teen witch posted:

Fake towing company stealing cars with tags from apartment lot, police say they can’t do anything

A Wizard of Goatse posted:

this is exactly the level of interest I've seen cops take in literally any crime where a cop wasn't personally involved, including in Virginia. I'm pretty sure like random pillheads doing burglaries or that one whackjob who thinks he can annex the neighbor's yard by putting his own fence around it aren't all paying the cops off.

Malkof posted:

Just Dew it:

My (23 F) boyfriend (24 M) put Mountain Dew in my coffee to make "Mountain Dewfee" (yes really) and thought it would be "romantic".

Ghost Leviathan posted:

Dudes who go on about how people they don't approve of should be physically assaulted and called slurs on the street are way worse than cringey weebs

Almost seems like fake nerdbait but people are taking it seriously

OP posted:

I was so embarrassed to be seen with them that I tried to stand far enough away from them that I could protect them from getting beaten up yet not be seen as part of the group.

AreWeDrunkYet posted:

Speaking of, there's a really good French documentary on the Einsatzgruppen - https://www.imdb.com/title/tt6953928/ - that's available on Netflix and Amazon Prime. It being translated from French isn't such a big deal since most of the interviews in the show aren't in French or English to begin with. Highly recommended if you want to ruin your weekend.

Dazerbeams posted:

You can never go wrong with an orange soda.

quote:

Last Post: https://www.reddit.com/r/relationships/comments/pxlqmd/mym27_wifef26_lost_her_job_after_leaving_early/

It's been a little bit since my first post, and part of me wanting to update is needing to do it for myself. My wife (Liz) has been best friends with (Lauren) since high school and long before I met her. However, Lauren's miscarriage led to my wife losing her job and her husband (Nick) divorcing her too. Lauren was depressed when the miscarriage happened, and a lot of people tried to support her afterward including me. Nick purchased concert tickets for my wife and her to go to, and I had them over for dinner multiple times and also bought over dinner a few times too. We have a fund in our budget that goes to helping others aside from charity, and we both really wanted to help them

However, Lauren began to make her husband the enemy when talking to my wife about how he'd try to help her, and they were always together in the aftermath of the miscarriage. Lauren said that Nick wanted to take time off from work (using PTO) to be with her and work through his emotions, but she didn't want him to because she only wanted to be with Liz. He also suggested a vacation to get their mind off of things, but she wanted nothing to do with it and told him to go with friends. But, when he asked one of his friends if he'd be interested, she yelled at him for not reading between the lines and doing exactly what she told him to do. There was also a time when Nick made breakfast and bought her flowers, but she threw them out and wanted to stay in bed (more than a month after the miscarriage at this point). He also suggested splurging on herself and offering to pay for her to do her hair for a night out, but she yelled at him again and kept resenting him along with refusing his offer to do grief counseling together and not wanting any affection at all.

Lauren only wanted to talk to my wife, and after each episode with her husband, she would text Liz, and Liz would sometimes come over and be the only relief that she wanted. She wanted nothing to do with Nick, but made plans with Liz right and left while continuing to neglect him in other ways too. So, eventually, Nick would divorce about 10 months after the miscarriage, and Lauren would enter a deep state of depression that required Liz to come over almost every day after work. Around this time, I told Liz that while I can't imagine what Lauren's going through, that I believe she was wrong to treat her husband in the ways that she vented to her about, but she snapped at me. I also told her that while it's good to help others, that it's important to prioritize your own health too, since she would come back late and call out of work numerous times because she barely got any sleep and was talked to for dozing off at work

I also told her that she's not a replacement for Lauren's husband, but she reiterated how they had been through everything since high school and that "before there was us, there was them", and my wife never snapped at me until I questioned Lauren's character after being married for a few years. We've disagreed before, but when I criticized Lauren for the first time, she would defend her no matter what. However, I need to explain the exact event that predicated that conversation. We were at lunch with some friends when Lauren texted Liz that she was considering "ending it", and Liz grabbed my attention and insisted that we leave, and I'll admit that my mind was rushing in the moment. This was the first time that Lauren said something like that, and Liz kept saying that if we didn't leave, we might be too late. I made up an excuse and began to drive her there, but on the way, Lauren said that she "changed her mind" after talking to Liz on the drive there and that "we no longer had to come over", and that is what prompted that conversation

Personally, I was afraid that if I didn't leave and she actually ended it, that the guilt would be with me (although I get that it shouldn't be) and my wife would forever resent me. My mind was also rushing and I couldn't think straight. I should've called the police, and it's my bad for not thinking of that, but I told her at home that we should consider calling them anyway if she's really feeling that way, but she wasn't having it and shut the conversation down. We've argued before, but the first time I ever criticize Lauren, she snaps like never before because I must've stepped on her holy grail. However, she did say that she'd "take a break" from Lauren, but that turned out to be a lie. While she wouldn't go over after work anymore, she would leave work early to visit Lauren numerous times, to the point where she came home and told me that she was "fired" one day completely out of the blue. She explained that she would leave to see Lauren on days when she felt like "ending it" again and that she stopped telling me about Lauren because of our last conversation. She also said that Lauren's situation was making her "distressed" at work and needing to leave early, but that she got fired for doing so too many times after warnings. However, when I asked what that meant for our bills, she said that I "make enough to cover" because it's partly my fault for telling her to not see Lauren after work

Update:

A lot of people said that the proper word that describes her relation to Lauren is 'codependent', and I honestly agree. Some suggested that I leave for a few days to take a break and think about what I'm getting out of the relationship post-Lauren's miscarriage that sparked the dramatic behavior change in my wife. However, the suggestion that I decided to follow, was talking to her once more and telling her where I stand and seeing where we both stand on the matter. So, that conversation is why I'm updating

I echoed what someone said about how Liz could be enabling Lauren from wanting to seek therapy when she knows that she can call her at any time, and I also told her that lying by leaving early was wrong too. I also told her that we needed to discuss her next job, but she said that she'll get it "when she wants to" because it's my fault that she had to sneak around in the first place, and she also disclosed something new. She said that she is an empath and that she and Lauren are pretty much the same person, so when I criticized Lauren, I was criticizing her. She also said that I am "someone who doesn't prioritize mental health" because I criticized Lauren and that if she hadn't lied and sacrificed her job to be with her, Lauren "might not be here" and "it would be my fault". So, she said that paying for the bills was the "least I can do" because I "don't care about Lauren at all", completely forgetting how I cooked for them numerous times and bought them movie tickets among other things and sometimes with my own money too

Before I could even say more once she got started, she said that she's been talking about me to Lauren a lot and that I'm "no better than her ex-husband" and that she wants out and there's no changing her mind. Honestly, when we were going to talk, I wasn't expecting her to lay into me like that. I didn't expect it to be roses, but I really didn't expect her to get at me like that. I've been depressed myself lately and trying to push through, but we are in the process of getting a divorce because that's what she wanted, and I've also taken some time off for myself too. I've just started therapy, but the divorce process hurt and still hurts honestly. But, that's pretty much it. I'm back working, but it still hurts. I'm playing a lot more games than I usually do at home, and a few of my friends have been really comforting. But, it hurts, and I want to ask for any advice on moving on from such an ugly end to everything if anyone has any suggestions. But, that's pretty much it. She was done before I could even get that far and even push for counseling together like someone else suggested too


TL;DR: I talked to my wife about where we stand one more time after she was fired, but she lashed out at me and blamed me for everything

quote:

This story starts 31 years ago, but the revenge part was pure serendipity that began two years ago. I'm going to shorten some (most) parts because it's a crazy ride, but I'll be happy to answer any questions y'all have. I learned a fuckton on this journey, and part of the reason for this write-up is to share that with others.

The beginning:

In 1990 when I was just out of middle school and my my sister was still in elementary, my dad met his third wife at the only gas station in our town. They soon moved in together, and my dad abandoned us in our basement apartment to live on a shanty houseboat, that didn't run, to live with her. He would show up every other week and give me $40 for groceries. Eventually, someone figured out the situation and called my mom. We went to live with her which was, believe it or not, worse.

My dad and his shanty wife got married in 1991. Not long after, she called me and told me my dad's brain tumor had returned (it hadn't) and that he couldn't handle the stress of being around us. That the only people he could bear to be around was her, and her son, "Shorty," who was my age. When I called my dad to ask if this was true, he said it wasn't, and he just couldn't believe that she would say that to begin with. That was one of our last conversations until two years ago.

The middle:

There's not much in this part. I worked my way through college, living in my car from time to time. My dad and I were no contact, but I heard from family that he'd bought a house and put his "son" through some vocational classes. When my grandmother died, Shorty and Shanty Wife showed up in a truck and took all the furniture and anything else that wasn't tied down or already gone. Eventually, I went no contact with my dad's side of the family. I struggled for years, decades really, but I made it. And I have a great job and a good family now. The best revenge is living well, right?

The pre-end warmup:

Two years ago (Oct 2019) I got a call from my dad's brother, "Allen." He told me my dad was in a nursing home in another state (great!) and I needed to go see him because he needed my help (WTF?). Shorty had ghosted him (aahahahahHAHAH!). The nursing home, coincidentally, was about 20 minutes from my house. And I saw an opportunity and I went.

The reunion was underwhelming. I didn't want to make amends, but I DID want to hear how he wound up dumped and all alone in another state. And it was a really, really good story. Shanty Wife got lung cancer and put my dad in a nursing home before she died in 2017. She suffered, and I was happy to hear it but sad it wasn't rear end cancer. Shorty became his power of attorney (POA) when she died, and had been visiting my dad, living in my dad's house with his two children, and "taking care" of my dad's affairs since his mom died. But now he was MIA, and my dad was worried about him. He asked me to drive the hour and a half to his house to check on everything. That's all he wanted. He never even asked me how I had been.

I agreed to go; I think out of morbid curiosity. I'd never even been to my dad's house. I did want to see where he lived with his "real" family for 30 years. I wanted to see what could have been my life. It was 50 shades of loving awful. The grass hadn't been cut all summer. You couldn't get to the front door for the overgrowth. There were three pickup trucks in the yard; two were full of trash. Cabs and beds and backseats, just trash. Mail, clothes, paper, shoes, garbage bags. I couldn't understand it. My dad's handicapped-modified SUV was on four flats and full of garbage, too.

I didn't have a key, so I just walked around. From what windows I could look through, the inside was in shambles and hoarded to hell. On the front and carport doors were dozens of notices from the city that they were going to condemn the place. The carport was also hoarded. Boxes and boxes stacked on each other, most rotting from the rain. The yard was full of garbage. Broken Christmas ornaments, more shoes, rusted tools, old toys. There was a letter in the mailbox notifying him that since the house was abandoned, mail would not be delivered anymore. That night, I googled Powers of Attorney and how to use them.

I went back the next day and showed my (bedbound) dad the pictures on my phone. He vowed to "beat Shorty's rear end," then asked me to help more. I told him I would, but he'd have to sign Power of Attorney over to me. All of it, durable (financial) and medical. If he didn't, he could figure this poo poo out by himself. He agreed, so I set about finding a lawyer who would drive to another state and do the paperwork in the nursing home. Bless that lawyer for being so good at his job, because all I did was tell him what I knew, and he put together a beautifully bulletproof POA. It was full of stuff I didn't even know I would need. He also filed the paperwork to revoke Shorty's POA. And now I'm unstoppable.

We're from a small, rural town and it's the kind of creepy, landlocked place that, no matter how long you've been gone or how far away you've been, when you go back, you'll see someone you know. Even if you don't know you know them. It's like playing Seven Degrees of Everybody, all the time. It's suffocating. But it can also be helpful.

The beginning of the end:

I got to work the next morning. I didn't know how scorched the earth would be when I finished, and I didn't want Shorty or anyone from his prolific, inbred family trying to find me, so I made sure nothing I did had my name on it.

I opened a google account for my dad and got a google number. I opened a PO Box for him in his town. I put in a mail forwarding notice. I pulled his credit report. I took the POA to my dad's small town bank, changed the address on his accounts and got new account numbers. I requested copies of every transaction back to the day Shanty Wife had died (about 13 months worth). I had to go to the main branch, two hours from my house, the next day to pick the records up. I sat in the lobby all afternoon, going through the account. I cornered a service rep and got a crash course in his debits and deposits. This is when I figured out the extent of Shorty's staggering stupidity.

My dad got about $5K a month in disability and social security every month. Twice a week, Shorty was going INTO a branch and withdrawing cash. ALL of the cash. For 13 months. And every time he did it, as the POA, he had to sign a form stating that he was acting on behalf of my dad, and that form was notarized by the bank. I went through every withdrawal and got the bank to confirm that every one of them was made by Shorty.

Then I went to the house and called a locksmith. I knew it was bad, but I had no idea what was waiting for me there. He got the first door open, and the stench rolled out like a fog bank. We both gagged. Two locks later, I was so embarrassed by what he had to see and smell, I gave him a $60 tip. And, with shiny new keys in hand, I called the cops. I told them I was POA for my dad, was checking on his house, and there were three vehicles there that didn't belong to him. He asked me if I knew who they belonged to. I said no, and I wanted them towed. He told me to call a tow company and he would meet them there.

They showed up with two wreckers. The tow truck guy got out and asked me for a signature. I only signed my first name. As I was signing, he asked, "Do you know Shorty?" Running on pure hatred at this point, I surprised myself. "Do you?' I asked. He said he did, and that "...he's an rear end in a top hat." I responded, "He might be. Hey, can you do me a favor? If you see him, will you tell him MNWNM is coming for him?" His bravado evaporated. He knows a crazy bitch when he sees one. They towed the trucks.

When everyone was gone, I opened the door in the carport to peek in. The sun was going down and it was dark in the house. I heard something faint, and after some seconds realized it was the roaches and the rats doing their roach and rat stuff. I could smell it all in my hair.

I sat on the carport steps and watched the sun go down. I was mad. Just so loving cosmically LIVID that 72 hours was all it took to dissolve three decades and here I was, stinking and listening to the rats and cleaning everyone else's poo poo up. Taking time away from my family, and for what?

I had a coming-to-Jesus with myself; I could either bow out now, or double down. And the thing is, I'm tenacious. To a goddamn fault. I had to be to survive, and this was a bone I couldn't put down. The thought of Shorty's life being upended, his only source of income (probably) disappearing literally overnight, and my dad having to hear, second-hand FROM ME, that he's broke and alone, made me absolutely giddy. I desperately wanted them both to lose what they had left. So, I decided I was going to triple dog down. That night, I googled restraining orders.

And it was surprisingly easy to get one! I went to the courthouse in my hometown, went to the clerk's office, and told her I needed a restraining order. I filled the form in at a rickety little table while I was there. I wasn't prepared to see a judge that day, but she took the form and said "OK, I'll see if the judge is still here." That kind of scared me. She took me to his chambers, and as I was waiting, I looked around and saw he had certificates of appreciation hanging up from various veteran's groups. Then I wiped my palms and thought, "Fish in a loving barrel." He asked about my my dad's stint in the Marines, and about the DoD office logo on my sweater (I'm a contractor). He read my form and granted the temporary order. I would have to go back for the permanent one, where Shorty would be able to argue against it. Then I went home and googled biohazard companies and elder abuse statutes in my state.

I hired a biohazard company to shovel all poo poo out of the house for $7K. I would have paid double. They found my dad's mummified dog under some pizza boxes in the master bedroom. They sent me pictures and salvaged some papers. Shorty was served during this time, and a hearing was set. I got to work collecting and documenting poo poo. I made pictures and spreadsheets and timelines with cross references because gently caress it, now they had my full attention. (The paid versions of Truthfinder and Trello seriously got me through all this.) In my spare time, I went to the nursing home and gave my dad 8x10 copies of the pictures of his dead dog. From every angle.

Before court, I went to the police station nearby and told them I wanted to report an elder abuse crime. A "white collar" detective came out and told me it was a domestic matter and that since Shorty had been POA, everything he had done was legal.

And this was the day I got to teach a small town detective about the fiduciary responsibilities of a POA. Thanks google! I handed him a copy of the statute with the applicable sections highlighted. Then I handed him a thick folder with bank statements, pictures of the hoarded house and dead dog, a copy of my dad's credit report that showed he was tens and tens of thousands of dollars in debt, and a spreadsheet listing every cash withdrawal with a running total of the stolen amounts. The grand total was just over $130K in cash. That's not the including the lost value of the house or the credit cards he opened and used. I told him he could keep that folder since it wasn't the only one I had. Then I told him I would wait for a case number, and I sat down. He came back about 30 minutes later and apologized, said I had a case, and gave me a case number. Then I headed over to the courthouse.

This is the end:

There were other people there and I had to wait my turn. And while I was waiting, that stupid motherfucker schlepped his sloppy rear end into the courtroom, by himself and obviously, literally, non-metaphorically, dirty. His shoes were untied and that turned my giggle box over. Then it was our turn and we stood up. The (same) judge asked me some questions, asked him some questions, and asked me if I had any proof. I had a very thick folder of it. The judged asked me if I had gone to the police. Well yes, sir, I have. Do you have a case number? As a matter of fact... The order was granted, permanently and for life, but not before the judge halted proceedings and told Shorty he needed a lawyer.

Someone told me that the courthouse would have a copy of my dad's DD214 (discharge papers) so while I was there, I got a copy of those, because why not? I also used my POA to take Shanty Wife off the deed to the house. That way, if my dad died and it went into probate, Shorty had no immediate claim. I also went and got copies of my dad's birth certificate and Shanty Wife's death certificate. Technically, step children can't request that info, but the clerk who waited on me recognized my dad's name and told me she lost her virginity to my uncle Allen in the 60s, and went to my grandparent's funeral. So I got all the forms I wanted.

Shanty Wife left my dad $50K in life insurance. About $35K of that was left since Shorty was spending my dad's money and not his mom's. So I opened an Ally account and transferred every penny over. Then I set up recurring transfers for the monthly deposits. At any given time, there was no more than $100 in his account. I also found a house flipper that paid me enough for the house to pay off his mortgage. That's the thing about probate, there's nothing to fight over if there's nothing there. And I made sure there was loving NOTHING there. My dad died thinking he stilled owned a house.

Speaking of which, this is about the time I found my dad's life insurance policies. They were up to date, and Shanty Wife was the beneficiary. My POA didn't allow me to change beneficiaries, but it allowed me to assign them, and since Shanty Wife was dead, there was technically no beneficiary. This is where the death certificates came in handy! I assigned my sister and me as beneficiaries. Irrevocable, too, which means that the only way to change that is for my dad AND me AND my sister to agree to it.

I kept my dad in the dark about all this. The only thing he ever really knew about was the restraining order and his dead dog. I found out that he had purchased the gravesite next to Shanty Wife and wanted to be buried next to her. That was just never going to loving happen. I googled national cemeteries, and found out he qualified to be in one since he was a disabled Vietnam-era veteran. So I arranged for that, instead.

All the cherries on top:

My dad died in June this year and I was there. He's buried in a National Cemetery far away where no one will ever go visit him. The only obituary I ran was on the funeral home's website and that only for insurance purposes. I wrote it as vague as possible. There was no service. His urn is purple, the color he hated most.

I got a call in August from the prosecutor's office in my hometown. The lady on the other end is married to my first cousin because of course she is; that's how it loving works there. Shorty was arrested just after midnight on July 1st, was still in jail, and had been arraigned on felony elder abuse charges. He's facing 10 years in FPMITA prison. She told me not to expect the trial any time soon, as it can take up to three years for that to happen. I told her that was awesome since the uncertainty will hopefully haunt him. And after all that, he's still got prison to look forward to!

He lost his kids. He lost his "dad." I'm spending his mom's cancer money. He lost his free house and trucks. He has no credit and will never be able to get any sort of decent job and will, hopefully for a long time, not be able to find a decent place to live.

And I sleep like a loving baby.

Hughlander posted:

AITA for not refusing to give my son the name my husband wants to give him?

limp_cheese posted:

This post reminds me of another post that explains real love. Something about how the husband has had to replace the thermometer a few times a year for 30 years and she refuses to listen. I think the last line is something like "So I repair the thermostat again, knowing full well she will break it AGAIN, because I genuinely don't want her to be cold." Anyone have that handy?

quote:

gently caress all the pop song puppy love bullshit. Your heart skipping a beat
isn't love, it's cardiac arrhythmia. It's not about shortness of breath,
either, or how turned on you get or whether you tell yourself you'd
throw yourself in front of a bus for her or whatever. You can convince
yourself of a lot about how you feel and what you would do in exchange
for regular oral sex.



Love is when she drives you insane sometimes. And I don't mean merely
"aggravating" or "annoying," I mean flat-out loving in. Sane. And in a
way nobody else can do it in a million years. She'll drive you to the
point where you'd gouge out your own eyeball with a melon baller or
smack your scrotum a half-dozen times with a ball peen hammer if it
means you can be done with this conversation. She'll make you want to
chew your own arm off to get out of talking about this. And I don't care
how many loving times you've had this conversation, each time, you
know you'll have it again:



Her: I thought you turned the heat on.

You: I did.

Her: Well, I'm still cold. Are you sure you did it right?

You: Yes, I'm pretty sure I know how to turn on a thermostat.

Her: 'Cause you know you have to flip the switch to "heat" and....

You: Honey! I know! How to turn on! A thermostat! I went to college for it and everything.

Her: Well, I don't feel any heat blowing in here.

You: I know. I think you broke the thermostat again.

Her: I didn't break it.

You: Yes, you did, you put that halogen lamp right next to it again.

Her: That doesn't do anything.

You: Yes, it does.

Her: I thought you fixed it?

You: I did fix it, and you broke it again.

Her: Are you sure you fixed it right?

You: Yes, goddammit, I fixed it right.

Her: How do you know you fixed it?

You: 'Cause it worked when I fixed it!

Her: Well, it's not working now.

You: 'Cause you broke it again!

Her: How'd I break it?

You: You put the goddamn, loving lamp next to it!

Her: I don't see why a lamp would break a thermostat.

You: OK. I'm going to explain this. One more time. Slowly. Thermostats
have a coil inside them that expands and contracts based on the
temperature. This is how they know when it is hotter than the setting of
the A/C, so it can cool the room off, or colder than the setting of the
heating, so it can heat the room up. Halogen lamps generate heat.
Halogen lamps generate a lot of heat. That's why you burn your fingers
when you touch the bulbs after they've been on for a while. So when you
put a halogen lamp next to a thermostat, it causes the coil to keep
expanding and expanding and expanding past the point it's intended to
expand. This makes the thermostat think it's really, really hot all the
time, and it makes the coil less sensitive in the future, and it'll
eventually break the coil so I'll have to replace the thermostat.

Her: That doesn't sound right.

You: Trust me. It's right.

Her: How do you know?

You: BECAUSE I TOOK SIXTH GRADE loving PHYSICS, OK?!

Her: Well, I don't think they should make thermostats that can be broken by something little like a lamp.

You: Fine. Don't think that. Write a letter to the manufacturers. Write a
letter to universities and tell them to build a better thermostat. I
don't loving care. But that's how they make them. That's why I keep
moving the lamp, that's why I keep telling you not to put it back to the
right of the bookcase, that's why I've had to fix the thermostat four
loving times now. Stop! Putting! The lamp! Right! Next! To the
thermostat!

Her: But on the other side of the bookcase, the front of the hallway is dark, and I can't see inside my gift closet.

You: Well, you can turn on the hall light to go through your gift closet, or you can sit here and be cold! Your choice, honey!

Her:

You:

Her:

You:

Her: I don't think you fixed the thermostat right.

You: GOD-MOTHERFUCKING-DAMMIT, I'M GOING TO FIX THAT MOTHERFUCKING
THERMOSTAT TOMORROW, AND I SWEAR TO MOTHERFUCKING CHRIST IF YOU PUT THE
LAMP NEAR THE THERMOSTAT AGAIN, I WILL SMASH IT TO A MILLION loving
PIECES AND SHOVE THEM DOWN YOUR GODDAMN THROAT!!! MOTHERFUCK ME,
JESUS!!!!!!



And if the seventh time you have that conversation, knowing full well
there will be an eighth time, you'd still rather have that conversation
again than imagine a world she's not in, you're in love.



Especially if you do fix that thermostat... again... the next day, and
not just so she'll shut up about it, but because you really don't want
her to be cold anymore.

mind the walrus posted:

This is why I always warn the subsection of my friends who still want to be tradwives/stahm/whatever and let their spouse be the breadwinner-- if you give a spouse financial control, they're going to assume they have total control. Goodwill between parties in a capitalist system does not exist when one party is financially subservient to the other. Hubby is a massive POS, but this is a very expected outcome from anyone who feels like they're "the boss."

quote:

Also, the reason I said it's my house I meant that it's my house too and not as if it's mine alone or hers alone. My wife has huge part in it and she definitely gets a say in what goes on and what doesn't and we don't usually diasgree except for this issue.

Evil Willow posted:

AITA for not warning my cousins that my fiancé could understand them when they were speaking about him in a different language?

Escape Goat posted:

ESH + YTA for being weirdly passive and roundabout instead of just saying "I'm not going to work on the weekend"

the holy poopacy posted:

good news

Update- My husband tried to close our accounts and kick myself and the kids out of our house.

I think this story & update have shown up in these threads before, although it's hard to say since there are going to be plenty of stories just like it

TheWeedNumber posted:

drat it feels good to be a gangster

Uncle Enzo posted:

She had already made Enola Gay, why would she want Bockscar? They're the same plane!!

Evil Willow posted:

AITA For Not Letting Someone Make My Kids Feel Worthless?

SMEGMA_MAIL posted:

There’s a large gap in consenting to being raised by a massive fragile bitchmade man child.

Arzachel posted:

I took a peek at the comments and it looks like they're dating

Peaceful Anarchy posted:

I don't understand the "stemlord" thing. The reason OP states for them not being "real classes" is that Ava already knows those subjects, not that the subjects themselves are unworthy.

Bruceski posted:

r/relationships: Family isn't about who's got your eyes, it's about who's got your back.

Cthulu Carl posted:

The music would probably give him a better living than the philosophy degree

muscles like this! posted:

Yeah grocery stores in my area did that too and basically nobody followed it. Big signs on the end caps telling people which end to enter and everyone just walked right past.

WoodrowSkillson posted:

always the rear end in a top hat for calling the pigs

Ghost Leviathan posted:

It's the Germany of America.

pentyne posted:

I mean for a child I can't think of anything more exciting to find then a hidden room behind a bookcase. It's in practically every form of children's media as a way to hide a secret treasure room. A $5 lock solves all those problems.

Pomme de Terror posted:

I was prepared to be mad at this one, and was pleasantly surprised

AITA for wanting to send my son to therapy?

kimbo305 posted:

There's a big variety of Sichuan dishes, and some are spicy as a standard, and quite a few aren't.
It struck me as strange that, even though the wife picked out a place she really wanted to go to and presumably thought highly of, and tried to pick non-spicy dishes for OP , that they still ended up spicy. It'd be a gimmicky place that made everything uniformly spicy.

Agents are GO! posted:

Scags McDouglas posted:

My dream in life is to experience that one time and then tell the server "I'm paying the whole bill. Your tip goes up 5 dollars every time you insult my friend here"

Sisal Two-Step posted:

Another great one. It's amazing what families can accomplish when everyone is communicating and in touch with their emotions.

Invisible Clergy posted:

broccoli boiled to tasteless mush...

Captain Hygiene posted:

Oh derp, I skipped a bit of it. I'm feeling too charitable lately I guess

teen witch posted:

ranch and sesame oil is a combo that is making me queasy alone. and then you add in old bay??? Why

Foo Diddley posted:

yeah i remember that bit in the bible, where god gives us HOAs. it was in exodus, right?

Absurd Alhazred posted:

Just not the Mom Dad wants.

Antivehicular posted:

It's really wild to read a story where people make huge mistakes in their interpersonal relationships but manage to fix things via honest communication,

BrigadierSensible posted:

Whilst you are right that they do seem well enough off that $25,000 won't kill them.

I would argue dealing with an emotionally abusive mother who tells her son he killed his dad after the son willingly went through surgery in order to save him. A mother in law inserting herself in the worst possible ways into her sons life. A person who uses a fake suicide attempt to spite her daughter-in-law, and then runs away on a luxury cruise when caught out. I would argue that these are the bigger problems.

Evil Willow posted:

It always blows my mind that the updates are "so we communicated and worked things out!" I mean, why couldn't they do that before posting on Reddit??

Hughlander posted:

AITA for being mad at my parents because they withheld information about my medical history from me?


How dare you get ahold of your own medical records! That's private and not for you!