The black and white Popeyes were awesome. The color ones sucked but the old ones were great. Notable mention: Popeye meets Ali Baba’s 40 Thieves. “Open! Sez Me!”
I’ve also had a Caesar salad with bits of anchovy on top. They are pretty salty. And i liked it.
I like sardines. So it isn’t anchovies I dislike; it’s the mountain of salt they drench them in.
Pretty darn tasty.
I read this and thought, there was a black Popeye??
mmm
Ha!
(extra characters for Discourse)
So you were picturing black and white Popeyes like the black and white spies in Spy vs. Spy?
Er, not exactly.
mmm
Seems to be a thing. PopEye & Coconut Oil | BMJ Art Shop (painting: I guess the artist renamed Olive Oyl)
I kick the covers off if I become too hot.
I don’t have panic attacks. What I do have is “I have way too much to do so I can’t decide where to start so I’m not doing any of it” attacks. Arguably I’m having one now. Go unload the market van and water the greenhouse, thorny! Then you can worry about what on that list to tackle next.
I never used to have panic attacks, until maybe a decade ago. The primary cause is claustophobia: if I’m in a window seat on an airliner, there’s not much room in front of me (because the airlines decreased “seat pitch” to get more seats on a plane), and there’s a bigger person in the seat next to me, I can, and have, felt “closed in,” and started to get very panicky. When this has happened, I’m able to calm myself, but it requires a concerted effort.
I have always been a little wound up but in the last year I have had some unpredictable panic attacks.
When I was in Norway last year I visited a little military museum in Bergen that had an old, battle weary elevator.
I decided to brave it and the darn thing got stuck between floors. I was with a cousin who was not bothered at all but I immediately and without thought lunged into a corner and huddled awaiting rescue or possible catastrophe.
A women came over and gave it a sharp kick and and all was well.
A couple months later I came home from work to find that my pipes had burst in my cellar causing significant wet chaos and destruction.
Since the pipe episode I have been on edge about … everything.
I have a fast acting anxiolytic that I take occasionally and have been in therapy to work out how to live with this anxiety.
So far it has not impacted my functioning other than intrusive thoughts and occasional insomnia.
- fewer than 150 votes
• fewer than 150 electoral votes
(though I actually voted WTF knows, because my hope and my fear are in pitched battle in my head and it hurts)
Yes, okay, “fewer”.
But this is the second time Velocity has posted a half a poll where the only options involved Trump being trounced. It’s very annoying.
I haven’t worn an actual set of pajamas (tops and bottoms) since I was in high school. In warm weather, I wear a pair of pajama shorts, and a t-shirt. In cold weather, I wear a pair of fleece or flannel pajama pants and a thermal top.
The answer to that appears to be: make supper, feed the cats and dog, wash the dishes, talk briefly to a neighbor, consider going to bed early.
Having read the context: I don’t either wear pajamas or fall asleep in my jeans, or even usually in my underwear.
I voted WTF knows because, really, WTF knows? This year is weird enough that nearly anything could happen. I suspect that Harris will win, as Biden did, by a scant handful of states; but I’m not going to make a prediction out of it. (I remember going around that day singing “Three states over the line, sweet Biden, three states over the line! Look at the man from the railway station, three states over the line!”)
I wear zilch unless I’m visiting somebody, in which case I wear a nightshirt. If it’s really really cold or I’m really sick, then I might wear pajamas, if I can find a set.
I don’t wear pajamas. I fall asleep in either nothing at all or the underwear I’m wearing. Definitely underwear if there’s a guest I’m not sleeping with.
I wore pajamas as a little kid, because my parents wanted me to. I was glad when I grew up and didn’t have to.
I don’t get what it has to do with being “elite” whatever the fuck that means. Oh, shit, it’s that fuckbrain JD Vance. Who cares what he says?
I guess the idea is that having special clothes just to sleep in is a fancy-schmancy luxury. In reality, though, it may be that the people who are most likely to wear pajamas are the people who need the extra warmth in bed because of financial or structural difficulties with keeping their home heated at night. Which is not an “elite” problem.
Re: New Years Eve x2. From my home in suburban Chicago (Central Time), it’s less than 100 miles to get to the Eastern Time Zone, either by going around the bottom of Lake Michigan into the state of Michigan, or by driving southeast in Indiana, on I-65, to get out of the northwestern corner of that state (which is in Central Time).