ivanafterall ☑️ @ ivanafterall @lemmy.world

Posts

30

Comments

2,254

Joined

2 yr. ago

I'll start: there are three corners?

So cool, thanks for the info.

Where do you get your ideas from?

Are you calling Academy Award-winning actress Margot Robbie a liar!?

Stig-mater

Stigmastabata

I'd definitely consider John Dick's Hex

I'm also not qualified, but I do wonder whether releasing all that surface tension inside us would alleviate a lot of anxiety. I think yes.

Oh, snaaaaaap.

I just realized maybe you meant the relationship bit. I was in my mid-late 20s at the time. Was very religious, had gotten married very young, we moved to D.C. and I took a big-shot Capitol Hill job. Found out wife was cheating and found myself holding 99.99999% of the bag with two kids. While making ~$35k - $40k and working on fucking Capitol Hill/living in D.C.

Thankfully, the religiosity paid off at that point, as a coworker put out word at the church I attended and a very generous couple (mostly the woman) provided me with months of free full-time, in-home child-care. Really incredible and kind, even though I see them as pretty wacky, probably kinda hateful folks these days. Anyway, that bought me enough time to scramble to look at all my options. I didn't really have any good ones. But I realized if I could scrape enough together for an au pair, it might be barely sustainable. I went through the process and interviewed various au pairs. Settled on a 23 or 24-year-old schoolteacher with a Master's degree in Philology from Ukraine. An absurdly perfect choice to nanny my kids. As I think about it/type about it, it's just all so absurd, but yeah.

We exchanged e-mails, did Skype calls. Looking back, they were already way too friendly.

Then we hit a snag. After meticulous preparation, filling out/printing/reviewing every document, she traveled the 2-3 hours to Kyiv and met with the immigration official at the American consulate. Denied. Oh shit. I mean, really, oh shit. I'm on borrowed time now, and suddenly we're just told straight up, "No. Denied."

I believe we may have appealed once before I ultimately spoke about it with the member of the House of Representatives for whom I worked and by whom I was admittedly rather beloved, for better or worse. One problem being that the more you appeal/are denied, the less likely you are to get approved in the future. So it was all crumbling.

As an aside, my chosen pet issue at the time was Ukraine (this was maybe ~2014 or 2015?). After some research and e-mails and calls on my part, I eventually arranged/my boss agreed to a call with the ambassador to Ukraine to present my case. I used every power at my disposal (for better or worse) and I guess that worked, because she made it through on her next appeal.

Having gone through that trial together. Her being in her mid-20's. Me being her "host dad" in my late-20's and literally actively divorcing while raising my kids. She's stepping in to help, but in America for the first time. I mean, come on. What a joke. BUT I WAS A SAINT. I WAS A FUCKING SAINT. It was a few weeks(?) before anything actually happened and SHE FUCKING STARTED IT. But also it was never entirely conventional, looking back, as I'm pretty sure we finished a bottle of wine and slow-danced her first night there? The timeline is a little fuzzy.

It's a rollercoaster of a story that sounds potentially gross, potentially made-up, I don't know. It's weird to type it out. But that's the gist of it.

Sure, I actually posted it in response to another comment below:

I’m originally from the southeastern U.S., so…yeah…grew up pretty ignorant. Full-stop. We weren’t superstitious (unless you count faaar-right religious fundamentalism, young-earth creationism, Jack T. Chick, grown men sprinting laps and hollerin’ “in the spirit,” occasionally maybe waving a gun on stage as a sermon illustration, etc…).

Anyway, from my perspective, the greeting/joke was over. We got in the car. Now I find myself with a little bowl of salt in the car. Can’t exactly put it in the cupholder. It was like a tablespoon or two I poured from the container in my kitchen. It was salt. It came from somewhere down there in the earth, it’s not hurting anything. I dumped it. It didn’t even occur to me that someone could be offended. I would never do it, because why would I, but it’s like if I opened a little paper salt packet from McDonald’s a little too forcefully and it spilled and someone was like, “YOU FUCKING MOTHERFUCKER, HOW DARE YOU, DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU HAVE UNLEASHED.”

As an aside, once we were romantically involved a little while later, being the romantic that I sometimes ashamedly am, I one day picked some flowers for her on my very nature-y walk home from work. Tiger lillies. The next day, I came home and the whole house smelled like lillies, the windows were open, it was like a movie scene. Then she came up to me bleary-eyed and swollen-faced and sadly explained that lillies happened to be THE thing she was most-allergic to.

One of these days, I’ll figure out what went wrong in that relationship.

Agree so much. It always felt so try-hard and in-love with itself.

If only there were some other way to quickly dispose of all this cocaine...

I do feel like he kind of lost the thread, at some point.

The one where you do a totally horizontal plank, using only your erection for support/as a kickstand, is really bad for your flooring over the long-term, fyi.

I'm originally from the southeastern U.S., so...yeah...grew up pretty ignorant. Full-stop. We weren't superstitious (unless you count faaar-right religious fundamentalism, young-earth creationism, Jack T. Chick, grown men sprinting laps and hollerin' "in the spirit," occasionally maybe waving a gun on stage as a sermon illustration, etc...).

Anyway, from my perspective, the greeting/joke was over. We got in the car. Now I find myself with a little bowl of salt in the car. Can't exactly put it in the cupholder. It was like a tablespoon or two I poured from the container in my kitchen. It was salt. It came from somewhere down there in the earth, it's not hurting anything. I dumped it. It didn't even occur to me that someone could be offended. I would never do it, because why would I, but it's like if I opened a little paper salt packet from McDonald's a little too forcefully and it spilled and someone was like, "YOU FUCKING MOTHERFUCKER, HOW DARE YOU, DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU HAVE UNLEASHED."

As an aside, once we were romantically involved a little while later, being the romantic that I sometimes ashamedly am, I one day picked some flowers for her on my very nature-y walk home from work. Tiger lillies. The next day, I came home and the whole house smelled like lillies, the windows were open, it was like a movie scene. Then she came up to me bleary-eyed and swollen-faced and sadly explained that lillies happened to be THE thing she was most-allergic to.

One of these days, I'll figure out what went wrong in that relationship.

Fuck Tolga and his "only following orders" bullshit. Tolga made a choice. We all make a choice.

And they...enhance it? I'm an Oxford comma-loving pedant, that can't be right?

Then OP must die.

Aw, I can't help but be on his side.

When my ex first arrived in the U.S. (at the time as my au pair, long story), I greeted her with bread and salt, which is a Ukrainian/Slavic custom when welcoming guests. Just a little joke/nice gesture. I had the salt in a little ramekin. When we got in the car, I opened the driver's side door, and just dumped it all on the ground. Well, she was very superstitious (black cats, broken mirrors, all the classics) and apparently, spilling salt is considered a bad omen. So I assume knowingly dumping it on the ground isn't great. Then she screamed, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" and I think said some things in Ukrainian, etc... I froze, apologized, and learned something new.