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A collection of some classic Lemmy memes for your enjoyment
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Ah, I miss it. Just me, an offset serrated knife, a bag of onions the size of a child, a slippery floor, a nearby open flame, music that hurts my ears... And not an email in sight.
I loved cooking in a professional kitchen. The job itself was great. Some of the coworkers were all over the place, but I fucking loved the good ones.
And there's something immensely satisfying about the teamwork behind turning a bunch of raw ingredients into multiple delicious meals, perfectly timed out with each dish hitting the table at the right moment. (The frustration of a kitchen that isn't doing this is a separate story.)
But the industry itself has so much toxicity. Bad managers, bad owners. Substance abuse problems. And the real reason I left wasn't actually the bad pay. It was the miserable hours. I was always a night owl but I couldn't deal with the isolating separation from my family and non-industry friends from working nights, weekends, and holidays when everyone else was building memories and reinforcing bonds.
I don't miss it at all. Physically I was busy enough, but it was excruciatingly boring.
That applied to my work, but I imagine that building, landscaping and other trades that require actual skill can be engaging, if one chooses to learn an improve.
It was just because jello was new and exciting so they tried to use it everywhere. Kinda like how everything is Flamin' Hot or Extra Sour these days.
So. Much. Hot. Honey. Lately.
It is everywhere.
The reason the workplace death rate for men is 100x that of women is because they are most certainly not doing "fuck all".
We're not talking about an average man. We're talking about a man whose wife puts unholy things in jelly. There is something wrong with that man.
Or it could just have been the benzos
8 hour workday of doing fuck all
I'm not going to argue in favor of 50s gender roles, but ~~fuck off~~ c'mon.
I've worked with many many people this decade that got paid more than me to do literally fuck all for the whole shift and got approved for overtime more frequently where they continued to be absolutely useless but they kissed the correct asses and sucked the right toes.
Are you describing cops?
Maybe it's just the kind of people I work with, but I know very few who wouldn't prefer to be stay at home parents, given the option.
Pretty much nobody in my friend group (and we're all parents) would prefer to be a stay at home parent. Personally, that's a bad fit for me, my skill sets, and my preferences. I'd be miserable and bored, and feel that it would be a waste of the things I'm good at. My wife would feel the same way in that kind of caretaker role.
Like, I think if we won the lottery and didn't have to work to maintain our lifestyles, we'd still send our kids to school and camps and things like that to get them out of the house and socializing with other people, while we'd probably still choose to work in some capacity, for some kind of public interest or passion project we'd do for reasons other than the money.
Staying at home with kids just doesn't sound appealing as a day to day routine. I like my weekends with them, but I also like that we use the time to catch up, too.
I’d kill to be at home with my kids instead of working.
I think that's true of many people.
But I suspect that the numbers are pretty evenly split between "would thrive in either role," "would be miserable in either role," "would much prefer being in the paid workforce," and "would much prefer being a stay at home parent."
My wife and I are squarely in the "would much prefer being in the paid workforce," because we like our jobs, and because we want our children in an organized school environment (and paying for after care is fine for them and for us). Most of our social circle are in the same boat. But most of us are mid-career white collar professionals and have better than average flexibility over work hours and location (at perhaps the cost of a blurred boundary between work and home). So our jobs are easier to balance with parenting.
On the flip side, home situation matters a lot, too. How much you enjoy different types of household work (cooking, cleaning, home improvement/maintenance), different functions of a caretaker (feeding kids, scheduling out activities, being that first line as an educator or first aid or driver, etc.), how well your hobbies and interests fit into a lifestyle as a full time caretaker, etc.
One of my friends gave up his main career to take care of his kids, but now that they're in school he went back to personal training at a gym. He lines up clients and is only available for sessions between school dropoff and pickup (10am to 2pm). It's a good intermediate holding pattern for him, and he'll likely go back to his main white collar career once his kids are old enough to be latchkey kids. That being said, I know he wasn't super happy not working outside of the home, and this personal trainer thing has him in a much better spot than when his kids were too young for school.
Well, yeah. Most people would much rather spend their time and energy taking care of their children than laboring away for someone else's profit. They may not phrase it like that, but raising children is far more self-fulfilling than working a job could ever be for most people. I imagine in most cases, people prefer tons of hard work raising a child when compared to working the easy cozy job, because at the end of the day the job is just a means to an end.
The first time I had Thanksgiving with my first wife's family, one of the dishes was blackberry jello with green grapes in it. I was never a big jello fan, but I took some of everything to be polite. I put a fork full in my mouth, bit down, and thought "oh no, something is rancid!" The texture was wrong, too. I was just going to spit it into my napkin when I realized it wasn't rancid, but it took a moment for me to place the flavor. It was a green olive.
That should have been a warning that there was something wrong with that family.
I just read it like you bit down on the fork and now my front teeth hurt.
Ugh, sorry!
workday of doing fuck all
Oh fuck right off with this bullshit. I suppose you think the attractive secretary's remarkable physique as exposed by their tight cardigan is just going to ogle itself? Presumably by the same magical fairytale critter that smokes all those cigarettes while knocking back a liquid lunch? And I suppose this wonderful creature takes care of water-cooler conversation as well, recounting golfing bon-mots, making sexist jokes and espousing low-grade racism while the man just does "nothing"? Get a grip.
Hi, I'm here for the job interview.
The real reason behind all the gelatin salad abominations is that after gelatin was first discovered/isolated, it was very costly to produce, but new technology made it much more affordable.
Isolating gelatin requires long cook times (which require lots of fuel) at ideally fairly low temperatures. Then there needs to be some level of filtration to make it as flavorless as possible, and then dehydration to sheets or a powder.
Finally, to actually make one of these "salads", you need refrigeration.
Production of gelatin was industrialized to make it much cheaper, and refrigerators became normal household appliances. You went from gelatin being only really used in "fine dining" to something you could do at home. In the same era, pineapple went from being a fruit that only the rich could get to something anyone could, so it went through a similar explosion of popularity.
The alternative funny answer is that the company that sold gelatin, Knox, was run by a husband and wife, and all the crazy stuff didn't start until the husband died, so either he was holding her back, or once she lost her husband, she thought everyone else should, too.
Grief does weird things to a person. Some mourn their entire lives, some force other people to eat gelatinous creations. So sad.
Are you saying this wasn't cooked up by a pure well-meaning heart?
I mean.. I'd try it. I might not like it, but I'll give it a go.
The exclamation marks in "Surprise!" evoke the same energy as "Oops! All Berries," like you're biting into a "salad" and discovering it's Oops! All Mayonnaise.