Saturday good morning gif

I have been lifting since I was 15 years old. At 5'6 138lbs I was able to put 215 on bench, and I was always much stronger then everyone else when it came to the gym. Since the age of 17 I have been able to put up 225 5x5 with ease no ass off the bench. However recently in the gym its almost like ive gotten weaker. I can barely put 225 up for more then 4 sets of 225. I feel like I am getting smaller while trying to eat more. I do not look as good as I want to look, and I developed gyno naturally at the age of 12 from being overweight and eating shit food. Is it possible to have low testosterone but still wakeup with boners? Im just at a point where I want to give up. I will also mention that I am now 5'8 and 153 lbs in the morning no food. During the winter months I am around 160. I also store a lot fat around my hips almost like a women its odd. Anyways any advice is helpful. Should I just hop on test for the rest of my life.

Hey fellow redditors. I hope yall are doing well. I'm writing this about my experience with anhedonia/depression at 18, baseline point: it sucks ASS. I used to be a caring, empathetic, curious individual before taking a mushroom trip with my friend about 4 months back(I had been smoking weed consistently aswell). I was happy for the first half of the trip until everything went flat and dull, I couldn't explain it since it wasn't a bad trip per say, I just couldn't figure out what was troubling me even though I had explained everything that was on my mind to my friend(went into the trip with a bad mindset/wanted to escape my fears of future) ever since then I had extreme anxiety/guilt 2 months ago thinking the holy spirit was leaving me/I was being consumed by the devil which led to a darkness consuming every emotion. Now I feel no guilt, no remorse, no happiness, no ability to genuinely care about conversation. No ability to have faith anymore, it's practically like being a zombie since theres really nothing I want to do 24/7. Every moment I just wait for my personality to come back but its almost like I can't find anything in me anymore as if Im a hollow being with nothing to relate me to my past memories and self(almost like a complete sever from my identity). This leads to additional depression and hopelessness with just body signs of guilt and despair minus the emotion you feel. I have no ability to self reflect on my actions anymore because its like theres nothing to reflect on other than just a constant state of 'blank.' Even in my dreams which have been a good amount of nightmares, I feel no sense of being scared or anything just completely detached. Has anyone else felt this way and recovered?? Everyone says time heals and you'll eventually come back naturally as long as you eat right/sleep enough/exercise. I've been taking omega 3's and B12 every morning as-well. If anyone has some guidance I'd highly appreciate it.

I have a Kenmore undercounter dishwasher. P/N W10435038B. I had had to replace a failed bottom wash arm a few years ago (the top and bottom pieces had separated along the seam, and I hadn't been able to seal it - sprayed water everywhere, resulting in leaks on the door.). Partselect.ca had the replacement arm for less than 100$, and I was super happy with the process.
Fast forward to a month ago. My wife and I were just talking about how happy we were with the dishwasher (we have twin 1 year olds, and a 4yo, so many dishes), and the next morning, guess what's not working. Lots of YouTube videos later, I've diagnosed the issue - need to replace the circulation pump, which means I have to replace the whole pump and motor assembly, since you can't get just the pump.
Again, partselect.ca had the part. Cheaper than anywhere else by 100$. One tech told me that the repair wasn't worth it and to just buy a new dishwasher. The other tech told me that there was no way I'd find the replacement part for less than 500$.
Got the part Friday. Spent this morning taking apart dishwasher, comparing parts, watching a few more videos, and finally felt confident enough that I'd diagnosed the problem correctly, had the right replacement part, and knew how to remove and replace the part correctly.
Just finished a bit ago. Ran a small test wash, no leaks. Just loaded it up, running a full wash. So far so good!
I am one of the least handy guys I know. Feeling pretty good right now. No one to share the story with (no one that would be interested anyway!) so thought I'd post here.

I’m arriving on Saturday morning and would love to battle my jet lag by watching the FA Cup final in a football-centric Pub with great atmosphere that is within walking distance from my hotel near the Charing Cross Underground station. Any suggestions are greatly appreciated!!!

A few days ago I started waking up in the morning with no idea why I was drenched in sweat. Turns out I had fevers that were breaking overnight. A sore throat appeared a couple days later, as well as exudates on the side of my throat, behind severely swollen tonsils.
I’ve been to the urgent care places twice and the ER once with the following symptoms: extreme pain and difficulty swallowing, fever around 102 if not managed with Advil, swollen tonsils and drooling. In addition this is causing sleep loss due to what I can assume is post nasal drip when I inhale through my nose. This causes a popping sensation as something moves from my sinus cavity to the back of my throat. This triggers swallowing, which thanks to how painful swallowing is, will jolt me out of my sleep.
Today the pain has started to radiate to my ears and bottom molars.
For treatment I’m on an antibiotic, but it doesn’t seem to be doing any good. I’ve also tried lozenges, Chloroseptic spray, and a lidocaine swish. Does anyone know how I can at least get some sleep tonight?

Growing up, I remember it all vividly: any time my friends or I got too close to the shed, my dad would come out hollering and yelling, telling us to stay away from there and that it was no place for kids. He told me he had expensive tools and dangerous chemicals stored there. As a child, I didn’t question it. It was just one of those things. In my mind, I had been born into a world where the sun rises in the east, breakfast is the first meal of the day and the shed stays locked. They were all true, self-evident and simply the way things existed in my young mind.
But as I grew older and eventually moved off to college, I began to question the shed more. My father still wouldn’t let me look in there. In fact, he kept the sole key on his person at all times. Even when he slept, he would keep the key in his pocket.
Then, during my second semester at the nearby state university in the spring of 2021, I got a call that every son or daughter dreads. I was attending a lecture on anatomy when my phone lit up, ringing silently in the great, crowded hall. Looking down, I saw it was my brother’s number. I went outside, lighting up a cigarette and answering it.
“Hello?” I said. “Gil?” My brother answered immediately.
“Luke, thank God you answered,” he said. “It’s dad. He’s being taken to the hospital. He had some sort of medical emergency. Can you meet us there? In maybe twenty-five minutes?” I said I would, hanging up. I grabbed my stuff in the lecture hall and made my way to my car. Twenty-two minutes later, I pulled into the hospital.
It was too late, however. My father had died of a heart attack on the way. He was declared dead on arrival.
***
We ended up inheriting the house. Our mother had died of breast cancer ten years earlier, so Gil and I were the last two of the Mortin bloodline. My brother was a good guy, though somewhat of a waste case, constantly smoking weed and dropping acid. He had a tendency to travel out far across the country without notice, moving around to see nature or go to music festivals. That is, when he had the money. And since he worked as a freelance writer, he was often broke.
He really wanted to get at the money dad had left us. He wanted the money from the house most of all. He told me repeatedly that it would be enough to tide him over until he got a footing in the writing industry, that he just needed to make a name for himself and then the money would start rolling in. He had his heart set on it. He would write anything that he could make money off of, from horror stories to romances, short stories to novels, even technical manuals or freelance journalism articles. As we walked to the house together for the first time in months, he repeated this mantra to me again: “Just enough to tide me over, Luke…”
“I think you’re probably going to burn through the money that Dad left you,” I said. “Why don’t you get a real job and just write on the side?” He gave me a sideways look.
“Did you see Hunter S. Thompson getting a ‘real job’ while just writing on the side?” he asked. I nodded.
“Yeah, he was a journalist…” I began as we walked into the house, but we both stopped simultaneously when we saw what was on the coffee table. It was all of Dad’s possessions he had when he died. They were placed neatly in a line- his wallet, his phone, his car and house key, some cash, and last of all, a little shed key on a thin, leather chain.
“What do you think is really in that shed?” I asked. Gil looked at me, pale and wide-eyed in the dark living room.
“I don’t really… I don’t know if I want to find out,” Gil said, whispering as if he were in a church- or a funeral home. I put my hand on his shoulder and shook him gently.
“Of course we need to find out,” I said. “You and I own this property now. We should go look right now.” He breathed in sharply.
“No, no, don’t be an idiot,” Gil whispered. “It’s dark now. In the morning, we can go together. In the morning. You have waited twenty years to find out, I think you can wait a few more hours.” But there was something pleading in his voice, something scared and child-like. It reminded me of when I was scared as a little boy at bedtime, telling my dad there were monsters in the closet, and he would go to open up the door, and I’d tell him to stop, that they’re going to hurt him if he opens that door. But he would open the door and there would be no monsters in there. Surely, it was the same here. Gil would see, and for that matter, so would I. There were no monsters in there.
***
Gil stayed up late downstairs, watching TV and smoking a joint. He made himself a night-cap from my father’s liquor cabinet, pouring some Jack Daniels and ice in a cup with some Coke and sipping it slowly. I stayed with him for a while, talking.
We talked about the good times we had with Dad, about going hiking with him at the Green Mountains, or traveling to New York City with him to see the museums. I thought about how much I really missed him, and a knot formed in my throat. I quickly blinked my eyes to try to get the tears to go away.
Eventually, I went to sleep in the guest bedroom. Gil stayed downstairs, sleeping on the couch in front of the TV. I heard the faint hum of it from upstairs, the canned laughter of whatever comedy he was watching, the acerbic tone of the lead characters as they delivered one witty joke after another. I fell asleep to it, the voices blending into a sarcastic, hissing whisper in my ear.
And then I was floating, bodiless, looking down on a dark cornfield with ravens staring at me. The voice was bodiless, too, sounding like it came from right behind me, but when I turned, nothing was there.
“In the halls of our fathers, everyone is dead,” it whispered mockingly. “You’ll be dead soon too, if you get curious. Some doors are locked for a reason. Some doors should stay locked.”
I woke up suddenly. Something was wrong. I heard Gil yelling. I fumbled around in the dark for the lamp, groggily checking the time. 4:17 AM. Flinging the comforters off, I ran downstairs.
Gil was sleeping on the couch, still as a corpse, and quiet as one too. I looked around confusedly. Where was the screaming coming from? I followed the noise out back. I looked at the shed, and my blood ran cold as I heard another long cry come from inside. I walked across the dirt yard in my slippers, not wanting to get any closer but walking forwards nonetheless. Part of me wondered if I was still dreaming, but the chill air against my sweaty face felt real enough.
The screaming from the shed was not in words. It was a long, drawn-out, painful shriek. It was the shriek of a mother who just lost her only child in a war zone, or the yell of someone doused with gasoline and burned alive, but amplified into an ear-splitting cacophony. I had the key in my pocket. I reached for it with shaking hands, pulling it out, slowly approaching the shed.
Then someone grabbed my shoulder. I jumped, whirling around with clenched fists, ready to fight. Then I saw it was Gil.
“You nearly gave me a heart attack,” I said through clenched teeth. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He put his finger to his lips, the universal signal for silence. Then he leaned close to my ear and whispered.
“If you open that shed now, we will both die,” he said quietly and calmly, as if he were just stating the weather for tomorrow. “Put the key away and go back to bed. You never want to open it in the dark. Never.”
“What do you know about it?” I whispered back, shooting glances over my shoulder at the shed. The screaming still came, though slower now, maybe one heart-rending shriek every minute or so. Part of me was glad there were no neighbors for half a mile in each direction, and that made me want to laugh. There was probably some horrific animal in there that would rip me apart if it got the chance, and I was thinking about noise complaints.
“Tomorrow,” Gil repeated, gently taking my arm and leading me back into the house. I sat next to him in the living room, pouring myself a gin and tonic, sipping it slowly as the screams from behind the house mixed with the canned laughter of the TV show, wondering what kind of man my father really was.
***
I woke on the couch, an empty glass falling out of my hand onto the cushion. Light streamed in through the windows. Gil was nowhere to be found. I looked back and forth, then heard the sizzling of food from the kitchen.
Stumbling in, I saw he had prepared a massive breakfast of bacon, sausages, corned beef hash, eggs Benedict with Hollandaise sauce, Texas toast, orange juice and coffee. He was smoking a joint with the windows opened, occasionally sending a grim look out the back of the house towards the shed. I sat down, pouring myself some coffee and grabbing milk and sugar to mix in.
“Who is all this food for?” I asked. He kept staring out the window. “Hey!” He turned suddenly, his face looking pale and drawn.
“What?”
“I said, who is all this food for?” I repeated. He looked around, smiling.
“Just for us. Why not? I figure you will need the energy today, and so will I,” he said cryptically. He sat down across from me, pouring himself coffee and orange juice and grabbing a plateful of meat, toast and eggs. I did the same, giving him occasional glances.
“What did Dad tell you?” I asked, pouring maple syrup on my sausages and bacon and chugging an entire cup of coffee in one long swallow. It burned my throat, but the rising heat and caffeine made me feel instantly better and more awake. Gil sighed heavily.
“Not much, to tell you the truth,” he said. “He was really drunk one time when you were away at college, a couple months ago. He was drinking more and more before he died, like something was weighing on him, something he wanted to forget. Well, anyway, I was sitting down here with him, watching those documentaries he used to love with him, and during a commercial, he just started talking about the shed.
“‘Now boy,’ he said to me, ‘I know you probably have a few questions for me. I probably should have told you and your brother about it a long time ago, but it is something I don’t like to talk about. Out of sight, out of mind, I guess. I think talking about it tends to wake it up.’
“‘Wake up what?’ I said. Dad was quiet for a long time, just staring at me. Then he leaned close to me and whispered something strange.
“‘The stairs,’ he said. ‘They’re not normal, son. Sometimes they go down below the shed to a… Well, I guess it is just an empty sub-floor. Just a plain, swept dirt basement below the shed. But I never built any such sub-floor, and it wasn’t here when I bought the house, and it isn’t on the plans either. If that was it, then who would care? Hah, a free storage place, people would be happy, right?’ I nodded, grinning back at Dad. He seemed to have a glimmer of his old self for a second, happy and free. But then his face darkened again.
“‘But lots of times, boy, those stairs do not lead to a sub-floor. One time, they led down to a white room covered in blood, with bright fluorescent lights flickering all over the walls and ceiling. And there was a little girl down there, dancing among all the blood, jumping and twirling in her little blue dress, little ballerina slippers on her feet, and all the skin on her face peeled off. She was just a bloody, grinning skull. And when she saw me on the spiral steps in the corner, she stopped dancing and just stared. The lights began to turn off, everything went dark, and I ran, my boy, I ran faster than I have ever run in my life. I felt little hands grabbing at me as I made my way up the last stair and slammed that shed door behind me. I locked it as something fought to get out, something that felt far stronger than any child. And that was just one time.
“‘It’s worse at night. That’s when the real dangerous ones come out. I don’t know how the stairs work, son, and I don’t think I ever really want to. Maybe if you’re lucky, you’ll never have to deal with them. Maybe I’ll find a way to destroy them before I die. Aye, maybe…’” Gil stopped speaking, deep in thought and remembrance. I took another sip of juice and ate some bacon before responding.
“So you’re telling me Dad went batshit crazy before he died?” I asked. Gil shook his head quickly.
“He wasn’t crazy, Luke,” he said simply. “At least, I don’t think he was. If he was, the stairs probably made him that way. Do you really think that you were just hearing a fox or something caught in the shed last night? Those screams sounded human. We both know that was something unnatural. But I wouldn’t worry if I were you. If you need proof, we’ll have plenty after today- assuming you still want to go into the shed.” And after we finished eating, with no fanfare or delay, we did. I grabbed the key, and Gil and I went out side by side, scared but not showing it, ready to finally see for ourselves the mystery that had haunted our family for decades.
***
We walked through the hard-packed dirt yard, looking down the grassy field behind the house to the rolling hills that stretched as far as the eye could see. They began to grow blue, pale and fuzzy near the horizon. It was a beautiful place to live, and hard to imagine something so evil might be right in the middle of it.
The shed loomed up ahead of us, boards tightly hammered together and freshly painted a dark red color. The shingles on the small roof all looked relatively new, and the door was expensive and sturdy. I stood in front of the door, listening for the sounds of any movement, but there was nothing. I fumbled in my pocket for the key, pulling it out, looking at Gil who stood close by my side. Then I shoved it in the lock and opened the door.
The shed was dark, as if a curtain of shadow fell across the open door. I stuck my head in, feeling around the side for a lightswitch. And that was when something grabbed my hand. I screamed, ready to pull my hand out and run, and then I felt the lightswitch on the wall. I flicked it on quickly. There was no one in there. Shaking, I turned to Gil.
“Something grabbed me,” I whispered. He nodded, unsurprised. Then we walked in the shed together.
The walls inside were all covered with plates of sheet metal. Every square inch of the shed was reinforced with steel, including the roof, which had a flat pane of metal going straight across the shed, welded to the four that covered the walls. Only the floor was unprotected. It was just a plain dirt floor with a hole in the center.
Looking closer at the protective structure of the shed, I saw deep claw and gouge marks raking the metal’s surface, even those on the bottom of the ceiling eight feet above the floor. Something had clearly been in here and wanted very badly to get out.
I inched closer to the hole in the floor, which took up most of the floor of the shed. It was at least ten feet wide. Looking down, I saw spiraling steps, descending in a clockwise fashion as far down as the light extended. I found a small rock on the ground outside, came back in and dropped it down the center of the stairway. I listened for it to hit bottom, counting the seconds on my watch. After about thirty seconds, I realized it wasn’t going to. Maybe it was too far down to hear when the stone connected.
I looked over at Gil. He was standing as near to the door as he could get, looking like he would rather be anywhere else in the world. I gave him high marks for courage, though. There was something wrong in here, and I could feel it. Outside, it was warm and a fresh breeze blew the smell of flowers and pines through the yard. But in here, it was cold and oppressive. A freezing chill seemed to come from the hole in the floor, spiraling up with the stairs and running over my body, sending a feeling like ice running up and down my back.
“Do you want to go first, or should I?” I said, gesturing to the hole. Gil stared at me as if I had gone mad, his eyes widening.
“Why in the fuck should either of us go?” he said, raising his hands and using them to gesticulate wildly as he often did when he was upset. I shrugged.
“This is our property now,” I said. “We need to at least know what’s on it, don’t you think?” But there was another reason too. It was sheer curiosity, and a desire to prove to myself that there was nothing supernatural going on here, no monster in the closet, just the overactive imagination of an old man. Gil sighed.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll go. Go grab two flashlights and Dad’s gun. Maybe some extra batteries. Some extra magazines too. Better safe than sorry, after all…”
We both went inside the house together, leaving the shed door wide open, and that was when, I believe, something got out. And then the killings in town began.
***
We descended the stairs slowly. They were stone, slick in some places. There was no guard rail or any protective barrier, which made my heart beat a little faster. I liked something to hold onto. If I took a tumble on these stairs, I might keep falling forever.
We heard strange sounds from below periodically, but when we shone our lights down there, we couldn't see anything. Echoes rose around us, sounding at one point like kids playing a game of hide and seek, at another like the howling of a wolf. Strange squeaks and clicks would also arise intermittently from the shaft below us, and then stop as quickly as they had started.
The noises got louder as we descended dozens of stories, then hundreds. It seemed like the stairs would just keep going on forever, until we hit the mantle of the Earth and got burned up. Then a door appeared, painted a chipped blue with a fading daisy on the center of it. I looked at Gil, then swung it open.
Beyond it, a hallway with fluorescent lights extended as far as the eye could see. Countless rooms went off it to the left and right. The lights flickered on and off, sending portions of the hallway into darkness. The floor was falling apart in many places, with strange molds and fungi growing out of the wood. White and black molds battled for space, forming huge colonies that were bigger than my shoe. I walked forward, putting my weight gingerly on the floorboard. It creaked slightly and felt wet under my shoe, yet it held my weight.
“Come on,” I said to Gil, who followed closely behind. As soon as we had walked a few steps down the hall, the door slammed shut by itself behind us. I jumped and turned, pulling out the gun reflexively. Gil put a hand on my shoulder, pushing the gun back down.
“It’s OK,” he said. I was breathing hard, my heart hammering in my chest. Maybe that was why I didn’t hear the counting at first.
But as we walked down the decayed hallway, the lights turning on and off above us with every step, I realized that someone was counting, and it had been going on for a while. It sounded like the voice of a little girl.
“Forty… thirty-nine… thirty-eight…” she said, counting off the seconds. I heard giggling from the rooms around us, but I couldn’t see anyone. We kept walking forward, but that counting was getting on my nerves- not least because I couldn’t for the life of me tell where it was coming from.
We checked the rooms to the left and the right. There were broken tables, old office equipment and chairs in nearly all of them. Some of them had fish tanks, but instead of fish, they had plumes of multi-colored molds growing over the top of them, or, in one case, a dead and dried-out turtle.
“...one… ready or not, here I come!” the girl’s voice screamed gleefully, and that was when all the lights went out at once. We quickly fumbled for our flashlights, turning them on at the same time. I had the gun in one hand crisscrossed with the flashlight in the other, a trick I had seen used in cop shows. Gil had a ten-inch bowie knife in one hand, which he had just removed from the massive scabbard he had it in around his leg. In his other hand, he held the flashlight, which he frantically shone back and forth, up and down.
“Geez, calm down with that thing,” I said. “You’re going to make me dizzy.”
“Something’s coming,” Gil whispered, a note of dread in his voice. “Don’t you hear it?” I stopped, listening hard. Indeed, I heard footsteps nearing, small suppressed giggles, the swishing of a dress. My flashlight illuminated a pale face, a little boy sneaking a peak out of the nearest room. He was filthy, covered in black soot with torn clothing and what looked like blood caked into his hair. He looked up at us quickly then withdrew into the room. For the first time, I felt genuinely scared. Now we could be certain we were being watched.
“Hey!” I whispered, running into the room after him. Gil followed close behind me. The footsteps seemed to be right next to us now, but I looked around, not seeing anyone. Then a blur of movement passed by as a little girl ran over to the little boy, where he was curled in the corner under a broken folding table, crying and shaking with terror.
“Found you!” she said. I shone my light directly at her back, seeing a pale blue dress, but I couldn’t see her face.
“Get away from that kid!” I yelled. She ignored me, bending down quickly, and before I knew what had happened, she had ripped the boy’s throat out with her teeth. She turned to look at us, and I saw that her face had been cut off, and now only a grinning skull remained. It was covered in a thin sheen of blood, and two tiny white pinpoints of light seemed to glow inside the empty sockets of her eyes. With her teeth full of flesh and gristle and fresh rivulets of blood running down her skeletal mouth, she continued to cry, “Found you! Found you! Found you!”
Without hesitation, I shot her in the shoulder. She fell back a half-step, turning to look at me with that skeletal grin, then spun around and continued eating the little boy. He was still alive, choking on his own blood, his huge eyes moving over to me as he died, as if accusing me of being the cause of all this. The sound of his last gurgling breaths were the only sounds now. I shot her again, but she wouldn’t go down. A blossom of blood began to spread outwards on her back where I had shot her, but she showed no pain. Gil grabbed my shoulder tightly.
“We need to get out of here,” he said through gritted teeth. I nodded. We ran back to the door we had come in through, but it was locked tight. The lights were still off. I told Gil to take a step back, then tried shooting at the lock. The bullet ricocheted crazily as if I had shot a reinforced army tank rather than a plain wooden doorway. Next we tried kicking it open, but it was as if it were fused to the wall.
I turned to look at him, and the truth passed between us in a glimpse. To get out, we would have to go farther in, where there were likely even worse things waiting for us.

So this morning at 3:45a I get a 130$ 3hr route at a DRT near me (literally 2 mins away) and I take the route, it took me over an hour away from home so that was already annoying but not surprised. I get back home by 6:15 and scooped up another 100$ 3hr route from the same DRT starting at 6:45 (I saw it at 6:35). Once I get there. There’s a car in front of me and they send him to a lane, and then I go to my lane. I noticed there was like no packages or anything so I was hoping I’d get sent home with pay. Well there was a manager telling the guy in front of me he was good to go and no routes, and a different manager came to me and said “I think we’re giving you one package, idk how to do it yet tho so one sec” I immediately get excited because I thought these were myths lol and then… They bring me 17 packages out of no where, once again, going an hour away from home 😭 I was frustrated because the person got to go home with pay and then another car behind comes up and they give him the one package. I was so pissed off because I already had gone out and everyone else got to get off easy.
Just needed to vent 😞

I found reading these so helpful towards planning my trip I figured I’d write one. Hadn’t been to Universal Orlando since 2011 and probably won’t get back until at least Epic Universe opens or later. I have been to Universal Hollywood about 3 times in the past 6 years however. Massive Harry Potter fan who has never seen Diagon Alley or Hagrid’s. HP stuff was priority 1.
Here are some highlights:
I did not have early park entry so as I learned from Reddit, rope dropping Hagrid’s was useless. You were right! Immediately a 130+ minute wait in the morning. Instead, I got in line at 12:20 PM when the wait dropped to 75 minutes, which was the lowest I saw it all day. We randomly got front row and it was incredible!
Instead we rope dropped Diagon Alley / Gringotts. It was great getting to see Diagon Alley in the morning with no crowd.
It rained , a lot, in the evening. Best thing we did in the rain was go to Ollivanders! While everyone made their way to the park exit we got a private wand ceremony. Definitely the most magical moment. Something to consider if you’ve never been picked by a wand.
Time saved with Express:
Gringotts listed 30, waited 10
Hogwarts Express listed 15, waited 10
ET listed 10, walk on
MiB listed 20, walk on
Mummy listed 30, waited 15
Spider-Man listed 55, waited 10 (during rain)
Hulk listed 25, walk on
Velocicoaster listed 60, waited 20
Hippogriff listed 35, waited 5
Forbidden Journey listed 20, walk on
Hogwarts Express listed 30, waited 10
Overall I found it worth it since I rarely get to visit.
Taking other advice from Reddit made our day so much better too. For example, we mostly skipped lockers by using fanny packs, zippered pockets and lanyards. This saved time and frustration.
Arriving at Leaky Cauldron with mobile order ready at 10:45 AM was also perfect. No wait. We saw lines for food the rest of the day.
The only “bad” advise I repeatedly see on here is waiting until 5 minutes before park close to ride Hagrids. It’s a good idea but too risky if that’s your only chance to ride it. We tried doing this for our second ride and it shut down for weather. I would only recommend using this strategy for reride purposes.
Overall amazing day. All HP rides and areas were awesome. Favorite non-HP rides were Spider-Man, Velocicoaster, and ET! Only critique, I wish Gringotts had more “coaster” parts.
Thanks for reading.

Hey everybody,
I'd love some thoughts on what I just went through as I feel I have been through an emotional rollercoaster and need to unload a bit to help with my healing and get some clarity.
Around this time last year I (33m) got a random message on Tinder from a woman (38f). We met for walk, talked about our situations and what we wanted and our goals. She told me she had 3 kids and was divorced from a 12 year marriage due to her ex-husband cheating on her, how she worked full-time and taught fitness classes 3x a week to boot. I knew she was a busy gal and had obvious baggage as her ex-husband was still the picture sharing custody of the kids... but hey it takes two to tango and we were both interested in a relationship. We went on a few dates and things just escalated like crazy. We had lots in common and I have never had chemistry like this before. It was not too long until she wanted to be exclusive and I accepted.
Then around 6 months into the relationship her family was going through some issues. She said she was going some emotions, too busy and that she needed some space. Deep down I was very hurt but I followed coach Corey Waynes relationship advice, that the person you love should always feel free to leave, and I didn't make this about me. I wanted the best for her and respected her choice. I invited her over to pickup her things and that day she burst into tears, I stood strong unperturbed and listened to her and got her to open up and we ended up having a powerful emotional connection. I told her she had to get her things together and that I was fine, no sweat.
After about a week of no contact she called me and regretted her decision. And from that point on, for the next 3 months, I had the most intense and passionate relationship I have ever had. She rocked my world and had a very high level of attraction to me. I have never had a woman this into me before. It was unreal. We were making love nearly 3 times a day despite her schedule. I was apparently an excellent boyfriend and were exceeding each others wants and needs.
Then she started spitting out the I love you's left and right. I held back as long as I could but eventually I expressed it too, I fell in love with her after-all. Attraction is funny thing sometimes. She pretty much started getting distant after that .. even though I know for sure I was not clingy or over pursuing. It's frustrating sometimes in that it always feels like women are too into me when I am not into them, and when I am into them they check out. Is it always going to be like this? It makes me never want to tell a woman I love her ever again. So annoying.
Then she said her mom was going to visit from South America for a few months and that she needed to come by and grab the spare key I had. I knew it was coming at that point so I packed her things. I could start to see a pattern, maybe her family guilts or stresses her about her divorce, at least, that was my perception. Sure enough she showed up and told me once again she needed to break-up. I made the mistake of letting her come over while I had my kid, and so we weren't able to have a conversation this time...but she told me she had an emotional intimate moment with her ex-husband and although I respected her choice she could tell I was devastated this time as tears filled the back of my eyes. To me this was no different than cheating. She said she knew it was selfish, she was not going to change her mind this time and that she was very sorry for all the pain. So she took her things, I walked her to her car and I gave her a weak ass kiss goodbye. Not sure why I did that but oh well..
Anyways I really cared about her. I knew she was struggling with her lifestyle, constantly exhausted and she had no time for herself. I tried to be supportive of her. I knew she was on anti-depressants and taking therapy from the moment we first met too. I tried to help her and I expressed that she had to work on herself and in the end I am cool with space even though deep down I was hurt. I tried to not let her see that part and stay strong. Not sure if that was right or wrong but in my experience the minute you cry in front of a woman for some reason they lose respect for you. It is so stupid sometimes how it's like men are emasculated if they express their feelings.
Maybe she was trying to break-up because she needed drama to rekindle the fire, and maybe I was too nice. Part of me thinks I did something and turned her off of me, but she never said I did and I just don't have time or energy to play games or be Mr.detective. Maybe she wanted me to call her out on getting jerked around, like I had done before. In either case I am just not an angry person and have too much going on in my life to be resentful or bitter. I am way too patient too. She wanted space, no problem, you got it. I gave everything I could in the relationship and have no regrets. It's just funny how things got so intense and passionate and then down to nothing. I would definitely rather have a less intense relationship, but more stable one if that makes sense....but my god I loved that woman and was fine with her flaws.
Anyways she kept texting me every morning the next week after the break-up... things like have a good day, love the music you make, never give up, hope you're ok, etc..all this motivational crap. I told her by text I was more than fine, did not want to be friends and to call me if she ever wanted to get together again. She responded saying she understood and was totally cool with it, that she was not dead and that her door was always open. She seemed rather cool with all of this. She said she had no problem unfriending on social media and all of that...and I was like nah it's fine. It was hard for me to understand how she could have been so into me one day and the next not at all. It's obvious now she's no longer into me and that although she was trying to be nice to me the reality is she probably is still in love with her ex-husband. No surprise, I mean she sees him everyday...but screw it I refuse to be a third wheel in a love triangle, so despite my pain, it is all very logical what is happening as I type this now.
I was respectful, still playful and did not express any feelings of being butthurt or being needy. If anything, any pain I feel is actually just some remanence from abandonment in my childhood and has nothing to do with her at all. I did not ask to take her back or crap like that, after all she dumped me twice now lol. But I did call her one night after a few too many beers just to try and get clarity on what she was going through and to let her know I still support her wellbeing. I even went back on my word saying I was not ok with being friends, I was pretty contradictory that night and I am sure that just turned her off even more. But what can you do when you legit love that person? I even asked her if she would be ok with being friends while I dated other people and she said she was fine with that. So contradictory and just felt weak.
Anyways she kept texting me more funny and compassionate things the next day and I said screw it. In the past I have hid my feelings and it just took a toll on my own mental health, so I made a decision to sent her a final text telling her how much I love her and wish her the best, and how I hope she finds her happiness and to focus on her purpose in life, to enjoy the time with her mother while she is here and then... I blocked her everywhere. I had to. It felt like every day I would wake up trying to forget about her and move on and her texts were keeping me locked down. I just don't operate well in the grey zone. Even though part of me would love to stay friends right now I just can't. I just can't. Although I did not express it I know I'm not a doormat, I'm not a plan b option, I have a ton of love to give and I deserve better. Maybe she was expecting me to stand-up to her or get angry. I don't know. It's hard for me to get angry at someone for saying they need space when I have done the exact same thing in the past to others. Why must people be so dramatic?
So that was yesterday. I didn't think I would have to block her, but here I am, hoping I did the right thing. I am in a lot pain and have some therapy lined up. For now I focus on my goals, my kid, my passions and I know I will be ok. Not worried about meeting other women but I am just dreading the possibility of the day she texts or calls or shows up at my door...I don't know how I can muster the strength to tell her to f off when deep down I know I will love her for the rest of my life and would absolutely love to have her as a friend. I am so conflicted. Maybe one day. What would you do?
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TLDR; I had to block the love of my life today because she broke up with me and was not respecting my boundary that I did not want to be friends by continuously texting me. Did I do the right thing?
Thanks for reading.

Had a recent trip to Barcelona, and was absolutely floored with the value compared to the US.
What I'm used to: Based in Miami, ATL. Got into hobby last year, started off by getting scammed big by 2 girls at Club E11ven. Transitioned to strip club circuit like Tootsies. My best exp there was a dayshift Cubana a 10/10 enhanced brunette for $500/30 min VIP, all covered action, no GFE or kissing. Focused more on ATL clubs, started getting 8-9/10 Latinas for $400/30 min. Learned more, now I'm consistently $270-$300/30 min with still hot girls, although just basic service. My absolute best was this Lana Rhoades look alike Italian American stripper, $300/30 min at her hotel. Kissing & BBBJ included (she's long since diseappeared). Eventually tried Amsterdam 2x and loved it. While I hear its lost its hey day, but for me I love the fast food McDonalds approach for Red Light District, 100-150E/30min with wiggle room, and the convenience to check out the goods right there in a fun safe city.
Onto Barcelona, 7 providers, all I finished with CF&S. Tools: Sexmercadobcn, independent providers post there and the forum links reviews for many providers. Blurred faces so I stuck with recent/highly reviewed girls. Tip: Schedule to be the girls' first session if possible. I find they're fresh as can be.
Ana & Ashley. I made 2 separate appointments in the morning. Both are mid/late 20's, blondes, enhanced pornstar bodies (big fake tits, BBL) but are very high quality and well done. Each with a unique and sexy face (Ana is Polish, Ashley is Canary Islands), absolute 10s to me. Both were responsive via Whatsapp and hosted in their clean apts in nice part of icy -Ana: was 150E for 60 min, Ashley 250E for 60 min. Both included much french kissing, BBBJ, and GFE despite some language barrier. I didn't push for CIM. Ashley was fantastic, but Ana was far more economical & as good. -Near half the price, 2x as long, and in the comfort of a safe, clean room with a bed and not some uncomfortable club, as well as extra. To me, its 4x the value
Mia: Used the Eden private brothel. Messaged them from their Sexmercado page. Very responsive, the rooms are ok but harsh from fluorescent lighting. Mia, a mid 20s Venezuelan. 9/10 in looks, youthful perky, stacked Latin body with tasteful fake tits. Performance was average. Submissive which I like, included BBBJ, but no GFE, kissing, and she rushed the session. Knowing Spanish would've helped. -120 Euro ($130) for 60 min. Still one of my local clubs girls will charge you that just for 6 air dances.
Denise/Sugar Girls: This is a private discrete brothel, but they have website. Lots of turnover of girls so availability is inconsistent and reviews arent deep. They were very responsive via Whatsapp, similar nice part of town. Rooms are nice, with shower. They do edit their photos, while my girl was still hot she's slightly better on the site. I advise a lineup every time, I'd get 8 or 10 girls and only want to pay for 2 or 3. Dennise is this all natural tattooed girl from Bilbao. Perky pierced B cups, thick fit trunk, built like a softball player with a face like Juelz Ventura. Lots of kissing, but CBJ this time. -150E/60 min. Great fun personality, felt like a party.
Alice/TeensBCN: Another popular private brothel. Same deal, whatsapp, responsive, nice part of town. Rooms were like a motel/dorm room. Alice is a Greek girl with great English, plain faced but feminine, large breasts with natural low hang on her mid 20s body. Like a smaller version of Gianna Michaels. Because of no language barrier, we clicked, she made it feel like a true fun flirty hookup as if I took her from the bar. Kissing, GFE, BBBJ included. -Around 120E for 60
Forgotten named Cuban & Lena/Maison Close: My first public brothel. Just walked in, a discrete initial door in a quiet, nice part of town but you see the branding once in. Nicest rooms of them all, spacious, nice shower. Cuban: Blonde slim Barbie bimbo, body a 9, face a 7.5. Good CBJ, deepthroated. No GFE, kissing. But still a good experience. Lena: My final girl the night before my flight home, wow addicted to her. An early 20s spinner Uruguayan, with big soft juicy fake tits, slender frame but still had curves to her ass. Because of our heights, leverages were great. Even after days of 2 sessions a day, and 1 that morning with other girls, I knew within 10 min this girl was electric. I will be requesting her specifically next visit.
Barcelona for me has been the perfect monger city. It's a great place to visit as is, food is great, not expensive if you travel smart. Most of year is decent weather. Then you have 20+ options from big public brothels to independent girls all with 15 min of you. If I lived in Europe I'd been in Barcelona & AMS every other weekend and still be less money than what I'd need to spend in the US. If they werent $1800+ flights through winter, I'd probably never use a US provider again.
Future targets, would stick to clubs as a first timer. Frankurt: Sharks Oase. Just learning about FKK clubs and seems like an easy 2-3 day bender. Vienna: Wellcum, technically 3 hr drive from Vienna. Would need 4-5 days but another well reviewed FKK where you can stay in their hotel included." Sao Paolo: Scandalo
Going to Colombia very soon and will post on that. Santa Fe and escorts. Feel free to DM if questions or to talk shop

Hi All,
I built a new pc about 3 months ago that's been working just fine all the way up to last night when I turned it off and went to bed.
Tried to turn it on this morning. everything seemed fine but no display detected. I tired everything I could. powered off. unplugged the pc. checked on the wiring. unplugged on the monitors except one. used different cables to make sure all 3 of my dp cable didn't just die.
I checked for lose wiring and find nothing. the 4070ti gpu lights on fine, all the fans are working work, the MB seems to be fine. all my monitors are good and the main one is now plugged into my old pc and working just fine but whenever I tried to turn the new pc on, no display.
any help is appreciated. thank you all!

I made Bechemel last night and this morning it was moldy. It also left some stains on my saucepan right under the mold, but said stains don't look like mold at all. I did some research and I found out that they're either just stains or pitting caused by salt mixing with stainless steel, so, from my understanding, they could not have caused it.
My only "theory" is that it's actually soldified fat from the butter, but I don't think fat looks green like mold, furthermore I didn't even refrigerate it.
How did mold grow on it literally overnight?
P.S.- I wasn't going to eat the "leftover" Bechemel anyway, not like there was enough left in any case. I would refridgerate leftovers and would never leave them out overnight (unless they're baked goods). I'm just genuinely confused on how the sauce could've grown mold so quickly.

I have just relapsed on Friday after hitting the 150 day mark. I feel like I'm actually having a consistent heart attack the past ~36hrs.
I went out Friday night. It was a catch up dinner with 7 of the girls. I thought I'd only have a couple, be ok and get in home early.
I haven't left the house, after waking up Saturday morning covered in sweat & absolutely no memory of getting in home the night before.
I'm so scared to leave my house, overthinking everything. I can't just sit with myself without crying. I'm so embarrassed & ashamed.
I just want to feel like how I did when I woke up on Friday morning & all the days before. I can't stop shaking or keep food down.
I guess writing this, I just needed to get it written down and share it. It's helped.

Moments after Boston’s dramatic win at Miami on Saturday night, Jaylen Brown began thinking about the future. He raised his hands, put up seven fingers and began yelling, “Game 7! Game 7!”
Game 7, indeed.
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Brown and Boston are on the brink of history after Derrick White’s buzzer-beating putback lifted the Celtics to a 104-103 victory over the Heat in Game 6. One of the league’s most storied franchises is trying to become the first team in NBA playoffs history to overcome a 3-0 deficit to win a best-of-seven series.
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Next up is one more game in the Eastern Conference finals on Monday night in Boston. And it looks as if the back-and-forth series could be on its way to an epic conclusion.
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The Celtics are the fourth NBA team to erase a 3-0 deficit in a best-of-seven series and force a deciding game. The previous three teams — the 1951 New York Knicks in the NBA Finals, the 1994 Denver Nuggets in the second round and the 2003 Portland Trail Blazers in the first round — lost Game 7, all on the road.
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“We’ve got another chance, another opportunity,” said Jayson Tatum, who had 31 points, 11 rebounds and five assists in Game 6 to join Larry Bird as the only other Celtic with double-digit playoff games with at least 30 points, 10 rebounds and five assists. “It’s far from over. Still an uphill battle. But it always feels good to give yourself another chance, another opportunity.”
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Boston is looking to extend a wild postseason ride that already includes five wins when facing elimination — twice in the East semifinals after falling behind 3-2 to the 76ers, and now three straight times against the Heat.
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The Celtics are 27-9 in Game 7s and have won their last four — including a 112-88 win against Philadelphia in the previous round that featured Tatum breaking out for 51 points, the most in a Game 7 in NBA history. Boston also beat the Heat in Game 7 in Miami in last year’s East finals when Jimmy Butler missed what would have been a go-ahead 3-pointer with about 17 seconds left.
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The Heat are 6-5 all-time in Game 7s, losing their last two. Miami is 0-2 when facing such a game on the road.
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The winner of Sunday’s matchup will advance to face the Western Conference champion Denver Nuggets in the NBA Finals.
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Despite being denied a finals berth in three straight games, Miami coach Erik Spoelstra said his message to the team after Saturday’s loss was just to focus on the next game. Let the past be the past.
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“Let’s just rally around each other,” Spoelstra said. “These are emotional games and things can swing in that Game 7. The pressure can go back and forth in Game 7s quite a bit. We’re not going anywhere.”
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But what may be most concerning for the Heat heading into Monday is the Celtics — typically reliant on their ability to make 3-point shots — were able to pull out Saturday’s win despite making a playoff-low 7 of 35 attempts from deep.
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In addition, until Butler’s incredible flurry of 10 points in just over two minutes to put the Heat in front, he was mostly a non-factor on a night in which he went just 5 of 21 from the field. Over the past three games Butler has shot a combined 19 of 55.

I was dating this girl who adored me. Every day she would message me good morning and good night. We went out every week. Last night we decided to have sex. I kept going limp, and after about half an hour of going hard then limp and not coming I said we should just stop. I messaged her that because of my anxiety disorder I don't enjoy sex, and she said she respects me and wants what's best for me but that sex is very important for her (which I understand and respect).
Yeah, so feeling pretty shitty. I overcame weight gain (lost 50lbs of fat) I overcame financial hardship, I stabilized my anxiety to actually hold down a good job. But those are all individual goals; how the hell do you overcome this?

Good morning/afternoon/evening. I live in Luxembourg and want to buy an iPhone 14, I saw in the USA iPhone 14 models, they only take eSim, do the European iPhone 14 models take a physical Sim card or only eSim please?