Is there anything more excruciating than not knowing if someone is “feel bad, need space”, “feel bad, need u to reach out” or “literally fine, just busy, stop pestering me”
My neighbor was out taking the insulation cones off of his roses and carefully pruning them today.
I also went out and pruned mine. (I didn’t give them any special winter insulation. They’re on their own.) And by ‘pruned’ I mean ‘whacked back the bramble hedge with a machete where it was threatening to grow out of bounds’.
(Seriously my rose hedge is approaching 4 feet tall and almost as thick)
And he was giving me dirty looks the whole time because it pisses him off so much that I pay no special attention to my roses and yet they always do better than his.
I still haven’t told him that my secret is ‘plant tough-as-nails own root old fashioned rugosa cultivars rather than finicky hybrid teas’ because honestly his quiet frustration is hilarious.
a few centuries ago he probably would have accused u of witchcraft ;)
I mean…to be fair…he would be totally correct in that…
Also my rose hedge is now 6 feet tall and his Mister Lincoln rose, which he carefully mulched and put a insulation cone on, died this year.
the mcelroys look like the least compatible people in the world based on just their appearances alone and it’s the funniest fucking thing to me
like, who knew that some elusive cool uncle who’s probably a trickster god sporting a hawaiian shirt, a goth cowboy who just stepped from a starbucks and is probably keeping the secrets of magic from the public, and an assistant regional manager for Staples who only owns clothes in beige are a) related and b) rule the Internet as reigning funnymen with a less-than-benevolent fist
Oh, also: In Ashkenazi culture, it’s considered bad luck to name a child after a living relative, because there’s a fear that the Malakh Hamavet (Angel of Death) would get confused when coming for an older relative and take the child sharing their name instead. So, as a result, Ashkenazim are generally only named after deceased relatives.
HOWEVER, this leads to an amazing Yiddish phrase for telling somebody to fuck off, which is: “May a baby be named after you.”
God might want to think about re-assigning the role of Angel of Death though…
BE NICE TO THE ANGEL OF DEATH HE IS DOING HIS BEST
[Context: we have just started the Curse of Strahd campaign, and my characters are in the dungeon called Death House. They’ve already learned not to trust me (the DM) after having to get to the top of a four story house before finding a way to the basement. They are now facing a well in the basement dungeon. There is nothing special about this well.]
Barbarian: I throw my moss agate down the well.
Me: Okay. It falls for a moment and then hits dry ground.
Barbarian to party: Okay, I can hold a rope and lower you guys down. Then I’ll jump down after you.
Me: How are you going to get back up?
Barbarian: *shrugs*
Me: Maybe you want to lower one person down first to see if it’s even worth going down?
*the barbarian lowers our 4'7" paladin down into the well.*
Me: With your dark vision, you find yourself in the bottom of an empty well. And…
*the party leans closer in anticipation*
Me: there’s a rock on the ground.
Barbarian: hey, could you pick up my rock for me?
