I don’t think a stereotype can ever be constructive because it will always involve the need to be restrictive and limiting in order to be a stereotype.

I guess we need to question who benefits from the constructive stereotype.

“drivers can’t see you” is constrictive for pedestrians, and also drivers, but it’s not constrictive to the graffiti tagger who is trying to go unseen by passing cars (not that a tagger is being constructive in the first place)

Nah, I’m just a person with leaky tits.

You do anyway without piercings.

The nipple isn’t technically one hole, it’s kind of like a porous sponge. After all, mammary glands are just mutated sweat glands, it’s a series of holes connected to a series of ducts.

So a lot of people find when lactating that it can spurt in crazy directions from unexpected parts of the nipple.

The number of times I find myself plugging the iron in behind the TV and then holding an old Amazon box against the wall and juggling my pants while I iron because I’m in a rush and that’s the available outlet plug and space.

The first pride was pretty wrathful.

The female condom has two rigid rings, one in the sealed end that sits under the cervix, and one at the open end.

The ring at the open end is designed to hold the condom open and give the penetrating partner a nice big safe target to make sure the penis/toy/whatever goes inside the condom and not accidentally between the condom and the vaginal wall. This ring also provides some minor protection to parts of the vulva due to its size.

The internal ring is much smaller by comparison, and is not that much larger than a diva cup. The internal ring of a female condom is a similar size to a “soft cup” menstrual cup, it’s a little bit smaller than a contraceptive diaphragm.

Yeah, nah, Tamworth. We have our own branches of country music down here mate.

Blak Country is a seriously cool branch to explore if you’re curious about how Australia has interpreted US country music into a localised sub-genre. Swap your mouth organs for a gum leaf and add some yidaki riffs for extra bass.

On the point of driving whilst stoned. Confidence comes with experience

I can definitely understand what you mean by this, but I think a certain level of confidence also comes from tolerance.

I don’t drive at all, so can’t weigh in on that, but I cycle everywhere, and in my youth I would have never considered cycling while stoned, too risky, too dangerous, not fair or safe to others using the paths.

When I started smoking, I stuck by that statement, I’d give it a full 12+ hours between my last smoke and getting on the bike.

But just like your example, 12 hours became 8 hours, became 4 hours, and so on, where now I might have an smoke and 40 minutes later get on my bike to go somewhere.

But then I take a T break, and I pick up a new bag, and I have my first hit in a month or two, and I sit with that high for a while and think to myself “fuck no, I absolutely will not be getting on the bike any time soon, this tiny toke is too much to cycle on”

Then I’ll smoke heavily for the next month, and by the end of the month, my tolerance has increased, and I’m back to riding my bike while stoned (or rather, buzzed, because I’m just not capable of getting as high)

Do I feel guilty for these decisions because I know it’s a big risk? Yes. Do I keep doing it? Also yes.

But now that I’m in discussions with my doctor about medical dosing, it has raised a very important question - if I use medical marijuana to manage my chronic illness (the one that renders me medically unfit to drive) is the ethical and legal obligation of that treatment plan that I can never ride my bike again? I must always walk or take the bus? The same does not apply for people who use opiate based pain relief or therapeutic ketamine. They are warned not to drive if the meds make them impaired, but ultimately it’s their judgement to decide what is “impaired”. It will only be externally questioned if there is an accident or a near miss. If I am assessing my level of impairment before I ride stoned, how can I best ensure my capacity to ride in those moments?

Also answering OPs question, I think this applies to a lot of hobbies, but I notice it a lot as someone who likes to sew my own clothes - the pressure from others to constantly get better, try harder, and keep building those skills.

I do my hobby because it’s fun, sometimes it’s fun to learn new things about it, but sometimes I just want to stick with what I know and play in my comfort zone.

My dad will often look at things I’ve made this year and say “you made something almost identical 5 years ago, and your stitches are still skew wiff, haven’t you learned to blah blah yet?” because his expectation is that I will get better and better with every passing moment as I practice my hobby.

Similarly, people will tell me that I have “clearly got the skills to make xyz” and I should “challenge” myself. And sometimes I will, but most of the time I retreat to my hobbies because I don’t have to challenge myself if I don’t want to. I like my hobbies to be no pressure (I go to the gym to push myself, I go to my craft corner to relax)

You are allowed to dabble, fool around, play, and have fun with a hobby. You are allowed to decide that “getting better” isn’t the goal.

But it seems others will always question this, or suggest you somehow aren’t doing the hobby right, or enthusiastic enough about it if you’re only ever doing it on a surface level.

Just today, I managed to get hold of a second hand overlocker, I’m really excited to make things with it, and my co-worker who also sews said “oh that’s awesome, the quality of clothes you’re going to pull off now that you can surge! I can’t wait for the fashion show”. She meant that in the most positive way, and I know what she was trying to say so I thanked her and promised her to show her what I was making, but part of me definitely heard “if the quality of your final product doesn’t improve as a result of this, you’re bad at this hobby, now you have no excuse not to be better than you were before” even though she meant nothing of the sort, and a lot of that was internalised shame because of previous discussions with people who were genuinely questioning my lack of improvement.

I would already be living in a vehicle, but I can’t drive (low vision) so it’s never going to be an option for me.

About 10 years ago I was looking into bike towed campers as a security plan for an unstable housing situation, only to learn they are illegal to tow in my country. You can own one, sleep in one, and tow it on private property, but to move it from one property to another legally I’d need to pay someone with a car to put it in a car trailer, then unload my camper at the destination.

The sauce packet is usually kecap manis, it’s an Indonesian sweet soy, so your guess was pretty accurate.

I also hate cooking, but I’m broke and vegetarian.

1lbs of dried chick peas goes in my housemates pressure cooker on Sunday, and 12 servings of chickpeas gets scooped into ziplock bags and thrown in the fridge and freezer for the rest of the week.

On top of rice with a bag of microwave steam veg, stirred into a premade curry, blended and served on top of pasta like a weird hummus alfredo, thrown into a Quesadilla (side note, what’s a Quesadilla without cheese called?), smashed on top of toast and covered in whatever condiment I have. Or more realistically, I toss some salt in the zip lock bag and just eat out of the bag with a spoon while staring into the fridge wondering what I’m going to make for dinner, before grabbing a slightly limp carrot and an almost empty jar of peanut butter I left out instead of throwing away and telling myself “this is a balanced choice, protein, carbs, fats, a vegetable…”

Rice gets a similar treatment to the chickpeas, a big batch in the rice cooker on Sunday, divvied up and frozen for quick and cheap rice during the week without having to cook it from scratch after work. We don’t have “minute rice” or parboiled rice in my country, and the “microwave pouch” rice doesn’t fit in my budget.

“body type” has always been a general term to express the entire shape, size and proportions of a person, including excess weight and obesity.

When I was obese I couldn’t pull off crop tops because of my body size, it was incredibly unflattering, and now that I’m a healthy weight I still can’t pull off crop tops because of my body proportions, I have a short torso.

Body type encompasses both scenarios, so it’s often thought of as a polite way to tell someone something is unflattering without singling out specific “flaws” in their body.

Unless they help you

The title of this article really confused me because I’ve never hard of this company before.

I thought ol’ mate migaloo (the albino Humpback whale) was swimming around fucking up super superyachts.

I’m not exactly super rich from med bills right now, but being physically well enough to do normal stuff would be a pretty bittersweet miracle.

Oh to just be told “it’s terminal, you’ve got 6 months, good news, you’ll have a surge of health before the end”

It’s not what I would hope for from my life, but it sounds nice to finally be able to just, stop.

No more chasing down GPs for refferals, no more calling specialists asking if they’ve sent over results and reports. No more weekly appointments trying to find the right medication. Most more confusion over “is this symptom something new that’s unrelated? Or Is it related? Will it be temporary? Is this symptom my new normal? Wait, is this a drug side effect?”

No more fighting with council to get ramp access to my house, no more stressing over how I will ever be able to afford the home care I’ll need for the extended duration I’ll need it on the income my disability limits me to.

No more looking at my mother and my auntie’s as they slowly crumble, while still being expected to suck it up and bear the responsibilities they always have. No more seeing the long, deteriorating future ahead of me reflected by my loved ones.

No more “oh, you’re chronically ill? have you tried drinking water and doing yoga?”

No more “you don’t look sick”

I’ve only got 6 months to have to put up with any of this, and then I’m gone.

I’d prefer to be alive, but I wouldn’t be upset at the universe if that’s the hand I was dealt.

6 months is a good time frame. Certainly beats getting hit by a bus tomorrow - who would look after me cat?

Yup, that’s what the meds are called.

The only reason I’d ever use a brand name is if I genuinely need a specific brand (I have allergies so there are some brands I can’t have because of the inactive ingredients they use) or if I physically can’t pronounce the generic name.

Diclofenac is a prime example. No matter how many times I study the word and practice, I can’t stop myself from saying “dick flen ick” when I get to the chemist. Which is just so wrong. So I ask for “the generic Voltaren”

But I’m also just as likely to ask for a drug by its class if I can’t pronounce the name.

Eg: the beta blockers I used to be on, I’d have to think really, really hard to say “Propranolol” because otherwise I’d end up accidentally saying “propofol”. Not too big of a deal because obviously If I’m picking up a prescription for Propranolol and I ask for propofol the pharmacist is just going to chuckle and correct me. But to avoid it I’d just say “I’m here to pick up a my beta blocker script for, [name] [birthdate]”.

This is a case where the brand name actually unites understanding of a drug whose chemical name differs by location.

Except we don’t have Tylenol in most countries where it’s called paracetamol.

We have Panadol, Panamax, Calpol, Herron and Hedanol.

If it wasn’t for ER, Scrubs, Greys Anatomy and a bunch of other American media, I’d have no idea that Tylenol and acetaminophen are the same thing as Panadol and paracetamol.

Standard Tylenol and standard Panadol are different dosages too. Regular strength Tylenol is 325mg, standard Panadol (and every other paracetamol brand I’ve seen for adults) is 500mg, which is the “extra strength” of Tylenol.

I had two email addresses throughout all of highschool. The one I gave to adults if they asked, firstname-lastname@, and the one I used to sign into msn and give to all my friends… I forget the exact address but it was definitely along the lines of “hotpants-sexi.kitty.87@”

The former is still my primary email. The other one is sitting abandoned since I was 17 and smart enough to realise what a stupid idea it was, but I never deleted it and I can’t even remember it.

There are dozens of us! Dozens!

My education background is nursing and social work. I’ve only ever used Windows and very surface level. I’ve never programmed anything, the closest I’ve gotten to anything technical is troubleshooting a game that I’ve modded to within an inch of its life.

Though I’m picking up an old laptop from a school surplus next Monday to wipe and begin exploring Linux. My only other experience with Linux is the interface of my housemates NAS (which I use only to manage a plex and valheim server)

I’m an IT tutor in a community centre - basically just teaching grandma how to close all her iPhone apps. No experience or formal qualifications needed. If you can be patient while showing seniors the basics of the devices they’ve got at home, you’re hired.

Our organisation currently pays too much for an IT managed service provider, who doesn’t provide a comprehensively managed service, so my boss wants to end their contact and hire me as a dedicated IT management officer. My boss is 75 and is confident in my abilities because she thinks power cycling the router when the internet goes out is an amazing and high level skill, but I know enough to know how much I don’t know. But I also know I can learn.

So maybe in a year or so I’ll understand more of the jokes on lemmy.

I find your situation just as sucky, sometimes I find dry heaving is worth because there is no end, at least if I’m bringing something up there is an end in sight.

Unfortunately and fortunately I’m not American, we don’t really have anything like the Mayo clinic, but at least my doctors and specialist appointments have all been less than $500 out of pocket every time.