It was either the shrimp or the bean sprouts in the food court Pad Thai. I was visiting my S.O. in Canada and wound up in a 3-day war with food poisoning. I could not stop puking and shitting. I shit so much acidic death juice that my asshole was in absolute agony and never cooled down. It was like someone had fileted and cauterized my rectum. I couldn't even sit on the couch properly. Fortunately, her sectional was old and had collapsed in on itself in the very corner. I sat in this corner, right on top of the collapsed portion. It was perfect for supporting my body without making contact with the seat of my pants. I sat in this corner for three days watching weird YouTube videos about Centralia and other phenomena, while intermittently hopping up to puke and shit and fart. I was so fucking sick. I felt like I was going to die.
Stalinwolf
My nostalgia for the little things in nature are honestly one of the most meaningful things in my life, and often something as simple as the sound of leaves quietly rattling across the ground on a damp autumn night evokes a deeply spiritual feeling.
It was likely a permanent Sharpee marker. Hopefully it holds up. Fingers crossed that I'm able to return there as a ghost one day to watch someone unearth what they believed was a map to the family treasure.
It's always the most insecure looking dudes who take their profile pics with sunglasses on in the front seat of their Dodge Ram, or mildly muscular/tattooed guys who have taken 50+ successive shirtless selfies, smirking in front of a mirror. It's even funnier when you note how many times they went back through their old pics and re-posted the previous ones.
It's been a few years but I don't remember that at all, but I'd be interested to see if I'm bothered by it on a re-watch.
There's a phenomenal French horror series on Netflix called Marianne that my wife and I enjoyed immensely. I don't usually shoot for that particular brand of horror (demon/ghost), but Marianne is fucking excellent. Can't recommend it enough.
The masses know nothing of the crunch. They've never even been to the crunch.
Silenced PP7.
My brother and I put a corked glass bottle down in an old defunct drainage pipe beneath my parents' house. This pipe/canal is quite large and isn't obstructed by the bottle, and the bottle can clearly be seen by peering into a hole in the cement of the basement storage room. Inside of that bottle is a carefully folder paper bearing on it a crude drawing of a cock and balls.
Nah. Crash Bandicoot has always been trash.
Hate when that happens.