Same here. One of the instructions was “write your name on the board.” Hardcore shaming.

Psst, it’s “err”, not “air”. Pronounced the same.

Pumpkin spice old fashioned. With real pumpkin puree!

I heard on a podcast a long time ago that the Army considered it one of their most successful recruiting tools. Not because it brought in more recruits, but because fewer recruits dropped out, apparently because playing the game led to fewer surprises after joining.

Running at the speed of lobsters!

I ask myself “why?” after most Steam sales, one of which was earlier this month. Six or seven new games to join the backlog. Relatively cheap, to be fair.

such froge

much hopping

wow

Source?

Can’t talk about grease disposal without posting this.

I’m not a fan of the “new car smell”, for some reason. The “new computer smell”, on the other hand, is a rare treat.

Most seafood doesn’t get me too badly, though I still don’t like it. Cooking shrimp, on the other hand, makes it hurt to breathe for some reason. Not the same as nausea, but it still sucks.

I have a few that some others in the thread have already mentioned, but I can also:

• wiggle most of my scalp back and forth
• retract the middle of the tip of my tongue so when I stick it out, it looks like an ass
• stop peeing mid-stream. Maybe this is perfectly common, but people talk about not being able to just stop, or at least not for longer than a few seconds.

Same here. Someone else in the thread said that’s your tensor tympani muscle.

That’s… what Americans do. I live about 1500 miles from my parents, and only use time as a measurement if I’m planning to drive that far, mainly in days.

Good catch!

My favorite/least favorite instance of this kind of oh-so-subtle dysphemism is when CNN (I think) ran a piece about some marketing suit’s complaint that millennials are “brand promiscuous”, for basically the same reason as we’re seeing with these streaming services applied to other products. This sort of thing is what led to r/DeathByMillennial.

The story was written for an audience of about 5 aging hipsters from Brooklyn.

Well said. The whole “epilogue” read like a hypercondensed Manifesto of the Pathological Twat.