Well, AuDHD is much more common than we realize, so yes.

Having no obligations so I can do whatever I want. Which would entail going for a walk, eating out, working on projects, etc.

In other words, nothing major, but just having time to myself.

Skiiiiiiiin!

It took me forever to get to a point where I feel comfortable not wearing foundation.

Haha, there is so much randomness on there. I have not cleaned it up in years.

13,102. That seems like a lot.

I don’t even pirate everything. Just horror movies. Still how I actually feel.

Replace “grad student” with “former catholic” and that’s my husband. Lots of deprogramming still needed on that one.

Does this mean academia is like the catholic church?

I highly doubt that, most knitted fast fashion is machine knitted because it is so much faster and more uniform. I do try to go for hand knitted stuff when I can ($$$) and then I hand wash it.

Edit: I should add that I hand wash it if it needs that. Acrylic yarn is fine in the machine, same with superwash yarn.

Yeah, I don’t do dry cleaning. You either survive the laundry gauntlet or you don’t.

The only thing I will hand wash are my knitted creations cause I put so much love and labor into them.

How dare you not be a constant source of snackies? I do believe that’s against the law.

It’s the same with dogs. Especially my Velcro puppy. She won’t leave my side.

I used to really dislike the color pink because I associated it with “air heads.” Then I grew up and realized it’s totally ok to like pink, and liking a color does not make you dumb. Judging people based on their color choice is kind dumb though.

I know this doesn’t really answer your question, but it felt relevant.

I have a dachshund and can confirm that the feet are accurate. At least that’s what they feel like under the covers at night.

This might be a controversial opinion, but learning how to relax has been the best thing I have done for myself as an AuDHD person (other than getting diagnosed and medicated for ADHD).

Finding activities that work for me (breathwork and movement; edit: also music) for switching from busy to relaxed and back was super important.

And learning how to recognize when I’m about to crash earlier and earlier so I can do something about it.

I also really like the concept of the dopamine dial, where you turn the intensity of dopamine-producing activities up or down depending on what you need.

There are guys out there who refuse to wash their own buttholes cause that’s “gay.”

Well, is it?

Is it safe to eat blood curd?

Don’t leave us hanging.

Judging by replies to that thread… yes, quite a bit. One woman described how she had to wear ear protection after ear surgery and a guy removed that to talk to her from behind. She was in pain for 2 days afterwards.

Edit: my personal experience is I had 2 different guys tap on my shoulder and ask me to remove my earbuds by gesturing. Both times they were trying to pick me up. I was just on the way home from work, exhausted and also heavily married.

Full text:

Michael Garrett - NC Senate’s Viral Statement on the Bad Bunny Halftime Show

I watched Bad Bunny deliver the most American halftime show I have ever seen. Then I came home and watched it again. And I am not okay. In the best possible way.

He sang every single word in Spanish. Every. Single. Word. He danced through sugarcane fields built on a football field in California while the President of the United States sat somewhere calling it “disgusting.” Lady Gaga came out and did the salsa. Ricky Martin lit up the night. A couple got married on the field. He handed his Grammy, the one he won eight days ago for Album of the Year, to a little boy who looked up at him the way every child looks up when they dare to believe the world has a place for them.

And then this man, this son of a truck driver and a schoolteacher from Vega Baja, Puerto Rico, stood on the biggest stage on the planet and said “God bless America.”

And then he started naming them.

Chile. Argentina. Uruguay. Paraguay. Bolivia. Peru. Ecuador. Brazil. Colombia. Venezuela. Panama. Costa Rica. Nicaragua. Honduras. El Salvador. Guatemala. Mexico. Cuba. Dominican Republic. Jamaica. The United States. Canada. And then, his voice breaking with everything he carries, “Mi patria, Puerto Rico. Seguimos aquí.” My homeland, Puerto Rico. We are still here.

The flags came. Every single one of them. Carried across that field by dancers and musicians while the jumbotron lit up with the only words that mattered: “THE ONLY THING MORE POWERFUL THAN HATE IS LOVE.”

I teared up. I’m not ashamed to say it. I sat on my couch and I wept because THAT is the America I believe in. That is the American story, not the sanitized, gated, English-only version that small and frightened people try to sell us. The REAL one. The messy, beautiful, multilingual, multicolored, courageous one. The one that has always been built by hands that speak every language and pray in every tongue and come from every corner of this hemisphere.

That is the America I want Jack and Charlotte to know. That when the moment came, when the whole world was watching, a Puerto Rican kid who grew up to become the most-streamed artist on Earth stood in front of 100 million people, sang in his mother’s language, blessed every nation in the Americas, and spiked a football that read “Together, we are America” into the ground. Not with anger. With joy. With love so big it made hate look exactly as small as it is.

And what did the President do? He called it “absolutely terrible.” He said “nobody understands a word this guy is saying.” He called it “a slap in the face to our Country.” The leader of the free world watched a celebration of love, culture, and everything this hemisphere has given to the world, and all he could see was something foreign. Something threatening. Something disgusting.

Let that sink into your bones.

The man who is supposed to represent all of us looked at the flags of our neighbors, heard the language of 500 million Americans across this hemisphere, and felt attacked. That’s not strength. That’s not patriotism. That is poverty of the soul.

And then there was the Turning Point show. Kid Rock in a college arena in North Dakota. Three million viewers watching a man who once wrote a song about liking underage girls perform as the “family-friendly” alternative to a Puerto Rican artist celebrating love. They called it the “All-American Halftime Show”, as if America has a velvet rope. As if this country belongs to some of us and not all of us. As if you need to sing in English to count.

Here’s what I want to say to everyone who posted about that show tonight, who shared it proudly, who turned away from Bad Bunny’s celebration because it was in Spanish and the flags weren’t only red, white, and blue:

Your children will see those posts. Your grandchildren will find them. The internet doesn’t forget. And one day, when the history of this moment is written, when our kids and their kids look back at 2026 the way we look back at the people who stood on the wrong side of every bridge and every march and every moment that mattered, they will know exactly where you stood. They will see who chose Kid Rock over a hemisphere of flags. They will see who called love “disgusting.” And they will carry that knowledge the way all of us carry the knowledge of what our ancestors did when they were tested.

I don’t say that with anger. I say it with sadness. Because hate is an inheritance nobody asks for, and yet it gets passed down just the same.

Bad Bunny didn’t say “ICE out” tonight. He didn’t need to. He just showed the whole world what America looks like when we are not afraid of each other. When culture is shared, not policed. When language is music, not a threat. When a flag from every nation in this hemisphere can walk across a football field together and the only words you need are the ones he gave us:

The only thing more powerful than hate is love.

Over 100 million people saw that tonight.

And no Truth Social post can take it away.