Roblox t shirt png

I've noticed that romantic looks tend to have lighter fabrics, skirts, and dresses. I live in Michigan in the US and 6 months out of the year it is pretty cold outside. What do you guys like wearing in the winter? I usually wear cardigans/t-shirt or sweaters. For sweaters I like the cuddl duds brand because the sweaters can be slimming IMO. It's more functional than cute though. Has anyone accomplished a good R look for winter that keep you warm?

I have severe social anxiety disorder, and lately I’ve noticed it’s gotten worse within the past couple months. Now I’ve noticed that every time I get panicky, I get this weird like red and blotchy rash on my chest and on my stomach. I don’t think it’s hives, because it’s not like bumpy or anything like that, my skin just gets all red, and it’s really noticeable which just makes me more anxious. Most of the time it happens when I’m in social situations but sometimes it’ll happen even when I’m by myself and I get anxious about something, so I know it’s definitely due to my anxiety and it’s not like an allergic reaction or anything like that. I legit can’t even wear tank tops or short sleeve shirts because of it and everyone thinks I’m like super depressed or something cause it’s the middle of the summer and i always wear hoodies and long sleeve shirts because i know my skin is gonna get all red. Just wondering if anyone else experiences something similar and if there’s some way to help combat this shit?

I'M KINDA WONDERING WHAT I SHOULD PACK FOR SHAD SO:
(THIS MIGHT SEEM WEIRD BUT I REALLY DON'T WANNA BE THE ONE THAT WAYYY OVERPACKS OR WAYYY UNDERPACKS)
For Shad alums, is there anything you packed for SHAD that you wished you'd just left at home? Or anything you didn't pack that you wished you'd packed?
ALSO I got a brief packing list for Shad with things I should bring, but I don't really know exactly how much (like how many t-shirts, shorts, other clothing, pocket money, etc).
LASTLY in terms of bags/suitcases, how many should I pack (also how big should they be)
TYYY

Background Currently one calendar year down, and my (F27) 12th cycle trying. I had called our local fertility clinic in the middle of my 11th cycle, because I had heard that it can take many months before getting an appointment. The clinic was able to get us in very quickly, so I figured we would start the process a tad bit early. We don’t need any referral, insurance covers a good amount of fertility testing thankfully, and our clinic doesn’t have any strict rules on when you can start with them.
I have severe anxiety and have read and watched nearly every single HSG related thing I could find.
HSG Experience So to start, the doctor we have already been meeting with for everything was out of town the week of my HSG, and I was seen by another RE from the clinic. The procedure was done at a neighboring radiology spot, by the RE from the fertility clinic. I prepped with a Xanax and 800mg of ibuprofen an hour before. I was more anxious about being anxious on the table than I was about the pain. They take me back to a tiny room with a couple of lockers and have me undress waist down, and put a gown on over my shirt and head to the X-ray room. It was an unfriendly room and I passed through the tiny room with all the computers and a tech. A different tech has me lay on the pad on the flat table with my feet on the corner awkwardly. I had a pillow under my head and focused on taking big deep breaths which helped a lot.
Doctor walks in, explains the first part is like a Pap smear, speculum goes in, he cleans my cervix. The speculum hurt more than I’m used to but not too bad. Then he tries to insert the catheter. I guess I have a small cervix opening so he had to use a different technique to get it in. This is where the pain starts and I’m ready to have everything ripped out of me. 7/10 pain.
Next, I assume is the dye portion(he didn’t tell me when this started) because I started to feel some more weird cramping, almost stinging feeling. And just like that the doctor says everything looks good and removes all the things from me. Relief from pain, but my legs feel a little wobbly.
The pain stayed a 7/10 throughout with some increases here and there, but like others have stated, it only took a few minutes and was all over. It was similar to a period cramp but a little more stinging and overall full feeling.
As I write this I’m 30 minutes post HSG with very mild cramping and ready for a nap from my Xanax.
I’m glad both tubes are clear, and my day 3 ultrasound was good. Now we see how my bloodwork and husband’s(34M) SA is at our follow up next week.

Throwaway since my friends know my main.
As most of us know (at least if you've been watching HBO), Succession finally came to an end. I think it's one of the best shows I've ever watched, as do my friends. Normally, we all get together to watch it.
We organised a Succession themed get together just for the finale. My friend Jack is letting us watch it on his big screen, some of the girls decided to make themed cocktails and we all decided that we would dress up really nice and make a night of it by having a group dinner and sitting down to watch the last episode ever. This meant there was a dress code for everyone to come in suits and everyone okayed the idea.
One of us, Marshall, decided to arrive in jeans and a t-shirt, completely going against the theme. I was a bit disheartened he didn't stick to theme but didn't let it show. I asked him why he wasn't wearing one in a lighthearted way and he said he didn't feel like putting on a suit and I was like fair enough and let it go. Later in the night, I joked that he was dressed like something season 1 Greg would wear and everyone laughed. Marshall didn't appreciate it and got quiet.
At the end of the night, he messaged me once he got home and said he felt like I singled him out and made fun of him. I apologised and said I thought it was just a joke and maybe he should have worn a suit instead to look like Kendall or literally anyone else. It was also a running joke during dinner that Amy dressed like Gerri since she has a similar haircut and brought fake glasses to commit to the bit. He left me on read so I was wondering if I was an asshole about it?

Help with ink transfer
I made a Coptic bound book as a gift for someone. The first 10 pages or so I used a typewriter to add some text. The rest of the pages (another 30-40) I left blank with the intention of adding more text later.
I’ve tried looking into heat transfer or some other transfer method to print using a standard printer and then transfer into the book but I can’t find much beyond t-shirt ink transfer info. Anyone have experience with this?
Anyone have any suggestions on how to transfer ink/text without taking the book apart? I’m hoping to avoid having to re-bind it by hand.
Thank you!

I’m trying to attach large feather boas to the back of a button up shirt for a doflamingo cosplay and I can’t for the life of me figure out how do it. I worry gluing them wouldn’t be secure enough, I’ve tried clipping and things of that nature but the boas are too large. Would sewing be my best bet? Any suggestions appreciated I can take pictures if needed

hello!! so for my sister's graduation im planning to make her yuta's graduation shirt and put her name instead, does anyone know where i can find the original picture of the shirt? like i've been trying to find just the picture but they're only on tshirts does anyone have the picture as like a file or possibly know where i could find one? thank you so much!

One of the storytelling tools that interests me most is the way creators will create characters who mirror each other, meaning that have similarities that invite the audience to compare or contrast them.
Stranger Things does this, too, but not as often as I expected. Then again, maybe I’m missing some, which is the point of this post.
Some examples of what I mean:
— In season one, Steve and Jonathan both turn up in Nancy’s bedroom, and it’s clearly so that we, the audience, can see how differently they behave. With Steve, Nancy keeps telling him not to do things—starting with climbing through the window—and he immediately does them anyway. He pushes and pushes until she finally has to lose her temper to get him to listen.
In contrast, Jonathan is so deferential, never pushing against boundaries that she hasn’t even established yet, that she actually sounds annoyed when she asks him to get into the bed (atop the covers) to make her feel safe.
— In season four, it’s clear that Jason and Sullivan mirror each other. Jason’s actions and choices come from the JV version of Sullivan’s playbook.
* Jason and Sullivan are both certain they know who is committing the murders in Hawkins, and are both wrong.
* Jason attacks the the members of Corroded Coffin/ Sullivan storms the Byers’ house
* Jason stands on the drummer’s hand, using pain and threat of injury to make him talk/ Sullivan straight up tortures Agent Wallace
And so on. Both are leaders, and I’m sorry to say this, Jason apologists, but I think the Duffers are making it clear that Jason could very easily grow up to be Sullivan.
— Jumping back to season one again, there’s a pair of characters who mirror each other, but I’m not sure why it’s there or what it’s supposed to mean. Near the beginning of episode two, we see Eleven try to take off her shirt, which freaks out the boys. Mike has to explain the meaning of privacy to her.
At the end of the episode, Nancy asks for privacy, then she does take off her shirt. Steve starts with his back turned and ends the scene facing her.
And to be honest, I’m not sure what effect that’s supposed to have on me as a viewer. To contrast the ages of the groups? To show a similarity between El and Nancy that is never paid off later in the series? Eleven doesn’t even know that taking off her shirt in this context is a big deal, while Nancy does and has to summon real courage to do it.
I’m interested to hear people’s thoughts.
— Finally, we have Billy and Will.
In season two, I thought they had such similar names because we were supposed to connect them somehow. But the only connection was that they were both members of the Our Dads Suck Club, and their fathers didn’t even suck in the same way.
In interviews, the Duffers said they’d originally had more story for Billy in S2, but had to push those elements into season three. Then, we see what they meant. Will and Billy were both snatched away by creatures of the Upside Down. Both of their bodies were taken over. Both were used to create and then spread monsters in our world.
Of course, their personalities couldn’t be more different. Billy is a violent rageaholic. Will is kind and passive. The only violent thing Will does in the show happens when the mind flayer is about to be expelled from his body and he tries to choke his mother. The only *kind* thing that Billy does happens when El reminds him of his mother’s love for him, and he throws off the mind flayer’s domination and sacrifices his life to protect Eleven’s.
By season three, they have much more connections between them. But like the contrast between Nancy and Eleven, I’m not sure if there’s a deliberate choice there with a specific meaning, or whether the Duffers are repeating story elements that feel powerful to them in the way they reuse “March 22” or the name Peter in S4. I mean, maybe these are just their personal obsessions.
Does anyone else have examples of characters or scenes that mirror each other? I have a couple of others that I left out because this is already too long.
If you can think of some, please drop them in the comments.

Nettie Peterson has known me at my best and at my worst, and after everything that's happened lately, I think I can finally say the same. I'm admittedly not very good at comforting her, though. I haven't had much practice, is all. Historically speaking, she's always been the one to take care of me. My introduction to earth was a confusing, horrifying time for me, and she had dealt with all of it. She'd handled every panic attack, brought me back from every low. When I woke up one night to a drilling pain in my stomach and blood soaking my panties, she managed to keep me calm while explaining that this would now happen every month.
What I'm saying is that the woman is insanely skilled.
Me, not so much. After we had gotten out of the cave, I tried to provide emotional support by petting her hair and talking soothingly. Seeing as I was also distressed, she was doing the same to me, so we were basically sitting on the beach holding each other. To the outside observer, we must have looked rather strange. I was relieved to finally get back to her house. We sat down in front of the TV and ate cupcakes. We have a special system for eating cupcakes. I peel off the frosting and give her rest. It's messy and I have to keep hand wipes nearby everytime, but it's how we do it. We both eat cupcakes whole when we're by ourselves, so it doesn't make much sense either, but when we share, it's always like this.
Once I was sure she was alright, I left her to go off to bed while I made my way back to the hotel, bracing myself for what I expected to be an extremely uncomfortable conversation.
The lobby was dim and quiet. The large, bright ceiling lights had been turned off with only a couple floor lamps illuminating the hall. I walked past the unmanned reception desk and up the stairs, then rapped my knuckles against the door to Frankie's room. After a couple seconds, he opened up. Upon meeting my gaze, he let out a soft gasp, but it wasn't followed by a smile this time. He made way for me to step inside, wordlessly, and I entered without breaking the silence. I sat down on the sofa where he joined me after placing a glass of coconut water in front of me.
For a beat, we both stared at the drink. I didn't take it.
"What you did felt really off earlier," I began. "You were trying to embarrass Nettie. If you were testing your boundaries, if you were trying to see how I'd react, you got your answer. Don't ever make me choose between you two. You'll lose."
"Yes," he said quietly.
"If you don't get along with Nettie, that's one thing. You don't need to. But she was needling you and you made a real effort to be cruel." I paused. "You act so strange sometimes. All bossy and cagey."
"Yes," he repeated, briefly falling silent as he worked away on his gum in slow, contemplative motions. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I did it. I wanted to unsettle her. It's not that I don't like her, she's fine, but at that moment, I simply loathed her. I couldn't tell you why. But I wish I'd kept quiet. I feel gross for spouting off like that."
"Then… why?"
"I don't know! There's this weird feeling, it comes over me and makes me remember stuff that's in the past… Then I get caught up and confused. I run my mouth, but I don't want to make you upset. I swear I won't do it again. I'll rein myself in."
"Will you? This doesn't seem right." I took a deep breath. "Frankie, I have no idea what you are. Even though you know everything about me."
"Not everything," he argued. "You never said a thing about what life was like where you're from. Or who you were before. Yes, that's not what this is about, but I'm just speaking technically."
"You shouldn't have to rely on technicalities to make a point."
"No. Look, I keep wondering what I'm even doing here. I like you a lot. But I haven't thought this through and by now, I'm scared to."
"Stop talking in riddles," I implored him.
He huffed out a chuckle. "I'd have to stop thinking in them first." Before he could add anything else, his phone started vibrating on the TV table. "Oh, dammit," he muttered. Shooting me an uncertain gaze, he reached out for it, his hand hovering above the screen. "Can I?"
"Sure." I let go of a long breath, snatched up the glass and leaned back in my seat as Frankie answered the call. I pick up on a woman's voice talking on the other end.
He kept glancing over at me almost sheepishly as he mumbled words of affirmation into the phone. "Yes… Yeah, I remember… Well, it's not a good time, but I'll do it. Bye." Dropping the device into his lap, he gave me a twist of the mouth. "That was Mae-Lynn. She works at—"
"The diner with you," I cut him off. "I do take note of the other staff there, for your information." I took a sip of my water. "Occasionally."
"I promised to do some shopping for her. She's come down with the flu. Store's closing soon, though, so I'll have to go now."
"Well, that's convenient."
"I was going to ask you to come along."
I agreed. Having lost track of the conversation, the drive was a grim, quiet affair. Frankie took us to one of the more expensive stores in the area, saying that he wanted to treat Mae-Lynn.
"Take a cart," I ordered, and once he had acquired one, I had him hold it still while I climbed inside. He regarded me with a bemused expression but refrained from commenting as he began to roll me down the aisles.
Grocery shopping at night is something else. Eighties music was playing over the radio at a low volume, but the otherwise quiet space made it sound decidedly louder. There was almost the hint of an echo. Safe for two of three singular, tired-looking individuals, Frankie and I were the only people in the store. I had nestled against the back of the cart, my head tipped back to watch Fran's face from below as his eyes roamed the shelves. Occasionally, he'd stop to check the list Mae-Lynn had texted him on his phone.
"If you want anything, speak up," he told me.
"I'm out of cereal," I said, just as we passed the respective aisle. He turned the cart back around, let me pick out a carton of cornflakes and took up walking again. After five minutes of stoically regarding him from my mobile vantage point, I piped up again. "Go back. Wrong ones."
"Well, which ones do you want? I'll get them, it's faster than pushing this thing around."
I shook my head. "No, no, I have to look at them. Go back."
He shook his head to himself but obediently maneuvered the cart back to the shelf with the breakfast items. I took my time picking out a different box, then settled back down.
"Happy?" Fran asked.
"Delighted."
After fifteen minutes, we were getting close to finishing Mae-Lynn's list. Frankie was starting to move towards the cash register, only for me to tug on his arm. "Turn back," I told him, holding up the box. "I don't want them after all. I need different ones."
He stifled a groan. "Sure, Sunshine." I let him roll me all the way back to the cereal aisle where I studied the colorful boxes intensely. "Nevermind," I said, turning back to him. "Let's go."
He started making his way over to the register again when I cleared my throat. "Actually, I think I might have another look."
"Are you kidding me?" he squeaked, only for me to hold his gaze with a smile. "You are," he choked out. "I oughta send you rolling right into that stack of cans."
"You wouldn't dare."
"Is that a challenge?" He glanced about himself, finding that we were alone. Then, he pushed the cart, and it swerved, sliding across the shiny floor. The thrill of the launch washed over me and I started laughing. He lunged for it, grabbing it just in time to prevent the collision.
"Do it again!" I demanded.
He indulged me, sending me swerving and spinning a couple more times. Eventually, he took a running start and pushed me down a long, empty aisle at a breakneck speed. The giggles died in my throat when, seemingly out of thin air, someone appeared at the end of the aisle. My jaw dropped and I reflexively gripped the sides of the cart to protect myself from the impending crash, but the person simply reached out and caught the cart by its edges. Within the blink of an eye, they had managed to steady it. My vehicle had come to a standstill. It all happened incredibly fast, and for a moment, I found myself unable to react. One of the other person's hands had come to rest over mine in the process. Still at a loss for words, I raised my head to meet their gaze.
Those eyes.
My heart, already thundering in my chest, dropped entirely into my stomach. There were pupils filling the void in that formerly uninterrupted pale vastness this time, but I recognized them either way. Seeing them sit in an actual face instead of behind a nondescript black mask was strange, but there was not a doubt in my mind. It was them.
The cultist had jarringly pleasant features that struck me as neither overtly feminine nor masculine. Their tawny skin had an almost bronze sheen to it and short locks of platinum blond hair stuck to their smooth forehead, slick with the same sweat that formed stains beneath the armpits of their light gray t-shirt.
It was like time stood still. The interaction could not have been longer than two seconds in total, but it felt like a full hour. From me staring at our linked hands, to locking eyes with them, to the cold, raw realization, it seemed to me as though forty minutes or more had gone by, followed by another twenty when I watched the crude smile forming on their lips. Their fingers clamped down on my own, and before I knew it, it had happened.
The lights in the store had changed color, taking on a dimmer, sickly green tint. The shelves around us had emptied and the gentle, melodic hum of the radio had been replaced by a deep, droning buzz of static. I was still sitting in the shopping cart, and the cultist was still leaning over me, but their expression had morphed into one of shocked disbelief. Seeing fear on the face of the person who'd stabbed me might have been a great satisfaction to me in any other situation, but right then and there, I was equally as terrified.
I had switched dimensions and was now alone with my attempted murderer.
The thought took a while to sink in, but the clearer it became, the more I felt the need to scream. And yet, not a sound left my lips. My own saliva had turned sour, filling my mouth with an acidic taste. Dread pooled in the pit of my stomach like icy, chilled water and tears were stringing the corners of my eyes. I blinked them away in a hurry, redirecting my gaze at the cultist. They were staring past me in a daze, taking in our changed surroundings before fixing me with a sharp glare.
"Seriously?"
"What?" The word somehow slipped past the lump in my throat.
The cultist made a sweeping gesture at our surroundings. "Where are we? What the hell is this? You don't even have your dimension hopping under control? Not gonna lie, I had higher expectations of you."
"What?" I repeated eloquently.
"You just switched dimensions on my ass. And seeing as you literally crashed into me, I don't think you planned on doing that."
"I didn't," I confirmed.
"That's what I'm talking about."
"You know about dimensions?"
The cultist palmed their face, emitting a deep, low groan. "Clearly."
I scrambled back in the cart, trying to bring some distance between the two of us. I bared my teeth at them, both rows elongating and curving outward. At least I was getting the hang of my physical transformation. "If you come any closer, I'll rip your hand off," I hissed, spittle flying out between my fangs.
"I believe you," they replied, narrowing their eyes at me. "I'm not gonna hurt you."
"That's hard for me to believe."
"Yes, sure. I did and I would again, but not here. Not now. You understand?" they asked pointedly, their voice cutting like a razor blade.
"I'm not sure I do."
"Well, without you, I won't get out of here, and I've stuff to do on the other side." They stepped behind the cart and grabbed onto the handle.
I hastily twisted around to face them. "You know about the finer details of dimension hopping but you can't do it yourself?"
They let out a soft sigh as they began pushing the cart, with me inside, down the empty aisle. "I managed to do it once. Just once. Never again. It's not a great surprise to me that you should be able to switch to the other sides, but I'd thought you'd be able to control it. I think I have your number. I'm pretty sure I know what you are, and we have more in common than you could have probably guessed. That boy you were with on the other hand… I won't lie, he freaks me out. He's got the strangest face and he didn't react to my eyes at all."
"What are you?" I queried, quick to steer him away from the topic of Frankie Preston even though I didn't really expect an honest answer. "How'd you do that the other night? Your… your eye thing?"
"That unsettled you, didn't it? It's not anything I do per se." They shrugged leisurely. "I could just as well ask you where you're hiding your tentacles."
"So you're not human. I didn't think you were," I stated. "What's your business with the Collective? What are you after? Are any of you normal people?"
"As far as I know, I'm the only one who's not." They steered the cart around the corner with a swift, forcible yank and I bumped painfully against the side of the cart. Stifling a yelp, I kept my face straight, looking over the shelves as we passed them. I noticed that some of them weren't entirely empty—there were a couple jars, cans and bags of various goods standing scattered throughout. They looked almost lonely. The cultist, registering my wandering gaze, stopped and grabbed a random plastic jar that looked like it could be containing peanut butter or something of the sort. The label was faded and partially peeled off. They inspected it from all sides before thrusting it into my hands. "Here, open it," they commanded.
"I certainly won't," I replied, a mix of rage and apprehension bubbling in my chest.
"Aren't you curious?"
"No. But if you are, go on and open it yourself."
They grunted, grabbing the jar and unscrewing the red lid. They dropped it to the floor where it bounced off once and rolled away into the darkness. Peering in, their expression remained unchanged. "Nothing. Look." They held it out to me and sure enough, it was empty. I let them hand it to me, intrigue winning me over as I started examining the small container. It was completely unremarkable. I reached two of my fingers inside only for the digits to suddenly be stricken with a searing pain. It flashed through my bones like lightning and I cried out, withdrawing my hand. Suddenly, the floor seemed to quiver. The lights in the store flickered, seeming startlingly bright for a split second only to turn dimly green once more. The cultist let out an involuntary shriek, staggering back before managing to steady themself as everything went back to its former solid state.
"What the fuck was that?" they wheezed.
"An earthquake?" I suggested, not quite knowing what else to say. My pulse was thrumming in my ears, hard enough to split my head in half. It took me a minute to regain a relative state of calm.
"An earthquake? In another dimension? You're messing with me."
"I don't know! Maybe it was… maybe I was nearly jumping back, I have no idea." I shook my head, ignoring the throbbing pain shooting through my temples. "I don't have it all figured out yet, but it's an emotional response. Whenever my flight instinct gets triggered, these dimension switches happen. It was the jar. The jar is painful inside."
"What do you mean?" they asked, eagerly reaching for the jar and sticking their pinky finger into it. They pulled it back out with a howl, letting the jar drop to the floor. "What the hell is up with this place?"
"How would I know?" I argued hotly.
"Yeah, well. Anyways." All of a sudden, their hand was in my hair, tugging on my braid. They yanked my head to the side, and before I could break out my tentacles or try to snap my jaws at them, I could feel their hot breath on my nape. A scream died in my throat, equal parts painful and shocked. My eyes burned, my vision swimming when the cultist dragged their teeth across my skin, leaving a trail of warm saliva. And then, fast and without mercy, they bit down.
The lights turned bright white. The static buzzing that had been hanging in the stale air changed to the familiar eighties music tunes. Squinting into the sudden brightness, the colors of the countless types of packaged products filling the shelves almost seemed to be screaming at me.
We were back.
The cultist disentangled themself, quickly stepping away from me. I looked up, still dazed, to see why. Frankie Preston had come up behind us, snatching the cart away from the other person and pulling it out of their reach. I immediately scrambled up to wrap my arms around him. "That's them," I breathed. "From the Collective."
"I know," he said tonelessly. His eyes, trained on the blonde, spelled murder. "You should get out of here," he added, addressing them. "The shelves here are rickety, they might fall on you."
The cultist's expression was a frozen mix of suppressed uncertainty and confusion. Still, they held the server's gaze. "You should maybe not… do anything stupid," they uttered, their voice almost equally as flat as his.
"I'm all about stupid."
"Then I guess I ought to leave. See you guys soon. It was a pleasure." They threw us a smile that was faker than Frankie's when he waited tables before marching off, leaving the two of us alone in the aisle.
"Are you alright?" Fran asked, running a hand over my mussed braid. "What happened? I'm so… one minute you were here and the next…"
"We switched dimensions."
"I pieced that together. You weren't gone for long… just a couple minutes." He nervously twisted his wet bubble gum around the tip of his finger, drawing nervous strings.
"Were you worried?"
"Out of my mind," he said in a low voice, not meeting my gaze. "I mean, I knew you'd be okay on your own, I wasn't saying that—"
"I wasn't. I'm not," I interrupted him. "I got out alright, sure I did, but I'm not okay right now." I swallowed. My throat was bone dry. "I need to call Mary Markov. She should hear about this."
Frankie nodded along. "Do you want me to do it for you? I'm certain I can give her an accurate description."
I declined and sat back in the cart. Per my request, Fran brought me home after we'd paid for everything. I needed some time alone to relax and pretend everything was normal. I cleaned my room and then looked through job listings, which I admittedly haven't done in a little while. When I couldn't find any other way to procrastinate, I made the call to Mary Markov, which went about as well as could be expected. She wants to see me tomorrow, though. I wish she'd told me about what. For a newsreader, she's really not very forward with her information.
X
1
2: deadbeat roommate
3: creepy crush
4: relocation
5: beach concert
6: First date
7: Temp work
8: roommate talk
9: a dismal worldview
10: warehouse
11: staircase
12: explanation
13: hurt
14: hospital
15: ocean
16: diner
17: government work
18: something in the caves

I hate that if I have a nice pair of shorts, pants, shirts, or anything that I am expected to wash it when I didn’t spill anything on it.
Why can’t I wear khakis twice in a row? I didn’t pee my pants! The obvious exception is gym clothes and undergarments.

Family member of multiple Alabama Jubilee committee members here!
I've seen a lot of comments about how inconvenient the ticket system at the Jubilee is. I just want to shed some light on why the event handles cash this way.
Often when multiple vendors are at an event and are able to take cash, the vendors will report fewer sales than are true. The ticket system is in place to eliminate that from the question. Tickets are useless to vendors, so in order to get their cut, vendors must turn in the tickets. This way all cash is handled by the committee.
Pro tip: Walk up and down the food trucks and figure out what you want. Then go buy your tickets for just enough to get what you decided on. Tickets can be bought individually on a 1:1 ratio to the dollar. You don't have to buy in full sheets or even multiples of 5.
This festival is NOT a profitable venture. All money collected goes to taxes and the next year's event (porta johns, event t-shirts, entertainment, pilots for next year, etc.)and helps keep entry to the event free. It is 100% run by volunteers as well. No workers are paid for their time there.
I grew up in North Alabama and loved the Jubilee as a child. It just so happened that I married into a family that is heavily involved in it as well. By participating in the ticket system, you do your part to keep this event free and in existence!

I used to DESPISE my body. I ran to the mirror and stripped maybe 4 times a day. Now I maybe lift up my shirt to check 3 times a week at best. And I’m much less preoccupied with how my legs look and stuff like that. I thought I was slowly improving. But now all of a sudden I am having the same horrid BDD experience all over with my face. Suddenly it’s the wrong shape, too fat, double chin, weird nose, too many spots, not enough detail. You name it, I’m insecure about it. But I never used to think my face was THAT bad. It’s like my brain has accepted my body isn’t that bad so now It needs to find something new. Is this happening to anyone else? Any tips?

Made this shirt to wear to the Little Mermaid tonight. Can’t wait to see the sea witch in action! My favorite Disney villain lol

Good Afternoon everyone, Hope you all had a great holiday weekend!! Clearing out clothing that just doesnt fit my style anymore and never get worn. Paypal invoice only!!
Tagged and timestamp Photo / pics of items - https://imgur.com/a/BC89fdD
N!KE Dunk Low Pandas - Size 13, fit tts. No Box. Worn a good amount of times. But still have a ton of life left. - $60 Shipped
N!KE Dunk Low Syracuse - Size 12, Fits tts. Comes with white laces. No box. Worn alot, Some scuffs on the right shoe. Still have a lot of life left. - $50 Shipped
Supr3m3 Scarface T-Shirt - Size XL. Great feeling blank, and the print is great. No cracking or rips. Worn twice, maybe once. - $30 Shipped
[email protected] Shorts - Size XL, would be best for a size 34-36. worn a fair bit. missing the drawstring. Just not my style anymore. They glow in the dark really nicely. - $60 Shipped
R3T@!L Supr3m3 F*** What you heard Long Sleeve Shirt - Size XL. Fits TTS. One of the first Supr3m3 pieces I bought. Just not really feeling it anymore. - $40 Shipped