lack perspective. When you five-star pretty much an entire discography, you realize you're just a fanboy and therefore aren't sure you have anything useful to say. Here Waits is gritty once again, but it's like he's a hobo singing in some dirty alleyway, singing through a metal can, using whatever he's got within reach for percussion. (A connection to the bone machine?) This music sticks to me like hot summer, sticking to me like unshakable memory. Like most Waits albums, this one, too, is a cathartic experience, but unlike other Waits' recordings thus far, this one is "surrural", meaning the themes are about rural American life, but since they're stories told by Waits, they going to be a bit surreal, aren't they? Waits won a Folk Grammy for this one, having drawn heavily on blues field recordings as the main influence. Yeah, shows that the Grammys don't know their ass from a hole in the ground. Album art zip file link.
  
• Alice (2002). Is there a greater opening track on any album ever, a truer poetic strike to the eyes that'll make you weep through the rest of the 48-minute journey? This entire album is wrapped in madness and death--is the narrator actually singing from beyond the grave (from beyond the rabbit hole)? Nothing creepier than a violin accompanying your soul on its descent into Hell, driven by suicide. Don't worry, though. They've got a jazz bar down there where you, being disembodied, will fit right in. Listen to the champagne laughs, gaze upon the strangled ebony curls, and know what it was once to be alive. This record's got history that goes beyond the mere studio production. Most of these songs were written for Waits' play, Alice, that he wrote with the same theater director who collaborated with him on The Black Rider. The stage Alice debuted in 1992, ten years before this album. So in a sense this album is more rooted in Waits' Island years, the little sister to Bone Machine and The Black Rider. Cover art.
  
• Blood Money (2002). This album has one of my favorite Waits’ songs: “God’s Away on Business”. And if you’ve not seen the Cookie Monster fan video for this, do yourself a favor. I would kill to see one of these dark cabarets live, this one, incidentally, being songs from the Waits/Brennan theater piece, Woyzeck. I’d wear a cravat and a top hat to the affair. I’d put on eyeliner. One last thing: can anyone sing a lullaby like Tom Waits? He can tuck me in anytime he wants and tell me stories about how miserable everything and everyone is. Album art zip file link.
  
• Real Gone (2004). Do you hear a keyboard (piano) anywhere on this album? Maybe I missed it somewhere, but I'm not hearing one. (Okay, I hear some now, but it's barely used.) This is all guitars, and percussion. Sounds like he's flirting with some of those popular indie rock sounds that swirled around the beginning of the century, yet this is typical Waits experimentation, so he makes whatever he's doing his own, transforming it through his dark meditations on sin. Brennan's influences are so strong here that she's basically become a co-songwriter at this point. Here, at the end of his career, the 70s Waits is finally, at last, dead. Some sinister, black ghost has risen in his place, grinning shamelessly. Though this is Waits' only studio album I don't gush over, I understand a little better what he was talking about in one of his interviews: about how he feels angrier as he ages, and how percussion sounds better because of it. If you follow the mule from Mule Variations, it'll lead you into the barn of Real Gone. And if you follow the mule, don't complain when you get dirty. Album art zip file link.
  
• Orphans: Brawlers, Bawlers & Bastards (2006). Imagine Waits being your dad and having him tell you a bedtime story where you're all alone on the planet, the moon is a piece of rotten wood, and the Earth is an overturned piss pot. Imagine Waits being your zoology professor, revealing the brutality and grittiness of slavery and copulation at all levels of the animal kingdom, including you and your neighbors. Imagine Waits doing an album of nothing but Child ballads...oh man, I'm gonna send him a letter! (Seriously, whom do I write for Waits to see this idea?) This is not some kind of greatest hits compilation. Quite the opposite: it's got rarities and unreleased tracks, those orphaned songs that "fell behind the stove while making dinner". You ever clean out the gunk that falls behind the stove? It's greasy, grimy, and probably full of flavor if you could just be brave enough to try it. Them. Not "it". Though these were released together as a three-disc set, they were consciously separated along lines of influence and style. Brawlers explores the blues and consequently rock, Bawlers sees Waits diving into heart-wrenching ballads, and Bastards focuses more on his megaphone-toting, carnivalesque experimentation. Waits excels at all three, of course, but you can pick what to listen to based on your mood or interest. Album art zip file link.
  
• Glitter and Doom Live (2009). Ol' Tom was an indefatigable pursuer of miscreants in the music, film, TV, and commercial industries, and after having successfully sued, like, four major corporations/outlets for using his songs without permission, Waits developed quite the reputation as someone not to be fucked with. He would hunt your ass down if you tried any funny business. Same went for this tour. He had his people require ticket holders to produce valid ID at the entrance to the show, and if the name didn't match the ticket, the concert-goers were denied entry. This was a massive "fuck you" to scalpers. Surely with Tom's litigious history and his tireless pursuit of integrity, the touts should've known better. I'm glad Waits did one last tour at the end of his career so we can hear him revisit his classics across all his albums. Not only the songs but the spoken-word anecdotal parts are snippets taken from ten different shows during the tour. So when you get to disc 2, don't think that Tom just stood there telling stories for 35 minutes straight. Album art zip file link.
  
• Bad as Me (2011). All aboard Waits’ latest (last) studio album! The man is a national treasure, that’s all there is to it. He succeeds at pretty much everything he tries, even here in his 60s, still kicking ass like he did at the beginning of his career, because he based his style on a timeless cool. As always, he’s sometimes smooth as hell, other times wacky and not giving a single fuck. I wonder if this album will end up being the last leaf on his tree. I feel like there's a little bit of everything from Waits' career on this album, from the gypsy rusty-accordion sounds to the growling mud-wrestling vocals to the lonely heartbroken crooning to the feeling of spinning around in circles while staring up into the night sky of a pitiless universe where you then fall down drunk not on wine but on the inevitability of death. Album art zip file link.
  

Once upon a time there was a man who saw the world from the gutter and walked a mile in the tattered shoes of the hopeless. Once upon a time he kissed the world, and it made us cry. For auld lang syne.
Sources:
RYM
Wikipedia
The Guardian
Last.fm
The Tom Waits Library
All Music
Other Primers
Anaïs Mitchell