Rent a center 75th and thomas

Like what’s the physical difference between our brains and an allo’s? Not enough of whatever the horny chemical is? Wired up differently? I’ve heard that the part of our brain that deals with “gross” feelings is suppressed a bit when we’re aroused to help us not get so grossed out with sex. Maybe our brains don’t suppress the gross center? Or maybe not since sex-favourables exist. But there’s gotta be a physical difference in our brains that makes us asexual. Otherwise... well we wouldn’t be asexual! I just wonder what it is.

Hello! My husband and I are regular Galway city visitors, he is from here and I went to college here. We (ok, I) love a wander around town, checking out the shops, getting some coffee, snacks, maybe a bit of lunch. We now have a baby (yay) and she’s great, but it definitely creates some logistical issues with spending a few hours away from home.
Im trying to put together a list for myself of handy places to in town for an emergency nappy change or a coffee/lunch and baby feed & nappy change. Might be helpful for others too!
I think most hotels with cafes/restaurants would probably have baby change facilities, and I’ve used Brown Thomas before too. I assume the train station toilets probably have facilities if I was stuck, but I haven’t checked yet.
The Galleon in Salthill have a changing table, as do some of the public toilet cubicles in Salthill. Dunnes in Terryland too.
Please, let me know of any nice places to go in town or Salthill where I can feed and change my baby. Free is great but I’m always happy to be a paying customer especially to a smaller business.
Let’s keep these babies clean and mam/dad caffeinated!

I am just so sad. In short, I saved up all my life and sacrificed everything I could until the age of 38 and opened a restaurant right before COVID hit. Long story short, restaurant is sold at a major loss, life savings gone and I just put up my family home for sale to pay off my debts, will be renting because my credit is shot. Will have to take my autistic son out of his private school and put him in a crappy public school. Marriage took a major hit and I’m not sure if we’ll come out of it ok. I’m out of a job and feel like I can’t work anymore, yet I cannot afford even a week without any income.
I’ve been crying all day and I can’t stop. I’m so sad my heart physically aches. I can’t sleep and cannot hold back my tears and sadness. I know everyone will say stuff like “stay strong” and “it’ll get better” or “there are others that have it worse”, but for me, since the age of 16, I have dedicated every second of every day, made so many sacrifices and suffered so much to get somewhere where I could lead a good life and leave something good for my kids when I’m gone, only to end up with such an outcome. I am destroyed and hurting so much.
I lost hope. I was always positive even when times were hard. I always believed hard work and sacrifices will eventually pay off. I always believed that if I do good I will eventually reap the benefits. I have always tried to be kind, generous, helpful and compassionate with everyone I encountered, no matter who they were. I was religious and believed I will be rewarded for my efforts. I was wrong all along and it really really really hurts to hit the wall and find out all of it was in vain.
I’m not sure what I’m looking for by posting this but I hope to feel even a little better after putting it out there. Thanks for reading me and good luck to everyone out there, life is unfair and cruel.

I'm looking for a place to live near Dallah hospital Al-Nakheel in Riyadh, everything i see is expensive.
currently renting at a hotel apartment for 4500 SAR and honestly it's quality is shabby and the price is still almost half what i make a month. i'm looking for somewhere close to the new bus route or in the area near the hospital.
just looking for decent amenities, a clean house, bed, clean bathroom, studio apartment is fine but the budget is honestly the biggest hurdle especially without iqama

The PG42UQ has the ability to do different resolutions and sizes like a 24", 27", an ultrawide, etc and you can even move that screen around within the borders.
Can the C2 do this as well? It's not a deal breaker but would be nice for certain games to be able to have more of the screen focused in the center of my view.. for those times I have no intentions on touching grass.

Android
As it currently stands, this question is not a good fit for our Q&A format. We expect answers to be supported by facts, references, or expertise, but this question will likely solicit debate, arguments, polling, or extended discussion. If you feel that this question can be improved and possibly reopened, visit the help center for guidance. Closed 9 years ago.I'm looking for a Java OCR that runs on Android, however Asprise doesn't seem to be a platform independent OCR. is there any opensource/free Java OCR I can use for android application development?
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I’m 23 F, I’m working at a very stressful job and I’ve been financially independent for quite a time.
Upon returning to my city, I have realized I can’t live with my mom and sister. Constant fights, constant mood swings. My mom would roll her eyes, cause fights if she was unhappy. I couldn’t keep living with them and having the stressful job.
My mom knew that I’m sleep deprived, yet she would leave her dog in my room in the early am. He barks non stop. They’d fight about anything like “I don’t like mashed potatoes, I won’t eat them” and go on. I would order them food almost everyday. My mom would go shopping like crazy.
I have decided to move out and rent a place. My cash flow has improved significantly since then. It’s insane that I’m saving more money renting a place rather than living with them rent free. My mental health is good. I feel happy.
The issue is that my dad upon divorce gave them both quite a significant amount of money, but it’s been years and they have spent it all. They do have a luxurious taste. My sister(21) also has an epilepsy along with the ED(anorexia nervosa). This makes it difficult for her to work. Now they both don’t work.
Now I’m getting bombarded by my grandma who claims that I shall move back home and support them fully. They say that the money I spent on rent should cover their food. According to them I should become the sole provider and live my life helping my mom and sister. I can’t live with them. I would lose my mind.
I very well told my grandma that she can sell her other apartment and help them financially. I’m being called a terrible person. I can’t support them financially because that will mean I will not be having any savings at all.
What do you think?
I can either continue living my life or go back to live with them , have 0 life and 0 savings. I’m exhausted. I’ve been working hard for so long. I never asked anyone for anything.

I am just so sad. In short, I saved up all my life and sacrificed everything I could until the age of 38 and opened a restaurant right before COVID hit. Long story short, restaurant is sold at a major loss, life savings gone and I just put up my family home for sale to pay off my debts, will be renting because my credit is shot. Will have to take my autistic son out of his private school and put him in a crappy public school. Marriage took a major hit and I’m not sure if we’ll come out of it ok. I’m out of a job and feel like I can’t work anymore, yet I cannot afford even a week without any income.
I’ve been crying all day and I can’t stop. I’m so sad my heart physically aches. I can’t sleep and cannot hold back my tears and sadness. I know everyone will say stuff like “stay strong” and “it’ll get better” or “there are others that have it worse”, but for me, since the age of 16, I have dedicated every second of every day, made so many sacrifices and suffered so much to get somewhere where I could lead a good life and leave something good for my kids when I’m gone, only to end up with such an outcome. I am destroyed and hurting so much.
I lost hope. I was always positive even when times were hard. I always believed hard work and sacrifices will eventually pay off. I always believed that if I do good I will eventually reap the benefits. I have always tried to be kind, generous, helpful and compassionate with everyone I encountered, no matter who they were. I was religious and believed I will be rewarded for my efforts. I was wrong all along and it really really really hurts to hit the wall and find out all of it was in vain.
I’m not sure what I’m looking for by posting this but I hope to feel even a little better after putting it out there. Thanks for reading me and good luck to everyone out there, life is unfair and cruel.

I’m 16 from Cambodia. Again some of you may already had heard about my story. But for those who don’t know imma recap. So the reason why I wanted to leave my family and the country as a whole it’s because of life here in general. Life here is miserable in all kinds of forms, due to corruption, Crime, abuse, pollution, Exploitation, poverty etc.. but what’s really make me want to leave everything is the constant arguments and stress that I have to dealt with with everyday with the locals and my family. Cambodians they are just really rude and hostile towards everyone even to their own kinds. The day before yesterday I went out with my scooter 🛴 around the park in the suburb there’s that one Cambodian Karen in a car almost run me off and I was too mad I just did a middle finger at them and so they began to chase me and start treating me and calling me names, they said that they will kill me and find my house address. Tho lucky I just let them finish their rent without retaliation and so they just left me alone tho before they leave they said that they will find my house. That’s not all tho yesterday I went on my scooter again this time to the city, I went to the local market all by myself and when I parked my scooter in the parking space and I went in the market just for a few minutes and when I got back my scooter is gone and it’s because the security drove my scooter off without my consent and after a couple minutes they came back and now they asked me for the fees like YOU just invaded my property and now you asked for the fees ?!? And so they threaten me for the money and I was too scared so I just gave them it…and in the end they dare to ask me for “ I thought you were a foreigner, what’s your race ” like excuse me ? And so I drove off without a word. And no didn’t told my parents because they’re a bi*ch. And as for my family is just Chaos, nowadays there is no sign of violence or abused ( physically atlest ) but it used to happened constantly before…tho I’m not going to get into detail with that because…it’s not easy for me to process it. But is the abused stop ? No it’s still here but just less after we went to a family therapy for countless of session till one day I decided to stop because I see nothing is drastically improving. And yes they are very emotionally abusive and I have to deal with them on a “daily basis” so I had enough.
Secondly there is nothing for me to live for despite of the hostility that’s happening in this cesspool. As you know in a back wards primitive country or a third world country the lack of resources is rampant. Education are terrible and environmental quality are toxic. My dream life is to live in a Van and be surrounded by nature but nature is not a thing anymore in modern time Asia or specifically Cambodia. So I found it to be very soul killing and hard for me to live everyday. And as for opportunity I have nothing left here, mind you I’m not even in school at the moment…I got kicked out…because of the fault system ( there’s a reason why but check out my next post about that ) and right now my parents are not willing to put me back to school at anytime soon because they think I’m not going to make it through again even tho it’s not my fault.
Lastly, I’m lonely. I’m always alone without anyone since I was born. I have no friends no one to talk to, no one I can trust. And everyone here in this society almost everyone is an NPC. If you were to did something or said something out of their point of view they will canceled you. And every expats who moved here are all people that came from a low life background or even a criminal at some point, so they came here to gain opportunities by being the “best of the worst “ and in my soul I know that I’m worth more and I don’t want to be the product of my environment.
And on top of all this me as a Homosexual just makes things worst.
So my plan is to escape from this hell hole that I’m in now to Canada or maybe Finland or just basically anywhere in the West or EU. I don’t know for sure to where I should go ? But I don’t know if I should just make an escape now to the west by getting a plan ticket and seek an asylum once I’m there or is there something else that I should do ? Do you think escaping now is the right decision? What do you think ? I also probably going to need a go fund me account since I don’t have enough money for the plan ticket, Tho go fund me doesn’t work in Cambodia 🥲. Help help help HELP ! HELP ! I feel like help is the most justifiable word to use right now ! HELP ME !

Currently looking to buy a new house and rent my current one out how much stamp duty will I pay and will I have to include value of both houses when stamp duty I calculated? Thanks

I am just so sad. In short, I saved up all my life and sacrificed everything I could until the age of 38 and opened a restaurant right before COVID hit. Long story short, restaurant is sold at a major loss, life savings gone and I just put up my family home for sale to pay off my debts, will be renting because my credit is shot. Will have to take my autistic son out of his private school and put him in a crappy public school. Marriage took a major hit and I’m not sure if we’ll come out of it ok. I’m out of a job and feel like I can’t work anymore, yet I cannot afford even a week without any income.
I’ve been crying all day and I can’t stop. I’m so sad my heart physically aches. I can’t sleep and cannot hold back my tears and sadness. I know everyone will say stuff like “stay strong” and “it’ll get better” or “there are others that have it worse”, but for me, since the age of 16, I have dedicated every second of every day, made so many sacrifices and suffered so much to get somewhere where I could lead a good life and leave something good for my kids when I’m gone, only to end up with such an outcome. I am destroyed and hurting so much.
I lost hope. I was always positive even when times were hard. I always believed hard work and sacrifices will eventually pay off. I always believed that if I do good I will eventually reap the benefits. I have always tried to be kind, generous, helpful and compassionate with everyone I encountered, no matter who they were. I was religious and believed I will be rewarded for my efforts. I was wrong all along and it really really really hurts to hit the wall and find out all of it was in vain.
I’m not sure what I’m looking for by posting this but I hope to feel even a little better after putting it out there. Thanks for reading me and good luck to everyone out there, life is unfair and cruel.

I remember my mother’s 1977 BMW 320i was the only constant fixture in my periphery for the first seventeen years of my life. For a sizeable portion of my youth, I loved and obsessively ruminated on BMWs. They were a cherished gift to me from the world and best suited for my Aspergian sensibilities (clinically diagnosed). From memory, I could recite every model, feature and accessory for all of the 1980-1996 model lineup. Despite this, I specifically did not love our BMW. The entire time, it remained to me an unfortunate afterthought of a car. “Why don’t we ever have a good BMW?” was one of my usual, elementary school gripes. We got close at least one time with the near-purchase of that European-spec, e23 745i, but it just never happened.
I remember learning and committing to memory that our BMW’s original owner was a Palo Alto woman, a Stanford University professor. The woman seemed to enjoy driving the car too much, leaving it uncovered under the California sun and not maintaining it properly.
I remember the story of my father doing the pre-purchase inspection of the somewhat high-mileage, paint-damaged–albeit comparatively young–BMW in 1983. He summarily advised my mother not to buy it. Being the spark plug that she is, she took this recommendation under advisement and went ahead and bought it anyway.
I remember that this event–this BMW–is how my parents met and eventually decided to marry. He was her diligent, cautious, attentive mechanic, and she was his young, attractive, female customer. I assume that since it was the 1980s, my mother had legs–of the ZZ Top variety–and was well informed on how to use them.
I remember the story of my mother leaving a bag of peaches on the rear seat floor boards that eventually decomposed into a mound of organic glue and permanently fused to the sun-bleached, shit-stained beige carpet.
I remember hearing about how my mother would drive the BMW from El Sobrante to San Jose–fifty-plus miles–with the low fuel indicator light illuminated. My father would sit in the passenger’s seat, white-knuckled, a bead of terror sweat likely running down the side of his temple.
I remember the BMW sitting behind the laundry area of our Redmond home’s garage–an unassembled and deconstructed husk–unstarted for five-plus years.
I remember all of the BMW’s transformations from “anthrazitgrau” to “teal” to “lexus pearl white.”
I remember my mother deciding that the interior was going to be replaced and the color was going to be changed from beige to black. My mother purchased replacement Recaro seats for the BMW, but opted for the least expensive variants possible. I was deeply troubled, at the time, that the front bucket seats were charcoal cloth and the rear seat was black vinyl. My father’s contribution to the chaos was purchasing black door panels whose styles didn’t match one another because they were each sourced from separate BMWs of stylistically differing generations. To me, this all felt entirely criminal. I was present at the junkyard for at least one of these door panel purchases. The donor BMW was sad and pathetic, I recall. My father told me not to get too close to it because there was broken glass present. I complied.
I remember when our BMW was in a transitional state and didn’t have an interior, but was in drivable condition. My father amused us both by driving it up and down our Redmond street. He expertly operated the clutch and accelerator while sitting precariously atop a piece of scrap two-by-four that was balanced between the driver’s door sill and the center hump that ran the length of the interior. I sat in the passenger's side footwell and clapped like a seal while we both laughed hysterically. It was one of the few times my father didn’t seem so stoic and cautious. It was totally unsafe and a wonderful bonding experience that I absolutely cherish.
I remember seeing the aftermath of a semi truck that, after missing its intended turn, elected to come to a full stop on a highway near our home. The driver then attempted to correct this error by reversing, without looking, toward the front-end of our BMW that my dad was driving at the time. Without enough time to reverse, my dad was hit. The recently repainted grille and hood were smashed-in. My mother drove to pick my father up in our brand new Jeep Cherokee while I accompanied her, sitting in the back seat, nervous, but excited about observing the damage. I knew my father was alright, but I brought an open bag of candied pecans as an offering to comfort him. When we arrived, he was not interested in the candied pecans, which was odd to me. I was, however, awash with relief because I wasn’t actually that interested in sharing them, but simply wished to express my concern. I took advantage of the moment to eat the rest of the candies, which under any other circumstance, would have not been allowed.
I remember seeing the BMW at the body shop waiting to be repaired–how a working-class man expertly removed the BMW emblem that was on the smashed hood with a flat-blade screwdriver and gave it to me as a gift. The emblem was relatively new at the time, a replacement for the original one that had just previously been replaced. The otherwise pristine emblem had a small indentation from the damage. I was in possession of the emblem until 2001 at which point I threw it in the trash.
I remember my irresponsible sister–as a condition of her owning it–was required to maintain the BMW and this included washing it. Despite her protest, the one time I did actually see her wash it, she was sure to use a green scrub pad and managed to destroy the majority of the paint’s finish.
I remember my mother paying actual money to have the paint repaired.
I remember my sister absentmindedly losing one of the BMW’s original keys at the Costco in San Leandro. It was the only one of the three original keys that still had its black, plastic head. My mother had duplicates made, but they were not adequate. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive my sister for this offense.
I remember being present for the replacement of the BMW’s rod bearings in our San Antonio Avenue driveway. My sister previously flooded the engine in water and the BMW no longer ran correctly. She stated that it was misfiring and producing blue flames from the tailpipe. I started the engine when the job was completed–momentarily channeling my inner Frank Zappa–and told my father the BMW sounded like something that could only be described as “canned soup.” It sounded clunky and misfire-y and shitty: like canned soup.
I remember my father, dirty and grease-stained, being very confused by my aforementioned remark.
I remember standing on our hand-laid, herringbone, reclaimed brick driveway, staring at the dirty-white, thoroughly beaten-up BMW that was recently abandoned by my sister, asking myself how much I really cared about it. That day turned out to be instructive: it was the first time in my life that, retrospectively, everything could have been different. I would not even closely resemble the person I am today, save for choosing the direction that I didn’t choose. I had to decide to pursue the Jeep Cherokee that I loved, or rescue the BMW that I always knew. In my sixteen-year-old mind, acquiring the BMW would be an effortless slam dunk that the Jeep would not. The Jeep would require more effort to acquire, but it was also the one I really cared about. I was concerned that if I didn’t save the BMW right then and there it would go away. Both options were untenable for me. I could feel both of my recently divorced parents staring at me as I weighed the two options. Going with my gut and not my heart, I chose to capitulate to anxiety and doubt by choosing the way I did: the BMW. My rationalization was that there was still time to save the Jeep. I could figure out how later; I just needed more time. I drove the BMW from the San Antonio Avenue house to the Central Avenue house on or around the first day of October in 2001.
I remember that I bought the BMW from my mother for “$1,500.” I paid $500, my father paid $500 and my mother “paid” herself $500.
I remember immediately discovering the joys of the junkyard and making my first purchase of a stained, yellow, molded carpet from some tragic donor. I wanted a filthy carpet because my plan was to also be filthy. I sought to trash my interior and not care about maintaining it because I wished to lean into my “gross teenager” aesthetic. I wanted to be able to drop frenchfries and soda and lucky charms and not give a shit. At the time I was able to comfortably exist in one of two paradigms: abject filth or obsessive cleanliness. There was no middle ground. This is something that remains to be true to this day, except I can now only tolerate the latter. My yellow carpet lasted for less than one month before the anxiety of it being filthy overcame me and I removed it, throwing it away as quickly as possible. I reinstalled the previously removed carpet and was angry about it.
I remember installing makeshift rear headrests that didn’t fit correctly. I used a hacksaw, a pair of unmatching black, cloth headrests purchased from the junkyard, two pieces of reclaimed wood with unmeasured holes drilled into them using a Victorian hand-crank-operated drill and several rubber bands. Many European-spec BMW 320i models were available with optional rear headrests, but models for the American market were not. This was terribly aggravating for me at sixteen-years-old.
I remember Jolene asking me for a ride home after school. I was uninterested in performing this favor, but complied because doing so was considerably less taxing than thoroughly explaining why it made me uncomfortable and didn’t want to do it. That was a nice, fall day in the afternoon and I can still recall the look of tree-lined Central Avenue as I drove past High street. I came to regret doing this favor as someone from my high school saw us and relayed to others what I’d done. It was then rumored that Jolene and I were romantically involved and this turned my stomach in a way I cannot adequately describe.
I remember Chris and Jasmine asking me for a ride to their respective homes after school while they canoodled in my back seat like the two love-struck, teenage assholes they were. They were both overly attentive, flattering, and obsequious toward me during the drive which made my desire for total silence all the more blinding. The useful moron I typically was at the time, I received this all as clear confirmation that they had no respect for me. I was, however, less uninterested in driving them than I was Jolene, but still just as mortified by the prospect of explaining why I didn’t want to do it as opposed to just doing it. These were people I didn’t really know and had no interest in helping, but I did. They never spoke to me again. This is correct.
I remember Danny looking at the BMW, telling me it was a “hooptie” and asked me if I agreed. Being neither of his ilk, nor of his particular caliber, I wasn’t sure what that word meant, so I nodded and escaped the situation as quickly as possible so as not to be roped into further discourse. Danny is a twat of a man and now, aptly, a real estate agent.
I remember how the BMW never easily started. I assume it was an engine compression issue.
I remember a brisk, overcast fall morning, how the air was cold and wet. After pulling out of the Central Avenue driveway, a thin layer of mist condensed on the windshield. I had trouble seeing as I drove, but I didn’t want to smear the moisture on the glass because it would have left annoying smudge marks when it dried and smudge marks are extremely difficult to clean off of interior windshield glass. Seeing no other available option, I continued to drive down Central Avenue crouching, peering through the thin slit of cleared glass that was closest to the defrost vents blowing at high speed. The glass wasn’t clearing fast enough, so in an outburst, I punched the top of the glass near the rear-view mirror in a logical attempt to bully the glass into clearing more quickly. A thin, meandering line suddenly appeared, bisecting the sheets of glass, suspiciously close to the spot my knuckle just struck.
I remember telling my parents that a crack in the windshield glass had suddenly appeared and that I had no idea how it got there.
I remember my first job was at an ice-cream shop in my hometown and how the BMW was not considered a form of reliable transportation to and from it.
I remember being so aggravated by the BMW after two months of owning it, that I told my mother if she didn’t take it back, I’d have it crushed.
I remember being told that I would receive $700 in exchange for the BMW–$200 more than I’d personally paid–but never seeing this money and wondering what happened to it.
I remember expressing a renewed interest in the Jeep Cherokee now owned by my father, but being told I couldn’t acquire it because I wouldn’t be able to materialize the lump sum of cash required to purchase it, quickly enough.
I remember resigning myself to my fate and not making any real attempt to fight for the Jeep: the thing I loved most at the time–the thing I thought would solve all of my problems. I could have done a lot more, but I chose not to. The Jeep was then sold to some sexually attractive dad and his obnoxious, harpy wife soon thereafter.
I remember the BMW also going away, back to mother’s condo on Shoreline Drive to live out the remainder of its days with her much the way it did in the early 1990s: parked and languishing.
I remember my mother moving to the house on Macarthur Boulevard and the BMW being sequestered in the damp, crumbling cement garage that was carved out from the side of the hill under the house.
I remember bird feces and a layer of cement dust coating the top of the BMW the last few times I saw it.
I remember replacing the BMW’s starter–an abject nightmare of a repair–in an effort to correct the starting issues. This repair corrected nothing and was completely unrelated to the actual problem.
I remember my mother surprising me by stating in or around 2002 that she was going to sell the BMW after twenty years of clinging to it, dragging it along with us everywhere we moved.
I remember the first prospective buyer of the BMW was a buff, extremely handsome, 30-something black man in a skin-tight, white t-shirt and black jeans. I fantasized about the man possibly sweeping me off my feet and taking me far away from this place. I was still technically a minor at the time, but only in the ways that mattered.
I remember hoping and praying that the BMW would start-up quickly enough not to raise any eyebrows as to its viability and reliability. It did. It would seem that it wanted rid of us as surely as we wanted rid of it.
I remember the man being allowed to go on a solo test drive, unaccompanied, and me and my mom not really caring if the BMW never came back.
I remember the transaction being completed and the BMW being sold for $1500.
I remember, with absolute crystal clarity, observing the BMW drive away for the last time, north on Macarthur Boulevard, disappearing beyond the sunny horizon after cresting over a hill, never to be seen or heard of again.

I am just so sad. In short, I saved up all my life and sacrificed everything I could until the age of 38 and opened a restaurant right before COVID hit. Long story short, restaurant is sold at a major loss, life savings gone and I just put up my family home for sale to pay off my debts, will be renting because my credit is shot. Will have to take my autistic son out of his private school and put him in a crappy public school. Marriage took a major hit and I’m not sure if we’ll come out of it ok. I’m out of a job and feel like I can’t work anymore, yet I cannot afford even a week without any income.
I’ve been crying all day and I can’t stop. I’m so sad my heart physically aches. I can’t sleep and cannot hold back my tears and sadness. I know everyone will say stuff like “stay strong” and “it’ll get better” or “there are others that have it worse”, but for me, since the age of 16, I have dedicated every second of every day, made so many sacrifices and suffered so much to get somewhere where I could lead a good life and leave something good for my kids when I’m gone, only to end up with such an outcome. I am destroyed and hurting so much.
I lost hope. I was always positive even when times were hard. I always believed hard work and sacrifices will eventually pay off. I always believed that if I do good I will eventually reap the benefits. I have always tried to be kind, generous, helpful and compassionate with everyone I encountered, no matter who they were. I was religious and believed I will be rewarded for my efforts. I was wrong all along and it really really really hurts to hit the wall and find out all of it was in vain.
I’m not sure what I’m looking for by posting this but I hope to feel even a little better after putting it out there. Thanks for reading me and good luck to everyone out there, life is unfair and cruel.

I am just so sad. In short, I saved up all my life and sacrificed everything I could until the age of 38 and opened a restaurant right before COVID hit. Long story short, restaurant is sold at a major loss, life savings gone and I just put up my family home for sale to pay off my debts, will be renting because my credit is shot. Will have to take my autistic son out of his private school and put him in a crappy public school. Marriage took a major hit and I’m not sure if we’ll come out of it ok. I’m out of a job and feel like I can’t work anymore, yet I cannot afford even a week without any income.
I’ve been crying all day and I can’t stop. I’m so sad my heart physically aches. I can’t sleep and cannot hold back my tears and sadness. I know everyone will say stuff like “stay strong” and “it’ll get better” or “there are others that have it worse”, but for me, since the age of 16, I have dedicated every second of every day, made so many sacrifices and suffered so much to get somewhere where I could lead a good life and leave something good for my kids when I’m gone, only to end up with such an outcome. I am destroyed and hurting so much.
I lost hope. I was always positive even when times were hard. I always believed hard work and sacrifices will eventually pay off. I always believed that if I do good I will eventually reap the benefits. I have always tried to be kind, generous, helpful and compassionate with everyone I encountered, no matter who they were. I was religious and believed I will be rewarded for my efforts. I was wrong all along and it really really really hurts to hit the wall and find out all of it was in vain.
I’m not sure what I’m looking for by posting this but I hope to feel even a little better after putting it out there. Thanks for reading me and good luck to everyone out there, life is unfair and cruel.

Ingredients: White chocolate
Fresh strawberries
Sugar
Instructions: Melt the white chocolate using a double boiler or the microwave. Cook the diced strawberries in a saucepan with sugar until they become a chunky puree. Fill white chocolate and strawberry puree into heart-shaped molds and let it set in the fridge. Once set, demold the chocolates and cut at the centre. Your delicious Strawberry Truffles or Center-Filled Strawberry Chocolates are now ready to enjoy! Gift them to your loved one on Valentine's Day or savor them yourself. These chocolates are sure to become a new favorite in your kitchen.

I’m 16 from Cambodia. Again some of you may already had heard about my story. But for those who don’t know imma recap. So the reason why I wanted to leave my family and the country as a whole it’s because of life here in general. Life here is miserable in all kinds of forms, due to corruption, Crime, abuse, pollution, Exploitation, poverty etc.. but what’s really make me want to leave everything is the constant arguments and stress that I have to dealt with with everyday with the locals and my family. Cambodians they are just really rude and hostile towards everyone even to their own kinds. The day before yesterday I went out with my scooter 🛴 around the park in the suburb there’s that one Cambodian Karen in a car almost run me off and I was too mad I just did a middle finger at them and so they began to chase me and start treating me and calling me names, they said that they will kill me and find my house address. Tho lucky I just let them finish their rent without retaliation and so they just left me alone tho before they leave they said that they will find my house. That’s not all tho yesterday I went on my scooter again this time to the city, I went to the local market all by myself and when I parked my scooter in the parking space and I went in the market just for a few minutes and when I got back my scooter is gone and it’s because the security drove my scooter off without my consent and after a couple minutes they came back and now they asked me for the fees like YOU just invaded my property and now you asked for the fees ?!? And so they threaten me for the money and I was too scared so I just gave them it…and in the end they dare to ask me for “ I thought you were a foreigner, what’s your race ” like excuse me ? And so I drove off without a word. And no didn’t told my parents because they’re a bi*ch. And as for my family is just Chaos, nowadays there is no sign of violence or abused ( physically atlest ) but it used to happened constantly before…tho I’m not going to get into detail with that because…it’s not easy for me to process it. But is the abused stop ? No it’s still here but just less after we went to a family therapy for countless of session till one day I decided to stop because I see nothing is drastically improving. And yes they are very emotionally abusive and I have to deal with them on a “daily basis” so I had enough.
Secondly there is nothing for me to live for despite of the hostility that’s happening in this cesspool. As you know in a back wards primitive country or a third world country the lack of resources is rampant. Education are terrible and environmental quality are toxic. My dream life is to live in a Van and be surrounded by nature but nature is not a thing anymore in modern time Asia or specifically Cambodia. So I found it to be very soul killing and hard for me to live everyday. And as for opportunity I have nothing left here, mind you I’m not even in school at the moment…I got kicked out…because of the fault system ( there’s a reason why but check out my next post about that ) and right now my parents are not willing to put me back to school at anytime soon because they think I’m not going to make it through again even tho it’s not my fault.
Lastly, I’m lonely. I’m always alone without anyone since I was born. I have no friends no one to talk to, no one I can trust. And everyone here in this society almost everyone is an NPC. If you were to did something or said something out of their point of view they will canceled you. And every expats who moved here are all people that came from a low life background or even a criminal at some point, so they came here to gain opportunities by being the “best of the worst “ and in my soul I know that I’m worth more and I don’t want to be the product of my environment.
And on top of all this me as a Homosexual just makes things worst.
So my plan is to escape from this hell hole that I’m in now to Canada or maybe Finland or just basically anywhere in the West or EU. I don’t know for sure to where I should go ? But I don’t know if I should just make an escape now to the west by getting a plan ticket and seek an asylum once I’m there or is there something else that I should do ? Do you think escaping now is the right decision? What do you think ? I also probably going to need a go fund me account since I don’t have enough money for the plan ticket, Tho go fund me doesn’t work in Cambodia 🥲. Help help help HELP ! HELP ! I feel like help is the most justifiable word to use right now ! HELP ME !

Hello Melbourne Redditors, I'm Owen Miller! 🙋
In case you didn't know, the people of Aston/Knox are being forced back to the polls on April Fools day to vote someone else in, after former Coalition minister of Robodebt and Sex Scandals, Alan Tudge, resigned.
I am running as a candidate with the Fusion Party 💕, website here: https://www.fusionparty.org.au/aston
Despite the comprehensive defeat of the Coalition 🟦 from having any meaningful power since they were defeated at the last Federal election in 2022 🤲, it is still valuable to have some positive voices in Canberra to advocate for the people of Aston/ Melbourne/Victoria/Australia by bringing fresh and reasonable ideas to the table for Labor (Red team 🟥) and the public conversation 📰 to take notice of, and to be an effective opposition where necessary ⚖️ (because the Blue team won't, and too much power is never a good thing 🏛️).
Although this Labor government has made some positive steps already - achieving more positivity in less than a year than the Coalition did during their entire time in office - that was such a low bar to beat 🏃, and we should expect more meaningful action, not just platitudes ✊!
Particularly, we need more action on the topics of:

• Meaningful climate action 🌏🌳 (Targets are still far too low 🌡️, no real plan📝 , scam carbon credits🏭)
• No action on the cost of living 🍴 (Something is not right when a working family can barely afford Rent/Mortgage repayments 💸)
• No action on unaffordable housing 🏡 (Children will never move out of home at this rate 👪)
• Still continuing the pointless war on drugs despite being the ones who are meant to be different (Causes more problems than there are in the first place, especially in health, and adults should be able to enjoy relatively harmless drugs such as 🍄🙂🌿 in a safe way anyway)

I am running on a platform on focusing more on what is good for people, by viewing topics with different metrics such as the Gross National Happiness 😁 as a measurement of what will make our lives better in a meaningful way 😎, rather than the endless and single-focus pursuit of GDP 📉, which is often being done at the expense of human wellbeing 🧠, which is not an ethical or sustainable goal to have 🌲.
We are leaving so many opportunities on the table as other countries excel a technological innovation 👩‍💻, while our graduates go overseas to find work 🔬✈️. The talent should be coming home where they (and everyone still here) can find meaningful work in their preferred field 👩‍🏫, with a liveable wage 💰, and give the mundane, unfulfilling jobs to the Robots and AI 🤖.
Join me here tomorrow, Monday 27 March 2023 at 12 midday where I will be answering your questions for 1 hour only. I can't wait to see you 👋. Post away your questions now!
Thank you to the Moderators who are accommodating this AMA

I have a Surly Wednesday with their sliding rear dropouts.
At the moment it's set up as a singlespeed with 29x2.6 tyres. All is good except that it's quite challenging trying to ensure that the wheel is 100% centered in the droput - it's right at the end of the dropout too, but I'm content with the amount of contact that the 'nut' makes with the dropout on the DS. If the wheel is not bang-on centered then I get horrendous disc rotor rub.
On another frame, also SS, I have a DT Swiss RWS lever action axle. It just seems to make centering the wheel easier as I can get it to 80% of the 'closing torque' and then wedge the wheel rearward to get the chain tensioned.
I can see that there's a Rockshox Maxle rear axle that would fit my Wednesday, but to work it needs a nut on the opposite side (and being for a threaded frame it doesn't come with a nut).
The 12mmx1.75 thread pitch does not seem to be common. 12x1.5 yes, but not 1.75. I'm struggling to find a 12mmx1.75 pitch nut.
Does anyone know of one? If so, please tell me who makes it/where I can source it from. Thanks in advance.

I recently turned 30, £2.5K left of student loan to pay off until I’m officially debt free and working a corporate job.
I am single, childless, renting and looking forward to retiring lol.
I’m starting my financial journey from scratch, savings wise after some family issues and I’m excited to really go at it like before with savings, investments etc.
I would love to be married/find a SO, be a homeowner, maybe have 1-2 kids (I’d love a girl) and give them the best life (private school, great opportunities etc). Then retire somewhere in Europe (Italy, Switzerland) or Latin America.
What are your plans?
I’m not sure if I’ll live that real housewives lavish life but I’ll do the best I can for myself.