Ay! Homie be eating the three food groups!

Mac n cheese, meats, chocolate. Don’t be hatin’, we all know that’s how you live life the best

Could be, could be. But even hitting the cervix is fornices does not feel good if you’re going hard

What’s more dubious is the ability of a penis you penetrate any of the relevant tissues without also suffering injury. Not that it isn’t possible, but no way are you going through the diaphragm with human strength, not without also doing serious damage to the penis they’re tough, but they aren’t jam-through-a-wall-of-muscle tough

Plus, past a fairly reasonable length, there’s a small chance it wouldn’t be hard enough. It’s already soft on the glans, the giving some cushion. Really big cocks can have trouble maintaining a truly hard erection. Not like it’s some kind of definite every time thing, but a cock that’s maybe 18 inches long, no way is it going to be fully self supporting. Even guys in the ten inch range get a little floppy at times.

So ramming that thing through even the cervix is dubious. Anal isn’t even a guarantee that the cock could tear through intestinal walls. That can happen, but it’s rare.

Yumminess?

I don’t actually keep snakes because I’ve never had a living situation that I felt was healthy for them until after I no longer felt I could handle them to my standards. But I love the little buggers. The big buggers too lol.

Snakes don’t really have friends. They have friendly associates. They come to trust people, and as long as you respect that they aren’t social creatures, can be quite companionable despite not really having friends. Mutual respect and trust go a long way towards serving the same role as affection.

They can even enjoy human company. It’s just that the same kind of bond you get with social creatures isn’t there. It’s like the difference between a work buddy that you get along great with, but have no interest in outside of work; and someone that you have a deep connection to. Snakes are work buddies.

If a snake is voluntarily climbing around your neck, it ain’t going to choke you unless something weird happens. Usually, if it’s well socialized, you can pick it up and put it there, and nothing will happen. But you do run into snakes that aren’t used to being handled like that, or aren’t familiar with someone getting scared and reacting. But they still aren’t trying to kill you, they’re just reacting to fear. Kinda like if you run up to a stranger and grab them from behind. Most of the time, you’ll just get “hissed” at (which snakes don’t really do in this situation), but every now and then you get slapped.

People talk to them because people like talking to animals. It’s a monkey thing. I talk to my chickens all the time. They maybe understand ten words, but they like being talked to for whatever reason. Snakes aren’t as into being talked to, nor are other reptiles. But they tend to recognize a calm demeanor as non threatening, and may be soothed by a steady voice. But there’s plenty that could care less what we monkeys chatter about.

People that keep them have any number of reasons for doing so. But what I like about snakes is that they’re no bullshit. They’re gonna snake, all day every day. They feel nice to the touch, and sometimes enjoy being touched, and will give you plenty of warning if they aren’t in the mood. They’re also gorgeous.

I still vividly recall my first real exposure to a snake. Some guy went around local schools with exotic, but “safe” animals. And they must have been because nobody ever had any problems with his critters

But he had a massive snake. I can’t recall what kind it was. Boa or python, I’m not even sure of that, much less what kind. But this big ol’ gal was bigger around than my arm now and I used to lift regularly. She was cool to the touch, and curious about us little baby apes. She’d sniff with her tongue, and move her head to look at whatever kid was closest. You had to be super good to be one of the kids holding her while the guy talked about her, but if you were, and you were at the head, she was prone to hiding her head under arms. Which tickled, but was just awesome.

He had smaller snakes too, and those were almost as chill as that big one. I had one crawl up my sleeve once. It worked it’s way across my shoulders and pokes its head out of my collar. The guy was worried, but I was grooving on it, so the snake just stayed there until the end of the thing.

I dunno if schools would allow that kind of thing nowadays though. Which, as an aside, he didn’t just bring snakes, it was all kinds of critters; spiders, turtles (terrapins), scorpions, hissing cockroaches, mantises, all kinds of stuff. not all of that was handled by students obviously. But he always had snakes, and they were all super relaxed around kids.

Like I said, the only reason I don’t have one is that I couldn’t provide a healthy and optimal environment for a snake. I made the mistake years and years ago of trying to take care of an iguana. This house doesn’t have the space needed for a proper enclosure, so I ended up passing the iguana to a guy that was super dedicated to reptiles. Nowadays, I couldn’t do the work involved anyway, even if I had the room. Chickens are hard enough

If you actually live in those temp ranges, you’re fucked either way. Modern technology is what makes those ranges bearable.

That being said, I can bundle up pretty easy compared to mitigating heat.

I’m not sure I’d be willing to give a black person grief for taking pride in black people having squeezed out a different form of servitude and done well at the job though.

Like, yeah, the imperialism and the consequent horror of that can’t be ignored, but black folks as soldiers in that era were still under the boot too.

So, that specific shirt sucks, but I ain’t mad at her wanting to connect with that past and find what little good existed in it

There’s two ways to look at tattoos for a family member. Well, two common ones.

One is that names are a very direct reminder, and thus make it a very visceral connection.

The other is that, as art, names don’t hold up well, so something symbolic is both prettier and carry meaning beyond what a name can.

Now, I don’t personally think that tattoos need to be art. They’re a very personal thing, and just getting them for other people to see defeats part of what I love about them (despite only having ever gotten two out of my entire plan).

A person’s name in a place like you’re thinking is wonderful. Subtle, personal, close to the heart, so you can’t go wrong.

However, if you wanted something fancier, that’s not too difficult to brainstorm. I’d look at stuff that reminds you of him as the first place to think about. Like, maybe a flower that reminds you of him, or a favorite toy he had/has as a baby out toddler.

But there’s really no limit to options.

Well, assuming Putin gets deposed, the other oligarchs removed from the mix, and everything caused by the war rolled back and made restitution for, I don’t doubt that Russia would be forgiven on the world stage. We all know that it’s a top-down problem for the most part

Usually, just mama. There’s a few nickname alternates that have piled up over the years, but mama sticks for whatever reason. She usually prefers it as well, so that works.

Strangely, my dad has two. Daddy and papa. I use them interchangeably, my sister sticks with daddy.

My kid calls their mom mommy or mom usually. Mommy when they’re tired for sure though lol.

The side benefit is that off leash training is a natural extension, which means she’ll be safer overall

Ah well, chicken town is running smoothly the last two weeks (last week’s auto post failed, and I didn’t realize until enough later it would have been weird).

With the kid on vacation out of town, the grunt work of keeping them has been split two ways instead of three. This has left a little bit less time and energy for the fun parts. However, the birds know no such limits and will have their fun regardless.

This means that big boy has been in rare form. Fewer indoor trips mean the outdoor visits are intense. He is torn between his croc fetish and wanting attention more than usual. Usually, the sweet call of squishy rubber wins out, but sometimes, he comes over for another kind of lovin.

He’ll kinda creep up, peck a shoe, or grab my pant leg. Then he’ll dance back a little and scream like a banshee, then dance forward again only to peck a shoe. This is his idea of sweetly asking to be picked up.

However! There’s something inside his chicken brain that can’t accept the reality of a giant predator leaning over him and grabbing. Dissonance occurs, he grobbles, which is a gobble that also groans, and scuttles away.

Repeat the cycle of dancing in and out, only to flee the monkey paws.

Eventually, he gets turned around, and I can grab him without being seen, and after an initial grobble or scream, he realizes it’s petting time, and gives his excited gobble. Pets ensue. Everyone involved is happy.

This, however, is absolutely scandalous behavior, and volunteer hen is having none of it! She sees it start, and begins scolding the two silly fools. Brraaaaak brk brk brk, brrraaaaak brk brk brk brk, as she waddles in a big circle far away from the absurdity going on. She becomes an animated version of “SMDH”, shaking her damn head. At times, the sheer affrontery of it all overcomes her, and she stomps off into the brush, or flaps up into a tree and does the chicken equivalent of mumbling grumpily to herself “these monkeys, that rooster, I swear by my dino-ancestors. No decency or sense at all. They are feather plucking insane, I tell you!”

Baby bird though is as entertained as possible. She watches the whole process and squawks and bawks encouragement. Well, she makes plenty of noise, amd I assume she is helping big boy gather his nerve.

Inside, baby bird has decided the entire couch is hers now. At first, the kid being absent for evening affairs annoyed her. A few days mellowed that into a realization that she can prance back and forth without impediment. And now she will gladly poop right on the pad where the kid usually sits, then berate one of us until it is gone. Yes, she has figured out that our role is to give her food on demand and move soiled pads. And give her food on demand. We aren’t allowed to forget that one.

But, eventually, she settles down to the normal little cuddle session followed by a nap next to me. Which is why we put up with all the poops.

I have a policy that I tend to follow. Mind you, it’s policy, not dogma, there’s exceptions and I’m not obligated to do shit.

But I come at every question with a few things in mind, if I intend to answer.

The one that’s relevant here is that it doesn’t matter if OP is trolling, reposting, posting bot generated questions, or is a bot themselves. Very little matters beyond whether or not I can say something.

Doesn’t have to be useful, though I hope it would rise to entertaining or humorous.

Why? Because fuck OP. It ain’t about them. It’s about the community. OP could be an llm bot, but other humans are scrolling by. Maybe one of those gets a laugh, or finds something helpful, or whatever.

If OP happens to be a human asking a real question, even better! But it isn’t necessary to be a contribution to the community.

There’s trolls on lemmy that are known to fuck around, and I’ll still respond to their posts if there’s a point. Who cares if they’re seeking some specific response or whatever? I don’t, I care about spending some time writing stuff and reading stuff.

I’m fine with posts that are “busy work”. The comment section is where all of the threadiverse really shines anyway. Same as reddit used to be. So the post is there to drive community activity, that’s a good thing.

Now fakey comments, that’s where shit can just go away.

Lmao!

My eighteenth birthday, two of my friends dragged me to Hooters. Three mile Island wings. Had a contest to see who would tap out first. It wasn’t even a close one lol.

And I was very pepper high. I was a shy kid, but I was flirting with this waitress like crazy, just having a great time while my one friend was sitting there trying not to throw up, and the other had this rictus of a grin plastered on his face, dripping sweat, trying to finish just one more wing.

It isn’t for everyone, but gods is it an intense experience. I keep being dumb and trying tricks to make my innards handle it. It keeps not working, but I really miss being able to just burn like that

Here’s a fact.

Even if he was, he’d still have a better platform than I’ve seen an nyc mayoral candidate put out in my lifetime

I tell the story fairly often, but not sure I have on lemmy.

Back in the day, my dad and mom would take me and my sister out for dinner maybe once or twice a month. It was usually a rotation of their and/or our favorite places. There was a dine-in only chinese place, a pizza hut, a steak house, all the usual kind of stuff you’d find in the eighties in small and medium sized towns.

But, one day, they decided to go to a newly built place. It wasn’t any distinctive “cuisine” at all. They did all kinds of stuff. Pizzas, burgers, diner food, “family style” dishes like meatloaf, etc.

But for whatever reason, one of their sandwiches was intriguingly named “the cannonball”.

It was basically similar to subway’s Italian sub. But it featured a thick layer of melty cheese and jalapenos.

I had never had jalapenos before. Now, I know that by the usual pepper fan standards, jalapenos are a starter level of heat. But for a ten-ish year old kid, those suckers are brutal.

But that’s the sandwich I decided I wanted. My mom and dad tried telling me it was going to be really hot. The waitress tried to talk me out of it because it was piled with jalapeno rings, with the seeds intact. My dad even said that if I couldn’t handle it, tough crap, I wouldn’t be getting anything else.

And yeah, all that made me both more curious and more stubborn. There was no way I wasn’t ordering it.

So it gets to the table, and I dig in. Tried one of the peppers by itself, and wasn’t bothered much. But as the meal progressed, I discovered that capsaicin builds over time.

I start getting red. Enough so that my parents and sister stop eating and just watch me. The waitress keeps finding excuses to see how the silly kid is handling it.

I start sweating, it’s dripping off my ears.

And around then, the high hits. Anyone that enjoys super spicy foods knows what that means. The endorphins are kicking in. I’m feeling all light and drifty, my mouth is on fire, but it’s delightful. I’m just grooving on the feeling, and the sandwich was yummy as well, so I’m sitting there just going at it, making happy sounds.

My mom thought I was faking so that I didn’t look like I’d made a bad choice, offers to order me something else. I get annoyed with that and told her no in a very forceful way.

But I sit there and finish every damn bite. I’m glowing, and blissful and have that full belly happiness as well.

I asked if we could come back tomorrow.

They had no idea what they had unleashed lol. I was never one of those folks that chases the hottest peppers or whatever, but I very much enjoyed spice after that, and would put cayenne or whatever we had into anything I cooked (which was mostly stuff like ramen at that age). For a long time, we kept a jar of jalapenos in the fridge, and my maternal grandparents kept some for me too.

Hot sausages as well! Gods, those things with that mouth watering vinegar bite and the spicy kick make me salivate still, and my guts stopped tolerating the peppers years ago.

I still love the experience of capsaicin heavy foods, but I can’t tolerate them any more.

Weird hill to climb, but it is definitely obscure enough to be unpopular ;)

I would argue that “best” is always subjective, so there’s no point in any discussion beyond that.

However, that’s no fun, so let’s play along. I don’t disagree with you, but I don’t agree either.

Milk as a chaser for foods is nothing new. Where it fails is as a palate cleanser. While it definitely will cut through most foods, it leaves its own taste behind, and coats the tongue by virtue of its own residue and saliva mixing.

That means that once you’ve taken that first sip, you don’t always get a full taste of anything eaten after that. Obviously, some foods will cut through the milk, but they have to, which changes the experience. That change in experience can be enjoyable, depending on exactly what the food is and what kind of experience you prefer.

As an example, hamburgers often have acidic condiments, produce a lot of fats in each bite (or should), and have lot of texture. So, with milk as a beverage, your between bite swig is going to be a reliable counter to the condiments lingering in the saliva and dulling future bites. Conversely, the textures of the meat easily clear the milk residue in your mouth as it delivers its own. So each bite and sip combo enhances the next.

That interplay may not be something every diner wants. They may prefer that the acidic components stay between bites. They may want the fatty unctuousness of a greasy burger to remain uncut by the fats of milk. But, it is definitely going to be a different and pronounced difference from water, sodas (where sweetness is similarly going to change how the burger is experienced) or things like iced tea.

Now, Doritos live and die by their coating. A plain tortilla chip is a flat, but pleasant experience. So what you dip them in is the real flavor you’ll get. Those flavor powders are designed to tickle all your flavor sensing taste buds at once, and intensely.

Milk is definitely strong enough to counter them. But, the flavor delivery system that is a Dorito lacks the ability to completely cut through the milk with a single chip. It takes multiple. This can be good or bad by preference, but it definitely changes how flavors are presented as you consume. The first chip after milk is going to be heavily subdued, and it will mix with the milk residue. It won’t be until the second or third that you get the full flavor back.

Again, preferences differ. But milk does mean that the experience of Doritos is more subdued. To have each chip deliver its full taste bomb each time, you need a palate cleanser that wipes most of the flavor powder’s residue while not leaving much of its own, or has one that’s complementary.

I think that’s why you enjoy Doritos and milk. The milk complements the umami fairly well, while providing a good wipe of the spices involved. You’ll end up with multiple cycles of tastes, which prevents the brain from getting fatigued by non stop intense flavors.

Now me, I prefer the experience with a fairly equal preference between water, iced tea, or a low hops beer. That’s where Doritos hit best on my palate.

But, a hamburger with milk? Hell yeah. Same with sloppy joes. Spaghetti would be a hell no with milk unless the sauce is really bad.

Milk gets underappreciated as a food adjacent beverage. It isn’t just for cookies and pb&js.

I got it :) made me smile.

Nobody share this to Sir Mix-a-lot!

Oh damn, I hear the music starting!

Oh, my God, Becky, look at that butt!

This whole image is metal as fuck \m/