Podcasts about uhhh

Uhhh yep, we're going there—all things BIRTH with the magical Ann Marie Gilligan, creator of The Gilligan's Guide to Optimal Birth. From shoulder dystocia and vaginal tearing to home birth transfers, cesareans, and belly mapping—we cover it all. Ann walks us through the body wisdom behind a smoother, more connected birth, including hands-on tools for achieving optimal birthing positioning for our babies in utero. Ann even walks Sarah (who's in her third trimester) through practical prep! We also revisit our not-so-to-plan first births, share big feels about our upcoming 4th & 5th births, and talk about what it really means to reclaim your power in the birth space. This one's for anyone healing from a birth or prepping for one—it's informative, grounded, and full of reminders that you get to own your story. Resource links: The Guide - Gilligan's Guide Follow Ann on IG: @gilligansguide Ina May's Guide to Childbirth by Ina May Gaskin This episode is proudly sponsored by Hungryroot! Follo​w Sarah Wright Olsen: IG: @swrightolsen Follow Teresa Palmer: IG: @teresapalmer  FB: https://www.facebook.com/teresamarypalmer/ DISCOUNT CODES: • Go to www.baeo.com and get 20% when using the code MOTHERDAZE20 • Go to www.lovewell.earth and get 20% when using the code MOTHERDAZE20 More about the show! • Watch this episode on YouTube here • Co-founders of @yourzenmama yourzenmama.com • Read and buy our book! "The Zen Mama Guide To Finding Your Rhythm In Pregnancy, Birth, and Beyond"  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

The Panthers push all the right buttons while The Dolphins are just trying to figure things out plus The Tush Push could be going bye bye.

Wir sind gerührt - eine neue Folge ist draußen! Wenn du diese Themen hörst, kannst du vor Freude weinen: Mike Krüger, die Fäkal-Fliege, Schokorilla, Schönschrift, Uhhh & Hähhh, nervige Kinder, Pangramm, Alexander von Humboldt und die Lachnacht in Offenburg. Es ist alles so wunderschön! HIER KANNST DU UNS ÜBERALL HÖREN: https://linktr.ee/komischegespraeche HIER KANNST DU UNS AUF KAFFEE EINLADEN: https://ko-fi.com/komischegespraechepodcast HIER GEHT ES ZUR KOMISCHE MUSIKE PLAYLIST AUF SPOTIFY: https://tinyurl.com/komischeMusike

Actualmente, 2 de cada 10 personas que se encuentran con Isabel Vázquez por la calle o en cualquier de los mil eventos a los que acude esta intelectual de referencia la felicitan por lo bien que toca el piano. Nuestro trabajo aquí es seguir insistiendo fuertemente en esa línea hasta que al menos 4 ó 5 personas de cada diez le digan ‘joé, Isabel, qué bien tocas el piano, tía'. ¡Adelante, Isabel! Karaoke: Estuve en New York, fue genial, Su cultura gira, brilla, salta, Uhhh uhhhhuhhhhh Vete a New York, es vital Tienes freedom, moda, people, arte y tú uuuuuuuuuuu Todo el tiempo en la rueda, derrapando para dejarse ir. La rutina te azota. te golpea, cualquiera diría que eres el hazmerreir.Un día de pronto te escapas, ves el hueco, hay puerta de embarque para ti.Estás en Harlem, hermano. Bienvenido a Madison con 43 street.Tengo entradas para el Whitney Museum, vas a flipar con Amy Sherald. Oh my goss, qué mirada, hermanos de la raza negra os quiero, Black Lives Matter, hey man, what the fuck mielmano del Bronx. Busquen sus pinturas, Amy Sherald, Canelita en rama. Me he tomado un Old Fashion en el Blue Note, soy el super héroe Marvel que te dé la gana sobrevolando Vanderbilt, he visto a Carlito Brigante serpenteando por Grand Central to Brian de Palma. Y Hugh Jackman todo el rato en el Radio City Music Hall, levantando la pierna. Pero es que en junio, en el Beacon Theatre, Miley Cirus un día y otro día Paul Simon, tócate el melocotón. Y creo que me he cruzado con Denzel Washington, carajo, que está haciendo Otelo en Broadway. ¿Pero esto qué es? Bajando Bleecker Street me puse triste y bien perfumado, en Washington Square fui feliz cuánta maría y cuánta gente libre, dios mío, 153.000 portadas del New Yorker en la free exhibition de la Public Library. Se le ha caído la chiva a Abraham Lincoln, el del Lincoln Center, al escucharle a Pedro tanta diatriba vs Trump en el homenaje Almodóvar a sí mismo. Etc etc. 

Actualmente, 2 de cada 10 personas que se encuentran con Isabel Vázquez por la calle o en cualquier de los mil eventos a los que acude esta intelectual de referencia la felicitan por lo bien que toca el piano. Nuestro trabajo aquí es seguir insistiendo fuertemente en esa línea hasta que al menos 4 ó 5 personas de cada diez le digan ‘joé, Isabel, qué bien tocas el piano, tía'. ¡Adelante, Isabel! Karaoke: Estuve en New York, fue genial, Su cultura gira, brilla, salta, Uhhh uhhhhuhhhhh Vete a New York, es vital Tienes freedom, moda, people, arte y tú uuuuuuuuuuu Todo el tiempo en la rueda, derrapando para dejarse ir. La rutina te azota. te golpea, cualquiera diría que eres el hazmerreir.Un día de pronto te escapas, ves el hueco, hay puerta de embarque para ti.Estás en Harlem, hermano. Bienvenido a Madison con 43 street.Tengo entradas para el Whitney Museum, vas a flipar con Amy Sherald. Oh my goss, qué mirada, hermanos de la raza negra os quiero, Black Lives Matter, hey man, what the fuck mielmano del Bronx. Busquen sus pinturas, Amy Sherald, Canelita en rama. Me he tomado un Old Fashion en el Blue Note, soy el super héroe Marvel que te dé la gana sobrevolando Vanderbilt, he visto a Carlito Brigante serpenteando por Grand Central to Brian de Palma. Y Hugh Jackman todo el rato en el Radio City Music Hall, levantando la pierna. Pero es que en junio, en el Beacon Theatre, Miley Cirus un día y otro día Paul Simon, tócate el melocotón. Y creo que me he cruzado con Denzel Washington, carajo, que está haciendo Otelo en Broadway. ¿Pero esto qué es? Bajando Bleecker Street me puse triste y bien perfumado, en Washington Square fui feliz cuánta maría y cuánta gente libre, dios mío, 153.000 portadas del New Yorker en la free exhibition de la Public Library. Se le ha caído la chiva a Abraham Lincoln, el del Lincoln Center, al escucharle a Pedro tanta diatriba vs Trump en el homenaje Almodóvar a sí mismo. Etc etc. 

Actualmente, 2 de cada 10 personas que se encuentran con Isabel Vázquez por la calle o en cualquier de los mil eventos a los que acude esta intelectual de referencia la felicitan por lo bien que toca el piano. Nuestro trabajo aquí es seguir insistiendo fuertemente en esa línea hasta que al menos 4 ó 5 personas de cada diez le digan ‘joé, Isabel, qué bien tocas el piano, tía'. ¡Adelante, Isabel! Karaoke: Estuve en New York, fue genial, Su cultura gira, brilla, salta, Uhhh uhhhhuhhhhh Vete a New York, es vital Tienes freedom, moda, people, arte y tú uuuuuuuuuuu Todo el tiempo en la rueda, derrapando para dejarse ir. La rutina te azota. te golpea, cualquiera diría que eres el hazmerreir.Un día de pronto te escapas, ves el hueco, hay puerta de embarque para ti.Estás en Harlem, hermano. Bienvenido a Madison con 43 street.Tengo entradas para el Whitney Museum, vas a flipar con Amy Sherald. Oh my goss, qué mirada, hermanos de la raza negra os quiero, Black Lives Matter, hey man, what the fuck mielmano del Bronx. Busquen sus pinturas, Amy Sherald, Canelita en rama. Me he tomado un Old Fashion en el Blue Note, soy el super héroe Marvel que te dé la gana sobrevolando Vanderbilt, he visto a Carlito Brigante serpenteando por Grand Central to Brian de Palma. Y Hugh Jackman todo el rato en el Radio City Music Hall, levantando la pierna. Pero es que en junio, en el Beacon Theatre, Miley Cirus un día y otro día Paul Simon, tócate el melocotón. Y creo que me he cruzado con Denzel Washington, carajo, que está haciendo Otelo en Broadway. ¿Pero esto qué es? Bajando Bleecker Street me puse triste y bien perfumado, en Washington Square fui feliz cuánta maría y cuánta gente libre, dios mío, 153.000 portadas del New Yorker en la free exhibition de la Public Library. Se le ha caído la chiva a Abraham Lincoln, el del Lincoln Center, al escucharle a Pedro tanta diatriba vs Trump en el homenaje Almodóvar a sí mismo. Etc etc. 

Originally aired on May 2, 2025   We do hope you had a cozy Easter, some countries soon won't...   Topics of Discussion: Netflix reckons that cinemas are obsolete and they are the Messiahs Mating Season, a totally furry-bait TV series is on the cards UK bans game controller exports to Russia in the name of saving Ukraine Xbox prices in general to shoot up, what can we expect?   Hosts: Jolt Noble Guil

Welcome to our podcast series from The Super Network and Pop4D called Tubi Tuesdays Podcast! This podcast series is focused on discovering and doing commentaries/watch a longs for films found on the free streaming service Tubi, at TubiTVYour hosts for Tubi Tuesdays are Super Marcey, ‘The Terrible Australian' Bede Jermyn, Prof. Batch (From Pop4D & Web Tales: A Spider-Man Podcast) and Kollin (From Trash Panda Podcast), will take turns each week picking a film to watch and most of them will be ones we haven't seen before.Film Starts Playing At: 00:07:45Welcome back to The Tubi Tuesdays Podcast, the number one Tubi related podcast that's hosted by two Australians, one Canadian and one American! All four co-hosts are here with Super Marcey, Bede Jermyn, Prof. Batch and Kollin, however Bede decided to do a silent protest because he lost the karaoke contest against Kraven and thus Kraven won the prize of taking Bede's pick. In true Kraven style he's picked a film that isn't even on Tubi with Krazy House (2024)! Did Bede remain silent through his protest? Do Marcey, Bach and Kollin get a much needed break from his bad jokes? I guess you'll have to listen in and find out!Krazy House was directed by Steffen Haars and Flip Van der Kuil, it stars Nick Frost, Alicia Silverstone, Jan Bijvoet, Gaite Jansen, Walt Klink, Chris Peters, Matti Stooker and Kevin Connolly as Jesus.If you have never listened to a commentary before and want to watch the film along with the podcast, here is how it works. You simply need to grab a copy of the film or load it up on Tubi (you may need alcohol), and sync up the podcast audio with the film. We will tell you when to press and you follow along, it is that easy! Because we have watched the films on Tubi, it is a free service and there are ads, however we will give a warning when it comes up, so you can pause the film and provide time stamps to keep in sync.Highlights include:* Bede doing a silent protest, it doesn't work.* We are all obsessed with Nick Frost's Jesus sweater vests!* Is BluZuZu doing all this?* Krazy House brings the blasphemy and gore!* Uhhh this all escalated quickly!* Typical Bede, runs out of paper to write on ...* So this film turned into the Passion of the Frost ...* Plus much, much more!Check out The Super Network on Patreon to gain early access to The Tubi Tuesdays Podcast!DISCLAIMER: This audio commentary isn't meant to be taken seriously, it is just a humourous look at a film. It is for entertainment purposes, we do not wish to offend anyone who worked on and in the film, we have respect for you all.Music provided by DeNNo, introduction and podcast editing by Super Marcey & Bede Jermyn Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

If you've every asked, "Uhhh.... what?" after reading something in the Bible, specifically the parables of Jesus: we cover a couple of things to keep in mind and make it applicable to us today! 

Welcome to Episode 98 of The Last Standee Podcast! This is one where we have to apologize in advance for making you listen to Alessio for a feature-length episode. No, the team is still there. It's just that it's a mess sometimes to put together speakers geographically distant, and when illnesses and shaky world situation interfere, that's a recipe for missed episodes. We pull through the best we can, though, thank you. ...It was way more informative than what I meant initially, but it's fine. THIS IS FINE. EVERYTHING IS FINE. Anyway, Alessio takes the chance of being alone in the recording to talk about niche and upcoming project, such as Eternal Decks (take it!) in the Standee Catch-up, then talks about a Canadian (nonetheless!) project of three innovative games set up in the Twisted Realms. After this, it's time to do the laundry with the review of two Unmatched sets for the new course: Sun's Origin (for two players) and Slings and Arrows (for four players) - public domain heroes, the best ones! Finally, as it's compulsory for solo episodes, it's time for the big, genre-defining solo game of the episode: this time, we talk about Legacy of Yu. Uhhh, next one is episode 99! Can't wait for it! It will be legen

Like, Kinda like, you know, Uhhh, 【トピックリクエスト送り先】https://forms.gle/T1DoGnv361nS8NLc7

UHHH!! YUCK!!! UYUCKOO!! I axeofdentally touched the gas pump! BLEH! When I was pumpking gas into the car. My car got some gas on the outside of it! OOWOOGA! Now to touch the $20 bill, the door handle, the cash wrap, the rollerized hot dog, the plastic bag, a quarter, a newspaper, my sticky butt crack, and a cop's gun on the way home. THAT makes a lot of sense. A nod to health!On today's show we have all that and more. Plus a couple of other things like a nutting device, something with Jell-O, and a pathetic device that is pussifying the boomer generation. Sad to see! But funny to hear. And that's the way the show goes. EnjoyMusic for YKS is courtesy of Howell Dawdy, Craig Dickman, Mr. Baloney, and Mark Brendle. Additional research by Zeke Golvin. YKS is edited by Producer Dan. Social Media by Maddalena Alvarez.Executive Producer Tim Faust (@crulge)Subscribe to YKS Premium today and find yourself smack dab in the middle of a very special month. Let's just say the boys are very “animated” about it. And you can listen to it in your “car” if you “toon” the radio up a bit. Will that “movie” you to subscribe? Follow us on Instagram: @YKSPod, TikTok: YourKickstarterSucks and subscribe to our YouTube channel for more video stuff! Wow, 2025 is lit!! Gift subscriptions to YKS Premium are now available at Patreon.com/yourkickstartersucks/giftSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Watch on Philo! - Philo.tv/DTHThe episode kicks off in the 70s with Alice watching Colton perform. Kat shows up too and tells her about the jacket. Alice says she's confident there's an explanation. Colton plays a song that really surprises Kat. She asks hippie guy Jasper about it, and he says he taught it himself. It's an old folk song from the founding of the town. As she's walking back to the pond, she sees Grandma sitting there. She goes to talk to her, and Grandma says that Colton isn't special—she thought he was—but he's a rule breaker.In 2025, it's Del's birthday, and she doesn't want anyone to do anything for it. So, the boys ignore her and plan a surprise party. Brady is in town for some reason, so that's fun.Back to the 70s, Alice is still hanging out with Evelyn. Evelyn suggests they use a Ouija board to contact Cassandra, someone who used to live in Evelyn's room.Kat makes it back to the present and finds the music book. She reads the lyrics, and it's clear that it was written by Thomas about them. So, she goes over and kisses Elliot, saying, “Our love is good enough to write a song about, right?”So Evelyn, Alice, Colton, and Del are doing the Ouija board, and someone begins to communicate with them. It's not Cassandra, but someone who says “fire,” “fast,” “blame,” and then the little planchette shoots toward Colton. He's freaked out, and Del comforts him.Kat and Elliot are making out when there's a knock at the door. It's Emma... Elliot's ex-wife!Evelyn and Alice are talking about what happened when Evelyn notices a hidden door. Inside is the painting of "MY Katherine." Evelyn says, "I recognize her," and Alice is like, “Uhhh, I gotta go.”Sam and Del surprise Jacob with a certificate of resurrection. They probably had to wait in a really long line for that one.Kat, Elliot, and Emma are all hanging out, and it's awkward.Alice is getting coffee with her dad when Noah walks in. She introduces him to her dad and calls him her boyfriend. Brady is unimpressed.Kat dreams of making out with Thomas, so there's that.It's time for the party, and Alice sings a song from the 1800s book. The song is freaking Kat and Jacob out, so they take the book and find out that in 1816, there was a year with no sun. People thought the world was ending. Kat and Jacob are convinced they need to go back and tell everyone that the world isn't ending.Alice talks to Del about Evelyn, and it doesn't go well. Del tells her to stay out of her memories.Noah goes to comfort Alice, and they end up kissing.Brady and Jacob have a moment where Brady apologizes for distracting Kat the night he went missing, and Jacob is like, “I've never blamed you.”Elliot tries to convince Kat not to go back to the 1800s, but she says, “Jacob wants to jump, and I can't let him go alone.”Alice is walking around when Max stops her and asks if she's going to accuse him of having a sibling again. But he says Casey is a family name... Cassandra, actually. So that's quite the coincidence.Kat and Jacob jump in and come back to the 1800s. They can't find anyone but end up at the church, where they see Susanna walking out with Cyrus Goodwin, and they're married! Susanna and Kat lock eyes. Then we see that Thomas is also looking on from afar.

Uhhh, heute geht's ans Eingemachte. Ehrlich. Ich bin getriggert – so richtig. Ein Freund hat mir eine Geschichte erzählt, die mich an zahllose Gespräche erinnert hat, in denen es immer um dasselbe Gift ging: Die Kostenlos-Mentalität. Dieses Virus ist überall – in unseren Köpfen, in unserer Gesellschaft und in unserem verdammten Selbstwert. Und weißt Du, was das Schlimmste ist? Fast niemand spricht darüber! Alle nicken, alle schlucken es runter, alle machen weiter – und wundern sich, warum sie nicht vorankommen. Heute spreche ich das aus, was die meisten sich nicht trauen: Wer sich selbst nichts wert ist, wird niemals erfolgreich SEIN. Wir leben in einer Welt, in der alles umsonst sein soll – Wissen, Erfahrung, Leidenschaft. Wir haben vergessen, dass echter Wert nicht durch Rabatte, sondern durch Respekt entsteht. Aber hey, wenn Du denkst, Du könntest mit "kostenlos" durchs Leben gehen, dann frag Dich mal, was das mit Deiner mentalen Gesundheit macht. Was das mit Deiner Selbstermächtigung macht. Ja, dieses Virus zerstört nicht nur Unternehmen – es zerstört Dich. Dein Selbstbewusstsein. Deine Haltung. Dein SEIN. Und das Schlimmste? Du machst mit. Aber es gibt eine Lösung. Ein radikaler Perspektivwechsel. Heute zeige ich Dir, wie Du aus diesem destruktiven Kreislauf ausbrichst. Wie Du Deinen Wert erkennst und aufhörst, Dich billig zu verkaufen. Du willst Erfolg? Dann hör auf, Deine eigene Zeit zu verschenken und fange an, sie Dir zurückzuholen. Und weißt Du was? Ich verrate Dir auch, wie Du die „Kostenlos-Mentalität“ für Dich nutzen kannst – ohne Dich selbst zu verraten. Denn Erfolg gibt's nicht umsonst, aber es gibt Wege, ihn nachhaltig und sinnvoll aufzubauen. Heute ist der Tag, an dem Du entscheidest: Bleibst Du billig oder wirst Du wertvoll?

Uhhh..What're we talking about? What is the least likely licked place on one's body? We talk about it here. 

‘Tis the season for giving. By TheSleepingKing. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. 7:16 am The door from the bathroom swung open, spilling steam into the dim blue rays of light sneaking in through the blinds. Wrapped in a towel, Shauna strode into her dorm room, feet sinking into the carpet as she padded across the floor. Pausing at the window she pulled the cord to raise the blinds, bathing the room in the soft glow of an overcast Michigan dawn. A dusting of snow covered the glazing. About an inch drifted on the ledge outside. Beyond and several stories down a lone figure rounded onto the back straight of the athletic track. Shauna leaned in, her breath fogging the glass. She poked two dots and underlined them with a curve. Smiled at the new face smiling back at her. It was a beautiful Christmas Eve morning.She unhooked the towel and tossed it over the back of the chair parked under the desk. The cool air plucked at her nipples and sapped the heat from her skin. She skimmed her hands around the bulge of her breasts, across her taut tummy and the arc of her ass. Appraising her profile in the mirror she nodded. Spin class and yoga really paid off this year. From the top drawer of the dresser, she picked out white lace panties and drew them up over toned, creamy thighs. She paired them with red and white argyle knee socks and a soft strapless bra. Sifting through the hangers in the closet she settled on a flirty red A-line dress with wide shoulder straps and a length about mid-thigh. Not practical for the weather. But perfect for the mission. 7:32 am She capped the outfit with a fuzzy Santa hat and white-soled black Keds before returning to the mirror. She turned side to side and took a twirl, the dress flaring out before settling over her legs. Certainly the sexiest elf she'd ever seen. She glanced over at the clock on the nightstand. She would need to get going soon to make her deliveries. The schedule was tight. On any other Christmas Eve she'd still be asleep; tucked in tight and dead to the world in a quiet corner of her parents' six-bedroom McMansion in Traverse City. She'd get up around 10:00, meet her brother for lunch, then spend the afternoon serving food at a shelter across town before heading home for the traditional Christmas Eve dinner with her family. This year, dinner had been moved up to lunch – something about grandma and grandpa's flights. So volunteering was out. She was fine with it at first. But as the season ramped up and the holiday spirit infected her, she felt the need to replace it with something. Some way to give back. To spread a little cheer to those less fortunate this time of year. As 3rd floor RA for the co-ed dorm, she was privy to certain information. The administration realized not every student could make it home for the holidays. So the school remained open in a limited capacity, depending on the holiday and how many students remained behind. This year on her floor there were three. And since they were stuck there maybe she could celebrate with them before she left. She snatched a small white drawstring bag off her bed and slung it over her shoulder, the contents momentarily rustling about inside. Taking her key card from the dresser she slipped it into her bra and reached for the door. She paused, re-thinking, the lever rocking under her palm. Quickly, she picked it out and tucked it neatly into the back of a sock instead, before ducking out into the hall. 7:40 am Shauna stopped at Room 303. She gave her usual rata-tat-tat RA knock and shrugged the bag off her shoulder, holding the strap in the crook of her elbow. The corridor was weirdly quiet. No music or raucous conversation bleeding through the walls. She couldn't imagine having to spend the next week here under these conditions. A latch clicked in front of her, and the door creaked open. “Hey Ty,” she chirped, “Merry Christmas!” Ty seemed surprised by the greeting, then confused by her presence. He smiled. “Um…thanks. Merry Christmas to you too.” His eyes dipped – first to her cleavage, then to her legs – before rebounding to hers. He now seemed nervous too. “Can I come in for a minute?” “Uh…yeah, sure.” Shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweats he stepped aside. She glided past, her blonde curls swishing about her shoulders. Ty gently shut the door behind her. Shauna glanced around the suite. Open textbooks were strewn across the couch. Graph paper filled with notes littered the desk. The three computer monitors that typically flickered video games, now hosted row upon row of complex equations she didn't understand. Ambient techno pulsed softly through a pair of small speakers, and the room smelled faintly of Axe body spray. “I'm sorry,” he offered, “I wasn't expecting anyone today.” He was a freshman, so she'd only known him one semester. But he seemed like a good kid. Sure, he was disheveled, nerdy, and a little immature. But he was charming and considerate, and very bright – dedicated to keeping his name on the Dean's List. Didn't hurt that he was cute either. “That's okay,” she replied. “Santa knows it sucks having to be here over the holidays, so he got you a present.” She lowered the bag and reached inside, pulling out a deep green envelope with a silver star sticker sealing it shut. “Nothing big, just something to give you a break from…” she waved her arm toward the paper and monitors, “…this.” Cautiously he took the envelope, turning it over to find his name written neatly on the front. “Oh,” he said, “…thanks. That's…really nice.” A moment of awkward silence followed. “Go ahead,” Shauna prompted, “open it.” Ty shrugged. He peeled up the star and lifted the flap, extricating a Christmas card with a red-nosed Rudolph gracing the cover. He smiled as he opened it, eyes tracking back and forth across the page. Wedged in the crease was a white 3 by 5 note card. Flipping it right-side-up he discovered a sketch in black marker in the center. He froze, the smile fading, jaw dropped. He looked up at Shauna. Then back at the card. “Wait…,” he stammered, “is this…. Are you…. Is this for real?” Shauna raised her eyebrows and shrugged. “Santa likes to make sure no one on the nice list gets left out.” Her gaze fell to his groin, dialing in on the growing bulge. There was the response she was hoping for. She hung the bag over the doorknob. Closing the distance between them she reached out and pinched the card in her fingers. “Why don't you get comfortable.” She set it on a textbook and slouched against the desk, waiting. Ty looked left, then right, unsure of what to do. Finally, he stepped back and eased himself down to the edge of his bed. Shauna placed her hands on his thighs, pushing them apart before kneeling between them. The tented fleece covering his crotch pointed directly at her. She smiled. Looked up. “You've done this before, right?” He paused a moment, then nodded vigorously. She wasn't convinced. But it didn't really matter. It might even help keep her on schedule. She gave him a shove, forcing him to recline and brace with his arms. Grabbing his sweats by the pockets she jerked at them until they pooled around his ankles. His cock sprang out, slapping his abdomen before swaying back to vertical. She wrapped it in her fingers, the whole head protruding from her fist. He puffed and shivered under her touch. Leaning forward she lowered her head. His body tensed. She raised her eyes to find his narrowed, his mouth rounded and dry. “Relax,” she cooed, “just enjoy it,” and slipped his dick between her lips. A breath rattled his chest. She felt the blanket cinch beneath them as his fingers gripped and pulled. First she teased the glans, undulating her tongue beneath, then around and over the top. His hips shot up to meet her mouth. She lightened her hold, welcoming him in deeper. She bobbed her head to the rhythm of the music – down on one and three, up on two and four. His cock was rock hard, curving into the roof of her mouth with each descent. He sighed, and groaned, and grunted; the tone and timbre of each growing more urgent with each passing minute. Shauna's free hand dove under her dress and between her legs, fingers plucking aside the damp lace and strumming the slick, smooth lips of her pussy. Her partners were usually more experienced. More restrained. It had been some time since one had responded with such virginal enthusiasm. And she found it to be quite the turn-on. She held her neck as steady as she could, relinquishing control of tempo and depth. Ty trembled, huffing air through gritted teeth. Shauna peeked to find his eyes closed, neck strained, deep blue veins pulsing through. Sensing the moment, her fingers left the base of his dick and curled around his balls. She tightened her lips to a gentle squeeze. Ty stalled. A guttural growl forced its way into the air. His eyes popped open wide and fixed on Shauna's. With a batting of lashes, she pushed down on his throbbing cock until the tip of her nose bumped his abdomen. A heartbeat later, torrents of warm, viscid cum spewed into her mouth. The jets struck the back of her palate, sloshing over her tonsils and sliding down her throat. She swallowed hard but couldn't keep up. Each burst seemed richer than the last, filling her cheeks and leaking from the corners of her mouth. Her own juices deluged her fingers in response; the squelching filling the gaps between Ty's staggered gasps. A dozen spurts later his orgasm subsided. Shauna held his cock a little longer, savoring its texture on her lips and the mild, distinct flavor of his seed. She moved with him as his hips sagged back to the mattress, sinking him deeper to the root of his erection. After one final gulp she sucked in her cheeks and lifted her head, teasing the remaining fluids from the head of his dick. He gawked at her, speechless. She pulled her fingers from her pussy and held them up in front of her. They gleamed in the light, strands of grool clinging to her knuckles as she separated them. Fixing on him she sucked each finger into her mouth, swabbing them clean before licking her lips. Ty's eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed flat on the bed. Shauna giggled. Pushing off she rocked to her feet. She looked at him spread over the rumpled blanket, his penis twitching on his tummy. She nodded, pleased with herself. Sweeping her hair out of her face she took the gift sack from the doorknob and the note card from the desk, slipping the latter into the former. “Did you enjoy your present?” she asked, slinging the bag over her shoulder. Ty groaned a sigh, his satisfaction evident. A smile lit Shauna's lips. “Good,” she said, “that's great.” She made her way back to the door. “You know, Santa can't offer gifts like this to everyone, so…let's keep this between us, okay?” An arm raised and a hand approximated a wave before tumbling limp to the mattress. She took it as a yes. Catching her reflection in the window she adjusted her hat. “Merry Christmas Ty,” she said softly, before disappearing into the corridor. 8:05 am Snowflakes drifted past the tall narrow windows of the student lounge separating the north and south wings of the third floor. Curled up at the far end of the couch opposite the ping pong table, Shauna twisted the cap off a bottle of diet soda and took a sip. Pulling her phone from the bag she checked the time. Javon would arrive in fifteen minutes. Plenty of time to finish her drink. She stretched out across the cushions and downed another swig. This one excited her more than the others. She and Javon were casually acquainted. Though both juniors they rarely shared classes. But they saw each other often around campus; playing pool in the lounge, grabbing coffee at Starks, or stocking up on dollar tacos Tuesday nights at Frankie's. And always, always flirting. Nothing ever came of it, unfortunately. He was putting himself through school and the scholarships just weren't enough. So he needed to work a lot. Every chance he got he'd bank some overtime or pick up an extra shift. That didn't leave much time for anything else. But today was Christmas Eve. The print shop would be closed tomorrow, so he couldn't go in tonight. Which she hoped would free up just enough time for what she had in store. A door closed in the distance, followed by footsteps in the hallway behind her. She checked her phone. He was early. She chugged another mouthful of soda, then quietly stuffed everything into the bag. The footsteps halted. A latch turned and a door opened, then closed. She counted to thirty, then slid off the couch and left the lounge, rounding the corner toward 317. 8:08 am Shauna waited, impatiently, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Still no response. She knocked again, harder this time. Shuffling noises, then heavy footfalls. The door swung open on a scowling Javon, his uniform shirt crumpled in his fist, muscles chiseled and taut. She smiled up at him, head cocked to the side. He looked her over, his mood softening as he recognized who she was. “Hey,” he said, eyebrows furrowed. “What are you still doing here?” She shrugged, ignoring the twinge in her pussy. “Waiting to see you. Can I come in?” Javon retreated inside, tossing his shirt on the bed and perching on the edge of his dresser. Shauna followed, taking quick stock of the room. Clean and sparse. Suitable for someone who spent very little time there. She turned her attention to him. Tall and dark, with bold, crisp features. His hands splotched with cyan and yellow ink from the press. “Is um…is this a bad time?” “Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “I was just going to take a shower, then go down for a nap.” He waved a hand in her direction. “Soooo, who are you supposed to be?” “I'm a Christmas elf,” she replied. “Santa's Helper.” Javon's eyes widened. “Oh. You're a lot taller than I would have expected of an elf.” “Well, we're not all size challenged artisans baking cookies in the off-season you know. Some of us are taller, and educated, and…really cute.” He laughed, his pecs jumping. “That's fair. Please forgive my ignorance of the elf community. I don't know any – aside from you.” She shrugged the bag off her shoulder and reached inside, crossing the carpet between them. “Listen, she began, “Santa knows how hard you work to be here, and how much that keeps you from having a life. So, he got you a little gift. It won't make up for having to be here over the holidays, but it might help take the edge off?” She pulled out a red envelope and handed it to him. He stared at it, his face cycling through several emotions, settling on confused. “Thanks,” he said, “that's…really sweet. I'm sorry I didn't get you anything.” Shauna smiled to herself, setting the bag on the floor. “Open it.” She wandered past him to the window. Raising the blinds she took a quick peek outside before turning and sliding up onto his desk, swinging her feet freely beneath. Javon zipped a finger under the flap and extracted the card; a red-nosed Rudolph printed on the cover. As he shook it open a white note card fluttered out. He snatched it out of the air and held it up. A sketch in black marker graced the white space. Shauna watched over his shoulder as he stared at the figures suggested by the swooping lines. He fanned the card, then turned and eased off his seat. He walked over to her, holding it up, the image upside down. His mouth curled in one corner. “This is uhhh…you and me?” She squinted at the picture. “Well…right-side up and all, but…sure.” She took it from him and snapped it on the desk. Her arms extended, fingers wedging themselves between the waist of his jeans and the warm, smooth skin of his abdomen. She reeled him in between her legs, squeezing them in hers. “Come on,” she said, thumbs separating the button and peeling the zipper. “Take a break.” Javon reached out, tracing the curl of her ear with his finger. Tilting his head, he leaned in for a kiss. Shauna planted a hand in the center of his chest, stopping his lips a hair's breadth from hers. His heartbeat pulsed through her arm and gut, thumping through her clit like a kick drum. She tapped a finger on the card beside her. He glanced down. Then back at her. She smiled. Pushed him away. She hopped off the desk, lowering her eyes to the height of his fly. Waiting. Javon nodded. In a single swoop he shoved his jeans to the floor and stepped out. The outline of his cock bulged the breathable fabric of his boxer briefs, curving down his right leg. A squeak left Shauna's throat. She reached inside and fished it out, needing both hands to hoist the shaft. It hardened in her grip, rising, reaching for its target. She pulled a few long strokes, its heat warming her hands. She had imagined what he might be hiding. But none of those dreams fell short of reality. Reluctantly she let go. Eyes fixed on her prize she slowly turned round, bending over the desk. She shuffled her feet a shoulder's width apart and casually wiggled her ass. Javon stepped up, his demeanor all business. Stroking his meat with one hand he grabbed the hem of her dress in the other and flipped it up over her butt. Her firm white cheeks glowed in the morning light. He took the waistband of her panties and rolled them down her hips and thighs, abandoning them around her calves and exposing her labia to the chill of the room. She was sopping wet. He swiped his penis along her slit, greasing it with her cream. Current bolted up her spine, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. She threw her ass toward him, anxious to be filled. But he took his time, lubing every inch to a slippery shine. Finally satisfied, he set a palm in the small of her back and wedged the tip of his cock between her folds. Slow and steady, he sank into her vagina. Shauna gasped, eyes round. Her knees buckled, fingertips clawing at the laminate as her canal expanded to accommodate the intruder. It was thicker than any dick or dildo she remembered. And she was suddenly grateful he'd been so careful to slicken up. He took shallow, steady thrusts, loosening her vice a touch each time. Short, silent breaths gave way to grunts and groans. She tried to restrain herself in case anyone still left was walking the halls. But it was a losing battle. The pressure coiling inside would soon be too much to contain. Javon curled over her. Reaching into her dress he freed her breasts from their padded sling and cupped one in each hand. He pinched her nipples between strong fingers, yoking her tits to her clit with little bolts of lightning. The heat of the moment telegraphed through her skin, flushing her ears, cheeks, and chest a robust, rosy pink. He pushed on, diving deeper into her velvet pouch. Her arms burning, Shauna lowered her elbows and forehead to the desk. Her hair shrouded her periphery, leaving the only clear view that of her lover's balls swaying back and forth between her thighs. A delightful fog rolled over her brain, occluding everything outside the aura of their bodies. “Do you want it all,” Javon whispered, his voice piercing the veil. Shauna turned her head, mouth agape. “That's not all of it?” A baritone chuckle rumbled from his chest. He straightened up, releasing her boobs for a firm hold of her waist. He eased down the throttle, slowing his rhythm. Measuring the distance. She caught his eyes for a moment, glimpsing the same lechery she felt coursing through her veins. He smiled at her. Then hilted his cock in her pussy. “Uhhh gawd.” A wave of pleasure rippled out from her core, breaking over her entire body. She couldn't gauge how big he was, but he was now twice as deep as he had been seconds ago. He gave her a moment and a few shallow dips before ramping up the pace; drawing his dick out to the barb each time before plunging back in. Shauna's ass rippled, limbs shuddering under each impact. She stretched her arms to brace herself. But her hands squeaked against the desk each time he crashed into her, jolting her forward. She began to lose control. Her pelvic muscles clenched; labia stretching around his shaft. He growled his approval. A stern smack stung her left buttock, forcing a squeal from her larynx and a shock to her sex. Another followed, echoing off the walls into her ears. Her strength failed, drooping her back and turning her legs to jelly. Javon grabbed hold of one and lifted it, bending the knee and setting it securely on the desktop. He continued to hammer away. The cords binding her orgasm began to fray. She imagined his view from behind; her sodden pink snatch vulgarly splayed for the massive dark rod plowing her gut. Words escaped her, leaving only screams and moans to communicate her desire. 8:42 am Shauna's head was swimming, her brain just mush. But she held on, wanting this ecstasy to last forever. Her hat flew off her head, landing silently on the windowsill. Long fingers raked through her hair. They gathered her curls into his fist and pulled. Her head snapped back, jaw dropped, eyelids fluttering. The cords snapped and the coil exploded. She bore down on his dick, silent and stiff, her body racked with orgasm. Her toes dug into the carpet, her raised foot flopping about over the edge of the desk. She slapped the top with her hands, translating her contractions into a frantic rhythm beat out for Javon to hear. Her juices flowed freely, seeping out past his cock and dribbling down her thighs. And through all this, he continued to fuck her. Shauna's orgasm continued in suspended animation, tweaking her muscles and prickling her skin. As snug as he fit there was now no friction. He glided in and out like a piston in a well-oiled machine. He pumped harder, faster, working to create resistance. But her pussy was a flooded mess and that wasn't going to change. He whispered something toward her ear. A question? She couldn't decipher the words. But it didn't matter. As long as he kept filling her, perpetuating this feeling, he could do whatever he wanted. She nodded as best she could. The pounding slowed and the hand holding her waist released. The slapping of skin ceased, and his penis slipped out of her vagina. The emptiness was deflating, like the air had been sucked from her lungs. She turned to look but he stopped her, pushing her head back down to the desk. She opened her mouth to demand he continue and that's when she felt it. The pressure on the dip of her anus. Her insides knotted up. Everything clenched, then released. Her rosebud relaxed, and Javon's cock surged up her ass. She held her breath, expecting pain. But there was none. Only an indescribable fullness she had never experienced before. Each time he retracted her stomach dropped. Each plunge threatened to split her at the seams. Orgasm ripped through her again, rattling her bones and sweating from every pore. The room closed in, swaddling her in a thick black heat. She screamed but heard nothing. Felt only his cock. His fingers curled over her shoulders and around her neck. He pushed and pulled her with new urgency, opposing the swing of his hips. He'd found the resistance he was seeking, and it drove him on toward ferocious climax. In her stupor, Shauna somehow regained control of her limbs. She twisted an arm behind her back and flailed at his. When he looked down, wanton lust blazing in his eyes, she willed words from her lips. “Cum in me,” she cried, breathless, desperate for his load. “Cum in my ass.” He glared at her, neck craned, jaw set. He shifted his weight, pinning her tits to the desk and raising her butt. He tried to hold out a bit longer. But she was too tight and he was too far gone. Nodding his head Javon closed his eyes and buried his throbbing cock balls deep, erupting hot semen deep in her bowels. He roared in release, his balls smashed against her pussy, rocking into the curve of her ass. The pressure lifted her foot from the floor, grinding her hip into the edge of the desktop. But she didn't care. His cum splattered inside her, capping her climax with a warm, gooey buzz. Her buttocks quaked with each spasm. She had his cock. All of it. In the moment, that was everything. 9:04 am Gradually the pumping slowed. The pressure on her back eased and the room drifted back into focus. She glimpsed herself in a mirror near the window; hair disheveled, bare breasts smushed beneath the cockled red fabric; a trembling leg coiled on the desk, panties dangling casually from her ankle. “You are so fuckin' hot,” said the voice in her ear. She cooed, not yet able to formulate words. He rested in her a moment longer, sharing her warmth. When they'd finally caught their breath Javon stood tall. Kneading his hands into the meat of her cheeks he pushed himself back, emerging from her ass with an obscene wet slurp. Empty, Shauna sighed, the void disappointing. Her rosebud gaped, then winked several times before shrinking back into place. Javon slumped against the wall near the window. Fumbling with the latch he cracked it open. December rushed in, swirling round their bodies and raising goosebumps on their skin. Shauna shivered, invigorated, the cold soothing her scalded sex. Watching her lover she smeared her cream over her pussy and along the crack of her ass. His organ flexed toward her, but Javon shook his head. Smiling, she wriggled off the desk. On wobbly legs she gathered the note card and the bag and set them on the edge of the bed. Rummaging around in the neck of her dress she tucked her tits back into her bra and plumped them into position. Javon sauntered over, her hat in one hand, soggy panties in the other. She took the cap and fit it over her head. “Can't put those back on,” she said of her underwear. “You keep them.” He nodded, draping them over the corner of the television. She shouldered the bag and looked up at him. “Did Santa get you what you wanted?” He laughed. She followed his eyes down to his semi-hard, polished rod. “I think he fucking crushed it,” he replied. Closing the gap between them he lowered his voice. “Tell me something though. Is this strictly a Christmas situation, or…are…special occasions not required.” Shauna shrugged, the corners of her mouth curling up. “Why don't you come by sometime and find out,” she offered. “You know where I live.” She gave his penis a playful nip and tug and backed out into the hallway. 9:13 am Shauna stood quietly outside Room 334, gently swaying to a tune in her head. Her fingertips tingled and her pussy hummed along to the beat, still riding the high of the last half-hour. A trickle of semen stained her inner thigh, the remainder of Javon's deposit still trapped inside. She smoothed the front of her dress and flipped the pom of the hat to the side. She was a few minutes behind schedule. But that shouldn't be critical here. Ready for more, she knocked on the door. There was a rustling inside. A few moments later the door opened on a beautiful raven-haired Japanese girl in a tight anime tee shirt and bright blue boyshorts. Seemingly surprised, the girl dropped the pencil she held in her left hand. “Hey Sachiko,” Shauna chirped. Sachiko ripped off her headphones and flashed a nervous smile. Shauna nodded inside. “Can I come in for a minute?” Sachiko glanced over at something Shauna couldn't see, then backed her slender frame away from the door. Shauna strode inside, the latch clicking shut behind her. Unlike her first two stops, this was a bit of a gamble. Their contact had been minimal, generally restricted to her RA duties. And her scouting report was incomplete. She knew Sachiko was a sophomore, and a graphic design major. She spent summers at home in Osaka. But she couldn't afford to fly back and forth for breaks, so she usually spent them on campus. Rumor was she was into women. Of this Shauna had no confirmation. But from their interactions in the dorm and Sachiko's shyness and fluster around particular friends she did have a feeling. It was risky. But that heightened the thrill. The room was warm and cozy, lit by a floor lamp and a cube on the nightstand. Fuzzy orange pillows adorned the loveseat below the window. Incense burned in a jade tray on the corner of the dresser and a thick down comforter covered the bed. Several sketchpads scattered across the desk, a collection of porcelain cats lining the shelf above. It was clearly the space of someone needing a touch of home. “Am I like…in trouble…or something?” Sachiko wondered. “No,” Shauna laughed, amused as much by her apparent discomfort as the absurdity of the question. “I mean, have you ever been in trouble? I just wanted to wish you Happy Holidays.” Sachiko blushed. Her face made several contortions before settling on a half nod and awkward smile. “Th…thank you,” she stammered. Shauna pinched her lips between her teeth. So far so good. “I like your kitties,” Shauna continued, drifting toward the shelf. She scanned for messages, photos, anything that might give her a clue. “My sister sends me a new one for my birthday every year,” Sachiko offered. “They're beautiful.” She spotted a sheet of paper with dark smudges sticking out of the pad on top of the pile. “What's this?” she asked, reaching for it. “What? Oh!” Sachiko leapt toward her, mortified. “It's nothing, I just – ” Before she could swipe the pad Shauna had the page, staring at a gorgeous unfinished graphite sketch of a sleeping woman. She lay on her side, head on a pillow, hands underneath. Bikini panties cloaked her nethers, an arm crossed her bare breasts. And her face. Well…. Her face was very familiar. Shauna smiled to herself. This might work after all. Sachiko slunk back as Shauna turned around. She studied the drawing a moment longer, impressed by the resemblance. Finally, she looked up at Sachiko. The rosy hue of her cheeks crept into her face and neck. Shauna noticed for the first time she wasn't wearing a bra. “Did you draw this?” Sachiko sighed, looking everywhere forward. “I um…. It…it's for a class.” “You did it from memory.” She rubbed her arms with her hands. “Yeah. It just…works that way.” “It's amazing.” Shauna returned the drawing to the desk. Sluffing off the bag she retrieved the final card. “I know you don't really celebrate Christmas,” she said, “but it can't be easy being here by yourself while everyone else is. So, I got you a gift.” The silver envelope rested in her palm while Sachiko hesitated, her name glittering in gold marker. She looked up, embarrassment clouding her eyes. Shauna smiled, extending her hand. Finally, Sachiko accepted. She zipped open the flap and removed the card. A red-nosed Rudolph blinked at her from the cover. Shauna dropped the bag on the loveseat. She clasped her hands behind her back and crossed her legs at the ankles, a flirty little swivel seizing her hips. Sachiko picked the note card from the fold and looked closely. Her fingers began to tremble. Shauna sidled up closer, tucking a lock of Sachiko's hair behind her ear. Sachiko jumped at the light touch. But her gaze remained fixed on the card. Her lips parted. No sound escaped. “If you want me to stop,” Shauna murmured, “just let me know.” She kissed Sachiko's ear lobe, rolling it between her lips before drifting to her cheek and the nape of her neck. Sachiko's tremor spread to her chest. The cards fell from her grasp. Shauna continued down, over her shoulders to the swell of her breasts. She caressed one in each palm, grazing the nipples with the soft cotton of the shirt. Sachiko tangled her fingers in Shauna's hair. They curled and flexed as Shauna descended, raising her shirt and kissing her navel. She lingered there, circling, lips skimming Sachiko's butter-smooth, unblemished skin. She smelled of cherry blossom and jasmine. Shauna filled her head with the scent, priming her for the peach she was about to unwrap. Sachiko's hushed whisper floated down from above. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.” Sinking to her haunches Shauna eyed Sachiko's sex. A small wet spot darkened the fabric between her legs. Shauna peeled the underwear down over Sachiko's ass and thighs, pooling them around her feet. Exposed to the low light was a plump, tidy pussy, closely cropped dark pubic hair gracing her mound. Shauna's lips quivered. She bowed, pressing her face between Sachiko's thighs, sopping up the heat. Sachiko moaned, easing her legs apart, welcoming Shauna's tongue between her folds. Her entire body shook, chopping her breaths between chattering teeth. Shauna probed a little deeper. Sachiko doubled over, humping Shauna's mouth. Shauna yipped with delight. She shook her head side to side, slathering Sachiko's light sweet syrup over her cheeks and chin. She dug her nails into the brunette's ass, spreading her cheeks and kneading the meat. Sachiko mauled her own breasts, stretching and twisting the characters on her shirt into impossible shapes. Buffeted by Sachiko's gyrations Shauna wobbled on the balls of her feet. It was all she could do to hold on for the ride and she found herself failing at that. Toppling to her butt she roped an arm around Sachiko's neck and pulled her ear to her dripping lips. “Sit on my face,” she hissed. Sachiko fell to her knees, straddling Shauna's chest and pinning her to the floor. On all fours she scooched forward over the blonde's shoulders until her succulent snatch hovered over her RA's gaping mouth. Shauna's tongue darted out, flicking Sachiko's swollen clit. Stifling a scream Sachiko collapsed on Shauna's kisser, squeezing her ears between her thighs and swirling her pussy over her lips. Shauna lost herself in Sachiko. Inhaling her essence. Drinking her qi. She thrilled at her lover's responses – involuntary, honest and pure. There was no pretention. Only the passion of an inexperienced girl wholly submitting to her desires. She reveled in it, lapping at Sachiko's sex from the hood of her clit to the crease of her ass. Sachiko's back arched, thrusting out her chest. Her head lolled back, eyes strafing the ceiling. She squirmed on Shauna's face, blissfully ignorant of her weight, Shauna's nose, or her need to breathe. She reached back between the Shauna's splayed legs, probing under her dress until her fingers found the blonde's honeypot and slithered inside. Strangling Sachiko's wrist in her thighs Shauna groaned into her pussy. The vibrations spurred Sachiko's building orgasm, winding her body tighter and tighter, pushing her fingers faster, deeper. The circuit closed, the feedback loop complete. Every flip of the tongue, every curl of a digit, amplified the next. Sachiko bucked and thrashed. Shauna swirled and writhed. Again and again they traded blows until suddenly Sachiko fell silent, her body rigid, muscles strained. Clutching fistfuls of Shauna's hair Sachiko spread her knees and bore down, smashing her quaking pussy into Shauna's lips and gushing slippery, viscous cum all over her face. Racked with spasms she hunched over Shauna's head, wave after crashing wave of orgasm pummeling her sex. 9:38 am When the contractions finally slowed, Shauna worked her hands up to Sachiko's buttocks and nudged her. Spent, Sachiko rolled away, settling on her back against the foot of the bed. Shauna's chest heaved, gulping the cool dry air. Her eyes re-adjusted to the light. Reaching up she brushed the hat off her head and raked her fingers through moist matted hair. Arms flopping to the floor she sighed. That went well. She rolled her head and looked at Sachiko. The junior lay knees up, feet flat on the floor, her arms draped between her legs – the odd twitch in her muscles interrupting her stillness. Shauna willed herself up and crawled over. Finding her eyes shut she pressed in close and planted a tender kiss on her forehead. Sachiko smiled. “Merry Christmas,” Shauna whispered. Sachiko nodded, radiant from her orgasm. Shauna stroked her ear. “If you want me to model for you sometime,” she added, “give me a call.” She gathered her things and prepared to leave. As she passed the mirror on the closet door she stopped to look. Her face and neck glistened, glazed with Sachiko's juices. She tossed the hat in her hand, raising it to wipe herself clean. But she didn't. She decided instead she liked the way it looked. And she'd wear it a little longer. Pursing her lips, she slipped out of Sachiko's room. Light as a feather she skipped down the hall toward her room. She slowed passing Javon's door, wondering if he was already asleep. Her phone chimed in the bag, interrupting her curiosity. Retrieving it she scanned the screen and frowned. Two texts and a missed call. All from her brother. “Hey Josh,” she answered. “Yo, where the hell have you been?” There was an urgency in his tone. “I've been calling you. I'm out front, let's go!” She frowned. “Wait, what time is it?” “Quarter to ten. I told you I'd be here at 9:30, remember?” She thought for a minute, then rolled her eyes, realizing what went wrong. “Fuck,” she spat. “I thought you meant 9:30 your time.” “So you're not ready?” “No, I packed last night. I'll be right down.” Hanging up she shook her head. How did she make that mistake? She thought she'd have an hour to shower and clean up, but now they were running late. No time for any of that. Swiping the key card from her sock she popped into her room and tossed the gift bag on the bed. Snagging her backpack and navy peacoat from the closet she dashed back out headed for the lobby. 9:52 am Shauna flung open the passenger door of the coupe and tumbled inside, stuffing the backpack between her feet as she settled in the seat. Her teeth chattered from their brief exposure to the cold. Rubbing her hands together near the warm air vent she looked over at her brother behind the wheel. He stared at her, forehead crinkled, a mix of confusion and amusement scrawled across his lips. “What,” she said, staring back. He glanced down at her bare thighs – the coat just covering her lap – then back at her scowl. “Nice touch,” he replied, pointing to the bright red pileus cap. “Thanks,” she quipped, flashing a smile. “But you know it's snowing, right?” She flipped him the bird. He shrugged. “You're going to get Uncle Leo in trouble today.” Shauna tried to stifle her laugh. “Just drive Josh.” He put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb. “Unlike you,” he said, “I got an early start. So I'm going to get some coffee. Did you eat already?” “Yup,” she nodded. “Several times.” Josh's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. At the next light he made a left and turned into the coffee shop drive-thru. Waiting in line behind a pick-up he turned to his sister. “Are you okay?” he asked. “You look a little…weird.” Shauna checked herself in the side mirror. She could taste Ty's spunk on her tongue; feel Javon's cum in her ass and Sachiko's pussy all over her face. A shiver buzzed her clit. She reclined the seat several notches and sighed, beaming at the ceiling. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I'm just…filled with Christmas spirit.” Quietly she shoved her hands beneath her legs to keep from touching herself for the remainder of the trip. By TheSleepingKing for Literotica

Justin and Toni observe a silhouette of Sonic the Hedgehog. Watch the video of this teaser here: https://youtu.be/L3vY_zAv0mY Watch the full episode with a $5 subscription here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/118230804 Listen to the episode without video for just $1: https://www.patreon.com/posts/118230808 https://rockhardcauc.us

If there is one thing we learn about King Graham in this King's Quest adventure is that his Queen, Valanice, is so hot that even the faerie folk are jealous of her. That's a serious smoke show. Uhhh anyway welcome back to King's Quest! Our Socials Follow us at patreon.com/pixellitpod and hop into our Discord! Blue Sky: https://bsky.app/profile/pixellitpod.com Instagram: https://instagram.com/pixellitpod

Fun show today, we did Am I Wrong today and talked to Brenda on why she was on Am I Wrong, Bryans Bonehead Bulletin was mind boggling, Nat played a game Kelly likes to call Tough Tones which Nat did pretty good at, and todays Maybe Its Just Me was kind of a flop.

Wait, no...I didn't mean. Uhhh. Happy gaming everyone?Now Playing:Tyler - COD Black Ops 6, FF7 RebirthFrank - Starfield, COD Black Ops 6, Silent Hill 2 Remake, Metaphor: ReFantazioContact Us: @PSReportPodcast PlayStationReportPodcast@gmail.com Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

SPOOKY Season has officially started and goddam are there plenty of things to be scared of! That's why I had to bring back the EPIC Mini-Series "Halloween Havok" for 2024! Part 4: "Beat It Purple" ft. bro to the show, Wrestler Supa Nitro!! 2 of the biggest Music Icons to ever exist who are unfortunately no longer with us could have given us the FIGHT of this and the next century! Just think about it!! That's why I had to tag in my friend who's a wrestler, Bro to the Show: Supa Nitro!!! In this fantasy match-up, who's drawing first blood? Who's got who running interference to hee-hee or UHHH their way to victory?? WOULD THESE 2 HAVE EVEN SCRAPPED LIKE THAT OR JUST DO A WHOLE LOTTA SLAP BOXING AND HAIR PULLING??? Who would have ended having whose butt and making it theirs (pause) AND MORE on "Beat It Purple" - EP 125 of AhhFuGGiT ft. Supa Nitro!! GO SUPA OR GO HOME!! FOLLOW/SUPPORT/CONTACT SUPA NITRO!!!: BOOKINGS: darealsupanitro@gmail.com MERCH: https://www.prowrestlingtees.com/supanitro https://www.instagram.com/thereal_supanitro/ https://twitter.com/supanitro https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC2Wd2i3GLOFcYPVYl6x7xcg LIKE | RATE | COMMENT | FOLLOW | SUBSCRIBE https://www.youtube.com/whodissis1 https://www.twitch.tv/whodissis1 https://www.instagram.com/whodissis1 https://www.instagram.com/whodissbeenwatching https://www.instagram.com/ahhfuggit https://www.tiktok.com/@whodissis1 https://twitter.com/whodissis1 MORE AUDIO VERSIONS OF AhhFuGGiT: https://linktr.ee/whodissis https://soundcloud.com/whodissis1 https://open.spotify.com/show/6hyS2l2KdQDkX5rfNH5AIp https://podcasts.apple.com/ca/podcast/ahhf…it/id1084220877

HEY!!! Chris is in Vegas with Chandler and Chunga!!! The Golden Knights played The Utah Hockey Club!!! Chandler and Chris went to the game! Did Chunga go to? Uhhh...No... He had to go to the dentist AGAIN!!!!!Hurricane Helene has come and gone. LOTS of Ronin we're impacted by this massive storm. If you were, and need assistance from your Ronin family, PLEASE let us know!!! We're here to help!!!REMEMBER, this Saturday is the "Radio Ronin Spook Alley Social"!!!! We hope you join us!!! Listen for details!!!!Another Hollywood legend has passed away, and for some, this one really stings!!!Many of you have asked Chunga about the "Green Day / Oakland A's / Las Vegas Issue". The Ronin will give you their take!!Gregg has another Halloween movie shout-out AND.... It's time for YOUR really stupid news!!! Listen NOW!It's on www.radioronin.com and everywhere you get your podcasts!!

HEY!!! Chris is in Vegas with Chandler and Chunga!!! The Golden Knights played The Utah Hockey Club!!! Chandler and Chris went to the game! Did Chunga go to? Uhhh...No... He had to go to the dentist AGAIN!!!!!Hurricane Helene has come and gone. LOTS of Ronin we're impacted by this massive storm. If you were, and need assistance from your Ronin family, PLEASE let us know!!! We're here to help!!!REMEMBER, this Saturday is the "Radio Ronin Spook Alley Social"!!!! We hope you join us!!! Listen for details!!!!Another Hollywood legend has passed away, and for some, this one really stings!!!Many of you have asked Chunga about the "Green Day / Oakland A's / Las Vegas Issue". The Ronin will give you their take!!Gregg has another Halloween movie shout-out AND.... It's time for YOUR really stupid news!!! Listen NOW!It's on www.radioronin.com and everywhere you get your podcasts!!

Willard and Dibs react to longtime NFL linebacker Kirk Morrison saying that he needs to see more from Brock Purdy statistically. Uhhh, what? Didn't he have the best statistical season of any QB last season?

Trigger warning: this series contains adult content not suitable for children or under the legal age of majority. Listener and reader discretion is advised as this broadcast and its selected readings and projected writings contain explicit language, provocative wordplay, profanity, open expression of suicidal ideation, discussion of evolved/ de-institutionalized theories concerning depression and mental health, race relations and colorism, socio-economic inequality, political injustice and media politicism, scientific hypothesis , modern philosophical ideals and spiritual explorations, crude humor and may include and contain pornographic content, references to fictionalized interpretation of public figures (fan-fiction), caricatures or references to pop culture, modern art, music, science and other entertainment references which may evoke biased emotion, inspire adverse reactions or discontentment, or discomfort. ⚠️ VIEWER, LISTENER, and READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. ⚠️ The views and opinions expressed by this series and its subsequent editions, additions, chapters, broadcasts, and publications are solely the writers' interpretations as expressed with artistic and entertainment purposes only. The artist reserves all rights to intellectual property maintained and produced by any and all publications of this series and is thereby protected under any applicable copyright law and/or trademark. All fictionalizations of persons living or dead are meant to be perceived as characterized and/or fictional (fan-fiction) are for entertainment purposes only, and are not to be perceived as real re-enactments, dramatizations of events past or present, media dialogues or agendas, or factual exchanges pertaining to and surrounding real-life circumstances. The dialogues and entires expressed in this project are in no way liable for any action, expression, disagreements, entitlements held by the reader at his or her/ their own discretion and therefore will not be held accountable for any actions by the reader on their own account due to perceptions which may have been inspired and/or provoked by these readings or any of their subsequent editions. —rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrfrrfrrrrfrrrfrrfrrrrr. [The Festival Project ™] You know what? Fuck this place. Fuck your color coded red lined fucking bullshit. New York is so visibly fucking racist it makes me want to hurl. I'm gonna kill you. Finally get out of that contract, did you? …no. I had worked out the full hour, but I was no less angry; I had even walked a couple miles and jogged a little—but I might have been even more mad. Aiagepalaqalerhelehee DIABoLICAL SONOFABITXH {Enter The Multiverse Legends: A Review} He— shot himself in the head. Hm. Did he mess up his face? What? If his face is alright I can reanimate him—no problem. But there's no point if he's got a hole in his face How are you gonna cover a hole in his head? He'll wear a hat. I think the whole point of white supremacy— Is to get blacks to have to do stereotypically black shit Like beg and steal. I've learned that People will set you up and corner you So that you have to do some shit They can later hold over your head. I've learned, after all this time— That the only way to win a rigged game — Is by cheating. People love setting people up. People love making it look like you're up to some dishonest shit— When it was dishonest to have set you up in the first place. People are sneaky. Life is politics as fuck. Everything is business. There's no kind of rules to the real disasters in life— I just discovered a new political issue I didn't even know existed Until I had to experience it Nutrition inequality. The quality of life one experiences with full balance nutrition, Which is kept out of the hands of the masses by the greedy and wealthy elite— The difference in the quality of life one faces When able to afford proper nutrition within the alignment of one's purpose. THIS is why I have people posted up outside of my apartment trying to kill me?! Probably. Don't come between a man and his business. Don't come between a man and his business. Don't come between a man and his– “prestidigitation” You are the ace, I am the m Diamond, I Am The Heart, I am the spade Did you do this on purpose? Space, that's an odd name. Another magician. —what else would you call this? I wouldn't. (To be honest, I didn't know what I was doing.) Well, there it goes. Well, this should be fun. I— Cut my throat To watch me live again Or leave me hanging here As morbidly as you desire To come inform me Of my royal nature, Yet undone by another Fortunate, in either aspect Where are you, now To tie the winters sleeve Upon my sleeping chambers, Whispered into hear thy neck My captor slowly soon awaiting So far a severity Hereby unsworn I lie to seek escape Though captured for nothing in the eye if beauty alone; Andamine, I am, I wait to be free oh! well. Sick to my stomach I plea for your waking A scarcity, Still slithers up my spine, The *gunshot* Vent, baby Keem hooligan, baby keem -The Melodic Blue, baby keem [The Festival Project ™ ] As it turns out, The assembly of the impenetrable ten, Also automatically stood as The most revolutionary Saturday a night Live Reunion Of all time. Why isn't Keenan in the impenetrable ten?! Yes, WHY. NON. NO. NONSENSE! Because! We don't have time for a negro spiritual every time something Mm—NO. Suspicious happens. This is suspicious. O boredom, I need metaphore for movement Disfigured m,n Centric and stil Consintrical, if you will Disasterous dreams art thou Eating shining m, What I need and Holy, only what I want Dear captor, Shining as the morning night I was, As slumber did fall upon us Waiting for the watching cry, Somehow seeking justice for intrepid Indigence —what, what did you say?! I said— —is that a word! Let's see! Post poster conformity— Oh, here we go again No borderline Or robot border patrol, Focus now in the motors, Run for you excellent cries Simply warn us, will you Everwaiting, perhaps For the fortune, until Stories of foragers Will you again Creep, calling, Temper, Justice For now, let's say All liberty is liberty does, As in the mind, let it rest As in the heart, let it flourish As in all hu/mankind Casts judgement, Upon each other, But meat, Not among the waking tide The realms you call upon And cry, at ask of will For wishes granted And prayers seen over I have an irrational fear of Jack o lanterns— Does that mean anything to you? No…should it? VO Suddenly there were Jack o lanterns everywhere. That's so weird, I never wrote that scene— it just kind of popped into my head, and then— I make thoughts To the shade of your love I can't seem to need anything Or want any longer But just to escape, To be free from all tragedy I don't understand… There's a light on, It appears, However— Hollow, And wicked looking It's barely even spring, And suddenly as I walk about, They seem to be appearing In my path, Amidst my dreams And everything i know is No one Everything I love is Gone And everyone around me seems to be Some kind of Wrong, Or fornicated, Tragedy, It seems, Another tragedy. These Demons. I should be working on project III And making coffee for the evening But I can barely breathe Awareness I can barely breathe I can barely even think of myself as anyone at all Actually (Anyone at all, actually) please Help me Please help me I hate all my lines in this movie. Then change them— Really? Or trade with someone else. Like, the whole character, or just— Just, the words. Just the words? Or, like, whatever. I can do that?! You can do—whatever you want. “Whatever you want?!” I'm an actor! So act, then! You put the words in my head; You were just the worst We are who we are, just Whole worlds apart You put the words in my mouth, On top of the scars, that's A whole broken heart I guess we are who we are A whole sky full of stars I still can't find my sparkle Just no reason to smile at all I guess we are who we are “You were put here just to be [redacted] mother, and then die.”, said the voice— Which was not my own, but some man's. I didn't believe that, at all—actually, But I had just sent my divorce papers in the mail, Attached with it the accounts of everything—almost everything, anyway, that had happened that had caused me to be such a distance from my son in the first place, as I had never intended to just leave him with his father, whose birthday was either the next day, or the day after—and it was almost funny to me that I couldn't remember which it was, as I realized that in the beginning, I had loved him so much that I had looked past all of the disasterous, ugly things— the phlegm on the walls, his lack of respect towards anyone, especially himself—but anyone at all— but first and foremost, especially myself, who I had finally learned to love before hand, and had finally learned to love again—at least, the best way any woman could love herself. The algorithm was playing serious mind games and tricks on my psyche again, and I wondered if I should just attempt the next two days sleeping —but it would mean that I would miss my deadline for project three, which I had intended to be released… The demonic energy again began to shift around me as I twiddled away writing—the traffic outside moved more rapidly, and doors in the hallway from my neighbors began to slam, and I knew without a doubt that he had tried to kill me using some kind of curse of black magic, but couldn't—somehow I had lived, but was still being made to suffer— and that whatever spells he had used had summoned something nasty into all of the creatures, humanoid and alike, that could be controlled without the will of God, who I thought might be lost, were it not for the songs that had come in the wake of begging for God itself to free me which was the nightmare, the curse it had become to have only fallen in love once, with the kind of man who could not. Now he had wished my doom onto me, which left me wounded and afraid, unsafe in any element or environment , plagued by coughing bodies and robotic slaves—none of which I assumed he hactiallh had the power to control, but of a greater force which shielded itself to consume me, and mimick his energy with the attempt to allow that my own mind would bring about my death, the fury and pain which it must have been to lose what I had found myself to always be, a good woman— My exit had humiliated him, damaged his pride, and bruised his twisted ego enough so that he wished I would siffer such an ill fate—however, as I had finally learned to know and breathe, that all the damage and control done to me, he would now fall prey to in his own will to destroy me. —all that seeks to harm me will therefore harm only itself; And all who seek to destroy me will be destroyed in doing so. Amen. I don't know how hard he hit you, this time, but he really fucked you up. Yeah, I guess. Fuck, I lost that whole Tom Hanks Movie No, it's still there.. No, it's gone—everything's gone! HELLO? HELLO?! CAN YOU HEAR ME? It's dead. She's gone. —Portal closes— Oh no! No! This is ‘situational'— “A Situational Comedy” So, what's the situation. …I Am. Ok. Wait— No! Hold on a second! Nevermind— Comedy is born from tragedy, right? Sometimes. Uh oh But WAIT— No, Billy, not now. *billie?! Right. Idk. There are other types of comedy, I guess. Look at this. YO! It's THAT guy again! Yo. That's that guy, and his eyes. Strange. Yeah, I don't— I don't get it, is this like a— SIRE. You don't belong here, I assure you. DENNIS LEARY UGH. Can I GO now?! I'm afraid not— You've just made captain. Okay, now you're famous. No way— Hey! No— HEY NO. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū. Now I know too well, The well of tears on my guitar She's got a body like one Oh her curves But I just wonder what it like to be loved By stars Socialites and superstars They're Gods, you know How high up they are Above us And he lives in an ascended dimension, But he insists, he says Her transcendence is upon us He said Your transcendence is upon us He says these things, And then just vanishes So she gets up promptly Warms up yesterday's coffee Looks around in her coffin And wonders What for I just Wonder what it's like to be loved by stars Without double r's, you know I've got scars But it's mostly just Teardrops, and soft kisses On my guitar Cause, oh, Oli, I ain't got nobody— And nobody holds me Like I hold Oli (Could have been Ali, But of course— I had already lost that one A whole well of tears, I lost At his departure And a whole well more When I actually lost him I almost miss Having someone to talk to About anything and everything But I've got Oli And God now I've got Oli And Oli (oli) Is all that I've got Besides God That's the only contact In my Phone book No more double Ls And double entendres; No more double rs At all Just scars now No more metaphors. Honest is radical I like them cynical I should have clinical insanity by now But I'm only just an artist You can't help But can only harm that And if it hurts hard enough I'll put art on my walls Become permanent Storybooks all over my arms now My coat of arms now I've run Ten point 5 miles In the last 3 days; But if I rest today Will a motorcycle gang Have a parade outside of my window, To drive me crazy? I hope it rains, So they can't play these games with my head And the seeds that I planted So deep become daisies I still don't remember The way he rearranged me But these days I make my name sound So the way He can never say it Just imitates The way I hate myself I should be dating But expressions are Atrocious If I fall asleep— Who knows I may get Stolen That tends to happen So I'm All the way up And I'm swollen in ways That I hate to say “I love you” Love me back Or say it harder That's my martyrdom Come off the cross, for a moment, Would you for us? And bend over Or bow, if you will? If I did, Would you still call me wicked Or just a Good witch Since I'm a woman, I just couldn't be Jesus, Who you asked for once And always Who you asked for some To save you from your Credit reports And consorts Or some sort of Nonsense [famous last words] God don't speak much English, She says God don't speak much these days We were Always Telepathic That was way back then When Oedipus Rex Was on the Guest list I was standing at the coat check, asking Why I must take off my hat When entering the service To the bouncer, he says “That's just politics” I said, That's just politics We both said, What's the difference Then we all laughed —then we all just laughed and laughed Exchange is my favorite exchange Where my favorite exchanges Have happened for centuries Of engagements Endeared species, And races pieces haven't tasted the same Since I haven't had them Animal products And animal planet I found this hat on Discovery channel Did you want it? I can't stand it So I had to have it back I just had to use the bathroom I just had to disconnect From [] See— I don't even have to put the words in Cause a name is just words When that's a man You just can't have And that's the worse When that's a man And you can't have him What a habit. Silky rabbit. Now he's the Ace. All In A Day's Work I've never died before. Oh… that is terrifying. It sounds terrible. It's really not that bad. Why are you not writing this down? I just need a moment… It's really not that bad… I die all the time. I get sensory overload At Trader Joe's Look at the colors The clothes, This sure isn't queensborough Escalators for shopping carts I get it Manhattan I'll take my half BLVCK ass to the projects Where my kind are I don't belong here , God you're intolerant I like this part of town But I'm way too brown And I dropped my crown at the market I should be jealous of everyone But I have learned my place I've been a slave since Hollywood I lost my son to the devil Now I pay child support And terrorist follow me coughing I'm wrong just for being born ! You could start a war from it If that's what you wanted I'm a people watcher people watcher About to board the people mover People mover Slip, Here's the tell Slip, here's the tell I should have a bell around my neck I think she wanted a picture with papa I'm playin my own paparazzi Look mom, I bought a sarcophagus There go them niggas with coughs again I been watching em Got binoculars I got oculus, for my oculars Look how hot he is, make me ovulate Man I gotta love it, Cause they love to hate Fucking racist crazies Have it your way I paid for it with my soul You hate but I love to love Somebody just got me fuckes up I don't have a book to run off of Shut up, honey. Now we're all up here Monkey in the middle Cause the middle one is weaker It's getting deeper and deeper Like the sinkhole that my sink is Let it sink in I've been syncing my secrets with demons In dreams sequences It's just a reparative injustice Kamasutra for your wondering words and stuff You can have it It's ruined anyway m Look at all this trash Look at all these classless classes Classwars, Racists. Everybody hates us The Asians, Latinx's The other niggas What being black is I'll write it in cursive It's just a curse, here So you can have it I'm moving to Heaven I'm packing my boxes I'm getting a cat, too! His name is Agustus He's a big one And I love him I just wanted a hug or a husband Instead I got nothing to trying my hardest And got for a bargain at target some coffee For being a targeted body All on an algorithm I guess I'm just useless. A dumb nigger demon Did I just offend you? Then you shouldn't be reading this either I wrote it for pleasure (Or pain) On the one Or the two Or the one Or the two I could do a lot with this $20. I could spend it all on Fuck all of you I'm moving to Heaven Where the heart it She's not harmless She's a terrorist— And I'll kill her, too Look how right she is Look how white she is, Huh Regardless of color It's a race war Lil biiiiitzzz Yooo, fuck New York. In every hole. In every crevice. Fuck this place. It's racist— Not just cause I'm black. Like statistically. It took a whole ass apartment elsesrch to feature this out. I was like “I wanna live in Manhattan” Everyone was like “NOOOOOOOO—-“ Haha “Nooo, no.” I was like “Why not?” The blacks were like: HAHA The whites were like— *COUGHS OBNOXIOUSLY* New York is so racist. It is statistically the most diverse—and most segregated city in the nation At the same time. WHAT. How do you even DO that? But it's true, at this point, the black people are like—fuck this, we'll just stay over here, and over here. And the rich whites are like YES. KEEP THAT SHIT, OVER THERE. Cause if you've ever been to the ghetto. It's some SHIT, It is NOT COOL. I finally got my ‘night card' back. Had it revoked in california . I was almost a whole valley girl. I still eat exclusively at Whole Foods. Trader Joe's. But NO. Now i live in the hood. It's fucking disgusting. I can say ‘nigga' again. Cause it's NIGGAS. Lots of niggas. I'm telling you. It's night and day! The white folks trains smell like bleach— Ammonia. The black folks train smell like a McDonald's. WHAT. Or just— Vomit. I can actually count the number of times just— Vomit—- On the train. Or. Dookie. Yes. Human feces. But I'm ready to go to midtown and it's like the train that goes around Disneyland. Families! People singing! Hey—cotton candy!! —and I didn't have to pick it! Haha! Fuck New York. Racist ass HOLE. I thought surely the next presidential election was one or two years out, but the racial tensions which had been rising became even more pronounced, as I realized that November was theboncoming time—and that they hostility between the whites and the blacks had once again been a result as the oncoming war, fueled onward—that the hatred, disgust, and general aggression of the whites had been of course, in the midsts of yet another Trump-fueled political upheaval, and I wondered why and how at all I had been caught in such a world that existed in form of man, of course, now proven himself to be the weaker sex, and yet in that of dominance, as was arranged in such an unholy war, to be the helm of power by sheer greed— now it seemed that these attacks were indeed political terrorism, and that these motorcyclists, my placement close to the ground level, and my neighbor's clammorings were specific attacks, after my identity had been varied to be that of the same in which I had once held political ambition, now none of which I assumed mattered at all. Perhaps I needed something more certain than a 12 story jump or suicide by train, and wondered as to whether it would be easy enough to kill myself bh self inflicted gunshot—a sure thing for certain, as love has been lost in the way of money at all. At that party…or rather, kind of—after. That acid that never hit Beyoncé I don't feel it. Man, I'm a terrible influence(r) Just take it. Nah, I'm good— PUSSY. -_- Give me three. K. —suddenly hits BEYONCÉ. BEYONCÉ …I got this. [BEYONCE] however, does not Ohh, shit. — “got this.” A very stranded, very sober Johnny depp stumbles upon what appears to be a college frat party, where the only thing they have is light beer, and nobody even recognizes him as a celebrity, because the attendees are all gen z What's even after gen z? The fucking apocalypse. Anyway. The acid hits Beyoncé on her way to make coffee, which extends the trip from the living room to the kitchen infinitely. Multidimensional Anne Hathaway hulks the fuck out and saves the day by ruining everything, which actually fixes everything— and *spoiler* helps Jesus to remain as the king of kings at beer pong. Lol In the late 90s in New York City, the keystone cast of Saturday night live learns of each other's formerly sexret psychic abilities, and uses the radio technologies of Rockefeller plaza to develop a research center for the telepathically gifted, eventually discovering and perfecting time travel. Supacree (the kid version) appears in and out of her ideal and desired realities, baffling ‘the Hollywood people' and later ‘the New York people', becoming the legendary central figure of the Illuminati, as the original timepiece — a pyramid shaped extra terrestrial vehicle which contains an ascended hyper consciousness, which I can't remember how it goes, did the supacree leave to find the Skrillex, or was it the other way around? I think it was both ways at some point, but the whole thing was this, just in case I never wrote it but just saw— These space god (humanoid evolved) are some kind of scientists/ doctors— there are four timepieces, each representing an era upon our planet; earth, which is distant but sacred— these four time pieces each depart their given “docs” in time to appear on earth at specific Fuck this is hard to explain Times in history, at which the first worlds, or previous human eras were known to have been destroyed— these time pieces travel through time space with the full record of these events in order to alert the current human era of its imminent doom, as an attempt to prevent such disasterous events, typically war, which will lead to the annihilation of the human species; these Gods, one male and one female, a king and queen, a married couple are the rules of the humankind, technically worshiped as a whole as one God, with whom the human design was modeled after, however, the true source of all things is the cosmos, known and unknown, in its totality—neither man or woman, but the force of creation. Anyway, what else is happening Oh. All of the celebrities are stuck in— [the festival project] in some way, shape, or form until its creator finishes it—and though it in itself is infinite, its 'finishing' notates its eventual production, which lol. That never going to happen. Because. Let's face it. I'm scared of …rich people. Yeah, sure. Yeah. I'm scared of The effect of the race war, which has been to pit the white woman against the black woman, which allows and maintains the continuation of war mongering male dominance over the entire planet, which remains as a destructive force of greed, racism, and inequality. So why try? [EDITS] CONAN O'BRIEN Alright. If she hit Fallon, she's gonna come for one of us next. No, Conan—that's not how this works. WHAT—where did you come from!? When did you get here? JAY LENO This goes deeper than all of you can understand. WHAT the FUCK, man! When did you-/ —when did he get here? How did you do that?! How did you do that?! What are you, like, the same guy? Are you not all the same guy? [they shrug simultaneously and kind of just agree] Listen at this. Okay then. The enemy of your friend is my enemy. Oh…kay—and the enemy of my enemy—is my friend— That is correct. —so we're all friends here. That's right. Some special forces? Which forces? How special? [JENNIFER LOPEZ is still JENNY FROM THE BLOCK] Do I look like a fool to you? Uh— OOPS [a pre-fame Jennifer Lopez receives a drop full of diamonds instead of the usual; she has been granted access into the Illuminati, and becomes an overnight success.] This feels heavier than usual. Same as always. Hm. Are you sure. Yep. Hey, you're not the regular guy. Regular guy died. That makes sense. JENNIFER ANNISTON is inside of Ū Okay, grosss Not like that [lifting max weight] Okay. That was cool. Wow. Yeah, sure whatever. I am strong Yeah yeah, okay. Are you sure you want to be my size? Yep. JIMMY FALLON/SKRILLEX (we don't know actually which at this point) is also trapped inside of Ū Okay, gross! Yeah. SKRILLEX is in all of Ū. okay—actually, i'm okay with that, but That other guy?! [JIMMY FALLON] Yeah, he's weird. Also meanwhile, kind of— MARSHALL MATHERS has a closet cleaning service lol. Patrick is smooth as a motherfucker, you know. Every time his head is down on the desk like that, he takes a bump of coke. What?! Big uh! [Patrick takes bumps of cocaine in front of a live studio audience—every single night.] Woah! See. Goddamn. You gotta admire a guy like that. Jennifer Anniston is the weight on the cable tension machine Ooh. Psycho bitch devious methods new ludachris commercial All ya'll girls is toddlers I like long boards and longhairs Lawn mowers and lawn shares Aw hell nah, God forgot Cher I got the Blair witch project On Blair, I hope I scare you How dare you. Your girl looks like a naked mole rat. I got my soul back. You blue eyed bastards stole everything From the whole blacks, Hold that thought I'm at Whole Foods market throw in the Amazon algorithm off With marked dollars Look at God at Walmart On them rollbacks You old hacks are cackling I'm shackled to old habits Hold hands with me, rabbit I'm just a silly rapper really, are you? Maybe. Cut the verse of Reverse God Now I'm the devil I'm still lost in the Amazon cart I sharted all up in your pop tarts Before you warmed them up, pops Just for the sake of the art, Heart to heart, It's a war on love And the white girls won with nothin but Buckets of Whatever's up there I wouldn't know Cause I'm stuck job searching And running, Trying not to have a tummy So some gummy worm will love me First their sour, then they're sweet Then nobody, Trolli Holy moly I could use some more petroleum in the ocean! Said nobody But the globalists are performing your programming Which you're worshiping I put my eye on the dollar So I could watch you all Crumble and fall Don't you know The apocalypse is happening at the mall Of all the places How's that for a stream of consciousness, You salamander I asked Anandar back But I went past that chapter Have a chap Or a chapstick, for four times four dollars A bottle of water will cost you a fortune (But at least the drugs are in it) Get it It's recycled piss Distilled? Which is it, Mr,? The mystery box was literally lifted into My dinner from a fishery filled with nothing but niggers in it— I want a refund, before I catch that Fucking curse of poverty from — what'd you call it salmonellahallibut One hell of a cough from someone on the sidewalk But guess what? The devil's in your pocket or your palm, And that's the omen and the psalm rolled into one Cause God is awesome, But my mom is fuckin toxic And that's how I fuckin got here Blow my head off, Slit my wrists And write a song While jumping off a bit When all you need is money, But the world costs more than It's worth, and words are nothing But another fucking problem in your Google documents I look at my son and see a God, But half of Satan's in him, Oh man Robotics Lets be honest, I don't even know how to write this. Where's my sides?! WHERE'S MY SIDES. You don't get SIDES with this; It's just CHICKEN. I don't eat CHICKEN. It appears as though, however– You do. Ok, I gotta get off this playlist. I… i gotta . “The Wal*Mart Wars” Hm. … …………. …. *face* … no. No. l– What is this place. {After a wild night which apparently spiraled out of control, great , there goes my peace. Not forever, though, maybe. FUCK THIS PLACE. I HATE THIS PLACE. Everybody hates this place. But the album is called “I love New York” Yes, thats Technically How it's pronounced, though It's stylized like I _ NY Cause. EXT. MIDTOWN MANHATTAN. DAY Oh, wow, this is beautiful. THis is great. I love this place FUCK THE FEDS. CUT TO: EXT.Typically WHEREVER ELSE Anywhere ‘above' like 87th? Lets just call it 80th, be safe. BE SAFE! NIGGAZ. ah shit, i gotta go. BITCH– But lets just be honest, It's technically ‘above' But it's really [THE BRONX is a literal extension of the Underworld] Oh no. srsly tho. X_c Anyway. FUck man, Do you think i'll ever get good like that. Idk what equipment is this Hmm, lets see, that's approximately $8,000 USD of CDJs wow yep That's retarded Yep. And you still need a mixer. fukt. OKay, I would literally sell my soul for this. Consider it done. wait , really? YES. you earned it. Wait, I– What?! You earned it… Uh oh. Take care now. Shit. [BILLIE ELLISH is trapped inside WALMART] Uh oh. Fuck. what is this place. INT. WALMART. WHENEVER EMPLOYEESLAVES WHAT TIME IS IT. THERE'S NO WINDOWS IN HERE. That's not funny IT'S literally a synonym, we might as well make it a portemantau MEanwhile, in this other dimension, So that i don't offend anybody… Actually, you know what? Be offended. Quit that stupid fuckin shit and follow your dreams! Wait really? Wait, really? Sure! If you want! …i guess. AMERICA NO. INSTANT HOMELESSNESS ok , nvm. Damn. I know, right. wtf r u guys watching. Shut up. All Wal*Mart Employees are actually top secret government agents. x ∞ >.< (we'll just use Billie Ellish as the alternate, but really it could be Could it really? Shut UP, PLURNICORN. Wtf is a PLURNICORN We'll see. [Upon Realizing s/he is trapped in a mysterious place apparently extremely public Wait, you've never been to a Wal*Mart Before?! NO. I grew up in LA Rich as fuck And i've been famous since I was liike 12, Or something. Right. That is–kind of terrifying. LATER: WHY IS IT SNOWING INSIDE. WHERE'S THE EXIT. THEY HAVE GUNS?! oh wow, they have GUNS. WHY DO WE NEED GUNS! KA-BLAM. BECAUSE THEY HAVE GUNS. Bang-bang! Ptttttttttt—sttt. And they have guns. Actually, these are just– confetti cannons. *pop!* Lol “Possibly The Worst Show Ever the infinite rave continues on in Hell as everyone awaits the return of SŪPACREE- The Cosmic Avenger (Who Is NOT a DJ) and Sunnï Blū (who is a superstar rapper but also not a DJ) go back to back, buying time as the beacon to. Signal "The Supacree" is completed, battling the 10th dimensional DJ Ū, a super ninjas, for control of the decks. what else happened? idk. I CANT STOP DANCING. none of the DJs can find a pair of working headphones, and the sound guy is missing from the booth. "missing" YOU SHOT HIM. I THOUGHT IT WAS A TRANQ DART. {Enter The Multiverse} “TVP” Hazel is 6, turns 7 season 1 Season 7- 15 Man, I can't remember the other two kids names, I think the little boy is Ira but I might have named them all and forgotten, shit. Her sister, though is between 4 ½ and 5, they are technically “Irish twins”, and always fighting—they look very similar, however are not at all alike; Hazel is very much a daddy's girl, while her younger sister is a no-nonsense old soul with the tendency to cause trouble, not by being inquisitive or showy, as her sister often is, but rather by being quietly observant, and tends to dismiss both her parents, often isolating, or even dissappearing without notice, quietly and comfortably into her own world—as the series progresses, and though all of Patrick's children like their parents have showcased some kind of special ability or talent— Holy shit, give this kid a name-/ I thought I already named her, I just don't remember. That's true. It seems like they all had names. She is almost very typically, though showing signs of genius, even at the early age at the beginning of the series, a middle child, prone to upset almost too easily, but rather than acting out, is more likely to take her anger quietly; she shares her fathers deep brown eyes, dark hair, and though she looks otherwise very much like her sister, and later despises her father, is more inwardly and outwardly like him, though taking the side of her mother during their separation and divorce, oftentimes even lashing out at her father quite openly, and very vocally, as she grows into herself. “Ira”, (may have had another name earlier) is the youngest of three— as his third birthday approaches sometime during the first season. Great, now I gotta hide all those allegories so nobody can actually draw from this that Patrick— Where's his write up, anyway? That shit could go on for days. I have no idea why this catharsis is happening. I tried to sleep it off, I swear, but I still woke up like— At least mildly obsessive about this, for whatever reason. Hazel's 7 - Season Arc Hazel has the eyes, charm, and charisma for entertainment —she hopes to one day be as her father, an entertainer and performer, and will do almost anything for a laugh. She is often telling jokes, and is a people- pleaser. She is sickeningly cute, with golden hair and Hazel eyes, long eye lashes, and carries baby fat in her face, though she is rather average, neither heavy or plump, and however also not frail at all. She is inquisitive, smart, and busy, almost never idle-minded, and strong. Though sort of a Tom boy, she has been trained well to act with dignity, class, and feminine eloquence, much like her mother—but like her father, has a tendency to be crass, sometimes carelessly so, or even brutally honest—to her mother's disdain, but embraced wholesomely by other family members and adults, she's extremely funny and delightful, and very much unlike her mother, not a spoiled brat at all, often raising questions beyond her years about inequality, later wishing to attend a public school, and becoming quite the advocate for social justice and human rights in her later years, her final season shows a rebellious and sometimes even antagonistic Hazel, who later even favors Esha over her own mother as a parental figure, often confiding in her about things she can't and shouldn't share with her father, although her almost over the top admiration for her father has become the driving force and inspiration for her own endeavors in show business, much to her father's disdain, as she grows older, him becoming more protective of her, and especially within the oftentimes secretive nature of his actual placement and purpose in the business, and her rebellious nature and charm even force-feeding her into the industry, she is a bleeding heart for superstardom, and is often seen along what may be a path to fame, making Patrick's bleeding heart all the more aching, as though he and Catherine remain at odds throughout the series, he truly loves his children, even “the little sick one”, as he refers to the second child. Holy shit, what is this kid's name If I had the energy to go through my notes, I could know; but I don't. The city sickness has been sinking in from the noise of the obnoxious motorists and honestly, being out of protein is giving me muscle soreness, I'm in some sort of a bloated haze from eating almost nothing but carbs, and the fact that I haven't been with anyone in years is starting to circle like buzzards around my head, my heart has been literally screaming but overwhelming with this sense of calm, and though slipping into Patrick's sometimes erratic tendencies, for the most part I've been underwhelmed with society's expectations that I should get some kind of job, and somehow while working not lose focus on my own interests and projects—I hate [the strange modern behaviors of] most people, and everything costs too much money— my son might be going into foster care, or my ex husband is evil enough just to try to force my energy to worry about a problem he's created, and I really wanted to sleep into the afternoon with this lethargy, hoping that everything surrounding this series would just fall off, but it doesn't. I wake up often wishing I could just forget The Festival Project ™ , but the truth is, it just keeps writing itself, but in the very least, sometimes God gives me little presents that mean the very most to me— a chord organ that I thought was from the 80's, but is more likely from the 1960's— I love vintage stuff, and musical instruments, which only God could know, really—my fascination with history as if I'm still living it, and this, my sudden fascination and drive to write and complete just one series has been haunting me almost just as badly as anything else has, but especially ripping me apart—especially since I have motorcyclists ripping through my body as if it were some kind of disease that existed outside of me, so contagious that it began to sink in to my insanity and mental hygiene. I wondered if anybody else knew or cared about these creatures as much as I didn't—and in fact, I had never felt so much like Ali in the way that I didn't care if they, other “human beings” supposedly, all died tragically, and wondered why the walls and windows didn't keep out the sound of the outside world at all… The middle child begins writing secretly very early on, and is the first to be required more extensive therapy, (as suggested by the family's therapist) after her parent's separation and subsequent divorce. It is not long after she begins learning to read and write at all, that she begins also showing interests in art, asking for art lessons and to begin painting and art therapy, rather than the recommended Equine therapy— she often keeps things to herself, then returning to her hidden places at times when the family's dysfunction becomes uncomfortable and overstimulating, very often paining or reading during times of peace, and retreating to her safe places—sometimes under the stairs, into the attic, the treehouse, or even later, the family's barnyard, where she often keeps drawings, as she ages, later comics, sometimes caricatures of the things she absorbs through her own reality—and diaries, sometimes hidden in nooks and crannies and in places no one would think; a true prodigy and genius, though hidden from much the world, as she is often overlooked, however, her therapist begins unfolding her true reality, often times carrying over sessions and losing track of time, picking her brain or even conversations philosophically What's the therapists name? Doctor Robin She has to have a last name Well, she's a child's therapist, so she's Doctor Robin, but It seems like it starts with a T. We'll see. I just saw her anyway. I drifted off again, thinking about how wildly detailed this all was becoming, and wondered if there was a series of fictional books waiting to be written. There certainly could be, but my mind was reeling, freshly showered but still undressed, and not even wanting to think of going outside—and yet—I was out of water, and had learned that the drinking water from the fountains, especially in large quantities, had a tendency to make me sick—I hadn't yet eaten anything, and though the coffee was fresh, and my apartment was clean (which made me overtly overjoyed for some reason) smelling of Lemon Lysol and Bleach; with notes of a strong pot of organic fresh ground coffee, it seemed like I couldn't do much more than lay in bed writing this catastrophically interesting series—and it was interesting, which said volumes, considering I had always been picky about my TV watching, being that only ever did certain series catch my eyes or my ears, and those series were almost always—or always, always specifically well written, perfectly casted, and had the edge and draw of becoming an entire world within itself, which this series, though only a week or two old at best, in my heart and in my mind , was rampantly ravaging my own world, almost as if it had become of some importance to keep writing it, and never stop, and though Patrick was the forefigure, another broken male protagonist, the truth in the series was that the true heroes of this sometimes scarily violent drama, were its women—a story meant to be told with a diversified cast of creatures from all worlds and walks of life—Esha, of course, herself, a role that had been some recreation of myself, somehow, though so different that even primarily, I never did see myself as her, besides the onslaught of some otherworldly pain, visions of a scene recollected from some remarkable download, and it might have been once and for all that I had lost my mind, or my life, if I wasn't a writer—I was, somehow, though, after all, a writer. It had been a fasting day that could have and might have ended tragically anyway, and still the devil marked his mockery of my efforts by consistently flinging perfect bodied women everywhere that I went—though usually with ugly enough faces that I could see nothing but what a man was—uncaring for one thing over the other, a flawless representation of woman, represented in the current time with scantily clad fashion, almost painfully so—the insecurity of women becoming more apparent in the way she would appear, always almost begging to be near to me, with every perfection and complexion I hadn't—but at least I had a tendency to laugh at my own damage, often surmising that she, these demon creatures, hadn't any talent for this at all—which had turned the state of television into a near circus act; that alone urged me to continue writing the series, perhaps with a typewriter, due to the negligence of nepotism within the industry which often resulted in these pretty little creatures getting even further ahead by stealing works as such, and passing them on as their own originality almost so cruelly and without judgement—plagiarism, as it was called, but more accurately intent-to-kill the imminent threat of what had been said to be a minority becoming a more powerful force to flourish in entertainment however, as quickly as the visions had come, the thought of writing it without my phone became dauntingly impractical, and I scribbled only the most intense scenes and plot lines onto notebooks and scratch papers, keeping them as hidden from the algorithm as possible… lol the Al Gore Rhythm Ahahahahahahaha Was that the joke? Maybe. Idk. Maybe. Idk. Hm. Hmmmmm: What: Nothing. That actually might have been it. Really, was it? I will never know. That is kind of a good dad joke, though. And a good band name. Idk about that. My coffee was lukewarm enough so that I could taste its flavor, as I whittled away at whatever it was— The story was almost so beautifully being told in allegories and parables that it seemed a shame I may never be rich enough to buy fame, as it seemed that was the only way to become a star these days— and yet—it was more the wealth than the fame I wanted, I had realized, at all—the polished class of the Manhattanites drawing me out of Brooklyn and into some debauchery which was my own Grandiose thought form, that I could actually become, at the ripe old age of 31, some kind of superstar. ‘Why would I even want that, anyway?' I thought, interrupted painfully by who I'm sure was the same motorist, who seemed to do nothing but circle the block all day, and all night, doing nothing — and I wondered why he himself had decided not to do grub hub in a richer neighborhood, where money would more than likely come more easily. But really— I drifted off to a time where I wanted to ride a motorcycle myself, and the curiosity forced me to go online to check the price of what it might cost to have one. $5,000 for a decent bike, which would include a muffler as not to be so obnoxious and disturbing to others as these creatures had become to me— and I began doing the math on how long it would take to save $5,000 as if it would be possible to work some dead end job for any amount of time without spending money on anything else. It would take at least 5 months to earn enough for a motorcycle, which landed me directly back at “Not worth it”, and as horrible as it was, I did at the very least have a luxury apartment for at minimum the next 5 years, however, wanting still to move to Manhattan, Midtown specifically—or one of the quaint and quiet neighborhoods on the upper West Side. The neighborhood was going to hell, after some unworldly godless force had seemed to drop hundreds of thousands of rude and thoughtless third world workers onto the streets and buildings bordering the one I lived on, the neighborhood becoming more rough and less peaceful with trash and debris from the depression and congenital disease that was poverty, the collective unconsciousness of the masses colliding with my empathetic nature and oversensitivity to sound, especially awful sounds, such as the hundreds of motorcycles and hot rodded junk cars which only seeemed to move in a track around a four block radius, and had become a cancerous trigger of sorts, no authority figure seemed to much care about. I cared less and less each day to listen to music, since I wasn't making it the way I wanted to—and I had realized that the constant displeasure and unrest, the lack of peace had as much to do with the world outside as it did with the world within—and I began to see the disgusting obnoxious noise pollution outside my window as just an extension of man's abuse, ability to rape, torture, and kill, terrorize— the uncaring waging of war, control, and lack of true power; as no good and true man who wielded actual strengeth or true power in any way would continue to show such distructive action and carelessness for others around him— chaos, corruption, abuse, and misogyny was proving to be the downfall of all humankind, as patronaged by man, and, as I became doubtful of anyone's lack of understanding of this, especially as the immigrants themselves were often naturally pedophillic culturally and toxically abusive in nature, most migrants flocking from countries in which women's liberation or the protection of youth had not yet materialized into their understanding of conciousness and morality—the men were weak, unkind, and selfish—the women mere machines at their disposal—and however many there were, I could see that their children, the many of them, remained as the redeeming factor. Anyway, a political ploy for the ages of there ever was such a thing, the newest chapter in American greed and slavery, it only seemed like an extension of evil itself, and less of a coincidence with each growing day—each new person, another burden to the middle class taxpayer, another reason to inflate the cost of living—and all the more reason to continue to terrorize the American people into its own division, hatred, demise, and consumption. e. My faith, however, was unwavering—God was real, but these abusive and toxic creatures were pushing it further away with violent arrogance, and the inability to understand that God itself was the nature they continued to destroy. Robin Bennett Fine. “My name's —ahem— “Ron Sennet, and I ain't In it.” —did the say “don't” write a book about me? It's Not about him… Or something cute he used to say like that, I couldn't remember, but he had a bunch of cute little idioms that matched his name, and to the day, I still missed him — it was 11:15 PM exactly as I hung up the phone, after an unsuccessful attempt to reach 911, after realizing that the threat outside was maddening enough to be impossible to only be in my head, and after weeks of the excruciating noise, I finally called NYPD dispatch, much to my disdain, and of course magically, the noise seemed to disappear, but these abusive and toxic creatures were pushing it further away with violent arrogance, and the inability to understand that God itself was the nature they continued to destroy. Robin Bennett Fine. “My name's Jon Sennet, and I ain't In it.” Or something cute he used to say like that, I couldn't remember, but he had a bunch of cute little idioms that matched his name, and to the day, I still missed him — it was 11:15 PM exactly as I hung up the phone, after an unsuccessful attempt to reach 911, after realizing that the threat outside was maddening enough to be impossible to only be in my head, and after weeks of the excruciating noise, I finally called NYPD dispatch, much to my disdain, and of course magically, the noise seemed to disappear as soon as I had made the call, which infuriated me. It seemed as though the game in entirety to make me look or feel crazy, though I knew I wasn't—well, I was, but not without purpose or reason. I had been theorizing in energy exchange quite decisively making a mark for my alter, at which I asked to be designated the wisdom and truth of the light within the eye, desire, however never in mind, although I had been summoned in part due to the fact that we were somehow alike—I was in some ways besides and out of sorts with my set, sinking my teeth into the forced obsession as I unraveled any possibilities and plotline. Episode 01. Pilot An opportunity presents itself seemingly at random— the protagonist's hand is forced into a life changing ultimatum, putting his reuputation and family in danger. Already involved in an illegal gambling ring which operates out of a secret historical prohibition era speakeasy and some “light” drug mulling within its walls, however often extending even as dangerously close to his workplace, Patrick is propositioned to become an investor in the high end escort service, with which he hired and contracted his lover, Kandi, a “rescue” whom he supports in her exchange for exclusivity, to remain as her only client, however, although he begrudgingly declines, wishing not to be involved in anything much more than what he has already kept under the radar, he is intimidated and threatened by blackmail, his high profile becoming at stake—he then obliges to embark upon this new endeavor, the expansion of this establishment to include a warehouse, which houses a large scale brothel, and, able to use his social status to procure wealthy clientele, quickly becomes a power player within a ring of coveted elites, setting fire to his already inflated ego, and colliding with his intense and highly functional polyaddiction, which he has maintained since his youth, using his entertainment persona as an outlet, becoming a medium of excess, fame, and rampant wealth. Patrick is beloved by his peers, and is humbled often by his devoted fans and friends—proactively worshiped as a comic genius, a prodigy, and a revered successor to legendary frontmen— Okay, this is weird, because I started writing this before I even understood what I was writing at all… —specifically, the sixth successor, to his coveted role. I had written for Esha to be the seventh successor, as with the symbolism deeply and quite literally woven into the sometimes brutal framework of the series, which I had shorthanded to ‘TVP'…the world around me trailed off as my eyes blurred as they had been lately, and I wondered if I might be having some kind of stroke or something, as I was certainly some sort of out of body—the day had been strange, and I had given up on a run or a gym for the day, the motorcycles alone ravaging my energy, and whether I worked out or not, they were ever present anyway. They were some sort of toxic, abusive force I just had to put up with, hoping it didn't upset my psychology so much that it ended me, though I had become quite odd as of recently, rambling more than usual and actually praying out loud, as my silent ones just didn't seem to be working—they were probably white supremacists, or in some way connected to some political terror group, but it didn't seem to matter. Someone liked torturing me, and it was becoming apparent that no matter much time I spent at the gym, this torture was going to persist. After a month long gym streak, at least going once a day to lift something, I rested, or rather, tried to rest, kind of— but my mind had been swirling with thoughts of a man I was certain by now I had made up—and writing the story of a man I was absolutely certain came from my mind, but in a way that it almost made no sense at all—as the more I looked into the world that I had already written about, the more I realized was accurate without first having known these things, and however cursed I might have been to even know such things, I decided to call it some sort of blessing instead. ‘God, I used to get so fucking high for days, and when I would come down, just crying and crying, eating Totinos or DiJorno and a bag of Bugles, I would watch Saturday Night Live for fucking hours, and I hated [Redacted]. I hated him.' Now I still hated [Redacted], but in a different way, and though really it was myself that was more like Patrick, he at the very least, for whatever reason, used to have his face—now, he was just Patrick, and [Redacted] was just [Redacted], and i knew entirely too much about it all, and about myself to be comfortable with it, but nothing was comfortable at all. I had written entire atrocities, novels, and all that was some conglomerate of nonsense which was the festival project, besides how insanely and innately prodigal it all was sometimes, my own words confusing me with a bizarre and asinine dysfunction, awe, actually, often as if someone else had written them, and although I was always at least sort of semi-conscious while writing, the spells and cadences I would fall under were some sort of trance, and as I watched the Nirvana rehearsal from Saturday Night Live in 1992, long before [Redacted] or any of the rest of the — Was it Keystone? It was, the Keystone cast of SNL, but the first word my mind had jumped to was Hallmark, which—after referencing Google quickly for a fact check, also stood true. I was willing to admit, even now, though I had long lost interest in Saturday Nighy Live, or anything at all having to do with current events, that the [Redacted] era—or rather even, the Tina Fey era, a true role model, perhaps, and someone I favored over all of the performers I admired, or allowed myself to admire— the Golden Years of Saturday Night were the only years, for me that even mattered— trying to make sense of anything couldn't be done, but I at least had this new project birthed from it to think about. It would be hard to sit down at a taping of The View and not think about all I had written at all, and it would be impossible not to unfold the characters which had presented themselves, though slowly but surely, through the most vivid visions and insanely lucid dreams, as The TV People began to What if someone steals this out of my documents? That would be unwise…the best scenes are somewhere scribbled in my notebooks and random scraps of paper somewhere in my room…this series is almost nothing without those scenes—the elements with which the most painful scenes I had ever written, became word form. ‘I don't know why, but I feel so incredibly high, So incredibly high right now…' They could have been words to a song, but I did feel high as a kite for whatever reason, without the actual kite metaphor quite literally dagling over my head, for once, or at least, it had been a few weeks, not a prominent as is was before. I sat soaking in the tub teetering on the possibility that I should actually even watch The Tonight Show, or whatever it was, to set my mind at ease, a betrayal of my own code—as one does not literally feed its obsessions into insanity on purpose. ‘Perhaps, though', I thought, ‘I could get rid of this.' — A cancerous abscess in the tradegy that had become my own sex fueled, rage driven, racing mind—and rather admittedly, it was almost too late, for anything of the sort, as I hadn't any other place to keep the growing world of The Television People any quieter, than within the monstrous algorithm which was Google documents cloud, where it seemed nothing was safe, and anything could be fabricated into reality after being stolen, by someone rich enough to make it happen, however, never being any better than my own disaster of a creation. And it was, a disaster. He was a comic genius, a professional, and spectacular performer— in actuality, I knew nothing if not anything at all about him, and the more I collected, the more interesting I found myself, actually, bemused that I seem to have found some sort of twin, another synchronization nightmare—if only that I made it to be so, unbelieving yet that I was in some kind of fairytale, though it had become some sort of fantastical and adventurous thing, this what I now refer to as ‘the allegories,'. I must have been something parasitic to the industry, with the tendency to latch on and ride out whatever had become a fascination, but it wasn't, in its sense of origin, like anything before— it was something new, in the ways that it was, and something old at the same time—though needing to fall drastically from The Tower without actually doing so, putting a stop to my unlimited creation became a pertinent priority, as even exercising, meditating, and chronic masturbation tended to exacerbate it, as if I was missing a step in transmutation of this foreign substance— an energy which seemed familiar, but also wasn't. I was receiving downloads several hours at a time, and drifting off into spells and trances of inspiration so heavily that it seemed counterintuitive to call it off, fearing I might lose the intensity of the plot and its characters, and they were that: just characters. It had taken days to erase Patrick's face into a blank state to restore him from that of his namesake, but now everything was a blur, the allure of scrapping it all to return to making music was upon some sort of dawning, but not yet arrived. I allowed whatever came to mind to flow freely from my fingertips, even if it felt bizzare—and even if it felt bizarre, it never felt wrong at all. ‘Unfortunate, that.' , I thought crossing one leg over another to complete my chapter before draining the tub. I promised myself long ago to always pray for my own son, before worrying about another celebrity, whose fame and fortune protected them more than I ever seemed to protect myself or my own—nonsense, but a strong sense of remorse, as I had been painted as wicked, in a sense, just for being kept poor, separated from my son, and left in a world without love at all; My project, a keepsake of the hard work I had done; but had not yet been paid for—and the fear was in the understanding that that money might not ever come, that I would never be a mother, a muse, or anything or anyone else I actually wanted. I thought briefly again about just getting a dog—but I only had 45 dollars, aside from the unmarked Jimmy Fallons, I had placed atop an alter on my kitchen counter, wondering how to multiply them into something I wanted—and that had been the start of the game or the project at all— saving my last dollars and spending them at once, with the hopes and wishes that they would become somehow much larger quantities, returned as good karma for the love I had given, but that had not yet come back, in one form or another. ‘He seems miserable, the poor bloak.' , I thought—and with all that I had known to have come with fame and fortune along with the luck, he probably somewhere, somehow was—but my concern was my son, turning the mere dollars somehow from one's into bundles of hundreds, thousands, and maybe even one day a whole million or more. That was the push behind the project at all—breaking the cycle of the poor black single mother, the story that had been told over and over-/ with stories that had not; the stories that had become [The Festival Project™]# Sai Psy. See you in seven years, then. You're so silly— I'm not going to live seven more years. We'll see about that. You will see. I'll be dead. So I'll be dead. So it is. A summer hiatus, Vacations in Prague, yes Let's pray for the rest of us A sign of the times and a coming of ages Who made you famous again As the rest of us I don't like it As much as I'd like to Keep writing Keep finding the reason to die and you're blinded by kindnesses And I Ams I woke up in the 9th dimension, As an infinite friend Familiar with my kitchen JOHN SLATTERY An interesting thing happened this morning. What's that, John? I woke up as John Slattery Just remember what love holds The death of a salesman, rechargeable batteries This walk could take forever in designer jeans Another day in slave hell The controllers controlling And Satan is Sataning Seems like a time to go clubbing It's a simple kind of depression Resting on your head when All you simply wished is the taste of flesh The freedom of skin And the lather of love— Or blood spatter on the pavement Aim for the head If the door's fixed, then we'll break it again Look what greed does I hate lazy days in Manhattan Ca

Think Gilded Age hair is super 19th century? Uhhh - think again! The hairstyling practices and salon culture that we've come to know today draw major inspiration from the American salons of the Gilded Age (which of course drew inspiration from the French salons across the pond…vive la France)! What mysteries are hiding underneath the pompadour poofs of Gilded Age hair? Well wonder no more, because we've got a brilliant guest for you today to break it all down - Elizabeth Block! It's giving history of hairdressing, Encyclopedia Beau-tannica vibes. Elizabeth Block, is an art historian and a Senior Editor in the Publications and Editorial Department at The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. She holds a PhD in art history from The Graduate Center at the City University of New York, and a Masters in American Studies from Columbia University. She is the author of “Dressing Up: The Women Who Influenced French Fashion” and her new book “Beyond Vanity: The History and Power of Hairdressing” came out September 10th! Elizabeth Block is on Instagram @elizabethlblock and on TikTok at @elizabethblock_author Follow us on Instagram @CuriousWithJVN to learn more about the products from this episode, or head to JonathanVanNess.com for the transcript. Jonathan is on Instagram @JVN. Find books from Getting Curious and Pretty Curious guests at bookshop.org/shop/curiouswithjvn. Our senior producers are Chris McClure. Our editor & engineer is Nathanael McClure. Our theme music is also composed by Nathanael McClure. Production support from Julie Carrillo, Anne Currie, and Chad Hall. Curious about bringing your brand to life on the show? Email podcastadsales@sonymusic.com. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Think Gilded Age hair is super 19th century? Uhhh - think again! The hairstyling practices and salon culture that we've come to know today draw major inspiration from the American salons of the Gilded Age (which of course drew inspiration from the French salons across the pond…vive la France)! What mysteries are hiding underneath the pompadour poofs of Gilded Age hair? Well wonder no more, because we've got a brilliant guest for you today to break it all down - Elizabeth Block! It's giving history of hairdressing, Encyclopedia Beau-tannica vibes. Elizabeth Block, is an art historian and a Senior Editor in the Publications and Editorial Department at The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. She holds a PhD in art history from The Graduate Center at the City University of New York, and a Masters in American Studies from Columbia University. She is the author of “Dressing Up: The Women Who Influenced French Fashion” and her new book “Beyond Vanity: The History and Power of Hairdressing” came out September 10th! Elizabeth Block is on Instagram @elizabethlblock and on TikTok at @elizabethlblock_author Follow us on Instagram @CuriousWithJVN to learn more about the products from this episode, or head to JonathanVanNess.com for the transcript. Jonathan is on Instagram @JVN. Find books from Getting Curious and Pretty Curious guests at bookshop.org/shop/curiouswithjvn. Our senior producers are Chris McClure. Our editor & engineer is Nathanael McClure. Our theme music is also composed by Nathanael McClure. Production support from Julie Carrillo, Anne Currie, and Chad Hall. Curious about bringing your brand to life on the show? Email podcastadsales@sonymusic.com. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Get away from me. I'm a hologram. Far away, please I am very far from you– Well get further. I'm in another dimension actually. What do you want, dude? I always finish what i start. What the fuck does that mean?! How should I know?! You wrote it! Then how are you gonna finish it? That's not what I meant. Then what did you mean?! Look! I don't know! All I know is, I did a movie and you wrote it! Just one movie or a whole saga! I don't know! Just write it! So you know some things, but not the most important ones. If I could see through all the plot holes, there'd be no drama It's all drama. It can't be. Yes it can. NO! There has to be some comic relief in it. What would that consist of. I don't know! I am a HoLoGrAm. A hologram, huh? Uh huh. So what happens if I touch you? I wouldn't do that. Oh yeah? *poke* Ok… YOU'RE NOT A HOLOGRAM AT ALL. Hm. I'm sick of subliminal images encrypted with ignorant messages Suggesting the supremacy of the caucasians And how blatant it is that they hate us Illusions of diversity and inclusions to get your money: the usual But the truth is, you're just a tool to them Employee discounts, of course Just so they can get some of their money back Or all of it Owners of corporations Your landlord is probably related to the people that you work for And so forth I'm sure that's why they're trying to push me to suicide before I record this And move forward with Something other than working for them Unless it's at banana republic, a luxury brand Cause i'm sick of looking like a poor foreigner in my own country When the reality is my ancestors are unhappy Karen, Becky and Annie are all happy with nannies And the rest of us are out here taking naps on ou break And unpaid mental health days It's Hell for the unwealthy And wealth is health so good luck eating what you need On an hourly Or salary under 150,000 But what do I know? I'm suicidal eating whole foods That i stole The whole story is longer, but honestly I been trying to get a job That doesn't involve me jumping off of something or Counting someone else's money as they siphon all the energy from me I gotta wonder how much The Roc was auctioned off for Cause landlord and employer are just the modern words For “Slave Owner” DANE COOK: “I WANT A DIVORCE.” But that was a long time ago, I heard he was in love with a 20 year old or something So much for the rest of us: Here's to Tiesto and the rest of em Guys are so fucking lucky for never having to grow up Guys like girls that comb their hair constantly I like guys with blue eyes and blonde hair Not so suddenly, But i should have learned my lesson a long time ago: Now i”m crying my eyes out to Claptone WRiting rap songs trying to take my mind out the trap Rats are assholes Watch coffee run just to be closer to someone or something i love But haven't talked to my son in a month or over, Cause i”m sick of hearing about his father It's all he talks about It's like I don't even know em So morbidly obese I can't even hold him I think I guess i could have stayed in it And kept getting my face caved in Hoping a rave day every now and again would save me Ironically i don't believe in a white savior But i find caucasians savory, Every shade and flavor But rocky road hits close to home THrow me a milk bone and let me sober up Before I start to open up about Sonny or something Just another figment of my pigmented imagination Lived in pigpens beggin pigeons to grant my wishes Which is a kitchen–can't be a Grammy Award, I give in I lost interest, i'm just not skinny enough for Nevermind, don't need another reason to cry On the upper east side, avoiding the housing projects Just wanting to be discovered Or finish the festival project Or for someone to love or want Anything other than money or energy It's infinite, but with every cough i forget coughs must be a witch and just as obsessed with Skrillex as Everyone is He lives in my head I would say my bedroom, but I'm a permanent resident at Hotel Hell No –knowing that last line would be funny if I didn't have to cover 3 burroughs just to get old food From whole foods Cause nothing adds up in a cold room, that's renovated, which makes it easier to take it all in, Until i realize I'm the problem, and the coffee stains are setting in And i just wish the whole world would start over again With me on top of it Instead of at the bottom Of a pyramid With a flat top I took off from Upon discovering The entire human race is Racist, and they just Don't get it I'm the Great Spirit, But hate hearing my mixes Cause it's irritating I'm not gifted enough for INsomniac to sell tickets To any event Forget it, I'll finish this salad and knock myself unconsious for as long as humanly possible Leave my body At the hospital And listen to Gospel with God Then watch Kim Possible in awe of The long lost Christy Carlson Romano I love Broadway Or did once –then wake up Put a fake smile on Like i ate mcdonalds Then ran ten miles to get it off of me Like it isn't impossible It's not at all, –but in my body? Lol stop . What happens when you give a mouse a cookie? What happens when a legendary artist turns into a hologram And comes for you? Uhhh. What happens when you have no food and go to whole foods with one dollar? I don't know. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū

Hi it's been a while! Manny is busy with some work stuff so he is gone forever and we're not friends any more :(. Don't worry though everyone I have special new friend Mel from Ultra Queue (a podcast about watching all of Ultraman in production order) to fill in with friendship and podcasting until Manny finishes his various tasks. We are watching the middle Duper Dimension Show: Orguss, over a period of 3 episodes (and then a fourth episode with the OVA sequel.) Is Orguss good? Uhhh well we're a bit divided but it's certainly no Macross. You can watch it if you want I guess. There's a dinosaur that cheats on his girlfriend, that's pretty good.Next time: We will watch Orguss 13-24. As always, in the wise words of Linkara, the next episode will be "OUT WHEN ITS OUT" but it won't be too long probably.Here's a bunch of links:Mel's sourcing:https://futurewarstories.blogspot.com/2020/05/future-war-stories-from-east-super.htmlMel's personal Twitter and Podcast Twitter:https://x.com/dearcrownshttps://x.com/ultra_queueThe opening theme is just a cut down orguss theme and the ending theme is, uh, some other isekai anime.You can reach us at doyourememberrobotech@gmail.com Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

☆ SOLID SOUND / @solidsoundfm ☆ New Music Radio Show ☆ The atmosphere buzzes with excitement as the tunes amp up a notch to destination chaos. Listeners, new and established relish at the delights, their faces painted in joy as the music is unleashed. Yes it's another Solid Sound new music radio show, exclusive to Toxic Sickness and broadcast on Dublin South 93.9FM on Tuesday 18th June. Full track listing ----------------------------------------------------------------------- E-freq X Tommy The Cat - Kosmisch Nummer Drie [ UTTU ] Yumeo - Hybristophilia INVT - Ayo Dj (feat. Dj Teck Turna) Cement Tea - The Moommy µ-Ziq - Manscape Law & Kola Nut - Somewhere New Vip Outrage - No Responsibilities [ Function ] Thanatophobia - Phobos [ Darkstep Implantant ] Blockdata & Tooms - The Breaker [ Industrial Strength ] Botnet - No Escape [ Danger Chamber Digital ] Code 906 - Riot Of Violence En:vy - After Clock [ Critical ] En:vy - R2D2 [ Critical ] Drs & Enei - Count To Ten 2024 Trakker - Cold Sweats [ The Sauce ] Sensimo - Uac [ Future Sickness ] Visceral - Black Death [ Darkstep Implantant ] Zerberuz - I Got The Key (2024 Vip) [ Prototypes ] Wolf Head - Jesus Christ In The Flesh Business Techno Institute - Cha Cha Slide (worlds most dangerous remix (bad version export)) Mokushi - Laina Pred Bloka Formek & Freddie B - Succession [ Mokum ] Painbringer - Underground Bastard (ferra & Greensequence Remix) [ Rave Instinct ] Daed - Mosaic Decay Mizter Bonezz - Torment [ Popol-Vuh ] Fearless Mates & Breakstyle - Face Off [ Darkside Unleashed ] Himeko Katagiri - Adventure Awaits! Nanostorm - The Ecstasy Of Spring [ Third Movement ] Psiko - Fast Track (Hell Yeah) Exnoiz Vs Iroha - Iroha - Abys4l [ Lost Frog ] arcade trauma - Uhhh, What Is A Break Core arcade trauma - Ya Bastads Himeko Katagiri - Everybody Move Everybody Get Hurt Exnoiz Vs Iroha - Exnoiz - It Really Exists Or Not [ Lost Frog ] WⱯꓥƎ - アーメン症 [ Lost Frog ]

In the first hour of today's show, we break down the exit from Copa America for the US Men's National soccer team. Michael Harris puts out a cryptic tweet - could this be about his health?

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The debate could change the majority opinion of voters? Uhhh, probably not. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Willard and Dibs react to the situation between Bryce Harper and Kyle Harrison that led to the benches clearing (albeit calmly) on Wednesday. Harper after the game said he wasn't that mad and that he just wanted Harrison to throw it over the plate. Uhhh, what?

Willard and Dibs react to Tim Kurkjian saying that Giants third baseman Matt Chapman is a collision hitter, meaning that he essentially swings one way, regardless of pitch type or location. Uhhh, what?!?

This week I am joined by comedian Zac Gish. We talk about his childhood shenanigan's, going to a smaller school to play college football, leaving football to chase comedy, a CRAZY strategy to get stage time, how he got to New York, and more.GREAT EX Drinking Buddy stories this week; Zac tells us the story about the "golf cart bandits", getting arrested a few times, dealing drugs to make ends meat, the Indy 500 Snake Pit, and so much more.Follow Zac on Instagram and check out his podcast "Uhhh with Zac"Find everything for me on LINKTREE

Uhhh what did I just listen to? The most DISRESPECTFUL, DAMAGING, DISGRACEFUL, and DIRTY diss track. I'm still in shock with the shots in this song. Breezy brought Tupac's "Hit 'em Up" energy with this one. What could we possibly take away for our authentic journey? Let's talk ego and see what comes up. Share you thoughts @alishainc For more personal pods, www.patreon.com/alishainc

Today we talk about Anya Coraz--no wait, we already talked about her. Uhhh... we talk about adapting panel comics to infinite scroll formats and... stuff we've read.... Today's mentioned & relevant media: -Lore Olympus webtoon / graphic novel -Check, Please! webtoon / website / graphic novel -Avatar: The Last Airbender - The Promise webtoon / graphic novel -Lumberjanes 10th anniversary Kickstarter (Ends 9 May 2024, 11am PST) -Webtoon contract criticism -Starman (1994) -Dead Boy Detectives omnibus -Nightwing (2016) #113 preview -Bunt! Thanks to Victoria Watkins for our icon! Support Capes and Japes by: Checking out our Patreon or donating to the Tip jar Find out more on the Capes and Japes website.

Uhhh did you guys see what happened to that Gorilla baby? Ehhh don't dwell on it, we gotta talk about Tarzan (1999) with Case from Another Pass and Men of Steel! We swing into a Disney classic and our own personal movie biases to unpack everything from serial adaptation techniques and the 2010s era headcannons this movie shaped.Where to find Case:Another Pass Podcast: https://www.certainpov.com/another-pass-podcastMen of Steel Podcast: https://www.certainpov.com/men-of-steelYouTube: https://youtube.com/channel/UCOVt-vtlMhSeHgwmOuG8bDwTwitter: @caseaikenContact the Podmoviestruckpod@gmail.comwww.moviestruck.transistor.fmPatreon: https://www.patreon.com/moviestruckDiscord: https://discord.gg/cT2vm3KdeSBlueSky: @moviestruck.bsky.socialTheme by Prod. DomSoundcloudThank you to our $10 Patrons!Sarai Thompson, Zas, Madilyn Dyche, Ethan Stine, Jim8333, Jacob Hunt, Azraq Shinji, Case Aiken, Ebony Voigt, AnOptimist, Lairde Ray, the Norwegian one, Travis Poe, William Warren, Stag Hart (Deer Deer), Rusty_Fork, Mura Purcell, insomnite, Link Brenton, Nathan Dunlap, DaddySwan, Jason S. ★ Support this podcast on Patreon ★

On episode 65 of the Hockeytown West Podcast we recap all the news and updates from the NHL trade deadline, the impact it had on the Grand Rapids Griffins, the Griffins current injuries and a recent contract extension. After the ad we recap the Grand Rapids Griffins shootout loss vs Chicago Wolves matchup from March 8th and what went wrong for the Griffins in that one then hopping over to the Griffins vs the Milwaukee Admirals on Saturday March 9th where the Griffins had a sloppy showing resulting in their 4th straight loss. All that and more on this weeks Monday episode!everythinghockey.com use code WEST for $2 off your orderDraft Kings Promo Code: THPN Call (800) 327-5050 or visit gamblinghelplinema.org (MA), Gambling Problem? Call 877-8-HOPENY/text HOPENY (467369) (NY),If you or someone you know has a gambling problem, crisis counseling and referralservices can be accessed by calling 1-800-GAMBLER (1-800-426-2537)(CO/IL/IN/LA/MD/MI/NJ/OH/PA/TN/WV/WY), 1-800-NEXT STEP (AZ), 1-800-522-4700(KS/NH), 888-789-7777/visit ccpg.org (CT), 1-800-BETS OFF (IA), visit OPGR.org (OR), or1-888-532-3500 (VA)21+ (18+ NH/WY). Physically present in AZ/CO/CT/IL/IN/IA/KS/LA(selectparishes)/MA/MD/MI/NH/NJ/NY/OH/OR/PA/TN/VA/WV/WY only. VOID IN ONT. Eligibilityrestrictions apply. On behalf of Boot Hill Casino & Resort (KS).Bet $5 Get $150 offer (void in NH/OR): Valid 1 per new customer. Min. $5 deposit. Min $5pre-game moneyline bet. Bet must win. $150 issued as six (6) $25 bonus bets.Promotional offer period ends 5/28/23 at 11:59PM ET.

Watch this weeks episode on YouTube & make sure you're subscribed to our channel! https://youtu.be/mB19YD4sRws ALSO- Other homework from this episode......... Here's the commercial we talk about at the end of the episode, you've got to watch the visual hahhahahhahhahahhahahhaha. https://youtu.be/DIIU2JvoMX4?si=sgzwU5ugQqqRzcjw Writing this to you from Roger's bed in Nashville, TN. I can go into detail about what Roger's bed is next week on the podecast, if you'd like. Please leave a comment on the video with "I'd like to hear more about Roger's bed" This week's episode is fun, fast paced and somewhat ageist. Enjoy! Also, the episode name "creamy white" doesn't have to do with anything c UHHH m related PS- If you want to support the podcast, please check out our Patreon! We post extra content on there & it's a direct way to support this grassroots movement podecast as we don't have any ad partners, just ads on YouTube. www.patreon.com/slopcity XO ALL HAIL PUCINA RAAAAAAANCHHH

Welcome to episode 249 of the CloudPod Podcast – where the forecast is always cloudy! This week, Justin and Ryan put on their scuba suits and dive into the latest cloud news, from Google Gemini’s “woke” woes, to Azure VMware Solution innovations, and some humorous takes on Reddit and Google’s unexpected collaboration. Join the conversation on AI, storage solutions, and more this week in the Cloud! Titles we almost went with this week: Gemini Has Gone Woke? Uhhh…ok.  A big thanks to this week's sponsor: We're sponsorless this week! Interested in sponsoring us and having access to a specialized and targeted market? We'd love to talk to you. Send us an email or hit us up on our Slack Channel.  General News  01:48 DigitalOcean beats expectations under the helm of new CEO Paddy Srinivasan Quick earnings chat. Digital Ocean, under their new CEO Paddy Srinivasan reported earnings of 44 centers per share, well ahead of Wall Street’s target of 37 cents per share.  Revenue growth was a little sluggish at 11% more than a year earlier, but the companies 181 million in reported sales still beat analysts expectations.  Full year revenue was 693M for the year.  We’re really glad to see the business is still going, and instead of going back on-premise, we think it’s a viable option for many workloads so don't sleep on them. 02:46  Ryan – “I like that, you know, while they are very focused on, you know, traditional compute workloads, you can still see them. Dip in their toes into managed services and, and, um, their interaction with the community and documentation of how to do things. I think it’s really impactful.” 03:34 VMware moves to quell concern over rapid series of recent license changes   As we have reported multiple times on the VMWARE shellacking they are doing to the customers, Vmware has released a blog post trying to convince you that they’re **not** screwing you.  Broadcom has realigned operations around VMWare Cloud Foundation private cloud portfolio and data center-focused VMWare Vsphere suite, and no longer sells discrete products such as vSphere hypervisor, vSAN virtual storage and NSX network storage virtualization software.   They also are eliminating perpetual licensing in favor of subscription-only pricing, with VCF users getting vSAN, NSX and the Aria Management and orchestration components bundled whether you want them or not.  Broadcom says this is about focusing on best-of-breed silos, and not disparate products without an integrated experience. 

SUBSCRIBE TO THE NEW BNC CHANNEL: https://bit.ly/45Pspyl   Ad Free & Bonus Episodes: https://bit.ly/3we50ty  NEW MERCH: https://shoptmgstudios.com  This week, Brooke and Connor break down the latest news in reality TV, why they are medically attached to their phones, and what to do when someone walks in on you p-... They also try to figure out why everyone is scared of mummies.  Join our Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/groups/5356639204457124/  If you listen on Apple Podcasts, go to: https://apple.co/bandc  Go to https://Embarkvet.com to get free shipping and save $50 with promo code BANDC. State Farm is there with the coverage you need for your car, your home, and even boats,  motorcycles, RVs, and other things that matter to you. Go to https://Quince.com/bandc for free shipping on your order and 365-day returns.  This episode is sponsored by BetterHelp. Give online therapy a try at https://betterhelp.com/BANDC and get on your way to being your best self.  B+C IG: https://www.instagram.com/bncmap/ B+C Twitter: https://twitter.com/bncmap TMG Studios YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/tinymeatgang TMG Studios IG: https://www.instagram.com/realtmgstudios/ TMG Studios Twitter: https://twitter.com/realtmgstudios BROOKE https://www.instagram.com/brookeaverick https://twitter.com/ladyefron https://www.tiktok.com/@ladyefron  CONNOR https://www.instagram.com/fibula/ https://twitter.com/fibulaa https://www.tiktok.com/@fibulaa Hosted by Brooke Averick & Connor Wood, Created by TMG Studios, Brooke Averick & Connor Wood, and Produced by TMG Studios, Brooke Averick & Connor Wood. 0:00 Sweaty Hot Yoga  1:56 Intro 2:17 I Have Purse Guilt 3:40 NEW MERCH!!! 8:23 The Art Contest 10:59 Embark  14:14 Brooke's New Kindle Setup 16:30 What Is A Mummy Gonna Do? 19:00 State Farm 20:31 Sigourney Weaver Discourse  21:07 Billie Eilish vs Tiktokers 27:00 Snapchatting Your Family 28:40 Medically Addicted To Phones 30:12 Quince 31:49 Who TF Did I Marry? 34:27 Love Is Blind Recap 42:18 BetterHelp 43:47 Science of Reality TV Shows 48:40 Connor's One Day Take 52:32 Anyone But You Stats 54:30 Understanding Barry Keoghan 57:20 Getting Walked In On… 1:01:20 The Itchy Foot Diagnosis  1:04:50 The Pregnant Stingray 1:08:58 See You In Bonus!!!

5 - Drive @ 5 - Nikki's going all the way to the convention! All these open primaries are primed for me to win! So, what you're saying is that you need Democrats to vote for you in order to have a real chance. So why is she still in the race? Her people want to get paid, milk that cash cow that is a presidential campaign!  510 - Fani Willis is shot. Her whole case will crumble down in her boo-thang's divorce proceedings, even WaPo is conceding that fact. 515 - Will Biden federalize the National Guard to take down wire in an election year? Rich details why it would be incredibly stupid for Biden to do that, but this administration is incredibly stupid so they might.  520 - Well you know uh you know uh well uh checks and balances you know uh…. 525 - Some audio clips to round out the Drive. 540 - Taking your calls regarding the border and razor wire. Rachel Maddow once again calls Trump a dictator. How many dictators leave office Rachel? 550 - Bed Bugs love Philly!

Season 4 finale! The festivities in Times Square may be over, but our balls don't officially drop until we've covered our Top 5 Songs of 2023! Uhhh...you know what we mean. Ring in the New Year with O3L and relive the best tunes from that bygone era of 2023. Proud members of the Pantheon Podcasts family. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

I attended Sophia's psychedelic psundsay psermon recently, on an actual Sunday in an actual church, in Asheville, NC. She may be an anthropologist, but she is no anthro-apologist, for this talk regarded “inter-species dialogues & plant consciousness.” & so we met up later that week to talk tardigrades, Jericho roses & the death & resurrection of words. To ponder prayer, spin recursive meme-o-spheres, encounter scary English angels in the polyglot-o-sphere & stand in “Uhhh” before the “awefullsome” in the realm of the sphere-its. We exchanged notes about what she calls “stacked spirit science” & we honored the ANTcestors with fancy-antsy words like “stigmergy” & “formication”. Even though all things that look/sound similar are connected, we managed to tell Huni Kuin from Loony Toons & Shipibo-Conibo from Evil-Knievel. We traced the riverine roots of the milk-mustached Drunk Monkey People's circuitous designs back to the anaconda choirs of their creation myth (scales for days). We sat, as if in ceremony, w the riddle of sickness & the serpent's place in amazonian&Asclepius' lore. Snake oil or serpent medicine? We weighed the value of dream-tending vs. analysis & as we wondered how to concoct a cure for loneliness I remembered the psycho-magical Dream Theatre I used to facilitate, where we would often transcend Joseph Conrad's maxim “we live as we dream—alone.” &just as Sophia & I considered questions that refuse to be answered & answers that refuse to be questioned, our pod-cast spell was interrupted by a phone-call from our friend comedian Shane Mauss. Sophia co-wrote the book When Plants Dream w Daniel Pinchbeck & has a bouncing baby blog on substack called NUMA. Find/follow Sophia: www.sophiarokhlin.com IG: @sophiarokhlin The Ungoogleable Michaelangelo www.theungoogleable.com IG: void_denizen patreon.com/voiddenizen -donate: Venmo (@voiddenizen) / paypal (snailconvention@gmail.com)

TICKETS TO OUR 2023 TOUR ARE NOW ON SALE! Soon: LA! Vancouver! San Francisco! We're off! (to the "West Coast") and so can you — this week's compilation ep is chock-full of PLANE INCIDENTS. Trust me, they're hilarious and range from #spon con gone wacky (IMAGINE DOING PAID ADVERTISING FOR SPIRIT? UHHH, NEVERMIND, CALL US!) to that time when Olivia Culpo wrote a fit that got her banned from air travel. Chic! Thanks for listening, we'll see you later this week! xoxo Call in at 619.WHO.THEM to leave questions, comments & concerns for a future episode of Who's There?. Support us and get a TON of bonus content over on Patreon.com/WhoWeekly. To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoices

SUBSCRIBE TO THE NEW BNC CHANNEL: https://bit.ly/45Pspyl  Ad Free & Bonus Episodes: https://bit.ly/3OEBbbj This week, Brooke and Connor break down their four B&C agreements, manifest some very powerful things, and why they want to fake their own death. Plus, they talk about things people aren't talking ENOUGH about and why aliens aren't actually that cool. NEW MERCH OUT NOW: https://shoptmgstudios.com  Join our Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/groups/5356639204457124/  If you listen on Apple Podcasts, go to: https://apple.co/bandc  Control Body Odor ANYWHERE with @lumedeodorant and get $5 off off your Starter Pack (that's over 40% off) with promo code BANDC at https://lumepodcast.com! #lumepod  Go to https://Prose.com/bandc for your FREE in-depth hair consultation and 15% off. Grab your Liquid I.V. in bulk nationwide at Costco or you can get 20% off when you go to https://liquidiv.com and use code BANDC at checkout. Tinder. It starts with a Swipe. Download Tinder today. B+C IG: https://www.instagram.com/bncmap/ B+C Twitter: https://twitter.com/bncmap TMG Studios YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/tinymeatgang TMG Studios IG: https://www.instagram.com/realtmgstudios/ TMG Studios Twitter: https://twitter.com/realtmgstudios BROOKE https://www.instagram.com/brookeaverick https://twitter.com/ladyefron https://www.tiktok.com/@ladyefron  CONNOR https://www.instagram.com/fibula/ https://twitter.com/fibulaa https://www.tiktok.com/@fibulaa Hosted by Brooke Averick & Connor Wood, Created by TMG Studios, Brooke Averick & Connor Wood, and Produced by TMG Studios, Brooke Averick & Connor Wood. 0:00 Uhhh what? 0:36 Intro 1:10 Going 0 - F45 3:18 Things B&C Agree On 5:34 The Four Agreements 7:10 Remember To Be Grateful 8:15 Connor's Cyclist Community Discourse 11:09 Lume  13:45 Scary Online Communities  15:17 The Instagram Backstory 17:00 Connor's Lethal Spicy Marg 19:24 The Hangover Cure 20:50 Hydrate or Diedrate 24:03 Brooke's Billboard Realization 26:18 Prose 28:25 Brooke's Conan Experience 30:38 Taking Time To Manifest  34:25 Our New Bits 36:04 Reverse Ethical Clout Chasing 38:54 We Are Ed Heads 39:35 Liquid IV 42:52 We Don't Tolerate Ed Slander 45:09 More Manifesting 46:50 We Can't Be Put In A Box 48:46 Pirates Vs Roman Empire 51:55 Tinder 53:19 Getting Matching Tattoos 54:14 The Female Version of the Roman Empire 55:29 Jonathan Larson Lore  57:50 Faking Our Deaths 59:10 Things We Don't Talk Enough About… 1:01:35 Connor's Got A Frog In His Throat 1:03:09 Max's Dew Claw 1:04:43 Leaving Your To Go Order Pain 1:06:19 Playground Nightmares 1:07:41 Learning About The Panama Papers!! 1:09:00 Revisiting Wet Goddess 1:11:05 What's Up With The Tik Tok Shop 1:12:43 Brooke's Brother's Presentation 1:14:00 Mexico Finds Aliens 1:17:37 See You In Bonus!!!