sure there’s a ramp, but is it steep? is there a curb at the top? is the ground uneven? do i need a key for the elevator? are the aisles and doorways wide enough? do i have room to turn? is there furniture and clutter in my way? is the carpet difficult to wheel on? can i open the doors myself?
accessibility to wheelchairs is more than just a ramp.
ordered pizza from a small local place and they didnt actually cut it so i’ve chosen to revert to a wild animal and begin ripping it apart instead of just using a knife to portion slices
absolutely visceral experience. food is so much more satisfying when you have to fight it. i may be feral
i am not proud to say this but that pizza lasted fifteen minutes. i normally am not that gluttonous, but this goes beyond glutton. there was gluttony and wrath. a whirlwind of sauce, cheese, and pepperoni, all atop a flatbread that was shred apart by my own hands due to the neglect of another
in that moment i was wild. i was free. i understood the simplest joys in life. the joy of eating and manifesting my own destiny
been reflecting on this all day and the unsliced pizza experience honestly ruled. i think everyone should try it sometime or another. you have not truly lived until you just absolutely obliterated a pizza in such a feral manner
is this you
yes
run
My best friend and I have this tradition we call “chicken dinner” where we get a rotisserie chicken, lay it on a tarp, start on opposite ends of the tarp, and on the count of three we both run at the chicken and start ripping into it with our bear hands. We will be on our knees fighting for the best pieces of meat, ripping into the chicken with our faces, and it is the most viscerally delicious chicken I have ever had in my life. Grease gets everywhere. We have to do this outside. We have to tie our hair in buns beforehand.
You have never known the joy of food until you are lunging at your friend to rip the best part of the chicken out of their hand, rolling around on the tarp, stuffing it in your face before they can retaliate, and you realize “holy shit did I just growl?” And then you realize they are doing it too.
The chicken gets decimated. It’s absolutely destroyed. We aren’t allowed back inside until we have been hosed down. It’s the best.
Oh ye of little faith.
People across the street looking through the blinds, “Harold! Harold come quick, they’re doing the chicken thing again!”
As much as I want to support ethical farming practices I will be buying the cheapest bag of frozen chicken thighs as much as the next frugal/poor person which is why animal welfare needs to be legislated, not left up to the invisible hand of the free market or some bullshit. Invisible hand of the free market finds itself around a lot of throats.
Feel free to specify which model of car it is! For example, Honda CRVs: none of them know how to fucking drive >:( Meanwhile, all Nissans are my enemies by principle
ALT
